Damon Salvatore Quotes Funny Novels & Stories

He took a bite and agreed with me before reaching for the ice bucket. “You will love this one.” Damiano poured us a glass of red wine and handed me one. “To you.” He said and clinked our glasses together. “To us.” I corrected him with a smile. “For being bad bitches and outliving our enemies.” I finished and he burst out in laughter. I stilled for a bit, smiling as I loved the sound of his laughter. It was deep and so angelic. It made me the happiest to hear him like this. “Saluti, for being called a bad bitch for the very first time in my life.” Damiano chuckled as he raised his glass.

he said. "I like being mean," "Why?" "Let's me irk people like Savannah," She replied and Damien chuckled. "You don't like her, do you?" He asked and she nodded. "Not one bit… not one single bit,"

What the fuck? “Are you—” I started, then stopped. “Wait. Are you laughing right now? What’s so funny? Seriously, Damon. What the fuck is funny? Am I a joke to you? Do I look like a fucking clown standing here with cum still drying between my thighs while you laugh after taking a call from a literal psychopath who wants to commit pipe-related homicide?” He stopped laughing as he smiled. “Oh, kitten,” he said, reaching out and brushing his knuckles along my cheek like I hadn’t just gone nuclear with questions. “It’s nothing, okay? You don’t need to worry. It was just my friend’s wife.”

People just don’t see it yet. Damon must’ve noticed the faint smile I couldn’t hide. “Wow,” he said softly. “That’s a real smile. Haven’t seen one of those since… actually, never.” I gave him a blank look. “Don’t you have errands?” He shrugged. “Sure, but this is way more entertaining. Look at you — the mighty Vincent Evans, texting poetry like a teenager in love.” “Damon.” He grinned. “Alright, fine, I’ll leave you to your emotional crisis.”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared?” “Fuck off, Salvatore.” I squirm and feel something hard digging into my butt when I move again. I open my eyes in surprise. “I hope that's a spicy soppressata in your pocket and not what I’m thinking,” I sputter, and he lets out a careless laugh that surprises me. “Believe me, what I have is better than salami. It's the best cured meat,” he replies with an egocentric tone. “You narcissistic piece of shit.”

I would forever have regrets about it and a shitload of student debt. "Journalism? Is that something you like doing?" He asked and I felt him start to stroke my hair. We were cuddling like a couple and it started to unnerve me but I kept my composure. "No but I don't really have a choice. The lights have to stay on." I murmured. "So you're broke." He deadpanned and I removed my head from his chest to glare at him. He was blunt but it was also very true. "Utterly fucked is a better way to put it but I'm doing okay right now. Kind of. Hey, maybe I should actually start to sell my nudes or pictures of my feet. Men live for that shit." I said nodding my head. Dominic chuckled.

He swirled the amber liquid in his glass before dropping it on the glass table beside him. “I am Damien.” He said. Now lighting a cigarette. The room fell silent. The tick of the clock became the only thing that could be heard. His eyes held mine, daring me to look away. And then, the corner of his lips curved. His voice cut through me like a sharp blade as the smell of smoke enveloped me. “...Salvatore DeLuca.” Voice calm. The name struck me like lightning, my body went stiff and I almost passed out on the spot.

The words hit like cold water. “Great.” I roll my eyes. “That sounds totally normal. Nothing to worry about. My fiancé’s just starving for another woman.” Salvatore scratches the back of his head awkwardly. “Dante hasn’t gone to see her after the first few times,” he adds quickly, like that’s supposed to calm me. “And he’s got the self-control of a… rock. Or something harder. Very solid.” He nods, trying way too hard to make me smile.

Damon loosened his tie slightly as he walked toward his office. He was tired. Not physically. Something worse. The kind of exhaustion that lived inside your bones after surviving too much. His phone buzzed. One message. From Luca. Eat something today. Damon stared at the text Then smiled despite himself. Small. Automatic. Dangerous. Another message appeared immediately after: Coffee does not count as food. Damon huffed softly. Then typed back: You sound domestic. Three dots appeared instantly. Don’t insult me. Damon laughed quietly under his breath.

I just wanted breakfast. Lilith stomped her foot so hard the floor shook. “Damon, you can’t be serious! She spilled tea! On the rug!” Damon didn’t blink. “I don’t care about the rug.” My mother gasped like he’d confessed to murder. “But it’s imported!” Damon’s eyes never left mine. “I said what I said.” Lilith jabbed a finger at me like I was a demon. “She’s clumsy! She’s rude! She’s—”