Choice of Mods
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WIPs, Full Games and Side Stories (not public version)
- Thread starter Itachi the Kinslayer
- Start date
Can u re-upload
There is likely a better way to upload this but...oh whale!
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after ***)
In short? Soft, affectionate, and more than a little possessive and dependant.
Dame’s fingers hook into your hips leaving red cuts behind, not breaking the skin but coming damn near. Your legs shake as you try to climb off of him, he doesn’t allow it at first, letting a low groan roll through his throat. You smile, and breathlessly down, your lips gently opening to kiss along his neck, “Should I declaw you?” You whisper just below his ear.
Dame seems to realize what you mean and a small gasp whispers out. He lifts his fingers, looking down to your bare hips, waist, and… Dame snaps his head back up, red faced despite what the two of you had just done. “S— Sorry.” His voice is hoarse and gentle, the pads of his fingers rubbing circles against the place he grabbed you.
You detach yourself from him, letting his hands fall back. Without much thought you move beside him, Dame does the same, wrapping his arm around you. A move that feels natural to your very soul. He faces you, fingers sliding across your skin as he watches you, mesmerized by every subtle movement your body makes.
Dame presses a kiss into your collarbone, he bites down along the skin, making your back twitch in surprise, only parting to quickly ask “Can I stay for the night?” You almost laugh.
“You never have to ask me that.” Your hand cups his cheek, his hair falling through your fingers as you slide your palm around his neck to pull him closer.
“I still like hearing it.” Dame lets himself be pulled closer and you smile at his words.
“Well then,” You press your forehead against his, sharing his air as he lets out a quiet excited laugh, “Stay the night with me, why don’t you?”
“Mhmm…” he slips a tanned hand up your chest, his fingers running just over your collar yet again. God only knows what he’s so possessive of there, and why his gaze watches to it like your throat is a wellspring in a desert. “You never have to ask me that.” He whispers.
“Okay,” You whisper, putting a hand over his fingers and pulling it off your collar. Immediately he slides them down to hold your waist. “What’s got you so obsessed?” You run your hand over the skin, trailing up your neck to try and feel something.
Dame laughs a little louder now, a little goofy. “Nothing.”
“Liar, what’d you do?”
Dame’s smile can be heard through his words, “You had to have felt me put them there.” He rests his head on your chest, staring up to you.
Your fingers stop rubbing and suspiciously you gaze down. “Hickies?” You ask blandly, and you see him light up.
“Oh yes.” The words come out as a long low purr.
“Dame— How bad is it?”
He closes his eyes, using you as a pillow as he traces patterns with his fingers, “You should wear a scarf tomorrow.”
“We have a meeting— Everyone is going to be there.”
“Then they’ll see you’re taken.”
You almost feel annoyed by that, annoyed that he would do this, but it’s an effort when he holds you like you were crafted to slot together, “Johnny—”
“Won’t know they’re from me.” He cuts you off, “ And I don’t want to think about him. Or Jackie, or anyone else.” Dame slowly raises his head to meet your eye, “It’s only us here. Let it just be only us.”
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Dame doesn’t love a lot about his body. Far too much of it has been objectified, clinically considered as an asset or a defect for him to really love any single piece of him. With you Dame will come to love what you do, where your hands drift to while you kiss, what you stare at when he is bare beside you.
Only once he has healed, gained a semblance of his personhood back, will Dame come to like the way his thighs look. It’s nothing that he will outwardly show. Simply wearing pieces of clothing that will show them off more in private. Skinnier jeans and shorts, or if you’re lucky nothing at all.
On you, however? Well he will say he likes every inch of you equally, maybe not your annoying mouth on some days. But you know that's a lie. There’s a part of you that he clearly favors far far above any other piece. Your hips, but especially your waist. Dear god, Dame will latch onto your waist like you’re a ship’s mast in a storm.
You stretch enough to raise your shirt and his gaze falls to the bare skin, uncaring who may notice the blatant want in his gaze. During ***, he will bruise you there from holding onto it too tight, and after he will mark you there with his mouth and teeth. Walking down the street he will put a hand around it. Even asleep you’ll feel him holding on to it. Because to him it’s like a natural handle. Perfect to pull you closer to him.
Truly, no matter what he says, you’ll know what part of your body he loves. There’s really no debate about it.
C = *** (anything to do with ***, basically)
Dame hates the texture. *** is always so sweaty and wet that it takes away from the experience. Much to his grief and annoyance, yours drives Dame wild. For ***** he likes the bloom of warmth if you’re inside of him. For wetness he wants you absolutely soaked when you’re with him.
Dame likes the way your voice pitches when you’re close, the contractions your body makes as you’re cumming. He likes the way it glistens across his skin, the feeling between his fingers. Dame bask in the proof of your arousal for as long as he can. And if you finish on or in his mouth then it’s all the better.
Though Dame would never say this, ask him and he’ll act revolted and claim you’re sick in the head. It’s embarrassing to him, knowing how much he likes to feel used, claimed, and desired.
When everything has calmed down, then Dame will quickly snap back to hating the texture. As for his own…
Dame doesn’t really care for it.
He’d like to finish in your mouth, see maybe even on your face.
Just don’t expect a kiss until after you’ve brushed your teeth.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
In short? Dame is jealous of anyone who’s able to have casual ***. (Written with a ***-vice Ares)
“I have secrets…” Dame can tell just how whiny he sounds the moment it leaves his mouth.
You don’t believe him, Dame can tell by how you look at him. It’s only the third most annoying thing you’ve done today, right behind you cornering him outside and not letting him taste you properly, and of course that thing you did with your tongue right as he was about to finish an hour ago. He’ll never forgive you for that.
“I do,” Dame defends, and you nod along idly.
“I’m all ears,” you purr, pressing your lips to his collar bone, nipping softly at the skin. ****. Dame really doesn’t have dirty secrets. He’s boring in bed, prefers a single partner, and has never done anything risky. Hell, he’d rather stay inside for weeks at a time than go and be...sexually active. If Dame couldn’t feel the lust that rolls off of people…****, he’d probably still be a virgin. Pathetic for a love god.
Your hand slips lower, fingers gently tracing the line of his ribs, moving to his stomach. Dame hasn’t spoken for a hot moment, and he hesitates before saying, “I’m jealous.”
The movement slows, he doesn’t meet your eye. “Of me?”
“A bit,” he laughs. “But, not just of you…gods this is going to sound awful but I’m jealous of anyone who’s more…active.”
Your hand pulls back just a fraction, Dame doesn’t want to initiate that argument again. Especially now that you two are together. “I mean…*** for me…needs what we have.I can’t be casual, the concept is an entire ****ing world away from me.” He grabs your hand softly, kisses the knuckles. **** you have wonderful hands.Your last few lives didn’t have that, did they? “I used to think something was wrong with me. None of my past lives needed connection like this”
You lift the hand, cupping Dame’s cheek. “You think you’ve missed out?” You ask, voice as soft as your touch.
“Before you returned I used to sit at the bar in Elysium, just watching everyone.”
Even now he remembers the arousal in that place. A constant bombardment of desires and disappointment. He would feel people who felt like a wasteland become a garden of want through a single conversation. Dame’s felt people cheat, felt people rebound, but the most confounding ones were those that stayed a wasteland. Those who weren’t even attracted to the person they hit on, those who egged the conversation on and knew how to make the other’s lust flourish and left with them even when they felt nothing. Those are people he couldn’t conceive of, an entire opposite from Dame in every possible way.
“I may have been hit on…four times?” He’s asking because it was hard to see who wanted to talk, and who wanted to flirt. Most nights nobody approached him. “Each time I’ve tried to emulate what everyone else did, and I couldn’t. It felt forced.”
“Well.” Your thumb runs across his cheekbone, then curves down to his earlobe. “You probably were forcing it.”
Dame leans into the touch, closes his eyes, then he speaks in a breathy whisper. “That’s why I’m jealous…the only time I’ve never had to force it was with you.”
You hum against his neck, “I can tell you that everyone’s wired differently but you’ve already thought of that, haven’t you?” He nods and you continue. “We could roleplay. Go out, pretend to be strangers…”
Dame snickers at the idea. “What if fake-you’s a dick?” He doesn’t let you answer. ”Maybe. How did it feel for you?”
“Oh.” Your voice sounds very surprised, the moment stretches long enough for Dame to panic, then you speak. “Depends on the night, I guess some days felt like work. I knew I just wanted to relax, the *** was relaxing, and it was so much work to get there some days that I just gave up. But other days…it was thrilling.”
When you say that your breath hits his ear in a way that makes his body tingle. “Tell me, like I was there, your target for the night.”
A tiny chuckle comes out of you, makes Dame’s face warm. “After I saw you, I’d start soft. Ask a question that gets your attention.”
“A pickup line?”
“Only if I was desperate. I like to start with something about your clothes. So it’d depend on what you’re wearing, which…” You hook a finger on the edge of the blanket, gently raising it, attempting to spy what’s beneath—
Dame yanks it back down, face feeling hot. “Noted,” he croaks, thick and embarrassed even though you’ve just spent hours staring at it.
“I’d give you my name, get a drink, ask if you’d want one since the bartender was there. All casual-like.”
“Hmm, I’d say no. I already have a drink, can’t you see?” He teases, and moves further down, readjusting to be face to face now.
“Well…I thought it was your friend’s. Oh? You’re here alone? That’s a shame. I am too, seems like everyone here is in a group, right?”
Dame snickers, “Maybe we’re just both losers.”
“You don’t look like a loser to me, but you’re welcome to prove me wrong.” Beneath the blankets you slide some fingers up his forearm, leave them there for a heart beat, slowly take them off. Though what makes Dame feel light is the way you hold his eyes. Like you truly want to know.
He breaks the contact first. “I’m antisocial.”
“Right, because clubs are the best places to be alone.”
Your tone makes him want to roll his eyes and smile. It takes him a moment to smile, not ready for improvisation. “It's good for people watching.”
"Is that why you’re a loser? You like to spy on strangers?”
“No!” He laughs, “I’m not a creep, people are just interesting.”
“Well has anything caught your interest? Anyone?”
“Maybe. There are just so many attractive people here today, I can hardly see them all.” He starts to joke, but his chest flutters when you make eye contact, refusing to break it. He has to work to remember what this scenario is for a brief moment. Instinctively pushing on his time at Elysium. “Music’s **** though.”
You scoot closer, hand on his thigh. An unfair advantage. “There are quieter places…with better views.”
“And I’m sure you’re desperate to show them.” Dame forces himself to look away, only for you to pull off his thigh, and gently put a finger against his jaw. You guide him back to look at you, a new look on your face. Something all too hungry.
“Could you blame me if I was?”
Dame understands it all now.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Difficult to say. Dame has been with very few people in this life, in fact you can count on one hand how many people. Dame’s had a single girlfriend in the past, just before Johnny, that he’s slept with. So that’s two that Dame doesn’t regret. However, M!Dame has slept with one person to make a deal, and F!Dame has slept with two; No matter what, both Dames regret doing so. Dame simply does not enjoy *** without some sort of emotional connection.
That said…he’s Aphrodite, and Aphrodite has been around the block a few times. In the hundred years of Ares’s disappearance especially, Dame’s past lives searched for connection and trust wherever they could find it. This led to two long lives that, if not full of love, definitely full of ***.
If Damiana wants to think about his past experience he would hardly even count those two lives. They were full of grief and were too caught up in wild emotions for Dame to “learn” anything from them. It was a very dreamlike time for him. So most of what Dame calls experience will be from his collective lives, and from his most guarded and secret memories of Ares.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Once Aphrodite and you were a livewire of passion and connection. Together there was nothing that could contain your love, and in the wake of your joined desires there would be left ruined beds, sofas, tables, chairs, walls… But that was over a century ago. Now things have changed, Dame isn’t the Aphrodite of the past, and you are not the Ares of the past. He has missed you for so long that when you return he doesn’t know exactly what to do.
When you finally break the tension, and let your shared desires guide you, Dame will pull you to someplace quiet to hear you, someplace dim enough to comfort but lit enough to see, someplace soft. A bed, preferably, but beggars can't be choosers and Dame has been begging for this for so long. He will pull you on top, and not let you leave. Relying on your weight to remind him that this is real, this is not another falsehood that his mind has cooked up. You’re back, and you’re trapping him on the bed. It will bring more comfort than he thinks he deserves.
After you two are together, and have been together for quite some time, Dame's preference will change. On top, on bottom, beside, upside down, suspended from the ceiling on silk ropes…none of it matters to him as long as he can see your face.
If you’re in a meeting with Jackie, standing at her desk as she speaks, then Dame will imagine bending you over or being bent over it. If you’re kneeling, tying a shoe or just picking something up, Dame will imagine using your mouth. If you’re laying in bed he won’t have to imagine a thing because he will simply climb on top and satisfy the hunter that’s been starving him.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Dame’s not that goofy to begin with, savoring every second he has with you and always trying to wring more and more out. *** will last hours and hours if Dame has his way, and every second will be more passionate than the last. And just when you begin to think every moment with him will be like that Dame’s walls will fall away, brick by brick. He’ll be overwhelmed with joy in the moment, and he’ll make a joke, say the most cringey flirtatious line he can think up. It’ll be like a cat learning to climb. Clumsy, awkward, curious at the limits but too cautious to take them. He’ll regret it immediately and return to the quiet serious passion that he’s had.
Then months will wash away, Dame’s emotions will settle, become comfortable. And that’s when he’ll surprise you again. He’ll whisper a joke, one not awkward, and that he won’t regret. And though your time with Dame will remain earnest and intense, he will welcome levity, even in the most intimate of moments.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Dame dyes his hair blonde, but even the casual observer will see that his natural hair color is a dark brown. Naturally the rest of his bodyhair will be this color. When you first get with Dame he will still be with Johnny, as such he will be meticulously groomed.
After his and Johnny’s relationship has ended, and he is free to be with you openly then he will not groom himself at all, nor will he dye his hair anymore. In fact there may be other changes he has been wanting to do in regards to his hair. Though we’ll get to that later.
Dame has no strong feelings about body hair, nor does he understand the disgust many people have with it. If Ares tries to get him to shave he’ll say no, and it could start a fight. He won’t be trapped in a controlling relationship again. Though his pubic hair doesn’t grow to be very long.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Dame? The reincarnation of Aphrodite? The god of love? That should be obvious. He is endlessly intimate, and needs you to be as well. Anything less than extraordinarily intimate is going to immediately turn him off and make him bitter for the rest of the day.
Foreplay with him will last five times as long as the actual ***, and the aftercare will last until you fall asleep. This can actually cause problems if you and him have *** in the morning, because then you have an entire day of an affectionate Dame following you around, or checking on you in solitary moments.
That sounds nice until you need privacy, for a phone call, to relax, even for the bathroom. He may talk to you through the door, or listen to your conversation. If you need to be alone just to be alone it’s better to not **** in the morning.
J = Jack off (************ headcanon)
In short? He rarely masturbates, and when he does he may need your help.
Alone. Dame’s alone, he has been for a while. You disappeared on him yet again. Sure, at least this time you send texts, make daily calls. Jackie has you half a continent away, some bullshit job she could have had anyone do. But she chose you. Dame stares at his phone, it's pointless. You can’t talk often, you made that clear. But the anxiety won’t go away.
He wants your attention, craves your gaze, your voice, your touch. The weight of you in the bed next to him, your hand on his neck, your lips…
Dame stuffs a pillow over his face and groans angrily into it. He needs a distraction. Rolling over and laying on the pillow, he pulls up his phone. Mindlessly scroll through contacts, Franco, no. Mitch, god no. Riley…Maybe they’d be able to bring Dame to you… But no. It’s a risk Dame won’t take. He clicks his tongue once he reaches the bottom.
He has friends, he has to! Dame is the god of love, of course he must have friends. Another scroll and… nope. Surely he missed something, his finger darts back up, but before he reaches the top of the contacts a message comes through.
[ARES has sent a picture]
He catches it, just barely as the icon flits away. Just the barest glimpse at the condensed picture. Dame’s inside thrills, quickly clicking on your messages. His entire body stops once he sees it. You. Bare, water dripping down your body. A selfie through a fogged up mirror, the steam wiped away from everywhere except the parts Dame wants most. Your face with the world's most perfect smirk.
He bites his lip as he gawks at it, trying to see through the fog. His insides playing with his mind, swearing if he just keeps staring then the fog will go away. Dame types a response, deletes it, thinks about it again, types, deletes, types, deletes. He must look a fool, his message popping and disappearing. All while your naked body taunts him above the keyboard. When he finally sends it’s a single, hungry, word. More.
The next picture comes quickly. You’re dry now, drier at least. There’s still a sheen on your skin that the light glints off of. A towel is wrapped around you, keeping the sight even more hidden than it was before.
More.
It takes longer this time, Dame lets out a quiet noise. He doesn’t get this bad often. Normally the only way to get him in the mood is you being next to him. Wrapped around each other, small words and soft kisses spread through hours. But there must be a blue moon because tonight Dame needs you, it's a curse that you’re not here.
The phone buzzes and Dame is already hungry for the photo.
You’re on the hotel’s bed, the top of your face is cut off this time, but you still bite your lip. The rest of the picture has you sprawled out on the bed. Legs open, everything shown.
Dame lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He’s on his knees now, pillow pressed between his thighs, soft blanket pooling around his feet as he grinds down. A quiet groan escaping him. Dame stares at your body, the picture doesn’t do you justice. The hotel lighting doesn’t do you justice.
He’s forced to close his eyes and imagine you next to him, posing as you are. His hand between his legs moving slowly. But imagination doesn’t do you justice. He doesn’t touch himself often. Never wanted to, never had to. But today’s a lucky day, or unlucky if you’re in Dame’s sexually frustrated shoes. You make the nerve endings through his entire body scream without you here to soothe. It’s torture. He needs a release. He calls you, his hand moving more rapidly as the phone rings. And rings… and rings.
And then a click.
“Hey—” You start, your voice nearly sends him over the edge.
“Talk me through it.” Dame interrupts. Compared to your words Dame must sound sick. He feels sick.
You laugh, and Dame shoves his face into the mattress. “What?”
“Talk me through it.” His hand moves quicker, the pillow digging into a perfect spot, just to imagine you there. “Please?”
No response, just a quiet breath from your end. “Of course.” He can hear your smile and it almost makes him finish then and there.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
In short? (Heavy) praise, and (light) choking.
“Are you sure?” Dame moves in front of you, it's so easy to admire him in the morning light. ****. You didn’t even realize it was morning. In truth you were hoping that the sun wouldn’t rise. You and Dame could stay here, together, forever. Talking like there’s no end. He’s curled up in the corner of your bed, where it meets the wall, tanned skin lit aflame by hues of the orange and pink sunrise.
“Of course.” Your voice is soft, and tender. As if one wrong tone will make Dame disappear. As proof of your words you gently bring your lips to his. He shows his greedy side here, opening to swallow you whole. You don’t let yourself idle in the act, you’ve burnt up the night, you don’t want to waste the day. As soon as you bring your lips away, he lets out a low whine. “Just tell me what you like, I’ll do it.”
Dame takes a shuddering breath, tongue sliding along his lips, then he bites it. You nearly feel his teeth cut into your own lip, as if your taste alone was enough to bind you to him. Slowly Dame slides his hand over yours. “Now… don’t be a dick by judging me.” he whispers.
“Never.”
“I really like… well…” Dame lets out a laugh, a bit loud, clearly embarrassed, a red tint blossoming through his cheeks.
“You can do it.” You try to motivate him but it only seems to send a small sputtering noise from him.
“That.” He whispers.
You quirk a brow and lean closer in the bed, “What?”
“Don’t laugh but I like to be…” Dame waves a hand as if casually throwing the word out, “Encouraged.”
Oh. Oh my. You smile, not laughing, but suddenly endlessly pleased. “Encouraged?”
“Yes.”
“You mean praised?”
“I… Yes.”
“Told you’re doing so well? That you look so good beneath me.”
“****—” He doesn’t meet your eye as you move closer and closer. “I’m not beneath you now.” He murmurs.
“You want to change that?” You kiss him again. Dame sinks into it, moaning an affirmative, or at least what you take as one. You part from him just enough to whisper “Good boy. He lets out a breath and shuts his eyes. “And the second? Are you going to show me that one too?”
Dame nods, eagerly too. Nearly headbutting you in the process. “Yes, yes.” He seems more excited about this one, far more, quickly starting to shift along the bed. “Here—” he sinks down, “Climb on top of me.” You do as he asks, straddling him. Greedily he takes the chance to run a hand up your stomach, a smile on his face as you take position.
Dame presses your hand to his collar, open fingers splayed across the bone. Then, slowly, he moves them up, keeping an eye on you as he goes. Your hand runs up to just below his chin. “Right here.” He taps your thumb, on one side of his neck, and your forefinger on the other. “Just a little pressure.” Dame swallows, his breath clearly eager. “Only here, if it's too much I'll tell you—” You squeeze, barely anything at all before he opens his mouth and smiles. “Yeah,” it comes out more like a gasp than actual words.
You smile, tilting your head to watch him. Dame gently rocks his hips from beneath you, “Oh, you’re eager.”
He nods, watching you with darkened eyes and a trembling lip. You lay next to him, pressing your body against his, and add a bit more pressure to his neck before slowly sinking your hands down his pelvis. Quickly you learn just what to do to make Dame unravel. A whisper here, a squeeze there, following his directions until right at the end you hear him whisper, “Harder.”
And he becomes a mess in your hands.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Though it’s certainly possible for Dame to get worked up enough to make love to you anywhere…realistically the only time it’ll happen is some place warm, comfortable, and safe. When your relationship begins it won’t be uncommon for him to gift you blankets and pillows after seeing how few you sleep with. Because how can he be expected to relax in your home without luxuries available. Not even for ***, in fact Dame’s the last person who will give you something even considering *** at all. At the start he’ll want to enjoy every moment with you, and being in a comfortable place will make that enjoyment happen quicker.
This also applies during ***. With few exceptions, Dame will need some place he feels safe.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Dame can be turned on in a number of ways. He likes it when you’re aggressive with others, but not a dick. Other than that, simply showing you love him. Going out of your way to bring him food, remembering his coffee order. Doing any of these won’t fully light the fire but it’ll get it started. Though normally that fire dies long before you can get someplace to really fuel it.
If you are alone and someplace he can relax then you could undress him. Not to the nude, of course, but small pieces of clothing. (check out the Wild Card letter for more) A surefire way to turn him on is…by talking. Lay in bed next to him, hold each other, talk, laugh, cry. It’ll always lead to kissing, grinding, and eventually, yes, ***. Just be careful not to push too quickly, otherwise he’ll drop out of the mood, leaving you high and dry.
Now, that said…there is a way to flip that switch for Dame. To send him from zero to a hundred in under a second. And it is…spite. Which sounds counterintuitive to what has been discussed, but if Dame really hates someone he will not only be willing to ****, but will actively initiate *** with you, so long as it’s in a place that the person Dame hates enjoys, or somehow sticks it to someone he hates. He’s petty, and spiteful, and desires to defile what place his enemies deem holy.
Places such as Jackie’s office, the back of Verne’s truck, Jackie’s home, Riley’s home (if you can get there unnoticed somehow), or…his own home when Johnny’s out for the day…Maybe even the church he’s being married in…on his wedding day.
All of these are fantasies Dame will have, even if he can never fullfil them.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Dame will never accept you frightening or hurting him. The only exception to this is choking, and only when he desires it, which is often but moods can change. He won’t let you pressure him into ***, and will be very firm with his boundaries. Dame doesn’t want to do anything that could take one, or both, of you out of the moment. Things such as taking pictures, videos, role playing, none of that. He wants you, and only you. Finally: Don’t bring up Johnny or Jackie before, during, or after ***. Seriously.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Dame would enjoy both giving and receiving, but in very different ways.
When giving he’ll tease you, dance around beginning by focusing on other parts of you to kiss. You’ll be left with bite marks on your thighs, and hickies on your hips. When he does begin it’ll be with the pace he sets in all things sexual. Gently pulling you to the edge and dancing on it until you’re begging for him to let you finish, or taking what you want. Either way the goal is to leave you frustrated enough that when you do finally go over the edge, you empty all of your energy in that single overwhelming climax. He’ll consider that a win.
When receiving it’ll leave Dame without your mouth to kiss and without your body to hold. He will want you to bring him to the edge and over quickly so he can hold you again, but at the same time he will desperately try to keep himself from finishing, even going so far as to screw his eyes shut and breathe very slowly. For if he looks down and makes eye contact with you it’s over and he’ll refuse to let you tease him for becoming a mess so entirely.
Some part of him would wish to have a way to use your mouth and hold you at the same time. Dame would probably enjoy both giving and receiving at the same time, but 69ing has always felt a touch too kinky for him to actually try it.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
It’s been said to death already how slow Dame is, so it won’t be restated. Instead, you should know that once Dame’s in the mood he loves to be overwhelmed and left seeing stars, all while his pleas to slow are left unanswered. It can only be done as you and him near the peak of your love making.
