Damon-salvatore Gifs Novels & Stories

“You’ve watched too many k dramas. I’m not ruining my jacket for this.” My frustration snapped. The old man’s words kept ringing in my head. “At least use the jacket as an umbrella!” “For what, so I can catch a cold myself?” His tone was pure disdain. “I’m Damian Salvatore. You can’t let an important person like me fall sick.” “Damian,” I yelled. With a sigh that sounded like I’d just asked him to donate a kidney, he slipped off his jacket and shoved it into my hands. “Fine. But if I catch a cold, it’s on you.”

Die…” “Damon, it’s me,” I said in my head and the voices paused for a second. “Please stop what you’re doing. You’re scaring your people. If they keep seeing you destroy others like a savage beast, they’ll lose support for you. Unlike us, they don’t know how evil and crafty Rogu is. I need you to calm down, please.” There was silence and for a moment I doubted he had even heard me. “They hurt me,” came his reply. It sounded drawn and almost deranged. It didn’t sound like him at all.

Damien slowly stood up and walked to Alex on the alter, he smiled at him and stretched his hand for a handshake. “Hello, my name is Damien Robbin, the man from Salado.” He said with a smile and Alex could hear his own heartbeat.

I wagged my finger at their faces, taunting them. “I want the both of you to see this,” I said looking at the two brothers. The Salazar brothers are known on the black market for having ruthless hearts. I'm just not sure if they could still stay indifferent when they see the people they care for slowly die in an excruciating death. I flashed them a smile as I walk around the table and spotted the pliers on the toolbox. Perfect. “Antonio, how much do you love your nails?” He opened his mouth then close it, then open them again.

Her hands were on his, delicately preventing him from brandishing the weapon against the offender who was now currently apologizing profusely. Donovan's eyes were still on him. "You dared to mistreat my wife. You." His voice was disturbingly calm. The manager's face remained pale as he tried to form words but before he could respond, Standfast, Donovan's loyal companion, stepped forward with a determined glint in his eyes. Without a word, Standfast delivered a swift, decisive blow to the manager's jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground with a cry of pain. Blood started to fill his mouth. Donovan looked on in satisfaction. Somehow, he was glad Boma had held him back. He didn't know what he

Then the double doors at the back of the briefing room slammed open. Every camera whipped around. He walked in. Damien. No cuffs. No prison jumpsuit. Just gray joggers, a plain black t-shirt, hair a mess like he’d been running his hands through it for hours. His eyes were dark, stormy..,equal parts fury and something rawer. Worry. Exhaustion. Jaxon and Gerald flanked him, plus three other men I didn’t recognize, and a woman trailing close behind. We all screamed his name at the same time, hugging each other in celebration.

"But you're not dead yet. That's going to take a little while longer." Salvatore's eyes gleamed towards me as he started to walk towards me with sadistic pleasure. He reached me and trailed his hands on my face, pulling me close to him. "You know, Don, I can make all of my men sleep with her, right in front of you," Don's eyes widened in horror, his battered face twisted in pain. Salvatore knew the only way to make Don react and that way was using me. "Leave her alone, Salvatore," he whispered weakly, his voice barely audible.

I cleared my throat, and wrapping my arm around Aurora, I smiled at the woman. “I am Dante D’Angelo” I said introducing myself. “Natalie Brooke” she said, nodding at me. I looked down at Aurora and kissed her temple, smirking when I caught sight of the woman who had her eyes on us. “I’ll be leaving you alone with the ladies, yeah?” I whispered to her, noticing that a few women were approaching. “Alright, just try staying away from trouble, okay?” She asked, looking me in the eye. I nodded and motioned for Leonardo to come and follow me, and understanding where I was going, Leonardo gulped down his scotch before walking toward the lounge where our fathers were sitting.

A silhouette sat at a desk, back turned, facing a wall lined with evidence photos and newspaper clippings. The person raised a glass. “To the Dravens,” a distorted voice crooned. “May peace never make you weak.” The screen went black. Damon’s heart pounded — not with fear, but with calculation. With readiness. He stood straighter, shoulders squared. Old habits die hard. He turned off the monitor and whispered to the empty room: “Come and try.” Then Damon returned to the bedroom. He slid under the covers, wrapping his arms around Sarah, who immediately snuggled against him — trusting, warm, unbroken.

I try so hard to keep my hands on the back of my head as he jerks off my long clit with his fingers. "Please Master Damon," I beg and he pulls his hand away. "Just call me Master," he says in his emotionless voice. "Yes Master," I reply as he stands back from me. He goes to the grid and beckons me over with his finger. I walk over and let him attach cuffs to my wrists then clip them to a chain hanging from the grid. He then pulls it to stretch my arms up. "Remind me of your safewords," Master Damon says. "Red to stop, yellow to slow down, Master," I say and he nods. I watch as he gets a paddle and a whip then puts the whip down in front of him, keeping the paddle in his hand to use.