If you take the initiative then pin Dame beneath you. **** him, or ride him from an angle that gives you an advantage and do not let up. Be quick. Relentless. Let your muscles burn and scream within you. And keep going.
If Dame’s taking the initiative then wrap your legs around his waist, or grab his hips and command “Faster.” He will listen. Then say “Harder.” Repeat again “Faster.” “Don’t let up.” “Keep going.” “Harder.” and watch as he cries from above you, desperately overwhelming himself by your command.
You can return to the letter K if you want ways to keep him in the moment. Telling him how good he’s taking/****ing you, holding him by the throat to keep him from leaving. You can trust that, despite how much he’ll beg to stop, if Dame truly didn’t like it he would throw you off, and he wouldn’t beg you to keep going when you do listen.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
In short? Dame hates quickies, but there can be a rare mood when his passion is overshone by lust. Then, and only then, he’ll love something fast and raw.
Dame’s back presses against the door, sending a loud click through Jackie’s marble office. You look back only briefly, eyes almost bored before you see the predatory gleam over Dame’s face.
His smile is sharp, almost cruel. You look concerned as you watch, Dame slowly raises his hand, delicately trailing a finger up the wooden frame before finding the latch. He snaps it closed, you seem to understand and let out a nervous laugh.
“Dame—” You begin as he meets you, with prodding fingers pushing you just an inch, for the back of your thighs to meet Jackie’s desk. Your hands cup Dame’s face and he leans into it, excitement playing up his core. Alone, finally alone with you. His fingers loop beneath the waist band, pull it back just enough to catch a sliver of skin he hadn’t seen in a week.
He whispers your name, a challenge, and watches your eyes drift to his lips, open mouth and quiet breaths. Dame’s already excited, even the prospect of you and him alone here. So easy to be caught, the idea of Jackie walking in to see you two over her desk, too love drunk to care. Dame already doesn’t care.
Now that his engagement is over he wonders how often he denied Johnny something like this? Dame’s always despised quickies. There’s no passion, it’s just ****ing for the sake of ****ing. But today…today his mind is swirling with need.
“Here?” You ask in equally as quiet of a voice. You turn your head, lean closer. Dame bites his lip in anticipation, your hand slides to the back of his head and unravels him with a kiss. Your first kiss is revenge and hunger wrapped into one. Good. Dame wasn’t the only one that needed this.
Dame tries to separate to say something snide but only gets so much as a wet gasp of air before you’re on him again. Your second kiss is your declaration of love. It makes him melt, fingers falling away from your zipper and slapping onto the marble desk for support. You break off and Dame finally gets to speak the answer he’s wanted to say.
“Please…”
“Needy.” You chide and Dame lets out a groan, but doesn’t disagree.
“We don’t have to.” He mutters, despite the desperate growing hunter to sink his teeth into you. “But, I’m burning up…can we? Please?”
“Needy.” It’s your turn to smile like a predator. “Well?”
He lets out a chuckle and shoves you past the desk, you stumble and hit a bookshelf, with a confidence Dame hasn’t felt in years he grabs you by a belt loop and strides to Jackie’s chair behind the desk. With gentle fingers he leads to the chair, and a gentle push sends you stumbling into it.
The way you stare at Dame sends a fiery desolation in his heart. You look perfect on this holy throne…He can’t wait to defile it…defile you.
Dame leans over you in the chair, knee between your thighs, sinking into the leather. His soft lips kiss against your own, then along your cheek and jaw, down your neck, your collar. Dame’s fingers slip beneath your shirt, a dangerous laugh gets sent through him as he feels skin denied to him.
Dame slowly slides to his knees. His skin presses into the cold stone floor from the tears along his pants. Endlessly teasing, he runs a finger up your calf, staring up at you from the floor expectantly. “Well?” He asks.
In your excitement your fingers fumble the zipper twice, glancing towards the door during it. Each mistake ignites something cruel inside of him. On the third slip Dame grabs it himself, fingers tangling with yours, and pulls it down. Your hips shake from anticipation, and he’s in a similar way. With yank, your pants are at your knees and exposing what was once beneath them.
Dame doesn’t let you adjust to the cold before his mouth takes what it wants. Normally he would draw this out, but he’s starving and you taste so good.
“Oh ****—” Your mumbles slip into a wordless moan. A noise that only fuels the heat in Dame’s core.
His fingers work you through it, and he devours every hitch of your breath.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)
Though it’s rare, Dame can be a risk taker when in the mood, especially when motivated by spite. He’ll love the thrill of ****ing in places you two absolutely shouldn’t. But that’s about as far as the risk will go.
As for experimenting with other things…Maybe. For Dame, you can’t just thrust kink out and say “lets try this” because Dame will need to really…research it. Even very small ones like being blindfolded. Dame finds enjoyment in learning about things, and he will spend hours on forums, watching tutorials, even reading smut. Anything to get into how to do a kink safely and why it even exists. If it's safe to do by himself, then he will, just to try and get in the headspace.
So when you bring up an idea of something new to do, just be sure you’re not about to have ***, otherwise Dame will be next to you, naked and on his lap top, reading forum posts.
And after all of that…most of the time Dame will come back days later and simply say no. He likes passion, and isn’t going to experiment too much if it could take your mind off him loving you, or his mind off you loving him.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Out of every member in the cast Dame is the least sexual, in practically every way. He’ll always make sure you’ve finished, and is more than willing to focus hours on you alone, but he’s the main course…it’s a quick meal. Dame won’t last long. He’ll try to, of course. Try to not immediately fall apart in your hands, but he will finish quickly, in under ten minutes, most likely. And after he’s finished Dame won’t be ready to go again for hours at minimum, sometimes days.
That said, as long as he isn’t the one focussed on, *** will tend to last far far longer. Just let Dame pace himself.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
No toys. Anything will either feel like he’s being used, or using you. It’s possible that he’ll allow you to be cuffed if you desire it, especially if you fight against the cuffs while he’s with you. But he’ll always prefer you in your entirety to one restrained.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
This is complicated, as there are different stages to Dame’s romance that most others don’t get.
Before you and him get together? Dame will tease you in ways that you may not even know is him teasing you. He’ll stretch, making his shirt ride up. F!Dame will wear no *** and subtly show off, or M!Dame may even answer the door shirtless. Basically, Dame will tease you in exact ways that make you feel like you’re the pervert for sexualizing him. However, after the relationship started…
If Dame is still with Johnny then in public he will barely acknowledge you, and may even go out of his way to seem less appealing to you to hide your relationship. This may even extend to when you know that you both are alone but in a more public place, because someone may be watching…Hell, even when you’re alone in private, Dame will never tease you. But that is for an entirely different reason. Because why would he waste time when he can have you?
Now, when openly in a relationship things will change. Dame becomes extremely unfair. He’ll find joy in waiting until nobody’s looking to do something very quick to make you jump.
Pinching your butt is a very tame version. Expect the return of the subtle flirting from before, but this time a bit more egregious. He’ll still be subtle, but it will skirt the line and have those around you wondering if Dame was actually flirting with you, or if they are mistaken. When alone Dame will tease you for hours. Since he doesn’t exactly last long in bed, *** will be foreplay and he will make sure it’s drawn out.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Quiet. Barely a noise, try to get him to talk and all that will come out are soundless breaths, and the occasional whine. At the right moment, during a brief rest or a shift of positions, Dame will pull you closer and breathlessly whisper “I love you, I love you, I love you,” like a tortuous prayer, for as long as it takes to begin again.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
In short? Undress them, and talk to them. It drives them wild.
Dame stumbles through your doorway, arms around you, lips against yours. Today was perfect, he couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than with you. Finally, you two can be publicly intimate. Nothing will happen if you’re caught hand in hand, nobody will mind. Well, some do, but they can’t do a thing. So he spent his first day of freedom dragging you to his favorite places.
Unfortunately, a day like this has left Dame exhausted…and drunk. Exceedingly so. He kisses you, bites your lower lip just a smidge, and laughs into your mouth. You mutter something dangerous to his already weak composure, but it's muffled by him.
You break away, just for a second, to take your shoes off. In that time Dame’s mind swims, while his body sways. A loud pop makes both you and Dame flinch. He searches for the culprit and finds it was his own hand desperately slapping the wall to prevent him from falling.
“I gotta sit down.” Dame mumbles, then takes one step and his boots, wet from snow, slide against the hardwood floor. Now he ends up smacking a hand on your shoulder for support, ever thankful at how immovable you’ve always been. “My boots…” Dame leans down, presses his head against your chest, on purpose because he knows he can blame the alcohol, and struggles to work the laces free.
Damn sober Dame. Damn him to hell.
“Hey,” you murmur softly, hand sliding up his arm, and down his side until your fingers are pressed against his ribs. “Let me.”
Confused, Dame lets you guide him to your couch, and sits down. His legs splayed out, the heels of his boots resting against the floor. Instinctively he tilts his head back, looks to the ceiling before finding his eyelids heavy. The encroaching wall of sleep is only beaten back by the delicate dance of your fingers. Like a kid in church, Dame peeks to see what you’re doing, before his eyes widen and he can only stare.
You’re kneeling between his legs, focused entirely on the tangled laces that hold Dame’s boots. Softly you say, “Next time let’s just stay in.” And Dame’s heart swells. Next time, of course there’s going to be a next time.
Your fingers undo the knot, just as your presence has undone Dame. How can a thing of war be so soft? It's a wonder how all things have not been unmade by your diametric nature. But maybe that’s a side you have only shown Dame…it would make sense, you are the only one who’s seen the whole of him.
“I liked the park,” he whispers back.
You open the tongue of the boot, grab it by the back. The cold air hits the warmth of his ankle and travels down, as you remove his foot from the boot like delicate glass work. Oh, oh this. He’s forgotten this small ritual. You have too, of course, but at least Dame remembers this act of submission, and love.
“I did too.” His foot is gently set on your thigh, you’re careful to not let it slip into the puddle left behind. Then you move to the next one. “I liked the movie as well...” “And the drinks after,” he snorts.
This boot comes off easier, your hands working quickly. “We can have those last two inside though, away from people.” when you pull it off your hand stays on the arch of his foot for just a moment.
He tries to respond but all that comes out is a shaky breath. You glance up to Dame, probably assuming that he’s fallen asleep. What a desperate thing he must appear. Eyes wide, pupils wider, practically panting at the sight of your submission. Your lips are red and soft. “Keep going,” Dame murmurs.
You take a sock off, and then the next. Dame reaches down hand aloft for you, “Keep going.” And just as gently you pull his gloves, needing to raise to your knees to remove his scarf. The movement brings your face too close to Dame and it’s over. He kisses you, sinking down to the floor, pants sliding against the melted snow. It’s fine, because those are what you take off
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Dame’s body is well groomed to begin with, but after Johnny then Dame won’t shave often. But he doesn’t have much body hair to begin with. His leg hair is dark but thin, and his pubic hair is mostly wild and ungroomed. Once in a relationship he won’t shave if you ask him to. He’s had to change his body enough for one partner, he won’t do it again for another. Even you.
There are a few minor scars that dot Dame’s body, as well as several small dark moles on his chest, shoulders, and back, including one on his stomach that he enjoys having you kiss as it’s an excellent place to watch you and allows him to run his fingers through your hair.
Dame’s skinny, maybe underweight as he doesn’t eat often, nor does he work out. M!Dame has an average *****, and wider than average hips.
Though it has been considered many times, Dame has never gotten a tattoo. If Ares were to suggest matching ones he would agree, so long as they’re small but easy to look at in public. Like on the wrist. He’d want it as his little reminder. In his youth he had several piercings both above and… below the neck. Including one below the belt… But those were removed when he got together with Johnny.
If he ever tells Ares that, then perhaps Ares can convince him to get those piercings again, in fact even a minor interest would do it. Dame enjoyed those pieces quite a lot, all he needs is to be reminded of them.
Y = Yearning (how high is their *** drive?)
Nearly non-existent *** drive. It takes him a while to work up to wanting someone intimately. If Dame’s to be truthful he’s actually fine with not having *** ever again. Though he can be worked up fairly quickly if… encouraged by Ares. He won’t often go out of his way to try to have ***.
This does not mean Dame is asexual, as he is, and will always be, sexually attracted to Ares. But Dame rarely desires *** out of nowhere, and even still the physical intimacy is secondary to the emotional intimacy. He will be happy to not act on those desires so long as Ares can fill the romantic and emotional intimacy.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Sleep? If Dame sleeps then he risks waking to find that you’ve disappeared on him again. He needs to watch you. Watch your breathing, your parted lips, your eyes moving as you dream. Dame won’t sleep until he’s forced to. Until his body gives in. He’ll wake to find hours have passed, fear overcoming him, the fear that he has lost you again, only then to find that you two are curled together.
Eventually he’ll stop fearing your loss. Eventually he’ll be able to close his eyes next to you and know you’ll be there when he wakes. It will take time though. Once he reaches that point you won’t be able to keep him awake after you two lie together, too quickly will he succumb to your comfort.
In short? Soft, affectionate, and more than a little possessive and dependant.
Dame’s fingers hook into your hips leaving red cuts behind, not breaking the skin but coming damn near. Your legs shake as you try to climb off of him, he doesn’t allow it at first, letting a low groan roll through his throat. You smile, and breathlessly down, your lips gently opening to kiss along his neck, “Should I declaw you?” You whisper just below his ear.
Dame seems to realize what you mean and a small gasp whispers out. He lifts his fingers, looking down to your bare hips, waist, and… Dame snaps his head back up, red faced despite what the two of you had just done. “S— Sorry.” His voice is hoarse and gentle, the pads of his fingers rubbing circles against the place he grabbed you.
You detach yourself from him, letting his hands fall back. Without much thought you move beside him, Dame does the same, wrapping his arm around you. A move that feels natural to your very soul. He faces you, fingers sliding across your skin as he watches you, mesmerized by every subtle movement your body makes.
Dame presses a kiss into your collarbone, he bites down along the skin, making your back twitch in surprise, only parting to quickly ask “Can I stay for the night?” You almost laugh.
“You never have to ask me that.” Your hand cups his cheek, his hair falling through your fingers as you slide your palm around his neck to pull him closer.
“I still like hearing it.” Dame lets himself be pulled closer and you smile at his words.
“Well then,” You press your forehead against his, sharing his air as he lets out a quiet excited laugh, “Stay the night with me, why don’t you?”
“Mhmm…” he slips a tanned hand up your chest, his fingers running just over your collar yet again. God only knows what he’s so possessive of there, and why his gaze watches to it like your throat is a wellspring in a desert. “You never have to ask me that.” He whispers.
“Okay,” You whisper, putting a hand over his fingers and pulling it off your collar. Immediately he slides them down to hold your waist. “What’s got you so obsessed?” You run your hand over the skin, trailing up your neck to try and feel something.
Dame laughs a little louder now, a little goofy. “Nothing.”
“Liar, what’d you do?”
Dame’s smile can be heard through his words, “You had to have felt me put them there.” He rests his head on your chest, staring up to you.
Your fingers stop rubbing and suspiciously you gaze down. “Hickies?” You ask blandly, and you see him light up.
“Oh yes.” The words come out as a long low purr.
“Dame— How bad is it?”
He closes his eyes, using you as a pillow as he traces patterns with his fingers, “You should wear a scarf tomorrow.”
“We have a meeting— Everyone is going to be there.”
“Then they’ll see you’re taken.”
You almost feel annoyed by that, annoyed that he would do this, but it’s an effort when he holds you like you were crafted to slot together, “Johnny—”
“Won’t know they’re from me.” He cuts you off, “ And I don’t want to think about him. Or Jackie, or anyone else.” Dame slowly raises his head to meet your eye, “It’s only us here. Let it just be only us.”
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Dame doesn’t love a lot about his body. Far too much of it has been objectified, clinically considered as an asset or a defect for him to really love any single piece of him. With you Dame will come to love what you do, where your hands drift to while you kiss, what you stare at when he is bare beside you.
Only once he has healed, gained a semblance of his personhood back, will Dame come to like the way his thighs look. It’s nothing that he will outwardly show. Simply wearing pieces of clothing that will show them off more in private. Skinnier jeans and shorts, or if you’re lucky nothing at all.
On you, however? Well he will say he likes every inch of you equally, maybe not your annoying mouth on some days. But you know that's a lie. There’s a part of you that he clearly favors far far above any other piece. Your hips, but especially your waist. Dear god, Dame will latch onto your waist like you’re a ship’s mast in a storm.
You stretch enough to raise your shirt and his gaze falls to the bare skin, uncaring who may notice the blatant want in his gaze. During ***, he will bruise you there from holding onto it too tight, and after he will mark you there with his mouth and teeth. Walking down the street he will put a hand around it. Even asleep you’ll feel him holding on to it. Because to him it’s like a natural handle. Perfect to pull you closer to him.
Truly, no matter what he says, you’ll know what part of your body he loves. There’s really no debate about it.
C = *** (anything to do with ***, basically)
Dame hates the texture. *** is always so sweaty and wet that it takes away from the experience. Much to his grief and annoyance, yours drives Dame wild. For ***** he likes the bloom of warmth if you’re inside of him. For wetness he wants you absolutely soaked when you’re with him.
Dame likes the way your voice pitches when you’re close, the contractions your body makes as you’re cumming. He likes the way it glistens across his skin, the feeling between his fingers. Dame bask in the proof of your arousal for as long as he can. And if you finish on or in his mouth then it’s all the better.
Though Dame would never say this, ask him and he’ll act revolted and claim you’re sick in the head. It’s embarrassing to him, knowing how much he likes to feel used, claimed, and desired.
When everything has calmed down, then Dame will quickly snap back to hating the texture. As for his own…
Dame doesn’t really care for it.
He’d like to finish in your mouth, see maybe even on your face.
Just don’t expect a kiss until after you’ve brushed your teeth.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
In short? Dame is jealous of anyone who’s able to have casual ***. (Written with a ***-vice Ares)
“I have secrets…” Dame can tell just how whiny he sounds the moment it leaves his mouth.
You don’t believe him, Dame can tell by how you look at him. It’s only the third most annoying thing you’ve done today, right behind you cornering him outside and not letting him taste you properly, and of course that thing you did with your tongue right as he was about to finish an hour ago. He’ll never forgive you for that.
“I do,” Dame defends, and you nod along idly.
“I’m all ears,” you purr, pressing your lips to his collar bone, nipping softly at the skin. ****. Dame really doesn’t have dirty secrets. He’s boring in bed, prefers a single partner, and has never done anything risky. Hell, he’d rather stay inside for weeks at a time than go and be...sexually active. If Dame couldn’t feel the lust that rolls off of people…****, he’d probably still be a virgin. Pathetic for a love god.
Your hand slips lower, fingers gently tracing the line of his ribs, moving to his stomach. Dame hasn’t spoken for a hot moment, and he hesitates before saying, “I’m jealous.”
The movement slows, he doesn’t meet your eye. “Of me?”
“A bit,” he laughs. “But, not just of you…gods this is going to sound awful but I’m jealous of anyone who’s more…active.”
Your hand pulls back just a fraction, Dame doesn’t want to initiate that argument again. Especially now that you two are together. “I mean…*** for me…needs what we have.I can’t be casual, the concept is an entire ****ing world away from me.” He grabs your hand softly, kisses the knuckles. **** you have wonderful hands.Your last few lives didn’t have that, did they? “I used to think something was wrong with me. None of my past lives needed connection like this”
You lift the hand, cupping Dame’s cheek. “You think you’ve missed out?” You ask, voice as soft as your touch.
“Before you returned I used to sit at the bar in Elysium, just watching everyone.”
Even now he remembers the arousal in that place. A constant bombardment of desires and disappointment. He would feel people who felt like a wasteland become a garden of want through a single conversation. Dame’s felt people cheat, felt people rebound, but the most confounding ones were those that stayed a wasteland. Those who weren’t even attracted to the person they hit on, those who egged the conversation on and knew how to make the other’s lust flourish and left with them even when they felt nothing. Those are people he couldn’t conceive of, an entire opposite from Dame in every possible way.
“I may have been hit on…four times?” He’s asking because it was hard to see who wanted to talk, and who wanted to flirt. Most nights nobody approached him. “Each time I’ve tried to emulate what everyone else did, and I couldn’t. It felt forced.”
“Well.” Your thumb runs across his cheekbone, then curves down to his earlobe. “You probably were forcing it.”
Dame leans into the touch, closes his eyes, then he speaks in a breathy whisper. “That’s why I’m jealous…the only time I’ve never had to force it was with you.”
You hum against his neck, “I can tell you that everyone’s wired differently but you’ve already thought of that, haven’t you?” He nods and you continue. “We could roleplay. Go out, pretend to be strangers…”
Dame snickers at the idea. “What if fake-you’s a dick?” He doesn’t let you answer. ”Maybe. How did it feel for you?”
“Oh.” Your voice sounds very surprised, the moment stretches long enough for Dame to panic, then you speak. “Depends on the night, I guess some days felt like work. I knew I just wanted to relax, the *** was relaxing, and it was so much work to get there some days that I just gave up. But other days…it was thrilling.”
When you say that your breath hits his ear in a way that makes his body tingle. “Tell me, like I was there, your target for the night.”
A tiny chuckle comes out of you, makes Dame’s face warm. “After I saw you, I’d start soft. Ask a question that gets your attention.”
“A pickup line?”
“Only if I was desperate. I like to start with something about your clothes. So it’d depend on what you’re wearing, which…” You hook a finger on the edge of the blanket, gently raising it, attempting to spy what’s beneath—
Dame yanks it back down, face feeling hot. “Noted,” he croaks, thick and embarrassed even though you’ve just spent hours staring at it.
“I’d give you my name, get a drink, ask if you’d want one since the bartender was there. All casual-like.”
“Hmm, I’d say no. I already have a drink, can’t you see?” He teases, and moves further down, readjusting to be face to face now.
“Well…I thought it was your friend’s. Oh? You’re here alone? That’s a shame. I am too, seems like everyone here is in a group, right?”
Dame snickers, “Maybe we’re just both losers.”
“You don’t look like a loser to me, but you’re welcome to prove me wrong.” Beneath the blankets you slide some fingers up his forearm, leave them there for a heart beat, slowly take them off. Though what makes Dame feel light is the way you hold his eyes. Like you truly want to know.
He breaks the contact first. “I’m antisocial.”
“Right, because clubs are the best places to be alone.”
Your tone makes him want to roll his eyes and smile. It takes him a moment to smile, not ready for improvisation. “It's good for people watching.”
"Is that why you’re a loser? You like to spy on strangers?”
“No!” He laughs, “I’m not a creep, people are just interesting.”
“Well has anything caught your interest? Anyone?”
“Maybe. There are just so many attractive people here today, I can hardly see them all.” He starts to joke, but his chest flutters when you make eye contact, refusing to break it. He has to work to remember what this scenario is for a brief moment. Instinctively pushing on his time at Elysium. “Music’s **** though.”
You scoot closer, hand on his thigh. An unfair advantage. “There are quieter places…with better views.”
“And I’m sure you’re desperate to show them.” Dame forces himself to look away, only for you to pull off his thigh, and gently put a finger against his jaw. You guide him back to look at you, a new look on your face. Something all too hungry.
“Could you blame me if I was?”
Dame understands it all now.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Difficult to say. Dame has been with very few people in this life, in fact you can count on one hand how many people. Dame’s had a single girlfriend in the past, just before Johnny, that he’s slept with. So that’s two that Dame doesn’t regret. However, M!Dame has slept with one person to make a deal, and F!Dame has slept with two; No matter what, both Dames regret doing so. Dame simply does not enjoy *** without some sort of emotional connection.
That said…he’s Aphrodite, and Aphrodite has been around the block a few times. In the hundred years of Ares’s disappearance especially, Dame’s past lives searched for connection and trust wherever they could find it. This led to two long lives that, if not full of love, definitely full of ***.
If Damiana wants to think about his past experience he would hardly even count those two lives. They were full of grief and were too caught up in wild emotions for Dame to “learn” anything from them. It was a very dreamlike time for him. So most of what Dame calls experience will be from his collective lives, and from his most guarded and secret memories of Ares.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Once Aphrodite and you were a livewire of passion and connection. Together there was nothing that could contain your love, and in the wake of your joined desires there would be left ruined beds, sofas, tables, chairs, walls… But that was over a century ago. Now things have changed, Dame isn’t the Aphrodite of the past, and you are not the Ares of the past. He has missed you for so long that when you return he doesn’t know exactly what to do.
When you finally break the tension, and let your shared desires guide you, Dame will pull you to someplace quiet to hear you, someplace dim enough to comfort but lit enough to see, someplace soft. A bed, preferably, but beggars can't be choosers and Dame has been begging for this for so long. He will pull you on top, and not let you leave. Relying on your weight to remind him that this is real, this is not another falsehood that his mind has cooked up. You’re back, and you’re trapping him on the bed. It will bring more comfort than he thinks he deserves.
After you two are together, and have been together for quite some time, Dame's preference will change. On top, on bottom, beside, upside down, suspended from the ceiling on silk ropes…none of it matters to him as long as he can see your face.
If you’re in a meeting with Jackie, standing at her desk as she speaks, then Dame will imagine bending you over or being bent over it. If you’re kneeling, tying a shoe or just picking something up, Dame will imagine using your mouth. If you’re laying in bed he won’t have to imagine a thing because he will simply climb on top and satisfy the hunter that’s been starving him.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Dame’s not that goofy to begin with, savoring every second he has with you and always trying to wring more and more out. *** will last hours and hours if Dame has his way, and every second will be more passionate than the last. And just when you begin to think every moment with him will be like that Dame’s walls will fall away, brick by brick. He’ll be overwhelmed with joy in the moment, and he’ll make a joke, say the most cringey flirtatious line he can think up. It’ll be like a cat learning to climb. Clumsy, awkward, curious at the limits but too cautious to take them. He’ll regret it immediately and return to the quiet serious passion that he’s had.
Then months will wash away, Dame’s emotions will settle, become comfortable. And that’s when he’ll surprise you again. He’ll whisper a joke, one not awkward, and that he won’t regret. And though your time with Dame will remain earnest and intense, he will welcome levity, even in the most intimate of moments.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Dame dyes his hair blonde, but even the casual observer will see that his natural hair color is a dark brown. Naturally the rest of his bodyhair will be this color. When you first get with Dame he will still be with Johnny, as such he will be meticulously groomed.
After his and Johnny’s relationship has ended, and he is free to be with you openly then he will not groom himself at all, nor will he dye his hair anymore. In fact there may be other changes he has been wanting to do in regards to his hair. Though we’ll get to that later.
Dame has no strong feelings about body hair, nor does he understand the disgust many people have with it. If Ares tries to get him to shave he’ll say no, and it could start a fight. He won’t be trapped in a controlling relationship again. Though his pubic hair doesn’t grow to be very long.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Dame? The reincarnation of Aphrodite? The god of love? That should be obvious. He is endlessly intimate, and needs you to be as well. Anything less than extraordinarily intimate is going to immediately turn him off and make him bitter for the rest of the day.
Foreplay with him will last five times as long as the actual ***, and the aftercare will last until you fall asleep. This can actually cause problems if you and him have *** in the morning, because then you have an entire day of an affectionate Dame following you around, or checking on you in solitary moments.
That sounds nice until you need privacy, for a phone call, to relax, even for the bathroom. He may talk to you through the door, or listen to your conversation. If you need to be alone just to be alone it’s better to not **** in the morning.
J = Jack off (************ headcanon)
In short? He rarely masturbates, and when he does he may need your help.
Alone. Dame’s alone, he has been for a while. You disappeared on him yet again. Sure, at least this time you send texts, make daily calls. Jackie has you half a continent away, some bullshit job she could have had anyone do. But she chose you. Dame stares at his phone, it's pointless. You can’t talk often, you made that clear. But the anxiety won’t go away.
He wants your attention, craves your gaze, your voice, your touch. The weight of you in the bed next to him, your hand on his neck, your lips…
Dame stuffs a pillow over his face and groans angrily into it. He needs a distraction. Rolling over and laying on the pillow, he pulls up his phone. Mindlessly scroll through contacts, Franco, no. Mitch, god no. Riley…Maybe they’d be able to bring Dame to you… But no. It’s a risk Dame won’t take. He clicks his tongue once he reaches the bottom.
He has friends, he has to! Dame is the god of love, of course he must have friends. Another scroll and… nope. Surely he missed something, his finger darts back up, but before he reaches the top of the contacts a message comes through.
[ARES has sent a picture]
He catches it, just barely as the icon flits away. Just the barest glimpse at the condensed picture. Dame’s inside thrills, quickly clicking on your messages. His entire body stops once he sees it. You. Bare, water dripping down your body. A selfie through a fogged up mirror, the steam wiped away from everywhere except the parts Dame wants most. Your face with the world's most perfect smirk.
He bites his lip as he gawks at it, trying to see through the fog. His insides playing with his mind, swearing if he just keeps staring then the fog will go away. Dame types a response, deletes it, thinks about it again, types, deletes, types, deletes. He must look a fool, his message popping and disappearing. All while your naked body taunts him above the keyboard. When he finally sends it’s a single, hungry, word. More.
The next picture comes quickly. You’re dry now, drier at least. There’s still a sheen on your skin that the light glints off of. A towel is wrapped around you, keeping the sight even more hidden than it was before.
More.
It takes longer this time, Dame lets out a quiet noise. He doesn’t get this bad often. Normally the only way to get him in the mood is you being next to him. Wrapped around each other, small words and soft kisses spread through hours. But there must be a blue moon because tonight Dame needs you, it's a curse that you’re not here.
The phone buzzes and Dame is already hungry for the photo.
You’re on the hotel’s bed, the top of your face is cut off this time, but you still bite your lip. The rest of the picture has you sprawled out on the bed. Legs open, everything shown.
Dame lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He’s on his knees now, pillow pressed between his thighs, soft blanket pooling around his feet as he grinds down. A quiet groan escaping him. Dame stares at your body, the picture doesn’t do you justice. The hotel lighting doesn’t do you justice.
He’s forced to close his eyes and imagine you next to him, posing as you are. His hand between his legs moving slowly. But imagination doesn’t do you justice. He doesn’t touch himself often. Never wanted to, never had to. But today’s a lucky day, or unlucky if you’re in Dame’s sexually frustrated shoes. You make the nerve endings through his entire body scream without you here to soothe. It’s torture. He needs a release. He calls you, his hand moving more rapidly as the phone rings. And rings… and rings.
And then a click.
“Hey—” You start, your voice nearly sends him over the edge.
“Talk me through it.” Dame interrupts. Compared to your words Dame must sound sick. He feels sick.
You laugh, and Dame shoves his face into the mattress. “What?”
“Talk me through it.” His hand moves quicker, the pillow digging into a perfect spot, just to imagine you there. “Please?”
No response, just a quiet breath from your end. “Of course.” He can hear your smile and it almost makes him finish then and there.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
In short? (Heavy) praise, and (light) choking.
“Are you sure?” Dame moves in front of you, it's so easy to admire him in the morning light. ****. You didn’t even realize it was morning. In truth you were hoping that the sun wouldn’t rise. You and Dame could stay here, together, forever. Talking like there’s no end. He’s curled up in the corner of your bed, where it meets the wall, tanned skin lit aflame by hues of the orange and pink sunrise.
“Of course.” Your voice is soft, and tender. As if one wrong tone will make Dame disappear. As proof of your words you gently bring your lips to his. He shows his greedy side here, opening to swallow you whole. You don’t let yourself idle in the act, you’ve burnt up the night, you don’t want to waste the day. As soon as you bring your lips away, he lets out a low whine. “Just tell me what you like, I’ll do it.”
Dame takes a shuddering breath, tongue sliding along his lips, then he bites it. You nearly feel his teeth cut into your own lip, as if your taste alone was enough to bind you to him. Slowly Dame slides his hand over yours. “Now… don’t be a dick by judging me.” he whispers.
“Never.”
“I really like… well…” Dame lets out a laugh, a bit loud, clearly embarrassed, a red tint blossoming through his cheeks.
“You can do it.” You try to motivate him but it only seems to send a small sputtering noise from him.
“That.” He whispers.
You quirk a brow and lean closer in the bed, “What?”
“Don’t laugh but I like to be…” Dame waves a hand as if casually throwing the word out, “Encouraged.”
Oh. Oh my. You smile, not laughing, but suddenly endlessly pleased. “Encouraged?”
“Yes.”
“You mean praised?”
“I… Yes.”
“Told you’re doing so well? That you look so good beneath me.”
“****—” He doesn’t meet your eye as you move closer and closer. “I’m not beneath you now.” He murmurs.
“You want to change that?” You kiss him again. Dame sinks into it, moaning an affirmative, or at least what you take as one. You part from him just enough to whisper “Good boy. He lets out a breath and shuts his eyes. “And the second? Are you going to show me that one too?”
Dame nods, eagerly too. Nearly headbutting you in the process. “Yes, yes.” He seems more excited about this one, far more, quickly starting to shift along the bed. “Here—” he sinks down, “Climb on top of me.” You do as he asks, straddling him. Greedily he takes the chance to run a hand up your stomach, a smile on his face as you take position.
Dame presses your hand to his collar, open fingers splayed across the bone. Then, slowly, he moves them up, keeping an eye on you as he goes. Your hand runs up to just below his chin. “Right here.” He taps your thumb, on one side of his neck, and your forefinger on the other. “Just a little pressure.” Dame swallows, his breath clearly eager. “Only here, if it's too much I'll tell you—” You squeeze, barely anything at all before he opens his mouth and smiles. “Yeah,” it comes out more like a gasp than actual words.
You smile, tilting your head to watch him. Dame gently rocks his hips from beneath you, “Oh, you’re eager.”
He nods, watching you with darkened eyes and a trembling lip. You lay next to him, pressing your body against his, and add a bit more pressure to his neck before slowly sinking your hands down his pelvis. Quickly you learn just what to do to make Dame unravel. A whisper here, a squeeze there, following his directions until right at the end you hear him whisper, “Harder.”
And he becomes a mess in your hands.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Though it’s certainly possible for Dame to get worked up enough to make love to you anywhere…realistically the only time it’ll happen is some place warm, comfortable, and safe. When your relationship begins it won’t be uncommon for him to gift you blankets and pillows after seeing how few you sleep with. Because how can he be expected to relax in your home without luxuries available. Not even for ***, in fact Dame’s the last person who will give you something even considering *** at all. At the start he’ll want to enjoy every moment with you, and being in a comfortable place will make that enjoyment happen quicker.
This also applies during ***. With few exceptions, Dame will need some place he feels safe.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Dame can be turned on in a number of ways. He likes it when you’re aggressive with others, but not a dick. Other than that, simply showing you love him. Going out of your way to bring him food, remembering his coffee order. Doing any of these won’t fully light the fire but it’ll get it started. Though normally that fire dies long before you can get someplace to really fuel it.
If you are alone and someplace he can relax then you could undress him. Not to the nude, of course, but small pieces of clothing. (check out the Wild Card letter for more) A surefire way to turn him on is…by talking. Lay in bed next to him, hold each other, talk, laugh, cry. It’ll always lead to kissing, grinding, and eventually, yes, ***. Just be careful not to push too quickly, otherwise he’ll drop out of the mood, leaving you high and dry.
Now, that said…there is a way to flip that switch for Dame. To send him from zero to a hundred in under a second. And it is…spite. Which sounds counterintuitive to what has been discussed, but if Dame really hates someone he will not only be willing to ****, but will actively initiate *** with you, so long as it’s in a place that the person Dame hates enjoys, or somehow sticks it to someone he hates. He’s petty, and spiteful, and desires to defile what place his enemies deem holy.
Places such as Jackie’s office, the back of Verne’s truck, Jackie’s home, Riley’s home (if you can get there unnoticed somehow), or…his own home when Johnny’s out for the day…Maybe even the church he’s being married in…on his wedding day.
All of these are fantasies Dame will have, even if he can never fullfil them.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Dame will never accept you frightening or hurting him. The only exception to this is choking, and only when he desires it, which is often but moods can change. He won’t let you pressure him into ***, and will be very firm with his boundaries. Dame doesn’t want to do anything that could take one, or both, of you out of the moment. Things such as taking pictures, videos, role playing, none of that. He wants you, and only you. Finally: Don’t bring up Johnny or Jackie before, during, or after ***. Seriously.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Dame would enjoy both giving and receiving, but in very different ways.
When giving he’ll tease you, dance around beginning by focusing on other parts of you to kiss. You’ll be left with bite marks on your thighs, and hickies on your hips. When he does begin it’ll be with the pace he sets in all things sexual. Gently pulling you to the edge and dancing on it until you’re begging for him to let you finish, or taking what you want. Either way the goal is to leave you frustrated enough that when you do finally go over the edge, you empty all of your energy in that single overwhelming climax. He’ll consider that a win.
When receiving it’ll leave Dame without your mouth to kiss and without your body to hold. He will want you to bring him to the edge and over quickly so he can hold you again, but at the same time he will desperately try to keep himself from finishing, even going so far as to screw his eyes shut and breathe very slowly. For if he looks down and makes eye contact with you it’s over and he’ll refuse to let you tease him for becoming a mess so entirely.
Some part of him would wish to have a way to use your mouth and hold you at the same time. Dame would probably enjoy both giving and receiving at the same time, but 69ing has always felt a touch too kinky for him to actually try it.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
It’s been said to death already how slow Dame is, so it won’t be restated. Instead, you should know that once Dame’s in the mood he loves to be overwhelmed and left seeing stars, all while his pleas to slow are left unanswered. It can only be done as you and him near the peak of your love making.
If you take the initiative then pin Dame beneath you. **** him, or ride him from an angle that gives you an advantage and do not let up. Be quick. Relentless. Let your muscles burn and scream within you. And keep going.
If Dame’s taking the initiative then wrap your legs around his waist, or grab his hips and command “Faster.” He will listen. Then say “Harder.” Repeat again “Faster.” “Don’t let up.” “Keep going.” “Harder.” and watch as he cries from above you, desperately overwhelming himself by your command.
You can return to the letter K if you want ways to keep him in the moment. Telling him how good he’s taking/****ing you, holding him by the throat to keep him from leaving. You can trust that, despite how much he’ll beg to stop, if Dame truly didn’t like it he would throw you off, and he wouldn’t beg you to keep going when you do listen.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
In short? Dame hates quickies, but there can be a rare mood when his passion is overshone by lust. Then, and only then, he’ll love something fast and raw.
Dame’s back presses against the door, sending a loud click through Jackie’s marble office. You look back only briefly, eyes almost bored before you see the predatory gleam over Dame’s face.
His smile is sharp, almost cruel. You look concerned as you watch, Dame slowly raises his hand, delicately trailing a finger up the wooden frame before finding the latch. He snaps it closed, you seem to understand and let out a nervous laugh.
“Dame—” You begin as he meets you, with prodding fingers pushing you just an inch, for the back of your thighs to meet Jackie’s desk. Your hands cup Dame’s face and he leans into it, excitement playing up his core. Alone, finally alone with you. His fingers loop beneath the waist band, pull it back just enough to catch a sliver of skin he hadn’t seen in a week.
He whispers your name, a challenge, and watches your eyes drift to his lips, open mouth and quiet breaths. Dame’s already excited, even the prospect of you and him alone here. So easy to be caught, the idea of Jackie walking in to see you two over her desk, too love drunk to care. Dame already doesn’t care.
Now that his engagement is over he wonders how often he denied Johnny something like this? Dame’s always despised quickies. There’s no passion, it’s just ****ing for the sake of ****ing. But today…today his mind is swirling with need.
“Here?” You ask in equally as quiet of a voice. You turn your head, lean closer. Dame bites his lip in anticipation, your hand slides to the back of his head and unravels him with a kiss. Your first kiss is revenge and hunger wrapped into one. Good. Dame wasn’t the only one that needed this.
Dame tries to separate to say something snide but only gets so much as a wet gasp of air before you’re on him again. Your second kiss is your declaration of love. It makes him melt, fingers falling away from your zipper and slapping onto the marble desk for support. You break off and Dame finally gets to speak the answer he’s wanted to say.
“Please…”
“Needy.” You chide and Dame lets out a groan, but doesn’t disagree.
“We don’t have to.” He mutters, despite the desperate growing hunter to sink his teeth into you. “But, I’m burning up…can we? Please?”
“Needy.” It’s your turn to smile like a predator. “Well?”
He lets out a chuckle and shoves you past the desk, you stumble and hit a bookshelf, with a confidence Dame hasn’t felt in years he grabs you by a belt loop and strides to Jackie’s chair behind the desk. With gentle fingers he leads to the chair, and a gentle push sends you stumbling into it.
The way you stare at Dame sends a fiery desolation in his heart. You look perfect on this holy throne…He can’t wait to defile it…defile you.
Dame leans over you in the chair, knee between your thighs, sinking into the leather. His soft lips kiss against your own, then along your cheek and jaw, down your neck, your collar. Dame’s fingers slip beneath your shirt, a dangerous laugh gets sent through him as he feels skin denied to him.
Dame slowly slides to his knees. His skin presses into the cold stone floor from the tears along his pants. Endlessly teasing, he runs a finger up your calf, staring up at you from the floor expectantly. “Well?” He asks.
In your excitement your fingers fumble the zipper twice, glancing towards the door during it. Each mistake ignites something cruel inside of him. On the third slip Dame grabs it himself, fingers tangling with yours, and pulls it down. Your hips shake from anticipation, and he’s in a similar way. With yank, your pants are at your knees and exposing what was once beneath them.
Dame doesn’t let you adjust to the cold before his mouth takes what it wants. Normally he would draw this out, but he’s starving and you taste so good.
“Oh ****—” Your mumbles slip into a wordless moan. A noise that only fuels the heat in Dame’s core.
His fingers work you through it, and he devours every hitch of your breath.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)
Though it’s rare, Dame can be a risk taker when in the mood, especially when motivated by spite. He’ll love the thrill of ****ing in places you two absolutely shouldn’t. But that’s about as far as the risk will go.
As for experimenting with other things…Maybe. For Dame, you can’t just thrust kink out and say “lets try this” because Dame will need to really…research it. Even very small ones like being blindfolded. Dame finds enjoyment in learning about things, and he will spend hours on forums, watching tutorials, even reading smut. Anything to get into how to do a kink safely and why it even exists. If it's safe to do by himself, then he will, just to try and get in the headspace.
So when you bring up an idea of something new to do, just be sure you’re not about to have ***, otherwise Dame will be next to you, naked and on his lap top, reading forum posts.
And after all of that…most of the time Dame will come back days later and simply say no. He likes passion, and isn’t going to experiment too much if it could take your mind off him loving you, or his mind off you loving him.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Out of every member in the cast Dame is the least sexual, in practically every way. He’ll always make sure you’ve finished, and is more than willing to focus hours on you alone, but he’s the main course…it’s a quick meal. Dame won’t last long. He’ll try to, of course. Try to not immediately fall apart in your hands, but he will finish quickly, in under ten minutes, most likely. And after he’s finished Dame won’t be ready to go again for hours at minimum, sometimes days.
That said, as long as he isn’t the one focussed on, *** will tend to last far far longer. Just let Dame pace himself.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
No toys. Anything will either feel like he’s being used, or using you. It’s possible that he’ll allow you to be cuffed if you desire it, especially if you fight against the cuffs while he’s with you. But he’ll always prefer you in your entirety to one restrained.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
This is complicated, as there are different stages to Dame’s romance that most others don’t get.
Before you and him get together? Dame will tease you in ways that you may not even know is him teasing you. He’ll stretch, making his shirt ride up. F!Dame will wear no *** and subtly show off, or M!Dame may even answer the door shirtless. Basically, Dame will tease you in exact ways that make you feel like you’re the pervert for sexualizing him. However, after the relationship started…
If Dame is still with Johnny then in public he will barely acknowledge you, and may even go out of his way to seem less appealing to you to hide your relationship. This may even extend to when you know that you both are alone but in a more public place, because someone may be watching…Hell, even when you’re alone in private, Dame will never tease you. But that is for an entirely different reason. Because why would he waste time when he can have you?
Now, when openly in a relationship things will change. Dame becomes extremely unfair. He’ll find joy in waiting until nobody’s looking to do something very quick to make you jump.
Pinching your butt is a very tame version. Expect the return of the subtle flirting from before, but this time a bit more egregious. He’ll still be subtle, but it will skirt the line and have those around you wondering if Dame was actually flirting with you, or if they are mistaken. When alone Dame will tease you for hours. Since he doesn’t exactly last long in bed, *** will be foreplay and he will make sure it’s drawn out.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Quiet. Barely a noise, try to get him to talk and all that will come out are soundless breaths, and the occasional whine. At the right moment, during a brief rest or a shift of positions, Dame will pull you closer and breathlessly whisper “I love you, I love you, I love you,” like a tortuous prayer, for as long as it takes to begin again.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
In short? Undress them, and talk to them. It drives them wild.
Dame stumbles through your doorway, arms around you, lips against yours. Today was perfect, he couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than with you. Finally, you two can be publicly intimate. Nothing will happen if you’re caught hand in hand, nobody will mind. Well, some do, but they can’t do a thing. So he spent his first day of freedom dragging you to his favorite places.
Unfortunately, a day like this has left Dame exhausted…and drunk. Exceedingly so. He kisses you, bites your lower lip just a smidge, and laughs into your mouth. You mutter something dangerous to his already weak composure, but it's muffled by him.
You break away, just for a second, to take your shoes off. In that time Dame’s mind swims, while his body sways. A loud pop makes both you and Dame flinch. He searches for the culprit and finds it was his own hand desperately slapping the wall to prevent him from falling.
“I gotta sit down.” Dame mumbles, then takes one step and his boots, wet from snow, slide against the hardwood floor. Now he ends up smacking a hand on your shoulder for support, ever thankful at how immovable you’ve always been. “My boots…” Dame leans down, presses his head against your chest, on purpose because he knows he can blame the alcohol, and struggles to work the laces free.
Damn sober Dame. Damn him to hell.
“Hey,” you murmur softly, hand sliding up his arm, and down his side until your fingers are pressed against his ribs. “Let me.”
Confused, Dame lets you guide him to your couch, and sits down. His legs splayed out, the heels of his boots resting against the floor. Instinctively he tilts his head back, looks to the ceiling before finding his eyelids heavy. The encroaching wall of sleep is only beaten back by the delicate dance of your fingers. Like a kid in church, Dame peeks to see what you’re doing, before his eyes widen and he can only stare.
You’re kneeling between his legs, focused entirely on the tangled laces that hold Dame’s boots. Softly you say, “Next time let’s just stay in.” And Dame’s heart swells. Next time, of course there’s going to be a next time.
Your fingers undo the knot, just as your presence has undone Dame. How can a thing of war be so soft? It's a wonder how all things have not been unmade by your diametric nature. But maybe that’s a side you have only shown Dame…it would make sense, you are the only one who’s seen the whole of him.
“I liked the park,” he whispers back.
You open the tongue of the boot, grab it by the back. The cold air hits the warmth of his ankle and travels down, as you remove his foot from the boot like delicate glass work. Oh, oh this. He’s forgotten this small ritual. You have too, of course, but at least Dame remembers this act of submission, and love.
“I did too.” His foot is gently set on your thigh, you’re careful to not let it slip into the puddle left behind. Then you move to the next one. “I liked the movie as well...” “And the drinks after,” he snorts.
This boot comes off easier, your hands working quickly. “We can have those last two inside though, away from people.” when you pull it off your hand stays on the arch of his foot for just a moment.
He tries to respond but all that comes out is a shaky breath. You glance up to Dame, probably assuming that he’s fallen asleep. What a desperate thing he must appear. Eyes wide, pupils wider, practically panting at the sight of your submission. Your lips are red and soft. “Keep going,” Dame murmurs.
You take a sock off, and then the next. Dame reaches down hand aloft for you, “Keep going.” And just as gently you pull his gloves, needing to raise to your knees to remove his scarf. The movement brings your face too close to Dame and it’s over. He kisses you, sinking down to the floor, pants sliding against the melted snow. It’s fine, because those are what you take off
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Dame’s body is well groomed to begin with, but after Johnny then Dame won’t shave often. But he doesn’t have much body hair to begin with. His leg hair is dark but thin, and his pubic hair is mostly wild and ungroomed. Once in a relationship he won’t shave if you ask him to. He’s had to change his body enough for one partner, he won’t do it again for another. Even you.
There are a few minor scars that dot Dame’s body, as well as several small dark moles on his chest, shoulders, and back, including one on his stomach that he enjoys having you kiss as it’s an excellent place to watch you and allows him to run his fingers through your hair.
Dame’s skinny, maybe underweight as he doesn’t eat often, nor does he work out. M!Dame has an average *****, and wider than average hips.
Though it has been considered many times, Dame has never gotten a tattoo. If Ares were to suggest matching ones he would agree, so long as they’re small but easy to look at in public. Like on the wrist. He’d want it as his little reminder. In his youth he had several piercings both above and… below the neck. Including one below the belt… But those were removed when he got together with Johnny.
If he ever tells Ares that, then perhaps Ares can convince him to get those piercings again, in fact even a minor interest would do it. Dame enjoyed those pieces quite a lot, all he needs is to be reminded of them.
Y = Yearning (how high is their *** drive?)
Nearly non-existent *** drive. It takes him a while to work up to wanting someone intimately. If Dame’s to be truthful he’s actually fine with not having *** ever again. Though he can be worked up fairly quickly if… encouraged by Ares. He won’t often go out of his way to try to have ***.
This does not mean Dame is asexual, as he is, and will always be, sexually attracted to Ares. But Dame rarely desires *** out of nowhere, and even still the physical intimacy is secondary to the emotional intimacy. He will be happy to not act on those desires so long as Ares can fill the romantic and emotional intimacy.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Sleep? If Dame sleeps then he risks waking to find that you’ve disappeared on him again. He needs to watch you. Watch your breathing, your parted lips, your eyes moving as you dream. Dame won’t sleep until he’s forced to. Until his body gives in. He’ll wake to find hours have passed, fear overcoming him, the fear that he has lost you again, only then to find that you two are curled together.
Eventually he’ll stop fearing your loss. Eventually he’ll be able to close his eyes next to you and know you’ll be there when he wakes. It will take time though. Once he reaches that point you won’t be able to keep him awake after you two lie together, too quickly will he succumb to your comfort.
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after ***)
In short? Soft, affectionate, and more than a little possessive and dependant.
Dame’s fingers hook into your hips leaving red cuts behind, not breaking the skin but coming damn near. Your legs shake as you try to climb off of her, she doesn’t allow it at first, letting a low groan roll through her throat. You smile, and breathlessly down, your lips gently opening to kiss along her neck, “Should I declaw you?” You whisper just below her ear.
Dame seems to realize what you mean and a small gasp whispers out. She lifts her fingers, looking down to your bare hips, waist, and… Dame snaps her head back up, red faced despite what the two of you had just done. “S— Sorry.” Her voice is hoarse and gentle, the pads of her fingers rubbing circles against the place she grabbed you.
You detach yourself from her, letting her hands fall back. Without much thought you move beside her, Dame does the same, wrapping her arm around you. A move that feels natural to your very soul. She faces you, fingers sliding across your skin as she watches you, mesmerized by every subtle movement your body makes.
Dame presses a kiss into your collarbone, she bites down along the skin, making your back twitch in surprise, only parting to quickly ask “Can I stay for the night?” You almost laugh.
“You never have to ask me that.” Your hand cups her cheek, her hair falling through your fingers as you slide your palm around her neck to pull her closer.
“I still like hearing it.” Dame lets herself be pulled closer and you smile at her words.
“Well then,” You press your forehead against her, sharing her air as she lets out a quiet excited laugh, “Stay the night with me, why don’t you?”
“Mhmm…” she slips a tanned hand up your chest, her fingers running just over your collar yet again. God only knows what she’s so possessive of there, and why her gaze watches to it like your throat is a wellspring in a desert. “You never have to ask me that.” She whispers.
“Okay,” You whisper, putting a hand over her fingers and pulling it off your collar. Immediately she slides them down to hold your waist. “What’s got you so obsessed?” You run your hand over the skin, trailing up your neck to try and feel something.
Dame laughs a little louder now, a little goofy. “Nothing.”
“Liar, what’d you do?”
Dame’s smile can be heard through her words, “You had to have felt me put them there.” she rests her head on your chest, staring up to you.
Your fingers stop rubbing and suspiciously you gaze down. “Hickies?” You ask blandly, and you see her light up.
“Oh yes.” The words come out as a long low purr.
“Dame— How bad is it?”
She closes her eyes, using you as a pillow as she traces patterns with her fingers, “You should wear a scarf tomorrow.”
“We have a meeting— Everyone is going to be there.”
“Then they’ll see you’re taken.”
You almost feel annoyed by that, annoyed that she would do this, but it’s an effort when she holds you like you were crafted to slot together, “Johnny—”
“Won’t know they’re from me.” She cuts you off, “ And I don’t want to think about him. Or Jackie, or anyone else.” Dame slowly raises her head to meet your eye, “It’s only us here. Let it just be only us.”
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Dame doesn’t love a lot about her body. Far too much of it has been objectified, clinically considered as an asset or a defect for her to really love any single piece of her. With you Dame will come to love what you do, where your hands drift to while you kiss, what you stare at when she is bare beside you.
Only once she has healed, gained a semblance of her personhood back, will Dame come to like the way her thighs look. It’s nothing that she will outwardly show. Simply wearing pieces of clothing that will show them off more in private. Skinnier jeans and shorts, or if you’re lucky nothing at all.
On you, however? Well she will say she likes every inch of you equally, maybe not your annoying mouth on some days. But you know that's a lie. There’s a part of you that she clearly favors far far above any other piece. Your hips, but especially your waist. Dear god, Dame will latch onto your waist like you’re a ship’s mast in a storm.
You stretch enough to raise your shirt and her gaze falls to the bare skin, uncaring who may notice the blatant want in her gaze. During ***, she will bruise you there from holding onto it too tight, and after she will mark you there with her mouth and teeth. Walking down the street she will put a hand around it. Even asleep you’ll feel her holding on to it. Because to her it’s like a natural handle. Perfect to pull you closer to her.
Truly, no matter what she says, you’ll know what part of your body she loves. There’s really no debate about it.
C = *** (anything to do with ***, basically)
Dame hates the texture. *** is always so sweaty and wet that it takes away from the experience. Much to her grief and annoyance, yours drives Dame wild. For ***** she likes the bloom of warmth if you’re inside of her. For wetness she wants you absolutely soaked when you’re with her.
Dame likes the way your voice pitches when you’re close, the contractions your body makes as you’re cumming. She likes the way it glistens across her skin, the feeling between her fingers. Dame bask in the proof of your arousal for as long as she can. And if you finish on or in her mouth then it’s all the better.
Though Dame would never say this, ask her and she’ll act revolted and claim you’re sick in the head. It’s embarrassing to her, knowing how much she likes to feel used, claimed, and desired.
When everything has calmed down, then Dame will quickly snap back to hating the texture. As for her own…
Dame doesn’t really care for it.
She’d like to see your mouth glistening after she’s wrapped her legs around it when finishing.
Just don’t expect a kiss until after you’ve brushed your teeth.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
In short? Dame is jealous of anyone who’s able to have casual ***. (Written with a ***-vice Ares)
“I have secrets…” Dame can tell just how whiny she sounds the moment it leaves her mouth.
You don’t believe her, Dame can tell by how you look at her. It’s only the third most annoying thing you’ve done today, right behind you cornering her outside and not letting her taste you properly, and of course that thing you did with your tongue right as she was about to finish an hour ago. She’ll never forgive you for that.
“I do,” Dame defends, and you nod along idly.
“I’m all ears,” you purr, pressing your lips to her collar bone, nipping softly at the skin. ****. Dame really doesn’t have dirty secrets. She’s boring in bed, prefers a single partner, and has never done anything risky. Hell, she’d rather stay inside for weeks at a time than go and be...sexually active. If Dame couldn’t feel the lust that rolls off of people…****, she’d probably still be a virgin. Pathetic for a love god.
Your hand slips lower, fingers gently tracing the line of her ribs, moving to her stomach. Dame hasn’t spoken for a hot moment, and she hesitates before saying, “I’m jealous.”
The movement slows, she doesn’t meet your eye. “Of me?”
“A bit,” she laughs. “But, not just of you…gods this is going to sound awful but I’m jealous of anyone who’s more…active.”
Your hand pulls back just a fraction, Dame doesn’t want to initiate that argument again. Especially now that you two are together. “I mean…*** for me…needs what we have.I can’t be casual, the concept is an entire ****ing world away from me.” She grabs your hand softly, kisses the knuckles. **** you have wonderful hands.Your last few lives didn’t have that, did they? “I used to think something was wrong with me. None of my past lives needed connection like this”
You lift the hand, cupping Dame’s cheek. “You think you’ve missed out?” You ask, voice as soft as your touch.
“Before you returned I used to sit at the bar in Elysium, just watching everyone.”
Even now she remembers the arousal in that place. A constant bombardment of desires and disappointment. She would feel people who felt like a wasteland become a garden of want through a single conversation. Dame’s felt people cheat, felt people rebound, but the most confounding ones were those that stayed a wasteland. Those who weren’t even attracted to the person they hit on, those who egged the conversation on and knew how to make the other’s lust flourish and left with them even when they felt nothing. Those are people she couldn’t conceive of, an entire opposite from Dame in every possible way.
“I may have been hit on…four times?” She’s asking because it was hard to see who wanted to talk, and who wanted to flirt. Most nights nobody approached her. “Each time I’ve tried to emulate what everyone else did, and I couldn’t. It felt forced.”
“Well.” Your thumb runs across her cheekbone, then curves down to her earlobe. “You probably were forcing it.”
Dame leans into the touch, closes her eyes, then she speaks in a breathy whisper. “That’s why I’m jealous…the only time I’ve never had to force it was with you.”
You hum against her neck, “I can tell you that everyone’s wired differently but you’ve already thought of that, haven’t you?” She nods and you continue. “We could roleplay. Go out, pretend to be strangers…”
Dame snickers at the idea. “What if fake-you’s a dick?” She doesn’t let you answer. ”Maybe. How did it feel for you?”
“Oh.” Your voice sounds very surprised, the moment stretches long enough for Dame to panic, then you speak. “Depends on the night, I guess some days felt like work. I knew I just wanted to relax, the *** was relaxing, and it was so much work to get there some days that I just gave up. But other days…it was thrilling.”
When you say that your breath hits her ear in a way that makes her body tingle. “Tell me, like I was there, your target for the night.”
A tiny chuckle comes out of you, makes Dame’s face warm. “After I saw you, I’d start soft. Ask a question that gets your attention.”
“A pickup line?”
“Only if I was desperate. I like to start with something about your clothes. So it’d depend on what you’re wearing, which…” You hook a finger on the edge of the blanket, gently raising it, attempting to spy what’s beneath—
Dame yanks it back down, face feeling hot. “Noted,” she croaks, thick and embarrassed even though you’ve just spent hours staring at it.
“I’d give you my name, get a drink, ask if you’d want one since the bartender was there. All casual-like.”
“Hmm, I’d say no. I already have a drink, can’t you see?” She teases, and moves further down, readjusting to be face to face now.
“Well…I thought it was your friend’s. Oh? You’re here alone? That’s a shame. I am too, seems like everyone here is in a group, right?”
Dame snickers, “Maybe we’re just both losers.”
“You don’t look like a loser to me, but you’re welcome to prove me wrong.” Beneath the blankets you slide some fingers up her forearm, leave them there for a heart beat, slowly take them off. Though what makes Dame feel light is the way you hold her eyes. Like you truly want to know.
She breaks the contact first. “I’m antisocial.”
“Right, because clubs are the best places to be alone.”
Your tone makes her want to roll her eyes and smile. It takes her a moment to smile, not ready for improvisation. “It's good for people watching.”
"Is that why you’re a loser? You like to spy on strangers?”
“No!” She laughs, “I’m not a creep, people are just interesting.”
“Well has anything caught your interest? Anyone?”
“Maybe. There are just so many attractive people here today, I can hardly see them all.” She starts to joke, but her chest flutters when you make eye contact, refusing to break it. She has to work to remember what this scenario is for a brief moment. Instinctively pushing on her time at Elysium. “Music’s **** though.”
You scoot closer, hand on her thigh. An unfair advantage. “There are quieter places…with better views.”
“And I’m sure you’re desperate to show them.” Dame forces herself to look away, only for you to pull off her thigh, and gently put a finger against her jaw. You guide her back to look at you, a new look on your face. Something all too hungry.
“Could you blame me if I was?”
Dame understands it all now.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Difficult to say. Dame has been with very few people in this life, in fact you can count on one hand how many people. Dame’s had a single girlfriend in the past, just before Johnny, that she’s slept with. So that’s two that Dame doesn’t regret. However, M!Dame has slept with one person to make a deal, and F!Dame has slept with two; No matter what, both Dames regret doing so. Dame simply does not enjoy *** without some sort of emotional connection.
That said…she’s Aphrodite, and Aphrodite has been around the block a few times. In the hundred years of Ares’s disappearance especially, Dame’s past lives searched for connection and trust wherever they could find it. This led to two long lives that, if not full of love, definitely full of ***.
If Damiana wants to think about her past experience she would hardly even count those two lives. They were full of grief and were too caught up in wild emotions for Dame to “learn” anything from them. It was a very dreamlike time for her. So most of what Dame calls experience will be from her collective lives, and from her most guarded and secret memories of Ares.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Once Aphrodite and you were a livewire of passion and connection. Together there was nothing that could contain your love, and in the wake of your joined desires there would be left ruined beds, sofas, tables, chairs, walls… But that was over a century ago. Now things have changed, Dame isn’t the Aphrodite of the past, and you are not the Ares of the past. She has missed you for so long that when you return she doesn’t know exactly what to do.
When you finally break the tension, and let your shared desires guide you, Dame will pull you to someplace quiet to hear you, someplace dim enough to comfort but lit enough to see, someplace soft. A bed, preferably, but beggars can't be choosers and Dame has been begging for this for so long. She will pull you on top, and not let you leave. Relying on your weight to remind her that this is real, this is not another falsehood that her mind has cooked up. You’re back, and you’re trapping her on the bed. It will bring more comfort than she thinks she deserves.
After you two are together, and have been together for quite some time, Dame's preference will change. On top, on bottom, beside, upside down, suspended from the ceiling on silk ropes…none of it matters to her as long as she can see your face.
If you’re in a meeting with Jackie, standing at her desk as she speaks, then Dame will imagine bending you over or being bent over it. If you’re kneeling, tying a shoe or just picking something up, Dame will imagine using your mouth. If you’re laying in bed she won’t have to imagine a thing because she will simply climb on top and satisfy the hunter that’s been starving her.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Dame’s not that goofy to begin with, savoring every second she has with you and always trying to wring more and more out. *** will last hours and hours if Dame has her way, and every second will be more passionate than the last. And just when you begin to think every moment with her will be like that Dame’s walls will fall away, brick by brick. She’ll be overwhelmed with joy in the moment, and she’ll make a joke, say the most cringey flirtatious line she can think up. It’ll be like a cat learning to climb. Clumsy, awkward, curious at the limits but too cautious to take them. She’ll regret it immediately and return to the quiet serious passion that she’s had.
Then months will wash away, Dame’s emotions will settle, become comfortable. And that’s when she’ll surprise you again. She’ll whisper a joke, one not awkward, and that she won’t regret. And though your time with Dame will remain earnest and intense, she will welcome levity, even in the most intimate of moments.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Dame dyes her hair blonde, but even the casual observer will see that her natural hair color is a dark brown. Naturally the rest of her bodyhair will be this color. When you first get with Dame she will still be with Johnny, as such she will be meticulously groomed.
After her and Johnny’s relationship has ended, and she is free to be with you openly then she will not groom herself at all, nor will she dye her hair anymore. In fact there may be other changes she has been wanting to do in regards to her hair. Though we’ll get to that later.
Dame has no strong feelings about body hair, nor does she understand the disgust many people have with it. If Ares tries to get her to shave she’ll say no, and it could start a fight. She won’t be trapped in a controlling relationship again. Though her pubic hair doesn’t grow to be very long.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Dame? The reincarnation of Aphrodite? The god of love? That should be obvious. She is endlessly intimate, and needs you to be as well. Anything less than extraordinarily intimate is going to immediately turn her off and make her bitter for the rest of the day.
Foreplay with her will last five times as long as the actual ***, and the aftercare will last until you fall asleep. This can actually cause problems if you and her have *** in the morning, because then you have an entire day of an affectionate Dame following you around, or checking on you in solitary moments.
That sounds nice until you need privacy, for a phone call, to relax, even for the bathroom. She may talk to you through the door, or listen to your conversation. If you need to be alone just to be alone it’s better to not **** in the morning.
J = Jack off (************ headcanon)
In short? She rarely masturbates, and when she does she may need your help.
Alone. Dame’s alone, she has been for a while. You disappeared on her yet again. Sure, at least this time you send texts, make daily calls. Jackie has you half a continent away, some bullshit job she could have had anyone do. But she chose you. Dame stares at her phone, it's pointless. You can’t talk often, you made that clear. But the anxiety won’t go away.
She wants your attention, craves your gaze, your voice, your touch. The weight of you in the bed next to her, your hand on her neck, your lips…
Dame stuffs a pillow over her face and groans angrily into it. She needs a distraction. Rolling over and laying on the pillow, she pulls up her phone. Mindlessly scroll through contacts, Franco, no. Mitch, god no. Riley…Maybe they’d be able to bring Dame to you… But no. It’s a risk Dame won’t take. She clicks her tongue once she reaches the bottom.
She has friends, she has to! Dame is the god of love, of course she must have friends. Another scroll and… nope. Surely she missed something, her finger darts back up, but before she reaches the top of the contacts a message comes through.
[ARES has sent a picture]
She catches it, just barely as the icon flits away. Just the barest glimpse at the condensed picture. Dame’s inside thrills, quickly clicking on your messages. Her entire body stops once she sees it. You. Bare, water dripping down your body. A selfie through a fogged up mirror, the steam wiped away from everywhere except the parts Dame wants most. Your face with the world's most perfect smirk.
She bites her lip as she gawks at it, trying to see through the fog. Her insides playing with her mind, swearing if she just keeps staring then the fog will go away. Dame types a response, deletes it, thinks about it again, types, deletes, types, deletes. She must look a fool, her message popping and disappearing. All while your naked body taunts her above the keyboard. When she finally sends it’s a single, hungry, word. More.
The next picture comes quickly. You’re dry now, drier at least. There’s still a sheen on your skin that the light glints off of. A towel is wrapped around you, keeping the sight even more hidden than it was before.
More.
It takes longer this time, Dame lets out a quiet noise. She doesn’t get this bad often. Normally the only way to get her in the mood is you being next to her. Wrapped around each other, small words and soft kisses spread through hours. But there must be a blue moon because tonight Dame needs you, it's a curse that you’re not here.
The phone buzzes and Dame is already hungry for the photo.
You’re on the hotel’s bed, the top of your face is cut off this time, but you still bite your lip. The rest of the picture has you sprawled out on the bed. Legs open, everything shown.
Dame lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She’s on her knees now, pillow pressed between her thighs, soft blanket pooling around her feet as she grinds down. A quiet groan escaping her. Dame stares at your body, the picture doesn’t do you justice. The hotel lighting doesn’t do you justice.
She’s forced to close her eyes and imagine you next to her, posing as you are. Her hand between her legs moving slowly. But imagination doesn’t do you justice. She doesn’t touch herself often. Never wanted to, never had to. But today’s a lucky day, or unlucky if you’re in Dame’s sexually frustrated shoes. You make the nerve endings through her entire body scream without you here to soothe. It’s torture. She needs a release. She calls you, her hand moving more rapidly as the phone rings. And rings… and rings.
And then a click.
“Hey—” You start, your voice nearly sends her over the edge.
“Talk me through it.” Dame interrupts. Compared to your words Dame must sound sick. She feels sick.
You laugh, and Dame shoves her face into the mattress. “What?”
“Talk me through it.” Her hand moves quicker, the pillow digging into a perfect spot, just to imagine you there. “Please?”
No response, just a quiet breath from your end. “Of course.” She can hear your smile and it almost makes her finish then and there.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
In short? (Heavy) praise, and (light) choking.
“Are you sure?” Dame moves in front of you, it's so easy to admire her in the morning light. ****. You didn’t even realize it was morning. In truth you were hoping that the sun wouldn’t rise. You and Dame could stay here, together, forever. Talking like there’s no end. She’s curled up in the corner of your bed, where it meets the wall, tanned skin lit aflame by hues of the orange and pink sunrise.
“Of course.” Your voice is soft, and tender. As if one wrong tone will make Dame disappear. As proof of your words you gently bring your lips to her. She shows her greedy side here, opening to swallow you whole. You don’t let yourself idle in the act, you’ve burnt up the night, you don’t want to waste the day. As soon as you bring your lips away, she lets out a low whine. “Just tell me what you like, I’ll do it.”
Dame takes a shuddering breath, tongue sliding along her lips, then she bites it. You nearly feel her teeth cut into your own lip, as if your taste alone was enough to bind you to her. Slowly Dame slides her hand over yours. “Now… don’t be a dick by judging me.” she whispers.
“Never.”
“I really like… well…” Dame lets out a laugh, a bit loud, clearly embarrassed, a red tint blossoming through her cheeks.
“You can do it.” You try to motivate her but it only seems to send a small sputtering noise from her.
“That.” She whispers.
You quirk a brow and lean closer in the bed, “What?”
“Don’t laugh but I like to be…” Dame waves a hand as if casually throwing the word out, “Encouraged.”
Oh. Oh my. You smile, not laughing, but suddenly endlessly pleased. “Encouraged?”
“Yes.”
“You mean praised?”
“I… Yes.”
“Told you’re doing so well? That you look so good beneath me.”
“****—” She doesn’t meet your eye as you move closer and closer. “I’m not beneath you now.” She murmurs.
“You want to change that?” You kiss her again. Dame sinks into it, moaning an affirmative, or at least what you take as one. You part from her just enough to whisper “Good girl. She lets out a breath and shuts her eyes. “And the second? Are you going to show me that one too?”
Dame nods, eagerly too. Nearly headbutting you in the process. “Yes, yes.” She seems more excited about this one, far more, quickly starting to shift along the bed. “Here—” she sinks down, “Climb on top of me.” You do as she asks, straddling her. Greedily she takes the chance to run a hand up your stomach, a smile on her face as you take position.
Dame presses your hand to her collar, open fingers splayed across the bone. Then, slowly, she moves them up, keeping an eye on you as she goes. Your hand runs up to just below her chin. “Right here.” She taps your thumb, on one side of her neck, and your forefinger on the other. “Just a little pressure.” Dame swallows, her breath clearly eager. “Only here, if it's too much I'll tell you—” You squeeze, barely anything at all before she opens her mouth and smiles. “Yeah,” it comes out more like a gasp than actual words.
You smile, tilting your head to watch her. Dame gently rocks her hips from beneath you, “Oh, you’re eager.”
She nods, watching you with darkened eyes and a trembling lip. You lay next to her, pressing your body against her, and add a bit more pressure to her neck before slowly sinking your hands down her pelvis. Quickly you learn just what to do to make Dame unravel. A whisper here, a squeeze there, following her directions until right at the end you hear her whisper, “Harder.”
And she becomes a mess in your hands.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Though it’s certainly possible for Dame to get worked up enough to make love to you anywhere…realistically the only time it’ll happen is some place warm, comfortable, and safe. When your relationship begins it won’t be uncommon for her to gift you blankets and pillows after seeing how few you sleep with. Because how can she be expected to relax in your home without luxuries available. Not even for ***, in fact Dame’s the last person who will give you something even considering *** at all. At the start she’ll want to enjoy every moment with you, and being in a comfortable place will make that enjoyment happen quicker.
This also applies during ***. With few exceptions, Dame will need some place she feels safe.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Dame can be turned on in a number of ways. She likes it when you’re aggressive with others, but not a dick. Other than that, simply showing you love her. Going out of your way to bring her food, remembering her coffee order. Doing any of these won’t fully light the fire but it’ll get it started. Though normally that fire dies long before you can get someplace to really fuel it.
If you are alone and someplace she can relax then you could undress her. Not to the nude, of course, but small pieces of clothing. (check out the Wild Card letter for more) A surefire way to turn her on is…by talking. Lay in bed next to her, hold each other, talk, laugh, cry. It’ll always lead to kissing, grinding, and eventually, yes, ***. Just be careful not to push too quickly, otherwise she’ll drop out of the mood, leaving you high and dry.
Now, that said…there is a way to flip that switch for Dame. To send her from zero to a hundred in under a second. And it is…spite. Which sounds counterintuitive to what has been discussed, but if Dame really hates someone she will not only be willing to ****, but will actively initiate *** with you, so long as it’s in a place that the person Dame hates enjoys, or somehow sticks it to someone she hates. She’s petty, and spiteful, and desires to defile what place her enemies deem holy.
Places such as Jackie’s office, the back of Verne’s truck, Jackie’s home, Riley’s home (if you can get there unnoticed somehow), or…her own home when Johnny’s out for the day…Maybe even the church she’s being married in…on her wedding day.
All of these are fantasies Dame will have, even if she can never fullfil them.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Dame will never accept you frightening or hurting her. The only exception to this is choking, and only when she desires it, which is often but moods can change. She won’t let you pressure her into ***, and will be very firm with her boundaries. Dame doesn’t want to do anything that could take one, or both, of you out of the moment. Things such as taking pictures, videos, role playing, none of that. She wants you, and only you. Finally: Don’t bring up Johnny or Jackie before, during, or after ***. Seriously.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Dame would enjoy both giving and receiving, but in very different ways.
When giving she’ll tease you, dance around beginning by focusing on other parts of you to kiss. You’ll be left with bite marks on your thighs, and hickies on your hips. When she does begin it’ll be with the pace she sets in all things sexual. Gently pulling you to the edge and dancing on it until you’re begging for her to let you finish, or taking what you want. Either way the goal is to leave you frustrated enough that when you do finally go over the edge, you empty all of your energy in that single overwhelming climax. She’ll consider that a win.
When receiving it’ll leave Dame without your mouth to kiss and without your body to hold. She will want you to bring her to the edge and over quickly so she can hold you again, but at the same time she will desperately try to keep herself from finishing, even going so far as to screw her eyes shut and breathe very slowly. For if she looks down and makes eye contact with you it’s over and she’ll refuse to let you tease her for becoming a mess so entirely.
Some part of her would wish to have a way to use your mouth and hold you at the same time. Dame would probably enjoy both giving and receiving at the same time, but 69ing has always felt a touch too kinky for her to actually try it.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
It’s been said to death already how slow Dame is, so it won’t be restated. Instead, you should know that once Dame’s in the mood she loves to be overwhelmed and left seeing stars, all while her pleas to slow are left unanswered. It can only be done as you and her near the peak of your love making.
If you take the initiative then pin Dame beneath you. **** her, or ride her from an angle that gives you an advantage and do not let up. Be quick. Relentless. Let your muscles burn and scream within you. And keep going.
If Dame’s taking the initiative then wrap your legs around her waist, or grab her hips and command “Faster.” She will listen. Then say “Harder.” Repeat again “Faster.” “Don’t let up.” “Keep going.” “Harder.” and watch as she cries from above you, desperately overwhelming herself by your command.
You can return to the letter K if you want ways to keep her in the moment. Telling her how good she’s taking/****ing you, holding her by the throat to keep her from leaving. You can trust that, despite how much she’ll beg to stop, if Dame truly didn’t like it she would throw you off, and she wouldn’t beg you to keep going when you do listen.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
In short? Dame hates quickies, but there can be a rare mood when her passion is overshone by lust. Then, and only then, she’ll love something fast and raw.
Dame’s back presses against the door, sending a loud click through Jackie’s marble office. You look back only briefly, eyes almost bored before you see the predatory gleam over Dame’s face.
Her smile is sharp, almost cruel. You look concerned as you watch, Dame slowly raises her hand, delicately trailing a finger up the wooden frame before finding the latch. She snaps it closed, you seem to understand and let out a nervous laugh.
“Dame—” You begin as she meets you, with prodding fingers pushing you just an inch, for the back of your thighs to meet Jackie’s desk. Your hands cup Dame’s face and she leans into it, excitement playing up her core. Alone, finally alone with you. Her fingers loop beneath the waist band, pull it back just enough to catch a sliver of skin she hadn’t seen in a week.
She whispers your name, a challenge, and watches your eyes drift to her lips, open mouth and quiet breaths. Dame’s already excited, even the prospect of you and her alone here. So easy to be caught, the idea of Jackie walking in to see you two over her desk, too love drunk to care. Dame already doesn’t care.
Now that her engagement is over she wonders how often she denied Johnny something like this? Dame’s always despised quickies. There’s no passion, it’s just ****ing for the sake of ****ing. But today…today her mind is swirling with need.
“Here?” You ask in equally as quiet of a voice. You turn your head, lean closer. Dame bites her lip in anticipation, your hand slides to the back of her head and unravels her with a kiss. Your first kiss is revenge and hunger wrapped into one. Good. Dame wasn’t the only one that needed this.
Dame tries to separate to say something snide but only gets so much as a wet gasp of air before you’re on her again. Your second kiss is your declaration of love. It makes her melt, fingers falling away from your zipper and slapping onto the marble desk for support. You break off and Dame finally gets to speak the answer she’s wanted to say.
“Please…”
“Needy.” You chide and Dame lets out a groan, but doesn’t disagree.
“We don’t have to.” She mutters, despite the desperate growing hunter to sink her teeth into you. “But, I’m burning up…can we? Please?”
“Needy.” It’s your turn to smile like a predator. “Well?”
She lets out a chuckle and shoves you past the desk, you stumble and hit a bookshelf, with a confidence Dame hasn’t felt in years she grabs you by a belt loop and strides to Jackie’s chair behind the desk. With gentle fingers she leads to the chair, and a gentle push sends you stumbling into it.
The way you stare at Dame sends a fiery desolation in her heart. You look perfect on this holy throne…She can’t wait to defile it…defile you.
Dame leans over you in the chair, knee between your thighs, sinking into the leather. Her soft lips kiss against your own, then along your cheek and jaw, down your neck, your collar. Dame’s fingers slip beneath your shirt, a dangerous laugh gets sent through her as she feels skin denied to her.
Dame slowly slides to her knees. Her skin presses into the cold stone floor from the tears along her pants. Endlessly teasing, she runs a finger up your calf, staring up at you from the floor expectantly. “Well?” She asks.
In your excitement your fingers fumble the zipper twice, glancing towards the door during it. Each mistake ignites something cruel inside of her. On the third slip Dame grabs it herself, fingers tangling with yours, and pulls it down. Your hips shake from anticipation, and she’s in a similar way. With yank, your pants are at your knees and exposing what was once beneath them.
Dame doesn’t let you adjust to the cold before her mouth takes what it wants. Normally she would draw this out, but she’s starving and you taste so good.
“Oh ****—” Your mumbles slip into a wordless moan. A noise that only fuels the heat in Dame’s core.
Her fingers work you through it, and she devours every hitch of your breath.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)
Though it’s rare, Dame can be a risk taker when in the mood, especially when motivated by spite. She’ll love the thrill of ****ing in places you two absolutely shouldn’t. But that’s about as far as the risk will go.
As for experimenting with other things…Maybe. For Dame, you can’t just thrust kink out and say “lets try this” because Dame will need to really…research it. Even very small ones like being blindfolded. Dame finds enjoyment in learning about things, and she will spend hours on forums, watching tutorials, even reading smut. Anything to get into how to do a kink safely and why it even exists. If it's safe to do by herself, then she will, just to try and get in the headspace.
So when you bring up an idea of something new to do, just be sure you’re not about to have ***, otherwise Dame will be next to you, naked and on her lap top, reading forum posts.
And after all of that…most of the time Dame will come back days later and simply say no. She likes passion, and isn’t going to experiment too much if it could take your mind off her loving you, or her mind off you loving her.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Out of every member in the cast Dame is the least sexual, in practically every way. She’ll always make sure you’ve finished, and is more than willing to focus hours on you alone, but she’s the main course…it’s a quick meal. Dame won’t last long. She’ll try to, of course. Try to not immediately fall apart in your hands, but she will finish quickly, in under ten minutes, most likely. And after she’s finished Dame won’t be ready to go again for hours at minimum, sometimes days.
That said, as long as she isn’t the one focussed on, *** will tend to last far far longer. Just let Dame pace herself.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
No toys. Anything will either feel like she’s being used, or using you. For an Ares with a ******, Dame will enjoy having a strap on, or vibrators in the mix. Anything of silicon will need to be warmed beforehand. It's possible that she’ll allow you to be cuffed if you desire it, especially if you fight against the cuffs while she’s with you. But she’ll always prefer you in your entirety to one restrained.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
This is complicated, as there are different stages to Dame’s romance that most others don’t get.
Before you and her get together? Dame will tease you in ways that you may not even know is her teasing you. She’ll stretch, making her shirt ride up. F!Dame will wear no *** and subtly show off, or M!Dame may even answer the door shirtless. Basically, Dame will tease you in exact ways that make you feel like you’re the pervert for sexualizing her. However, after the relationship started…
If Dame is still with Johnny then in public she will barely acknowledge you, and may even go out of her way to seem less appealing to you to hide your relationship. This may even extend to when you know that you both are alone but in a more public place, because someone may be watching…Hell, even when you’re alone in private, Dame will never tease you. But that is for an entirely different reason. Because why would she waste time when she can have you?
Now, when openly in a relationship things will change. Dame becomes extremely unfair. She’ll find joy in waiting until nobody’s looking to do something very quick to make you jump.
Pinching your butt is a very tame version. Expect the return of the subtle flirting from before, but this time a bit more egregious. She’ll still be subtle, but it will skirt the line and have those around you wondering if Dame was actually flirting with you, or if they are mistaken. When alone Dame will tease you for hours. Since she doesn’t exactly last long in bed, *** will be foreplay and she will make sure it’s drawn out.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Quiet. Barely a noise, try to get her to talk and all that will come out are soundless breaths, and the occasional whine. At the right moment, during a brief rest or a shift of positions, Dame will pull you closer and breathlessly whisper “I love you, I love you, I love you,” like a tortuous prayer, for as long as it takes to begin again.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
In short? Undress them, and talk to them. It drives them wild.
Dame stumbles through your doorway, arms around you, lips against yours. Today was perfect, she couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than with you. Finally, you two can be publicly intimate. Nothing will happen if you’re caught hand in hand, nobody will mind. Well, some do, but they can’t do a thing. So she spent her first day of freedom dragging you to her favorite places.
Unfortunately, a day like this has left Dame exhausted…and drunk. Exceedingly so. She kisses you, bites your lower lip just a smidge, and laughs into your mouth. You mutter something dangerous to her already weak composure, but it's muffled by her.
You break away, just for a second, to take your shoes off. In that time Dame’s mind swims, while her body sways. A loud pop makes both you and Dame flinch. She searches for the culprit and finds it was her own hand desperately slapping the wall to prevent her from falling.
“I gotta sit down.” Dame mumbles, then takes one step and her boots, wet from snow, slide against the hardwood floor. Now she ends up smacking a hand on your shoulder for support, ever thankful at how immovable you’ve always been. “My boots…” Dame leans down, presses her head against your chest, on purpose because she knows she can blame the alcohol, and struggles to work the laces free.
Damn sober Dame. Damn her to hell.
“Hey,” you murmur softly, hand sliding up her arm, and down her side until your fingers are pressed against her ribs. “Let me.”
Confused, Dame lets you guide her to your couch, and sits down. Her legs splayed out, the heels of her boots resting against the floor. Instinctively she tilts her head back, looks to the ceiling before finding her eyelids heavy. The encroaching wall of sleep is only beaten back by the delicate dance of your fingers. Like a kid in church, Dame peeks to see what you’re doing, before her eyes widen and she can only stare.
You’re kneeling between her legs, focused entirely on the tangled laces that hold Dame’s boots. Softly you say, “Next time let’s just stay in.” And Dame’s heart swells. Next time, of course there’s going to be a next time.
Your fingers undo the knot, just as your presence has undone Dame. How can a thing of war be so soft? It's a wonder how all things have not been unmade by your diametric nature. But maybe that’s a side you have only shown Dame…it would make sense, you are the only one who’s seen the whole of her.
“I liked the park,” she whispers back.
You open the tongue of the boot, grab it by the back. The cold air hits the warmth of her ankle and travels down, as you remove her foot from the boot like delicate glass work. Oh, oh this. She’s forgotten this small ritual. You have too, of course, but at least Dame remembers this act of submission, and love.
“I did too.” Her foot is gently set on your thigh, you’re careful to not let it slip into the puddle left behind. Then you move to the next one. “I liked the movie as well...” “And the drinks after,” she snorts.
This boot comes off easier, your hands working quickly. “We can have those last two inside though, away from people.” when you pull it off your hand stays on the arch of her foot for just a moment.
She tries to respond but all that comes out is a shaky breath. You glance up to Dame, probably assuming that she’s fallen asleep. What a desperate thing she must appear. Eyes wide, pupils wider, practically panting at the sight of your submission. Your lips are red and soft. “Keep going,” Dame murmurs.
You take a sock off, and then the next. Dame reaches down hand aloft for you, “Keep going.” And just as gently you pull her gloves, needing to raise to your knees to remove her scarf. The movement brings your face too close to Dame and it’s over. She kisses you, sinking down to the floor, pants sliding against the melted snow. It’s fine, because those are what you take off
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Dame’s body is well groomed to begin with, but after Johnny then Dame won’t shave often. But she doesn’t have much body hair to begin with. Her leg hair is dark but thin, and her pubic hair is mostly wild and ungroomed. Once in a relationship she won’t shave if you ask her to. She’s had to change her body enough for one partner, she won’t do it again for another. Even you.
There are a few minor scars that dot Dame’s body, as well as several small dark moles on her chest, shoulders, and back, including one on her stomach that she enjoys having you kiss as it’s an excellent place to watch you and allows her to run her fingers through your hair.
Dame’s skinny, maybe underweight as she doesn’t eat often, nor does she work out. F!Dame has smaller breasts, and wider than average shoulders.
Though it has been considered many times, Dame has never gotten a tattoo. If Ares were to suggest matching ones she would agree, so long as they’re small but easy to look at in public. Like on the wrist. She’d want it as her little reminder. In her youth she had several piercings both above and… below the neck. Including one below the belt… But those were removed when she got together with Johnny.
If she ever tells Ares that, then perhaps Ares can convince her to get those piercings again, in fact even a minor interest would do it. Dame enjoyed those pieces quite a lot, all she needs is to be reminded of them.
Y = Yearning (how high is their *** drive?)
Nearly non-existent *** drive. It takes her a while to work up to wanting someone intimately. If Dame’s to be truthful she’s actually fine with not having *** ever again. Though she can be worked up fairly quickly if… encouraged by Ares. She won’t often go out of her way to try to have ***.
This does not mean Dame is asexual, as she is, and will always be, sexually attracted to Ares. But Dame rarely desires *** out of nowhere, and even still the physical intimacy is secondary to the emotional intimacy. She will be happy to not act on those desires so long as Ares can fill the romantic and emotional intimacy.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Sleep? If Dame sleeps then she risks waking to find that you’ve disappeared on her again. She needs to watch you. Watch your breathing, your parted lips, your eyes moving as you dream. Dame won’t sleep until she’s forced to. Until her body gives in. She’ll wake to find hours have passed, fear overcoming her, the fear that she has lost you again, only then to find that you two are curled together.
Eventually she’ll stop fearing your loss. Eventually she’ll be able to close her eyes next to you and know you’ll be there when she wakes. It will take time though. Once she reaches that point you won’t be able to keep her awake after you two lie together, too quickly will she succumb to your comfort.
In short? Soft, affectionate, and more than a little possessive and dependant.
Dame’s fingers hook into your hips leaving red cuts behind, not breaking the skin but coming damn near. Your legs shake as you try to climb off of her, she doesn’t allow it at first, letting a low groan roll through her throat. You smile, and breathlessly down, your lips gently opening to kiss along her neck, “Should I declaw you?” You whisper just below her ear.
Dame seems to realize what you mean and a small gasp whispers out. She lifts her fingers, looking down to your bare hips, waist, and… Dame snaps her head back up, red faced despite what the two of you had just done. “S— Sorry.” Her voice is hoarse and gentle, the pads of her fingers rubbing circles against the place she grabbed you.
You detach yourself from her, letting her hands fall back. Without much thought you move beside her, Dame does the same, wrapping her arm around you. A move that feels natural to your very soul. She faces you, fingers sliding across your skin as she watches you, mesmerized by every subtle movement your body makes.
Dame presses a kiss into your collarbone, she bites down along the skin, making your back twitch in surprise, only parting to quickly ask “Can I stay for the night?” You almost laugh.
“You never have to ask me that.” Your hand cups her cheek, her hair falling through your fingers as you slide your palm around her neck to pull her closer.
“I still like hearing it.” Dame lets herself be pulled closer and you smile at her words.
“Well then,” You press your forehead against her, sharing her air as she lets out a quiet excited laugh, “Stay the night with me, why don’t you?”
“Mhmm…” she slips a tanned hand up your chest, her fingers running just over your collar yet again. God only knows what she’s so possessive of there, and why her gaze watches to it like your throat is a wellspring in a desert. “You never have to ask me that.” She whispers.
“Okay,” You whisper, putting a hand over her fingers and pulling it off your collar. Immediately she slides them down to hold your waist. “What’s got you so obsessed?” You run your hand over the skin, trailing up your neck to try and feel something.
Dame laughs a little louder now, a little goofy. “Nothing.”
“Liar, what’d you do?”
Dame’s smile can be heard through her words, “You had to have felt me put them there.” she rests her head on your chest, staring up to you.
Your fingers stop rubbing and suspiciously you gaze down. “Hickies?” You ask blandly, and you see her light up.
“Oh yes.” The words come out as a long low purr.
“Dame— How bad is it?”
She closes her eyes, using you as a pillow as she traces patterns with her fingers, “You should wear a scarf tomorrow.”
“We have a meeting— Everyone is going to be there.”
“Then they’ll see you’re taken.”
You almost feel annoyed by that, annoyed that she would do this, but it’s an effort when she holds you like you were crafted to slot together, “Johnny—”
“Won’t know they’re from me.” She cuts you off, “ And I don’t want to think about him. Or Jackie, or anyone else.” Dame slowly raises her head to meet your eye, “It’s only us here. Let it just be only us.”
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Dame doesn’t love a lot about her body. Far too much of it has been objectified, clinically considered as an asset or a defect for her to really love any single piece of her. With you Dame will come to love what you do, where your hands drift to while you kiss, what you stare at when she is bare beside you.
Only once she has healed, gained a semblance of her personhood back, will Dame come to like the way her thighs look. It’s nothing that she will outwardly show. Simply wearing pieces of clothing that will show them off more in private. Skinnier jeans and shorts, or if you’re lucky nothing at all.
On you, however? Well she will say she likes every inch of you equally, maybe not your annoying mouth on some days. But you know that's a lie. There’s a part of you that she clearly favors far far above any other piece. Your hips, but especially your waist. Dear god, Dame will latch onto your waist like you’re a ship’s mast in a storm.
You stretch enough to raise your shirt and her gaze falls to the bare skin, uncaring who may notice the blatant want in her gaze. During ***, she will bruise you there from holding onto it too tight, and after she will mark you there with her mouth and teeth. Walking down the street she will put a hand around it. Even asleep you’ll feel her holding on to it. Because to her it’s like a natural handle. Perfect to pull you closer to her.
Truly, no matter what she says, you’ll know what part of your body she loves. There’s really no debate about it.
C = *** (anything to do with ***, basically)
Dame hates the texture. *** is always so sweaty and wet that it takes away from the experience. Much to her grief and annoyance, yours drives Dame wild. For ***** she likes the bloom of warmth if you’re inside of her. For wetness she wants you absolutely soaked when you’re with her.
Dame likes the way your voice pitches when you’re close, the contractions your body makes as you’re cumming. She likes the way it glistens across her skin, the feeling between her fingers. Dame bask in the proof of your arousal for as long as she can. And if you finish on or in her mouth then it’s all the better.
Though Dame would never say this, ask her and she’ll act revolted and claim you’re sick in the head. It’s embarrassing to her, knowing how much she likes to feel used, claimed, and desired.
When everything has calmed down, then Dame will quickly snap back to hating the texture. As for her own…
Dame doesn’t really care for it.
She’d like to see your mouth glistening after she’s wrapped her legs around it when finishing.
Just don’t expect a kiss until after you’ve brushed your teeth.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
In short? Dame is jealous of anyone who’s able to have casual ***. (Written with a ***-vice Ares)
“I have secrets…” Dame can tell just how whiny she sounds the moment it leaves her mouth.
You don’t believe her, Dame can tell by how you look at her. It’s only the third most annoying thing you’ve done today, right behind you cornering her outside and not letting her taste you properly, and of course that thing you did with your tongue right as she was about to finish an hour ago. She’ll never forgive you for that.
“I do,” Dame defends, and you nod along idly.
“I’m all ears,” you purr, pressing your lips to her collar bone, nipping softly at the skin. ****. Dame really doesn’t have dirty secrets. She’s boring in bed, prefers a single partner, and has never done anything risky. Hell, she’d rather stay inside for weeks at a time than go and be...sexually active. If Dame couldn’t feel the lust that rolls off of people…****, she’d probably still be a virgin. Pathetic for a love god.
Your hand slips lower, fingers gently tracing the line of her ribs, moving to her stomach. Dame hasn’t spoken for a hot moment, and she hesitates before saying, “I’m jealous.”
The movement slows, she doesn’t meet your eye. “Of me?”
“A bit,” she laughs. “But, not just of you…gods this is going to sound awful but I’m jealous of anyone who’s more…active.”
Your hand pulls back just a fraction, Dame doesn’t want to initiate that argument again. Especially now that you two are together. “I mean…*** for me…needs what we have.I can’t be casual, the concept is an entire ****ing world away from me.” She grabs your hand softly, kisses the knuckles. **** you have wonderful hands.Your last few lives didn’t have that, did they? “I used to think something was wrong with me. None of my past lives needed connection like this”
You lift the hand, cupping Dame’s cheek. “You think you’ve missed out?” You ask, voice as soft as your touch.
“Before you returned I used to sit at the bar in Elysium, just watching everyone.”
Even now she remembers the arousal in that place. A constant bombardment of desires and disappointment. She would feel people who felt like a wasteland become a garden of want through a single conversation. Dame’s felt people cheat, felt people rebound, but the most confounding ones were those that stayed a wasteland. Those who weren’t even attracted to the person they hit on, those who egged the conversation on and knew how to make the other’s lust flourish and left with them even when they felt nothing. Those are people she couldn’t conceive of, an entire opposite from Dame in every possible way.
“I may have been hit on…four times?” She’s asking because it was hard to see who wanted to talk, and who wanted to flirt. Most nights nobody approached her. “Each time I’ve tried to emulate what everyone else did, and I couldn’t. It felt forced.”
“Well.” Your thumb runs across her cheekbone, then curves down to her earlobe. “You probably were forcing it.”
Dame leans into the touch, closes her eyes, then she speaks in a breathy whisper. “That’s why I’m jealous…the only time I’ve never had to force it was with you.”
You hum against her neck, “I can tell you that everyone’s wired differently but you’ve already thought of that, haven’t you?” She nods and you continue. “We could roleplay. Go out, pretend to be strangers…”
Dame snickers at the idea. “What if fake-you’s a dick?” She doesn’t let you answer. ”Maybe. How did it feel for you?”
“Oh.” Your voice sounds very surprised, the moment stretches long enough for Dame to panic, then you speak. “Depends on the night, I guess some days felt like work. I knew I just wanted to relax, the *** was relaxing, and it was so much work to get there some days that I just gave up. But other days…it was thrilling.”
When you say that your breath hits her ear in a way that makes her body tingle. “Tell me, like I was there, your target for the night.”
A tiny chuckle comes out of you, makes Dame’s face warm. “After I saw you, I’d start soft. Ask a question that gets your attention.”
“A pickup line?”
“Only if I was desperate. I like to start with something about your clothes. So it’d depend on what you’re wearing, which…” You hook a finger on the edge of the blanket, gently raising it, attempting to spy what’s beneath—
Dame yanks it back down, face feeling hot. “Noted,” she croaks, thick and embarrassed even though you’ve just spent hours staring at it.
“I’d give you my name, get a drink, ask if you’d want one since the bartender was there. All casual-like.”
“Hmm, I’d say no. I already have a drink, can’t you see?” She teases, and moves further down, readjusting to be face to face now.
“Well…I thought it was your friend’s. Oh? You’re here alone? That’s a shame. I am too, seems like everyone here is in a group, right?”
Dame snickers, “Maybe we’re just both losers.”
“You don’t look like a loser to me, but you’re welcome to prove me wrong.” Beneath the blankets you slide some fingers up her forearm, leave them there for a heart beat, slowly take them off. Though what makes Dame feel light is the way you hold her eyes. Like you truly want to know.
She breaks the contact first. “I’m antisocial.”
“Right, because clubs are the best places to be alone.”
Your tone makes her want to roll her eyes and smile. It takes her a moment to smile, not ready for improvisation. “It's good for people watching.”
"Is that why you’re a loser? You like to spy on strangers?”
“No!” She laughs, “I’m not a creep, people are just interesting.”
“Well has anything caught your interest? Anyone?”
“Maybe. There are just so many attractive people here today, I can hardly see them all.” She starts to joke, but her chest flutters when you make eye contact, refusing to break it. She has to work to remember what this scenario is for a brief moment. Instinctively pushing on her time at Elysium. “Music’s **** though.”
You scoot closer, hand on her thigh. An unfair advantage. “There are quieter places…with better views.”
“And I’m sure you’re desperate to show them.” Dame forces herself to look away, only for you to pull off her thigh, and gently put a finger against her jaw. You guide her back to look at you, a new look on your face. Something all too hungry.
“Could you blame me if I was?”
Dame understands it all now.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Difficult to say. Dame has been with very few people in this life, in fact you can count on one hand how many people. Dame’s had a single girlfriend in the past, just before Johnny, that she’s slept with. So that’s two that Dame doesn’t regret. However, M!Dame has slept with one person to make a deal, and F!Dame has slept with two; No matter what, both Dames regret doing so. Dame simply does not enjoy *** without some sort of emotional connection.
That said…she’s Aphrodite, and Aphrodite has been around the block a few times. In the hundred years of Ares’s disappearance especially, Dame’s past lives searched for connection and trust wherever they could find it. This led to two long lives that, if not full of love, definitely full of ***.
If Damiana wants to think about her past experience she would hardly even count those two lives. They were full of grief and were too caught up in wild emotions for Dame to “learn” anything from them. It was a very dreamlike time for her. So most of what Dame calls experience will be from her collective lives, and from her most guarded and secret memories of Ares.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Once Aphrodite and you were a livewire of passion and connection. Together there was nothing that could contain your love, and in the wake of your joined desires there would be left ruined beds, sofas, tables, chairs, walls… But that was over a century ago. Now things have changed, Dame isn’t the Aphrodite of the past, and you are not the Ares of the past. She has missed you for so long that when you return she doesn’t know exactly what to do.
When you finally break the tension, and let your shared desires guide you, Dame will pull you to someplace quiet to hear you, someplace dim enough to comfort but lit enough to see, someplace soft. A bed, preferably, but beggars can't be choosers and Dame has been begging for this for so long. She will pull you on top, and not let you leave. Relying on your weight to remind her that this is real, this is not another falsehood that her mind has cooked up. You’re back, and you’re trapping her on the bed. It will bring more comfort than she thinks she deserves.
After you two are together, and have been together for quite some time, Dame's preference will change. On top, on bottom, beside, upside down, suspended from the ceiling on silk ropes…none of it matters to her as long as she can see your face.
If you’re in a meeting with Jackie, standing at her desk as she speaks, then Dame will imagine bending you over or being bent over it. If you’re kneeling, tying a shoe or just picking something up, Dame will imagine using your mouth. If you’re laying in bed she won’t have to imagine a thing because she will simply climb on top and satisfy the hunter that’s been starving her.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Dame’s not that goofy to begin with, savoring every second she has with you and always trying to wring more and more out. *** will last hours and hours if Dame has her way, and every second will be more passionate than the last. And just when you begin to think every moment with her will be like that Dame’s walls will fall away, brick by brick. She’ll be overwhelmed with joy in the moment, and she’ll make a joke, say the most cringey flirtatious line she can think up. It’ll be like a cat learning to climb. Clumsy, awkward, curious at the limits but too cautious to take them. She’ll regret it immediately and return to the quiet serious passion that she’s had.
Then months will wash away, Dame’s emotions will settle, become comfortable. And that’s when she’ll surprise you again. She’ll whisper a joke, one not awkward, and that she won’t regret. And though your time with Dame will remain earnest and intense, she will welcome levity, even in the most intimate of moments.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Dame dyes her hair blonde, but even the casual observer will see that her natural hair color is a dark brown. Naturally the rest of her bodyhair will be this color. When you first get with Dame she will still be with Johnny, as such she will be meticulously groomed.
After her and Johnny’s relationship has ended, and she is free to be with you openly then she will not groom herself at all, nor will she dye her hair anymore. In fact there may be other changes she has been wanting to do in regards to her hair. Though we’ll get to that later.
Dame has no strong feelings about body hair, nor does she understand the disgust many people have with it. If Ares tries to get her to shave she’ll say no, and it could start a fight. She won’t be trapped in a controlling relationship again. Though her pubic hair doesn’t grow to be very long.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Dame? The reincarnation of Aphrodite? The god of love? That should be obvious. She is endlessly intimate, and needs you to be as well. Anything less than extraordinarily intimate is going to immediately turn her off and make her bitter for the rest of the day.
Foreplay with her will last five times as long as the actual ***, and the aftercare will last until you fall asleep. This can actually cause problems if you and her have *** in the morning, because then you have an entire day of an affectionate Dame following you around, or checking on you in solitary moments.
That sounds nice until you need privacy, for a phone call, to relax, even for the bathroom. She may talk to you through the door, or listen to your conversation. If you need to be alone just to be alone it’s better to not **** in the morning.
J = Jack off (************ headcanon)
In short? She rarely masturbates, and when she does she may need your help.
Alone. Dame’s alone, she has been for a while. You disappeared on her yet again. Sure, at least this time you send texts, make daily calls. Jackie has you half a continent away, some bullshit job she could have had anyone do. But she chose you. Dame stares at her phone, it's pointless. You can’t talk often, you made that clear. But the anxiety won’t go away.
She wants your attention, craves your gaze, your voice, your touch. The weight of you in the bed next to her, your hand on her neck, your lips…
Dame stuffs a pillow over her face and groans angrily into it. She needs a distraction. Rolling over and laying on the pillow, she pulls up her phone. Mindlessly scroll through contacts, Franco, no. Mitch, god no. Riley…Maybe they’d be able to bring Dame to you… But no. It’s a risk Dame won’t take. She clicks her tongue once she reaches the bottom.
She has friends, she has to! Dame is the god of love, of course she must have friends. Another scroll and… nope. Surely she missed something, her finger darts back up, but before she reaches the top of the contacts a message comes through.
[ARES has sent a picture]
She catches it, just barely as the icon flits away. Just the barest glimpse at the condensed picture. Dame’s inside thrills, quickly clicking on your messages. Her entire body stops once she sees it. You. Bare, water dripping down your body. A selfie through a fogged up mirror, the steam wiped away from everywhere except the parts Dame wants most. Your face with the world's most perfect smirk.
She bites her lip as she gawks at it, trying to see through the fog. Her insides playing with her mind, swearing if she just keeps staring then the fog will go away. Dame types a response, deletes it, thinks about it again, types, deletes, types, deletes. She must look a fool, her message popping and disappearing. All while your naked body taunts her above the keyboard. When she finally sends it’s a single, hungry, word. More.
The next picture comes quickly. You’re dry now, drier at least. There’s still a sheen on your skin that the light glints off of. A towel is wrapped around you, keeping the sight even more hidden than it was before.
More.
It takes longer this time, Dame lets out a quiet noise. She doesn’t get this bad often. Normally the only way to get her in the mood is you being next to her. Wrapped around each other, small words and soft kisses spread through hours. But there must be a blue moon because tonight Dame needs you, it's a curse that you’re not here.
The phone buzzes and Dame is already hungry for the photo.
You’re on the hotel’s bed, the top of your face is cut off this time, but you still bite your lip. The rest of the picture has you sprawled out on the bed. Legs open, everything shown.
Dame lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She’s on her knees now, pillow pressed between her thighs, soft blanket pooling around her feet as she grinds down. A quiet groan escaping her. Dame stares at your body, the picture doesn’t do you justice. The hotel lighting doesn’t do you justice.
She’s forced to close her eyes and imagine you next to her, posing as you are. Her hand between her legs moving slowly. But imagination doesn’t do you justice. She doesn’t touch herself often. Never wanted to, never had to. But today’s a lucky day, or unlucky if you’re in Dame’s sexually frustrated shoes. You make the nerve endings through her entire body scream without you here to soothe. It’s torture. She needs a release. She calls you, her hand moving more rapidly as the phone rings. And rings… and rings.
And then a click.
“Hey—” You start, your voice nearly sends her over the edge.
“Talk me through it.” Dame interrupts. Compared to your words Dame must sound sick. She feels sick.
You laugh, and Dame shoves her face into the mattress. “What?”
“Talk me through it.” Her hand moves quicker, the pillow digging into a perfect spot, just to imagine you there. “Please?”
No response, just a quiet breath from your end. “Of course.” She can hear your smile and it almost makes her finish then and there.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
In short? (Heavy) praise, and (light) choking.
“Are you sure?” Dame moves in front of you, it's so easy to admire her in the morning light. ****. You didn’t even realize it was morning. In truth you were hoping that the sun wouldn’t rise. You and Dame could stay here, together, forever. Talking like there’s no end. She’s curled up in the corner of your bed, where it meets the wall, tanned skin lit aflame by hues of the orange and pink sunrise.
“Of course.” Your voice is soft, and tender. As if one wrong tone will make Dame disappear. As proof of your words you gently bring your lips to her. She shows her greedy side here, opening to swallow you whole. You don’t let yourself idle in the act, you’ve burnt up the night, you don’t want to waste the day. As soon as you bring your lips away, she lets out a low whine. “Just tell me what you like, I’ll do it.”
Dame takes a shuddering breath, tongue sliding along her lips, then she bites it. You nearly feel her teeth cut into your own lip, as if your taste alone was enough to bind you to her. Slowly Dame slides her hand over yours. “Now… don’t be a dick by judging me.” she whispers.
“Never.”
“I really like… well…” Dame lets out a laugh, a bit loud, clearly embarrassed, a red tint blossoming through her cheeks.
“You can do it.” You try to motivate her but it only seems to send a small sputtering noise from her.
“That.” She whispers.
You quirk a brow and lean closer in the bed, “What?”
“Don’t laugh but I like to be…” Dame waves a hand as if casually throwing the word out, “Encouraged.”
Oh. Oh my. You smile, not laughing, but suddenly endlessly pleased. “Encouraged?”
“Yes.”
“You mean praised?”
“I… Yes.”
“Told you’re doing so well? That you look so good beneath me.”
“****—” She doesn’t meet your eye as you move closer and closer. “I’m not beneath you now.” She murmurs.
“You want to change that?” You kiss her again. Dame sinks into it, moaning an affirmative, or at least what you take as one. You part from her just enough to whisper “Good girl. She lets out a breath and shuts her eyes. “And the second? Are you going to show me that one too?”
Dame nods, eagerly too. Nearly headbutting you in the process. “Yes, yes.” She seems more excited about this one, far more, quickly starting to shift along the bed. “Here—” she sinks down, “Climb on top of me.” You do as she asks, straddling her. Greedily she takes the chance to run a hand up your stomach, a smile on her face as you take position.
Dame presses your hand to her collar, open fingers splayed across the bone. Then, slowly, she moves them up, keeping an eye on you as she goes. Your hand runs up to just below her chin. “Right here.” She taps your thumb, on one side of her neck, and your forefinger on the other. “Just a little pressure.” Dame swallows, her breath clearly eager. “Only here, if it's too much I'll tell you—” You squeeze, barely anything at all before she opens her mouth and smiles. “Yeah,” it comes out more like a gasp than actual words.
You smile, tilting your head to watch her. Dame gently rocks her hips from beneath you, “Oh, you’re eager.”
She nods, watching you with darkened eyes and a trembling lip. You lay next to her, pressing your body against her, and add a bit more pressure to her neck before slowly sinking your hands down her pelvis. Quickly you learn just what to do to make Dame unravel. A whisper here, a squeeze there, following her directions until right at the end you hear her whisper, “Harder.”
And she becomes a mess in your hands.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Though it’s certainly possible for Dame to get worked up enough to make love to you anywhere…realistically the only time it’ll happen is some place warm, comfortable, and safe. When your relationship begins it won’t be uncommon for her to gift you blankets and pillows after seeing how few you sleep with. Because how can she be expected to relax in your home without luxuries available. Not even for ***, in fact Dame’s the last person who will give you something even considering *** at all. At the start she’ll want to enjoy every moment with you, and being in a comfortable place will make that enjoyment happen quicker.
This also applies during ***. With few exceptions, Dame will need some place she feels safe.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Dame can be turned on in a number of ways. She likes it when you’re aggressive with others, but not a dick. Other than that, simply showing you love her. Going out of your way to bring her food, remembering her coffee order. Doing any of these won’t fully light the fire but it’ll get it started. Though normally that fire dies long before you can get someplace to really fuel it.
If you are alone and someplace she can relax then you could undress her. Not to the nude, of course, but small pieces of clothing. (check out the Wild Card letter for more) A surefire way to turn her on is…by talking. Lay in bed next to her, hold each other, talk, laugh, cry. It’ll always lead to kissing, grinding, and eventually, yes, ***. Just be careful not to push too quickly, otherwise she’ll drop out of the mood, leaving you high and dry.
Now, that said…there is a way to flip that switch for Dame. To send her from zero to a hundred in under a second. And it is…spite. Which sounds counterintuitive to what has been discussed, but if Dame really hates someone she will not only be willing to ****, but will actively initiate *** with you, so long as it’s in a place that the person Dame hates enjoys, or somehow sticks it to someone she hates. She’s petty, and spiteful, and desires to defile what place her enemies deem holy.
Places such as Jackie’s office, the back of Verne’s truck, Jackie’s home, Riley’s home (if you can get there unnoticed somehow), or…her own home when Johnny’s out for the day…Maybe even the church she’s being married in…on her wedding day.
All of these are fantasies Dame will have, even if she can never fullfil them.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Dame will never accept you frightening or hurting her. The only exception to this is choking, and only when she desires it, which is often but moods can change. She won’t let you pressure her into ***, and will be very firm with her boundaries. Dame doesn’t want to do anything that could take one, or both, of you out of the moment. Things such as taking pictures, videos, role playing, none of that. She wants you, and only you. Finally: Don’t bring up Johnny or Jackie before, during, or after ***. Seriously.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Dame would enjoy both giving and receiving, but in very different ways.
When giving she’ll tease you, dance around beginning by focusing on other parts of you to kiss. You’ll be left with bite marks on your thighs, and hickies on your hips. When she does begin it’ll be with the pace she sets in all things sexual. Gently pulling you to the edge and dancing on it until you’re begging for her to let you finish, or taking what you want. Either way the goal is to leave you frustrated enough that when you do finally go over the edge, you empty all of your energy in that single overwhelming climax. She’ll consider that a win.
When receiving it’ll leave Dame without your mouth to kiss and without your body to hold. She will want you to bring her to the edge and over quickly so she can hold you again, but at the same time she will desperately try to keep herself from finishing, even going so far as to screw her eyes shut and breathe very slowly. For if she looks down and makes eye contact with you it’s over and she’ll refuse to let you tease her for becoming a mess so entirely.
Some part of her would wish to have a way to use your mouth and hold you at the same time. Dame would probably enjoy both giving and receiving at the same time, but 69ing has always felt a touch too kinky for her to actually try it.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
It’s been said to death already how slow Dame is, so it won’t be restated. Instead, you should know that once Dame’s in the mood she loves to be overwhelmed and left seeing stars, all while her pleas to slow are left unanswered. It can only be done as you and her near the peak of your love making.
If you take the initiative then pin Dame beneath you. **** her, or ride her from an angle that gives you an advantage and do not let up. Be quick. Relentless. Let your muscles burn and scream within you. And keep going.
If Dame’s taking the initiative then wrap your legs around her waist, or grab her hips and command “Faster.” She will listen. Then say “Harder.” Repeat again “Faster.” “Don’t let up.” “Keep going.” “Harder.” and watch as she cries from above you, desperately overwhelming herself by your command.
You can return to the letter K if you want ways to keep her in the moment. Telling her how good she’s taking/****ing you, holding her by the throat to keep her from leaving. You can trust that, despite how much she’ll beg to stop, if Dame truly didn’t like it she would throw you off, and she wouldn’t beg you to keep going when you do listen.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
In short? Dame hates quickies, but there can be a rare mood when her passion is overshone by lust. Then, and only then, she’ll love something fast and raw.
Dame’s back presses against the door, sending a loud click through Jackie’s marble office. You look back only briefly, eyes almost bored before you see the predatory gleam over Dame’s face.
Her smile is sharp, almost cruel. You look concerned as you watch, Dame slowly raises her hand, delicately trailing a finger up the wooden frame before finding the latch. She snaps it closed, you seem to understand and let out a nervous laugh.
“Dame—” You begin as she meets you, with prodding fingers pushing you just an inch, for the back of your thighs to meet Jackie’s desk. Your hands cup Dame’s face and she leans into it, excitement playing up her core. Alone, finally alone with you. Her fingers loop beneath the waist band, pull it back just enough to catch a sliver of skin she hadn’t seen in a week.
She whispers your name, a challenge, and watches your eyes drift to her lips, open mouth and quiet breaths. Dame’s already excited, even the prospect of you and her alone here. So easy to be caught, the idea of Jackie walking in to see you two over her desk, too love drunk to care. Dame already doesn’t care.
Now that her engagement is over she wonders how often she denied Johnny something like this? Dame’s always despised quickies. There’s no passion, it’s just ****ing for the sake of ****ing. But today…today her mind is swirling with need.
“Here?” You ask in equally as quiet of a voice. You turn your head, lean closer. Dame bites her lip in anticipation, your hand slides to the back of her head and unravels her with a kiss. Your first kiss is revenge and hunger wrapped into one. Good. Dame wasn’t the only one that needed this.
Dame tries to separate to say something snide but only gets so much as a wet gasp of air before you’re on her again. Your second kiss is your declaration of love. It makes her melt, fingers falling away from your zipper and slapping onto the marble desk for support. You break off and Dame finally gets to speak the answer she’s wanted to say.
“Please…”
“Needy.” You chide and Dame lets out a groan, but doesn’t disagree.
“We don’t have to.” She mutters, despite the desperate growing hunter to sink her teeth into you. “But, I’m burning up…can we? Please?”
“Needy.” It’s your turn to smile like a predator. “Well?”
She lets out a chuckle and shoves you past the desk, you stumble and hit a bookshelf, with a confidence Dame hasn’t felt in years she grabs you by a belt loop and strides to Jackie’s chair behind the desk. With gentle fingers she leads to the chair, and a gentle push sends you stumbling into it.
The way you stare at Dame sends a fiery desolation in her heart. You look perfect on this holy throne…She can’t wait to defile it…defile you.
Dame leans over you in the chair, knee between your thighs, sinking into the leather. Her soft lips kiss against your own, then along your cheek and jaw, down your neck, your collar. Dame’s fingers slip beneath your shirt, a dangerous laugh gets sent through her as she feels skin denied to her.
Dame slowly slides to her knees. Her skin presses into the cold stone floor from the tears along her pants. Endlessly teasing, she runs a finger up your calf, staring up at you from the floor expectantly. “Well?” She asks.
In your excitement your fingers fumble the zipper twice, glancing towards the door during it. Each mistake ignites something cruel inside of her. On the third slip Dame grabs it herself, fingers tangling with yours, and pulls it down. Your hips shake from anticipation, and she’s in a similar way. With yank, your pants are at your knees and exposing what was once beneath them.
Dame doesn’t let you adjust to the cold before her mouth takes what it wants. Normally she would draw this out, but she’s starving and you taste so good.
“Oh ****—” Your mumbles slip into a wordless moan. A noise that only fuels the heat in Dame’s core.
Her fingers work you through it, and she devours every hitch of your breath.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)
Though it’s rare, Dame can be a risk taker when in the mood, especially when motivated by spite. She’ll love the thrill of ****ing in places you two absolutely shouldn’t. But that’s about as far as the risk will go.
As for experimenting with other things…Maybe. For Dame, you can’t just thrust kink out and say “lets try this” because Dame will need to really…research it. Even very small ones like being blindfolded. Dame finds enjoyment in learning about things, and she will spend hours on forums, watching tutorials, even reading smut. Anything to get into how to do a kink safely and why it even exists. If it's safe to do by herself, then she will, just to try and get in the headspace.
So when you bring up an idea of something new to do, just be sure you’re not about to have ***, otherwise Dame will be next to you, naked and on her lap top, reading forum posts.
And after all of that…most of the time Dame will come back days later and simply say no. She likes passion, and isn’t going to experiment too much if it could take your mind off her loving you, or her mind off you loving her.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Out of every member in the cast Dame is the least sexual, in practically every way. She’ll always make sure you’ve finished, and is more than willing to focus hours on you alone, but she’s the main course…it’s a quick meal. Dame won’t last long. She’ll try to, of course. Try to not immediately fall apart in your hands, but she will finish quickly, in under ten minutes, most likely. And after she’s finished Dame won’t be ready to go again for hours at minimum, sometimes days.
That said, as long as she isn’t the one focussed on, *** will tend to last far far longer. Just let Dame pace herself.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
No toys. Anything will either feel like she’s being used, or using you. For an Ares with a ******, Dame will enjoy having a strap on, or vibrators in the mix. Anything of silicon will need to be warmed beforehand. It's possible that she’ll allow you to be cuffed if you desire it, especially if you fight against the cuffs while she’s with you. But she’ll always prefer you in your entirety to one restrained.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
This is complicated, as there are different stages to Dame’s romance that most others don’t get.
Before you and her get together? Dame will tease you in ways that you may not even know is her teasing you. She’ll stretch, making her shirt ride up. F!Dame will wear no *** and subtly show off, or M!Dame may even answer the door shirtless. Basically, Dame will tease you in exact ways that make you feel like you’re the pervert for sexualizing her. However, after the relationship started…
If Dame is still with Johnny then in public she will barely acknowledge you, and may even go out of her way to seem less appealing to you to hide your relationship. This may even extend to when you know that you both are alone but in a more public place, because someone may be watching…Hell, even when you’re alone in private, Dame will never tease you. But that is for an entirely different reason. Because why would she waste time when she can have you?
Now, when openly in a relationship things will change. Dame becomes extremely unfair. She’ll find joy in waiting until nobody’s looking to do something very quick to make you jump.
Pinching your butt is a very tame version. Expect the return of the subtle flirting from before, but this time a bit more egregious. She’ll still be subtle, but it will skirt the line and have those around you wondering if Dame was actually flirting with you, or if they are mistaken. When alone Dame will tease you for hours. Since she doesn’t exactly last long in bed, *** will be foreplay and she will make sure it’s drawn out.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Quiet. Barely a noise, try to get her to talk and all that will come out are soundless breaths, and the occasional whine. At the right moment, during a brief rest or a shift of positions, Dame will pull you closer and breathlessly whisper “I love you, I love you, I love you,” like a tortuous prayer, for as long as it takes to begin again.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
In short? Undress them, and talk to them. It drives them wild.
Dame stumbles through your doorway, arms around you, lips against yours. Today was perfect, she couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than with you. Finally, you two can be publicly intimate. Nothing will happen if you’re caught hand in hand, nobody will mind. Well, some do, but they can’t do a thing. So she spent her first day of freedom dragging you to her favorite places.
Unfortunately, a day like this has left Dame exhausted…and drunk. Exceedingly so. She kisses you, bites your lower lip just a smidge, and laughs into your mouth. You mutter something dangerous to her already weak composure, but it's muffled by her.
You break away, just for a second, to take your shoes off. In that time Dame’s mind swims, while her body sways. A loud pop makes both you and Dame flinch. She searches for the culprit and finds it was her own hand desperately slapping the wall to prevent her from falling.
“I gotta sit down.” Dame mumbles, then takes one step and her boots, wet from snow, slide against the hardwood floor. Now she ends up smacking a hand on your shoulder for support, ever thankful at how immovable you’ve always been. “My boots…” Dame leans down, presses her head against your chest, on purpose because she knows she can blame the alcohol, and struggles to work the laces free.
Damn sober Dame. Damn her to hell.
“Hey,” you murmur softly, hand sliding up her arm, and down her side until your fingers are pressed against her ribs. “Let me.”
Confused, Dame lets you guide her to your couch, and sits down. Her legs splayed out, the heels of her boots resting against the floor. Instinctively she tilts her head back, looks to the ceiling before finding her eyelids heavy. The encroaching wall of sleep is only beaten back by the delicate dance of your fingers. Like a kid in church, Dame peeks to see what you’re doing, before her eyes widen and she can only stare.
You’re kneeling between her legs, focused entirely on the tangled laces that hold Dame’s boots. Softly you say, “Next time let’s just stay in.” And Dame’s heart swells. Next time, of course there’s going to be a next time.
Your fingers undo the knot, just as your presence has undone Dame. How can a thing of war be so soft? It's a wonder how all things have not been unmade by your diametric nature. But maybe that’s a side you have only shown Dame…it would make sense, you are the only one who’s seen the whole of her.
“I liked the park,” she whispers back.
You open the tongue of the boot, grab it by the back. The cold air hits the warmth of her ankle and travels down, as you remove her foot from the boot like delicate glass work. Oh, oh this. She’s forgotten this small ritual. You have too, of course, but at least Dame remembers this act of submission, and love.
“I did too.” Her foot is gently set on your thigh, you’re careful to not let it slip into the puddle left behind. Then you move to the next one. “I liked the movie as well...” “And the drinks after,” she snorts.
This boot comes off easier, your hands working quickly. “We can have those last two inside though, away from people.” when you pull it off your hand stays on the arch of her foot for just a moment.
She tries to respond but all that comes out is a shaky breath. You glance up to Dame, probably assuming that she’s fallen asleep. What a desperate thing she must appear. Eyes wide, pupils wider, practically panting at the sight of your submission. Your lips are red and soft. “Keep going,” Dame murmurs.
You take a sock off, and then the next. Dame reaches down hand aloft for you, “Keep going.” And just as gently you pull her gloves, needing to raise to your knees to remove her scarf. The movement brings your face too close to Dame and it’s over. She kisses you, sinking down to the floor, pants sliding against the melted snow. It’s fine, because those are what you take off
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Dame’s body is well groomed to begin with, but after Johnny then Dame won’t shave often. But she doesn’t have much body hair to begin with. Her leg hair is dark but thin, and her pubic hair is mostly wild and ungroomed. Once in a relationship she won’t shave if you ask her to. She’s had to change her body enough for one partner, she won’t do it again for another. Even you.
There are a few minor scars that dot Dame’s body, as well as several small dark moles on her chest, shoulders, and back, including one on her stomach that she enjoys having you kiss as it’s an excellent place to watch you and allows her to run her fingers through your hair.
Dame’s skinny, maybe underweight as she doesn’t eat often, nor does she work out. F!Dame has smaller breasts, and wider than average shoulders.
Though it has been considered many times, Dame has never gotten a tattoo. If Ares were to suggest matching ones she would agree, so long as they’re small but easy to look at in public. Like on the wrist. She’d want it as her little reminder. In her youth she had several piercings both above and… below the neck. Including one below the belt… But those were removed when she got together with Johnny.
If she ever tells Ares that, then perhaps Ares can convince her to get those piercings again, in fact even a minor interest would do it. Dame enjoyed those pieces quite a lot, all she needs is to be reminded of them.
Y = Yearning (how high is their *** drive?)
Nearly non-existent *** drive. It takes her a while to work up to wanting someone intimately. If Dame’s to be truthful she’s actually fine with not having *** ever again. Though she can be worked up fairly quickly if… encouraged by Ares. She won’t often go out of her way to try to have ***.
This does not mean Dame is asexual, as she is, and will always be, sexually attracted to Ares. But Dame rarely desires *** out of nowhere, and even still the physical intimacy is secondary to the emotional intimacy. She will be happy to not act on those desires so long as Ares can fill the romantic and emotional intimacy.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Sleep? If Dame sleeps then she risks waking to find that you’ve disappeared on her again. She needs to watch you. Watch your breathing, your parted lips, your eyes moving as you dream. Dame won’t sleep until she’s forced to. Until her body gives in. She’ll wake to find hours have passed, fear overcoming her, the fear that she has lost you again, only then to find that you two are curled together.
Eventually she’ll stop fearing your loss. Eventually she’ll be able to close her eyes next to you and know you’ll be there when she wakes. It will take time though. Once she reaches that point you won’t be able to keep her awake after you two lie together, too quickly will she succumb to your comfort.
Yep! Someone already shared it. Here is the link
hello !! does anyone know where i could find the final version of gilded shadows? i checked f95 but no luck 
i swear it was on here or there a few months ago and now i cant find it. i could be searching in the wrong places maybe?
i swear it was on here or there a few months ago and now i cant find it. i could be searching in the wrong places maybe?It's on AShello !! does anyone know where i could find the final version of gilded shadows? i checked f95 but no luck
Hey! Someone have Perfumare: Avulsion (version 1.7.4) or The Golden Rose book 2 (the link that I found here did not work)? Thx
Do you perhaps have Sigourney pov? Cause if you give it to @Hackett Thrail it can made a html u.uThere is likely a better way to upload this but...oh whale!
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after ***)
In short? Soft, affectionate, and more than a little possessive and dependant.
Dame’s fingers hook into your hips leaving red cuts behind, not breaking the skin but coming damn near. Your legs shake as you try to climb off of him, he doesn’t allow it at first, letting a low groan roll through his throat. You smile, and breathlessly down, your lips gently opening to kiss along his neck, “Should I declaw you?” You whisper just below his ear.
Dame seems to realize what you mean and a small gasp whispers out. He lifts his fingers, looking down to your bare hips, waist, and… Dame snaps his head back up, red faced despite what the two of you had just done. “S— Sorry.” His voice is hoarse and gentle, the pads of his fingers rubbing circles against the place he grabbed you.
You detach yourself from him, letting his hands fall back. Without much thought you move beside him, Dame does the same, wrapping his arm around you. A move that feels natural to your very soul. He faces you, fingers sliding across your skin as he watches you, mesmerized by every subtle movement your body makes.
Dame presses a kiss into your collarbone, he bites down along the skin, making your back twitch in surprise, only parting to quickly ask “Can I stay for the night?” You almost laugh.
“You never have to ask me that.” Your hand cups his cheek, his hair falling through your fingers as you slide your palm around his neck to pull him closer.
“I still like hearing it.” Dame lets himself be pulled closer and you smile at his words.
“Well then,” You press your forehead against his, sharing his air as he lets out a quiet excited laugh, “Stay the night with me, why don’t you?”
“Mhmm…” he slips a tanned hand up your chest, his fingers running just over your collar yet again. God only knows what he’s so possessive of there, and why his gaze watches to it like your throat is a wellspring in a desert. “You never have to ask me that.” He whispers.
“Okay,” You whisper, putting a hand over his fingers and pulling it off your collar. Immediately he slides them down to hold your waist. “What’s got you so obsessed?” You run your hand over the skin, trailing up your neck to try and feel something.
Dame laughs a little louder now, a little goofy. “Nothing.”
“Liar, what’d you do?”
Dame’s smile can be heard through his words, “You had to have felt me put them there.” He rests his head on your chest, staring up to you.
Your fingers stop rubbing and suspiciously you gaze down. “Hickies?” You ask blandly, and you see him light up.
“Oh yes.” The words come out as a long low purr.
“Dame— How bad is it?”
He closes his eyes, using you as a pillow as he traces patterns with his fingers, “You should wear a scarf tomorrow.”
“We have a meeting— Everyone is going to be there.”
“Then they’ll see you’re taken.”
You almost feel annoyed by that, annoyed that he would do this, but it’s an effort when he holds you like you were crafted to slot together, “Johnny—”
“Won’t know they’re from me.” He cuts you off, “ And I don’t want to think about him. Or Jackie, or anyone else.” Dame slowly raises his head to meet your eye, “It’s only us here. Let it just be only us.”
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Dame doesn’t love a lot about his body. Far too much of it has been objectified, clinically considered as an asset or a defect for him to really love any single piece of him. With you Dame will come to love what you do, where your hands drift to while you kiss, what you stare at when he is bare beside you.
Only once he has healed, gained a semblance of his personhood back, will Dame come to like the way his thighs look. It’s nothing that he will outwardly show. Simply wearing pieces of clothing that will show them off more in private. Skinnier jeans and shorts, or if you’re lucky nothing at all.
On you, however? Well he will say he likes every inch of you equally, maybe not your annoying mouth on some days. But you know that's a lie. There’s a part of you that he clearly favors far far above any other piece. Your hips, but especially your waist. Dear god, Dame will latch onto your waist like you’re a ship’s mast in a storm.
You stretch enough to raise your shirt and his gaze falls to the bare skin, uncaring who may notice the blatant want in his gaze. During ***, he will bruise you there from holding onto it too tight, and after he will mark you there with his mouth and teeth. Walking down the street he will put a hand around it. Even asleep you’ll feel him holding on to it. Because to him it’s like a natural handle. Perfect to pull you closer to him.
Truly, no matter what he says, you’ll know what part of your body he loves. There’s really no debate about it.
C = *** (anything to do with ***, basically)
Dame hates the texture. *** is always so sweaty and wet that it takes away from the experience. Much to his grief and annoyance, yours drives Dame wild. For ***** he likes the bloom of warmth if you’re inside of him. For wetness he wants you absolutely soaked when you’re with him.
Dame likes the way your voice pitches when you’re close, the contractions your body makes as you’re cumming. He likes the way it glistens across his skin, the feeling between his fingers. Dame bask in the proof of your arousal for as long as he can. And if you finish on or in his mouth then it’s all the better.
Though Dame would never say this, ask him and he’ll act revolted and claim you’re sick in the head. It’s embarrassing to him, knowing how much he likes to feel used, claimed, and desired.
When everything has calmed down, then Dame will quickly snap back to hating the texture. As for his own…
Dame doesn’t really care for it.
He’d like to finish in your mouth, see maybe even on your face.
Just don’t expect a kiss until after you’ve brushed your teeth.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
In short? Dame is jealous of anyone who’s able to have casual ***. (Written with a ***-vice Ares)
“I have secrets…” Dame can tell just how whiny he sounds the moment it leaves his mouth.
You don’t believe him, Dame can tell by how you look at him. It’s only the third most annoying thing you’ve done today, right behind you cornering him outside and not letting him taste you properly, and of course that thing you did with your tongue right as he was about to finish an hour ago. He’ll never forgive you for that.
“I do,” Dame defends, and you nod along idly.
“I’m all ears,” you purr, pressing your lips to his collar bone, nipping softly at the skin. ****. Dame really doesn’t have dirty secrets. He’s boring in bed, prefers a single partner, and has never done anything risky. Hell, he’d rather stay inside for weeks at a time than go and be...sexually active. If Dame couldn’t feel the lust that rolls off of people…****, he’d probably still be a virgin. Pathetic for a love god.
Your hand slips lower, fingers gently tracing the line of his ribs, moving to his stomach. Dame hasn’t spoken for a hot moment, and he hesitates before saying, “I’m jealous.”
The movement slows, he doesn’t meet your eye. “Of me?”
“A bit,” he laughs. “But, not just of you…gods this is going to sound awful but I’m jealous of anyone who’s more…active.”
Your hand pulls back just a fraction, Dame doesn’t want to initiate that argument again. Especially now that you two are together. “I mean…*** for me…needs what we have.I can’t be casual, the concept is an entire ****ing world away from me.” He grabs your hand softly, kisses the knuckles. **** you have wonderful hands.Your last few lives didn’t have that, did they? “I used to think something was wrong with me. None of my past lives needed connection like this”
You lift the hand, cupping Dame’s cheek. “You think you’ve missed out?” You ask, voice as soft as your touch.
“Before you returned I used to sit at the bar in Elysium, just watching everyone.”
Even now he remembers the arousal in that place. A constant bombardment of desires and disappointment. He would feel people who felt like a wasteland become a garden of want through a single conversation. Dame’s felt people cheat, felt people rebound, but the most confounding ones were those that stayed a wasteland. Those who weren’t even attracted to the person they hit on, those who egged the conversation on and knew how to make the other’s lust flourish and left with them even when they felt nothing. Those are people he couldn’t conceive of, an entire opposite from Dame in every possible way.
“I may have been hit on…four times?” He’s asking because it was hard to see who wanted to talk, and who wanted to flirt. Most nights nobody approached him. “Each time I’ve tried to emulate what everyone else did, and I couldn’t. It felt forced.”
“Well.” Your thumb runs across his cheekbone, then curves down to his earlobe. “You probably were forcing it.”
Dame leans into the touch, closes his eyes, then he speaks in a breathy whisper. “That’s why I’m jealous…the only time I’ve never had to force it was with you.”
You hum against his neck, “I can tell you that everyone’s wired differently but you’ve already thought of that, haven’t you?” He nods and you continue. “We could roleplay. Go out, pretend to be strangers…”
Dame snickers at the idea. “What if fake-you’s a dick?” He doesn’t let you answer. ”Maybe. How did it feel for you?”
“Oh.” Your voice sounds very surprised, the moment stretches long enough for Dame to panic, then you speak. “Depends on the night, I guess some days felt like work. I knew I just wanted to relax, the *** was relaxing, and it was so much work to get there some days that I just gave up. But other days…it was thrilling.”
When you say that your breath hits his ear in a way that makes his body tingle. “Tell me, like I was there, your target for the night.”
A tiny chuckle comes out of you, makes Dame’s face warm. “After I saw you, I’d start soft. Ask a question that gets your attention.”
“A pickup line?”
“Only if I was desperate. I like to start with something about your clothes. So it’d depend on what you’re wearing, which…” You hook a finger on the edge of the blanket, gently raising it, attempting to spy what’s beneath—
Dame yanks it back down, face feeling hot. “Noted,” he croaks, thick and embarrassed even though you’ve just spent hours staring at it.
“I’d give you my name, get a drink, ask if you’d want one since the bartender was there. All casual-like.”
“Hmm, I’d say no. I already have a drink, can’t you see?” He teases, and moves further down, readjusting to be face to face now.
“Well…I thought it was your friend’s. Oh? You’re here alone? That’s a shame. I am too, seems like everyone here is in a group, right?”
Dame snickers, “Maybe we’re just both losers.”
“You don’t look like a loser to me, but you’re welcome to prove me wrong.” Beneath the blankets you slide some fingers up his forearm, leave them there for a heart beat, slowly take them off. Though what makes Dame feel light is the way you hold his eyes. Like you truly want to know.
He breaks the contact first. “I’m antisocial.”
“Right, because clubs are the best places to be alone.”
Your tone makes him want to roll his eyes and smile. It takes him a moment to smile, not ready for improvisation. “It's good for people watching.”
"Is that why you’re a loser? You like to spy on strangers?”
“No!” He laughs, “I’m not a creep, people are just interesting.”
“Well has anything caught your interest? Anyone?”
“Maybe. There are just so many attractive people here today, I can hardly see them all.” He starts to joke, but his chest flutters when you make eye contact, refusing to break it. He has to work to remember what this scenario is for a brief moment. Instinctively pushing on his time at Elysium. “Music’s **** though.”
You scoot closer, hand on his thigh. An unfair advantage. “There are quieter places…with better views.”
“And I’m sure you’re desperate to show them.” Dame forces himself to look away, only for you to pull off his thigh, and gently put a finger against his jaw. You guide him back to look at you, a new look on your face. Something all too hungry.
“Could you blame me if I was?”
Dame understands it all now.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Difficult to say. Dame has been with very few people in this life, in fact you can count on one hand how many people. Dame’s had a single girlfriend in the past, just before Johnny, that he’s slept with. So that’s two that Dame doesn’t regret. However, M!Dame has slept with one person to make a deal, and F!Dame has slept with two; No matter what, both Dames regret doing so. Dame simply does not enjoy *** without some sort of emotional connection.
That said…he’s Aphrodite, and Aphrodite has been around the block a few times. In the hundred years of Ares’s disappearance especially, Dame’s past lives searched for connection and trust wherever they could find it. This led to two long lives that, if not full of love, definitely full of ***.
If Damiana wants to think about his past experience he would hardly even count those two lives. They were full of grief and were too caught up in wild emotions for Dame to “learn” anything from them. It was a very dreamlike time for him. So most of what Dame calls experience will be from his collective lives, and from his most guarded and secret memories of Ares.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Once Aphrodite and you were a livewire of passion and connection. Together there was nothing that could contain your love, and in the wake of your joined desires there would be left ruined beds, sofas, tables, chairs, walls… But that was over a century ago. Now things have changed, Dame isn’t the Aphrodite of the past, and you are not the Ares of the past. He has missed you for so long that when you return he doesn’t know exactly what to do.
When you finally break the tension, and let your shared desires guide you, Dame will pull you to someplace quiet to hear you, someplace dim enough to comfort but lit enough to see, someplace soft. A bed, preferably, but beggars can't be choosers and Dame has been begging for this for so long. He will pull you on top, and not let you leave. Relying on your weight to remind him that this is real, this is not another falsehood that his mind has cooked up. You’re back, and you’re trapping him on the bed. It will bring more comfort than he thinks he deserves.
After you two are together, and have been together for quite some time, Dame's preference will change. On top, on bottom, beside, upside down, suspended from the ceiling on silk ropes…none of it matters to him as long as he can see your face.
If you’re in a meeting with Jackie, standing at her desk as she speaks, then Dame will imagine bending you over or being bent over it. If you’re kneeling, tying a shoe or just picking something up, Dame will imagine using your mouth. If you’re laying in bed he won’t have to imagine a thing because he will simply climb on top and satisfy the hunter that’s been starving him.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Dame’s not that goofy to begin with, savoring every second he has with you and always trying to wring more and more out. *** will last hours and hours if Dame has his way, and every second will be more passionate than the last. And just when you begin to think every moment with him will be like that Dame’s walls will fall away, brick by brick. He’ll be overwhelmed with joy in the moment, and he’ll make a joke, say the most cringey flirtatious line he can think up. It’ll be like a cat learning to climb. Clumsy, awkward, curious at the limits but too cautious to take them. He’ll regret it immediately and return to the quiet serious passion that he’s had.
Then months will wash away, Dame’s emotions will settle, become comfortable. And that’s when he’ll surprise you again. He’ll whisper a joke, one not awkward, and that he won’t regret. And though your time with Dame will remain earnest and intense, he will welcome levity, even in the most intimate of moments.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Dame dyes his hair blonde, but even the casual observer will see that his natural hair color is a dark brown. Naturally the rest of his bodyhair will be this color. When you first get with Dame he will still be with Johnny, as such he will be meticulously groomed.
After his and Johnny’s relationship has ended, and he is free to be with you openly then he will not groom himself at all, nor will he dye his hair anymore. In fact there may be other changes he has been wanting to do in regards to his hair. Though we’ll get to that later.
Dame has no strong feelings about body hair, nor does he understand the disgust many people have with it. If Ares tries to get him to shave he’ll say no, and it could start a fight. He won’t be trapped in a controlling relationship again. Though his pubic hair doesn’t grow to be very long.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Dame? The reincarnation of Aphrodite? The god of love? That should be obvious. He is endlessly intimate, and needs you to be as well. Anything less than extraordinarily intimate is going to immediately turn him off and make him bitter for the rest of the day.
Foreplay with him will last five times as long as the actual ***, and the aftercare will last until you fall asleep. This can actually cause problems if you and him have *** in the morning, because then you have an entire day of an affectionate Dame following you around, or checking on you in solitary moments.
That sounds nice until you need privacy, for a phone call, to relax, even for the bathroom. He may talk to you through the door, or listen to your conversation. If you need to be alone just to be alone it’s better to not **** in the morning.
J = Jack off (************ headcanon)
In short? He rarely masturbates, and when he does he may need your help.
Alone. Dame’s alone, he has been for a while. You disappeared on him yet again. Sure, at least this time you send texts, make daily calls. Jackie has you half a continent away, some bullshit job she could have had anyone do. But she chose you. Dame stares at his phone, it's pointless. You can’t talk often, you made that clear. But the anxiety won’t go away.
He wants your attention, craves your gaze, your voice, your touch. The weight of you in the bed next to him, your hand on his neck, your lips…
Dame stuffs a pillow over his face and groans angrily into it. He needs a distraction. Rolling over and laying on the pillow, he pulls up his phone. Mindlessly scroll through contacts, Franco, no. Mitch, god no. Riley…Maybe they’d be able to bring Dame to you… But no. It’s a risk Dame won’t take. He clicks his tongue once he reaches the bottom.
He has friends, he has to! Dame is the god of love, of course he must have friends. Another scroll and… nope. Surely he missed something, his finger darts back up, but before he reaches the top of the contacts a message comes through.
[ARES has sent a picture]
He catches it, just barely as the icon flits away. Just the barest glimpse at the condensed picture. Dame’s inside thrills, quickly clicking on your messages. His entire body stops once he sees it. You. Bare, water dripping down your body. A selfie through a fogged up mirror, the steam wiped away from everywhere except the parts Dame wants most. Your face with the world's most perfect smirk.
He bites his lip as he gawks at it, trying to see through the fog. His insides playing with his mind, swearing if he just keeps staring then the fog will go away. Dame types a response, deletes it, thinks about it again, types, deletes, types, deletes. He must look a fool, his message popping and disappearing. All while your naked body taunts him above the keyboard. When he finally sends it’s a single, hungry, word. More.
The next picture comes quickly. You’re dry now, drier at least. There’s still a sheen on your skin that the light glints off of. A towel is wrapped around you, keeping the sight even more hidden than it was before.
More.
It takes longer this time, Dame lets out a quiet noise. He doesn’t get this bad often. Normally the only way to get him in the mood is you being next to him. Wrapped around each other, small words and soft kisses spread through hours. But there must be a blue moon because tonight Dame needs you, it's a curse that you’re not here.
The phone buzzes and Dame is already hungry for the photo.
You’re on the hotel’s bed, the top of your face is cut off this time, but you still bite your lip. The rest of the picture has you sprawled out on the bed. Legs open, everything shown.
Dame lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He’s on his knees now, pillow pressed between his thighs, soft blanket pooling around his feet as he grinds down. A quiet groan escaping him. Dame stares at your body, the picture doesn’t do you justice. The hotel lighting doesn’t do you justice.
He’s forced to close his eyes and imagine you next to him, posing as you are. His hand between his legs moving slowly. But imagination doesn’t do you justice. He doesn’t touch himself often. Never wanted to, never had to. But today’s a lucky day, or unlucky if you’re in Dame’s sexually frustrated shoes. You make the nerve endings through his entire body scream without you here to soothe. It’s torture. He needs a release. He calls you, his hand moving more rapidly as the phone rings. And rings… and rings.
And then a click.
“Hey—” You start, your voice nearly sends him over the edge.
“Talk me through it.” Dame interrupts. Compared to your words Dame must sound sick. He feels sick.
You laugh, and Dame shoves his face into the mattress. “What?”
“Talk me through it.” His hand moves quicker, the pillow digging into a perfect spot, just to imagine you there. “Please?”
No response, just a quiet breath from your end. “Of course.” He can hear your smile and it almost makes him finish then and there.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
In short? (Heavy) praise, and (light) choking.
“Are you sure?” Dame moves in front of you, it's so easy to admire him in the morning light. ****. You didn’t even realize it was morning. In truth you were hoping that the sun wouldn’t rise. You and Dame could stay here, together, forever. Talking like there’s no end. He’s curled up in the corner of your bed, where it meets the wall, tanned skin lit aflame by hues of the orange and pink sunrise.
“Of course.” Your voice is soft, and tender. As if one wrong tone will make Dame disappear. As proof of your words you gently bring your lips to his. He shows his greedy side here, opening to swallow you whole. You don’t let yourself idle in the act, you’ve burnt up the night, you don’t want to waste the day. As soon as you bring your lips away, he lets out a low whine. “Just tell me what you like, I’ll do it.”
Dame takes a shuddering breath, tongue sliding along his lips, then he bites it. You nearly feel his teeth cut into your own lip, as if your taste alone was enough to bind you to him. Slowly Dame slides his hand over yours. “Now… don’t be a dick by judging me.” he whispers.
“Never.”
“I really like… well…” Dame lets out a laugh, a bit loud, clearly embarrassed, a red tint blossoming through his cheeks.
“You can do it.” You try to motivate him but it only seems to send a small sputtering noise from him.
“That.” He whispers.
You quirk a brow and lean closer in the bed, “What?”
“Don’t laugh but I like to be…” Dame waves a hand as if casually throwing the word out, “Encouraged.”
Oh. Oh my. You smile, not laughing, but suddenly endlessly pleased. “Encouraged?”
“Yes.”
“You mean praised?”
“I… Yes.”
“Told you’re doing so well? That you look so good beneath me.”
“****—” He doesn’t meet your eye as you move closer and closer. “I’m not beneath you now.” He murmurs.
“You want to change that?” You kiss him again. Dame sinks into it, moaning an affirmative, or at least what you take as one. You part from him just enough to whisper “Good boy. He lets out a breath and shuts his eyes. “And the second? Are you going to show me that one too?”
Dame nods, eagerly too. Nearly headbutting you in the process. “Yes, yes.” He seems more excited about this one, far more, quickly starting to shift along the bed. “Here—” he sinks down, “Climb on top of me.” You do as he asks, straddling him. Greedily he takes the chance to run a hand up your stomach, a smile on his face as you take position.
Dame presses your hand to his collar, open fingers splayed across the bone. Then, slowly, he moves them up, keeping an eye on you as he goes. Your hand runs up to just below his chin. “Right here.” He taps your thumb, on one side of his neck, and your forefinger on the other. “Just a little pressure.” Dame swallows, his breath clearly eager. “Only here, if it's too much I'll tell you—” You squeeze, barely anything at all before he opens his mouth and smiles. “Yeah,” it comes out more like a gasp than actual words.
You smile, tilting your head to watch him. Dame gently rocks his hips from beneath you, “Oh, you’re eager.”
He nods, watching you with darkened eyes and a trembling lip. You lay next to him, pressing your body against his, and add a bit more pressure to his neck before slowly sinking your hands down his pelvis. Quickly you learn just what to do to make Dame unravel. A whisper here, a squeeze there, following his directions until right at the end you hear him whisper, “Harder.”
And he becomes a mess in your hands.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Though it’s certainly possible for Dame to get worked up enough to make love to you anywhere…realistically the only time it’ll happen is some place warm, comfortable, and safe. When your relationship begins it won’t be uncommon for him to gift you blankets and pillows after seeing how few you sleep with. Because how can he be expected to relax in your home without luxuries available. Not even for ***, in fact Dame’s the last person who will give you something even considering *** at all. At the start he’ll want to enjoy every moment with you, and being in a comfortable place will make that enjoyment happen quicker.
This also applies during ***. With few exceptions, Dame will need some place he feels safe.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Dame can be turned on in a number of ways. He likes it when you’re aggressive with others, but not a dick. Other than that, simply showing you love him. Going out of your way to bring him food, remembering his coffee order. Doing any of these won’t fully light the fire but it’ll get it started. Though normally that fire dies long before you can get someplace to really fuel it.
If you are alone and someplace he can relax then you could undress him. Not to the nude, of course, but small pieces of clothing. (check out the Wild Card letter for more) A surefire way to turn him on is…by talking. Lay in bed next to him, hold each other, talk, laugh, cry. It’ll always lead to kissing, grinding, and eventually, yes, ***. Just be careful not to push too quickly, otherwise he’ll drop out of the mood, leaving you high and dry.
Now, that said…there is a way to flip that switch for Dame. To send him from zero to a hundred in under a second. And it is…spite. Which sounds counterintuitive to what has been discussed, but if Dame really hates someone he will not only be willing to ****, but will actively initiate *** with you, so long as it’s in a place that the person Dame hates enjoys, or somehow sticks it to someone he hates. He’s petty, and spiteful, and desires to defile what place his enemies deem holy.
Places such as Jackie’s office, the back of Verne’s truck, Jackie’s home, Riley’s home (if you can get there unnoticed somehow), or…his own home when Johnny’s out for the day…Maybe even the church he’s being married in…on his wedding day.
All of these are fantasies Dame will have, even if he can never fullfil them.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Dame will never accept you frightening or hurting him. The only exception to this is choking, and only when he desires it, which is often but moods can change. He won’t let you pressure him into ***, and will be very firm with his boundaries. Dame doesn’t want to do anything that could take one, or both, of you out of the moment. Things such as taking pictures, videos, role playing, none of that. He wants you, and only you. Finally: Don’t bring up Johnny or Jackie before, during, or after ***. Seriously.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Dame would enjoy both giving and receiving, but in very different ways.
When giving he’ll tease you, dance around beginning by focusing on other parts of you to kiss. You’ll be left with bite marks on your thighs, and hickies on your hips. When he does begin it’ll be with the pace he sets in all things sexual. Gently pulling you to the edge and dancing on it until you’re begging for him to let you finish, or taking what you want. Either way the goal is to leave you frustrated enough that when you do finally go over the edge, you empty all of your energy in that single overwhelming climax. He’ll consider that a win.
When receiving it’ll leave Dame without your mouth to kiss and without your body to hold. He will want you to bring him to the edge and over quickly so he can hold you again, but at the same time he will desperately try to keep himself from finishing, even going so far as to screw his eyes shut and breathe very slowly. For if he looks down and makes eye contact with you it’s over and he’ll refuse to let you tease him for becoming a mess so entirely.
Some part of him would wish to have a way to use your mouth and hold you at the same time. Dame would probably enjoy both giving and receiving at the same time, but 69ing has always felt a touch too kinky for him to actually try it.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
It’s been said to death already how slow Dame is, so it won’t be restated. Instead, you should know that once Dame’s in the mood he loves to be overwhelmed and left seeing stars, all while his pleas to slow are left unanswered. It can only be done as you and him near the peak of your love making.
If you take the initiative then pin Dame beneath you. **** him, or ride him from an angle that gives you an advantage and do not let up. Be quick. Relentless. Let your muscles burn and scream within you. And keep going.
If Dame’s taking the initiative then wrap your legs around his waist, or grab his hips and command “Faster.” He will listen. Then say “Harder.” Repeat again “Faster.” “Don’t let up.” “Keep going.” “Harder.” and watch as he cries from above you, desperately overwhelming himself by your command.
You can return to the letter K if you want ways to keep him in the moment. Telling him how good he’s taking/****ing you, holding him by the throat to keep him from leaving. You can trust that, despite how much he’ll beg to stop, if Dame truly didn’t like it he would throw you off, and he wouldn’t beg you to keep going when you do listen.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
In short? Dame hates quickies, but there can be a rare mood when his passion is overshone by lust. Then, and only then, he’ll love something fast and raw.
Dame’s back presses against the door, sending a loud click through Jackie’s marble office. You look back only briefly, eyes almost bored before you see the predatory gleam over Dame’s face.
His smile is sharp, almost cruel. You look concerned as you watch, Dame slowly raises his hand, delicately trailing a finger up the wooden frame before finding the latch. He snaps it closed, you seem to understand and let out a nervous laugh.
“Dame—” You begin as he meets you, with prodding fingers pushing you just an inch, for the back of your thighs to meet Jackie’s desk. Your hands cup Dame’s face and he leans into it, excitement playing up his core. Alone, finally alone with you. His fingers loop beneath the waist band, pull it back just enough to catch a sliver of skin he hadn’t seen in a week.
He whispers your name, a challenge, and watches your eyes drift to his lips, open mouth and quiet breaths. Dame’s already excited, even the prospect of you and him alone here. So easy to be caught, the idea of Jackie walking in to see you two over her desk, too love drunk to care. Dame already doesn’t care.
Now that his engagement is over he wonders how often he denied Johnny something like this? Dame’s always despised quickies. There’s no passion, it’s just ****ing for the sake of ****ing. But today…today his mind is swirling with need.
“Here?” You ask in equally as quiet of a voice. You turn your head, lean closer. Dame bites his lip in anticipation, your hand slides to the back of his head and unravels him with a kiss. Your first kiss is revenge and hunger wrapped into one. Good. Dame wasn’t the only one that needed this.
Dame tries to separate to say something snide but only gets so much as a wet gasp of air before you’re on him again. Your second kiss is your declaration of love. It makes him melt, fingers falling away from your zipper and slapping onto the marble desk for support. You break off and Dame finally gets to speak the answer he’s wanted to say.
“Please…”
“Needy.” You chide and Dame lets out a groan, but doesn’t disagree.
“We don’t have to.” He mutters, despite the desperate growing hunter to sink his teeth into you. “But, I’m burning up…can we? Please?”
“Needy.” It’s your turn to smile like a predator. “Well?”
He lets out a chuckle and shoves you past the desk, you stumble and hit a bookshelf, with a confidence Dame hasn’t felt in years he grabs you by a belt loop and strides to Jackie’s chair behind the desk. With gentle fingers he leads to the chair, and a gentle push sends you stumbling into it.
The way you stare at Dame sends a fiery desolation in his heart. You look perfect on this holy throne…He can’t wait to defile it…defile you.
Dame leans over you in the chair, knee between your thighs, sinking into the leather. His soft lips kiss against your own, then along your cheek and jaw, down your neck, your collar. Dame’s fingers slip beneath your shirt, a dangerous laugh gets sent through him as he feels skin denied to him.
Dame slowly slides to his knees. His skin presses into the cold stone floor from the tears along his pants. Endlessly teasing, he runs a finger up your calf, staring up at you from the floor expectantly. “Well?” He asks.
In your excitement your fingers fumble the zipper twice, glancing towards the door during it. Each mistake ignites something cruel inside of him. On the third slip Dame grabs it himself, fingers tangling with yours, and pulls it down. Your hips shake from anticipation, and he’s in a similar way. With yank, your pants are at your knees and exposing what was once beneath them.
Dame doesn’t let you adjust to the cold before his mouth takes what it wants. Normally he would draw this out, but he’s starving and you taste so good.
“Oh ****—” Your mumbles slip into a wordless moan. A noise that only fuels the heat in Dame’s core.
His fingers work you through it, and he devours every hitch of your breath.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)
Though it’s rare, Dame can be a risk taker when in the mood, especially when motivated by spite. He’ll love the thrill of ****ing in places you two absolutely shouldn’t. But that’s about as far as the risk will go.
As for experimenting with other things…Maybe. For Dame, you can’t just thrust kink out and say “lets try this” because Dame will need to really…research it. Even very small ones like being blindfolded. Dame finds enjoyment in learning about things, and he will spend hours on forums, watching tutorials, even reading smut. Anything to get into how to do a kink safely and why it even exists. If it's safe to do by himself, then he will, just to try and get in the headspace.
So when you bring up an idea of something new to do, just be sure you’re not about to have ***, otherwise Dame will be next to you, naked and on his lap top, reading forum posts.
And after all of that…most of the time Dame will come back days later and simply say no. He likes passion, and isn’t going to experiment too much if it could take your mind off him loving you, or his mind off you loving him.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Out of every member in the cast Dame is the least sexual, in practically every way. He’ll always make sure you’ve finished, and is more than willing to focus hours on you alone, but he’s the main course…it’s a quick meal. Dame won’t last long. He’ll try to, of course. Try to not immediately fall apart in your hands, but he will finish quickly, in under ten minutes, most likely. And after he’s finished Dame won’t be ready to go again for hours at minimum, sometimes days.
That said, as long as he isn’t the one focussed on, *** will tend to last far far longer. Just let Dame pace himself.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
No toys. Anything will either feel like he’s being used, or using you. It’s possible that he’ll allow you to be cuffed if you desire it, especially if you fight against the cuffs while he’s with you. But he’ll always prefer you in your entirety to one restrained.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
This is complicated, as there are different stages to Dame’s romance that most others don’t get.
Before you and him get together? Dame will tease you in ways that you may not even know is him teasing you. He’ll stretch, making his shirt ride up. F!Dame will wear no *** and subtly show off, or M!Dame may even answer the door shirtless. Basically, Dame will tease you in exact ways that make you feel like you’re the pervert for sexualizing him. However, after the relationship started…
If Dame is still with Johnny then in public he will barely acknowledge you, and may even go out of his way to seem less appealing to you to hide your relationship. This may even extend to when you know that you both are alone but in a more public place, because someone may be watching…Hell, even when you’re alone in private, Dame will never tease you. But that is for an entirely different reason. Because why would he waste time when he can have you?
Now, when openly in a relationship things will change. Dame becomes extremely unfair. He’ll find joy in waiting until nobody’s looking to do something very quick to make you jump.
Pinching your butt is a very tame version. Expect the return of the subtle flirting from before, but this time a bit more egregious. He’ll still be subtle, but it will skirt the line and have those around you wondering if Dame was actually flirting with you, or if they are mistaken. When alone Dame will tease you for hours. Since he doesn’t exactly last long in bed, *** will be foreplay and he will make sure it’s drawn out.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Quiet. Barely a noise, try to get him to talk and all that will come out are soundless breaths, and the occasional whine. At the right moment, during a brief rest or a shift of positions, Dame will pull you closer and breathlessly whisper “I love you, I love you, I love you,” like a tortuous prayer, for as long as it takes to begin again.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
In short? Undress them, and talk to them. It drives them wild.
Dame stumbles through your doorway, arms around you, lips against yours. Today was perfect, he couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than with you. Finally, you two can be publicly intimate. Nothing will happen if you’re caught hand in hand, nobody will mind. Well, some do, but they can’t do a thing. So he spent his first day of freedom dragging you to his favorite places.
Unfortunately, a day like this has left Dame exhausted…and drunk. Exceedingly so. He kisses you, bites your lower lip just a smidge, and laughs into your mouth. You mutter something dangerous to his already weak composure, but it's muffled by him.
You break away, just for a second, to take your shoes off. In that time Dame’s mind swims, while his body sways. A loud pop makes both you and Dame flinch. He searches for the culprit and finds it was his own hand desperately slapping the wall to prevent him from falling.
“I gotta sit down.” Dame mumbles, then takes one step and his boots, wet from snow, slide against the hardwood floor. Now he ends up smacking a hand on your shoulder for support, ever thankful at how immovable you’ve always been. “My boots…” Dame leans down, presses his head against your chest, on purpose because he knows he can blame the alcohol, and struggles to work the laces free.
Damn sober Dame. Damn him to hell.
“Hey,” you murmur softly, hand sliding up his arm, and down his side until your fingers are pressed against his ribs. “Let me.”
Confused, Dame lets you guide him to your couch, and sits down. His legs splayed out, the heels of his boots resting against the floor. Instinctively he tilts his head back, looks to the ceiling before finding his eyelids heavy. The encroaching wall of sleep is only beaten back by the delicate dance of your fingers. Like a kid in church, Dame peeks to see what you’re doing, before his eyes widen and he can only stare.
You’re kneeling between his legs, focused entirely on the tangled laces that hold Dame’s boots. Softly you say, “Next time let’s just stay in.” And Dame’s heart swells. Next time, of course there’s going to be a next time.
Your fingers undo the knot, just as your presence has undone Dame. How can a thing of war be so soft? It's a wonder how all things have not been unmade by your diametric nature. But maybe that’s a side you have only shown Dame…it would make sense, you are the only one who’s seen the whole of him.
“I liked the park,” he whispers back.
You open the tongue of the boot, grab it by the back. The cold air hits the warmth of his ankle and travels down, as you remove his foot from the boot like delicate glass work. Oh, oh this. He’s forgotten this small ritual. You have too, of course, but at least Dame remembers this act of submission, and love.
“I did too.” His foot is gently set on your thigh, you’re careful to not let it slip into the puddle left behind. Then you move to the next one. “I liked the movie as well...” “And the drinks after,” he snorts.
This boot comes off easier, your hands working quickly. “We can have those last two inside though, away from people.” when you pull it off your hand stays on the arch of his foot for just a moment.
He tries to respond but all that comes out is a shaky breath. You glance up to Dame, probably assuming that he’s fallen asleep. What a desperate thing he must appear. Eyes wide, pupils wider, practically panting at the sight of your submission. Your lips are red and soft. “Keep going,” Dame murmurs.
You take a sock off, and then the next. Dame reaches down hand aloft for you, “Keep going.” And just as gently you pull his gloves, needing to raise to your knees to remove his scarf. The movement brings your face too close to Dame and it’s over. He kisses you, sinking down to the floor, pants sliding against the melted snow. It’s fine, because those are what you take off
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Dame’s body is well groomed to begin with, but after Johnny then Dame won’t shave often. But he doesn’t have much body hair to begin with. His leg hair is dark but thin, and his pubic hair is mostly wild and ungroomed. Once in a relationship he won’t shave if you ask him to. He’s had to change his body enough for one partner, he won’t do it again for another. Even you.
There are a few minor scars that dot Dame’s body, as well as several small dark moles on his chest, shoulders, and back, including one on his stomach that he enjoys having you kiss as it’s an excellent place to watch you and allows him to run his fingers through your hair.
Dame’s skinny, maybe underweight as he doesn’t eat often, nor does he work out. M!Dame has an average *****, and wider than average hips.
Though it has been considered many times, Dame has never gotten a tattoo. If Ares were to suggest matching ones he would agree, so long as they’re small but easy to look at in public. Like on the wrist. He’d want it as his little reminder. In his youth he had several piercings both above and… below the neck. Including one below the belt… But those were removed when he got together with Johnny.
If he ever tells Ares that, then perhaps Ares can convince him to get those piercings again, in fact even a minor interest would do it. Dame enjoyed those pieces quite a lot, all he needs is to be reminded of them.
Y = Yearning (how high is their *** drive?)
Nearly non-existent *** drive. It takes him a while to work up to wanting someone intimately. If Dame’s to be truthful he’s actually fine with not having *** ever again. Though he can be worked up fairly quickly if… encouraged by Ares. He won’t often go out of his way to try to have ***.
This does not mean Dame is asexual, as he is, and will always be, sexually attracted to Ares. But Dame rarely desires *** out of nowhere, and even still the physical intimacy is secondary to the emotional intimacy. He will be happy to not act on those desires so long as Ares can fill the romantic and emotional intimacy.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Sleep? If Dame sleeps then he risks waking to find that you’ve disappeared on him again. He needs to watch you. Watch your breathing, your parted lips, your eyes moving as you dream. Dame won’t sleep until he’s forced to. Until his body gives in. He’ll wake to find hours have passed, fear overcoming him, the fear that he has lost you again, only then to find that you two are curled together.
Eventually he’ll stop fearing your loss. Eventually he’ll be able to close his eyes next to you and know you’ll be there when he wakes. It will take time though. Once he reaches that point you won’t be able to keep him awake after you two lie together, too quickly will he succumb to your comfort.
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after ***)
In short? Soft, affectionate, and more than a little possessive and dependant.
Dame’s fingers hook into your hips leaving red cuts behind, not breaking the skin but coming damn near. Your legs shake as you try to climb off of her, she doesn’t allow it at first, letting a low groan roll through her throat. You smile, and breathlessly down, your lips gently opening to kiss along her neck, “Should I declaw you?” You whisper just below her ear.
Dame seems to realize what you mean and a small gasp whispers out. She lifts her fingers, looking down to your bare hips, waist, and… Dame snaps her head back up, red faced despite what the two of you had just done. “S— Sorry.” Her voice is hoarse and gentle, the pads of her fingers rubbing circles against the place she grabbed you.
You detach yourself from her, letting her hands fall back. Without much thought you move beside her, Dame does the same, wrapping her arm around you. A move that feels natural to your very soul. She faces you, fingers sliding across your skin as she watches you, mesmerized by every subtle movement your body makes.
Dame presses a kiss into your collarbone, she bites down along the skin, making your back twitch in surprise, only parting to quickly ask “Can I stay for the night?” You almost laugh.
“You never have to ask me that.” Your hand cups her cheek, her hair falling through your fingers as you slide your palm around her neck to pull her closer.
“I still like hearing it.” Dame lets herself be pulled closer and you smile at her words.
“Well then,” You press your forehead against her, sharing her air as she lets out a quiet excited laugh, “Stay the night with me, why don’t you?”
“Mhmm…” she slips a tanned hand up your chest, her fingers running just over your collar yet again. God only knows what she’s so possessive of there, and why her gaze watches to it like your throat is a wellspring in a desert. “You never have to ask me that.” She whispers.
“Okay,” You whisper, putting a hand over her fingers and pulling it off your collar. Immediately she slides them down to hold your waist. “What’s got you so obsessed?” You run your hand over the skin, trailing up your neck to try and feel something.
Dame laughs a little louder now, a little goofy. “Nothing.”
“Liar, what’d you do?”
Dame’s smile can be heard through her words, “You had to have felt me put them there.” she rests her head on your chest, staring up to you.
Your fingers stop rubbing and suspiciously you gaze down. “Hickies?” You ask blandly, and you see her light up.
“Oh yes.” The words come out as a long low purr.
“Dame— How bad is it?”
She closes her eyes, using you as a pillow as she traces patterns with her fingers, “You should wear a scarf tomorrow.”
“We have a meeting— Everyone is going to be there.”
“Then they’ll see you’re taken.”
You almost feel annoyed by that, annoyed that she would do this, but it’s an effort when she holds you like you were crafted to slot together, “Johnny—”
“Won’t know they’re from me.” She cuts you off, “ And I don’t want to think about him. Or Jackie, or anyone else.” Dame slowly raises her head to meet your eye, “It’s only us here. Let it just be only us.”
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Dame doesn’t love a lot about her body. Far too much of it has been objectified, clinically considered as an asset or a defect for her to really love any single piece of her. With you Dame will come to love what you do, where your hands drift to while you kiss, what you stare at when she is bare beside you.
Only once she has healed, gained a semblance of her personhood back, will Dame come to like the way her thighs look. It’s nothing that she will outwardly show. Simply wearing pieces of clothing that will show them off more in private. Skinnier jeans and shorts, or if you’re lucky nothing at all.
On you, however? Well she will say she likes every inch of you equally, maybe not your annoying mouth on some days. But you know that's a lie. There’s a part of you that she clearly favors far far above any other piece. Your hips, but especially your waist. Dear god, Dame will latch onto your waist like you’re a ship’s mast in a storm.
You stretch enough to raise your shirt and her gaze falls to the bare skin, uncaring who may notice the blatant want in her gaze. During ***, she will bruise you there from holding onto it too tight, and after she will mark you there with her mouth and teeth. Walking down the street she will put a hand around it. Even asleep you’ll feel her holding on to it. Because to her it’s like a natural handle. Perfect to pull you closer to her.
Truly, no matter what she says, you’ll know what part of your body she loves. There’s really no debate about it.
C = *** (anything to do with ***, basically)
Dame hates the texture. *** is always so sweaty and wet that it takes away from the experience. Much to her grief and annoyance, yours drives Dame wild. For ***** she likes the bloom of warmth if you’re inside of her. For wetness she wants you absolutely soaked when you’re with her.
Dame likes the way your voice pitches when you’re close, the contractions your body makes as you’re cumming. She likes the way it glistens across her skin, the feeling between her fingers. Dame bask in the proof of your arousal for as long as she can. And if you finish on or in her mouth then it’s all the better.
Though Dame would never say this, ask her and she’ll act revolted and claim you’re sick in the head. It’s embarrassing to her, knowing how much she likes to feel used, claimed, and desired.
When everything has calmed down, then Dame will quickly snap back to hating the texture. As for her own…
Dame doesn’t really care for it.
She’d like to see your mouth glistening after she’s wrapped her legs around it when finishing.
Just don’t expect a kiss until after you’ve brushed your teeth.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
In short? Dame is jealous of anyone who’s able to have casual ***. (Written with a ***-vice Ares)
“I have secrets…” Dame can tell just how whiny she sounds the moment it leaves her mouth.
You don’t believe her, Dame can tell by how you look at her. It’s only the third most annoying thing you’ve done today, right behind you cornering her outside and not letting her taste you properly, and of course that thing you did with your tongue right as she was about to finish an hour ago. She’ll never forgive you for that.
“I do,” Dame defends, and you nod along idly.
“I’m all ears,” you purr, pressing your lips to her collar bone, nipping softly at the skin. ****. Dame really doesn’t have dirty secrets. She’s boring in bed, prefers a single partner, and has never done anything risky. Hell, she’d rather stay inside for weeks at a time than go and be...sexually active. If Dame couldn’t feel the lust that rolls off of people…****, she’d probably still be a virgin. Pathetic for a love god.
Your hand slips lower, fingers gently tracing the line of her ribs, moving to her stomach. Dame hasn’t spoken for a hot moment, and she hesitates before saying, “I’m jealous.”
The movement slows, she doesn’t meet your eye. “Of me?”
“A bit,” she laughs. “But, not just of you…gods this is going to sound awful but I’m jealous of anyone who’s more…active.”
Your hand pulls back just a fraction, Dame doesn’t want to initiate that argument again. Especially now that you two are together. “I mean…*** for me…needs what we have.I can’t be casual, the concept is an entire ****ing world away from me.” She grabs your hand softly, kisses the knuckles. **** you have wonderful hands.Your last few lives didn’t have that, did they? “I used to think something was wrong with me. None of my past lives needed connection like this”
You lift the hand, cupping Dame’s cheek. “You think you’ve missed out?” You ask, voice as soft as your touch.
“Before you returned I used to sit at the bar in Elysium, just watching everyone.”
Even now she remembers the arousal in that place. A constant bombardment of desires and disappointment. She would feel people who felt like a wasteland become a garden of want through a single conversation. Dame’s felt people cheat, felt people rebound, but the most confounding ones were those that stayed a wasteland. Those who weren’t even attracted to the person they hit on, those who egged the conversation on and knew how to make the other’s lust flourish and left with them even when they felt nothing. Those are people she couldn’t conceive of, an entire opposite from Dame in every possible way.
“I may have been hit on…four times?” She’s asking because it was hard to see who wanted to talk, and who wanted to flirt. Most nights nobody approached her. “Each time I’ve tried to emulate what everyone else did, and I couldn’t. It felt forced.”
“Well.” Your thumb runs across her cheekbone, then curves down to her earlobe. “You probably were forcing it.”
Dame leans into the touch, closes her eyes, then she speaks in a breathy whisper. “That’s why I’m jealous…the only time I’ve never had to force it was with you.”
You hum against her neck, “I can tell you that everyone’s wired differently but you’ve already thought of that, haven’t you?” She nods and you continue. “We could roleplay. Go out, pretend to be strangers…”
Dame snickers at the idea. “What if fake-you’s a dick?” She doesn’t let you answer. ”Maybe. How did it feel for you?”
“Oh.” Your voice sounds very surprised, the moment stretches long enough for Dame to panic, then you speak. “Depends on the night, I guess some days felt like work. I knew I just wanted to relax, the *** was relaxing, and it was so much work to get there some days that I just gave up. But other days…it was thrilling.”
When you say that your breath hits her ear in a way that makes her body tingle. “Tell me, like I was there, your target for the night.”
A tiny chuckle comes out of you, makes Dame’s face warm. “After I saw you, I’d start soft. Ask a question that gets your attention.”
“A pickup line?”
“Only if I was desperate. I like to start with something about your clothes. So it’d depend on what you’re wearing, which…” You hook a finger on the edge of the blanket, gently raising it, attempting to spy what’s beneath—
Dame yanks it back down, face feeling hot. “Noted,” she croaks, thick and embarrassed even though you’ve just spent hours staring at it.
“I’d give you my name, get a drink, ask if you’d want one since the bartender was there. All casual-like.”
“Hmm, I’d say no. I already have a drink, can’t you see?” She teases, and moves further down, readjusting to be face to face now.
“Well…I thought it was your friend’s. Oh? You’re here alone? That’s a shame. I am too, seems like everyone here is in a group, right?”
Dame snickers, “Maybe we’re just both losers.”
“You don’t look like a loser to me, but you’re welcome to prove me wrong.” Beneath the blankets you slide some fingers up her forearm, leave them there for a heart beat, slowly take them off. Though what makes Dame feel light is the way you hold her eyes. Like you truly want to know.
She breaks the contact first. “I’m antisocial.”
“Right, because clubs are the best places to be alone.”
Your tone makes her want to roll her eyes and smile. It takes her a moment to smile, not ready for improvisation. “It's good for people watching.”
"Is that why you’re a loser? You like to spy on strangers?”
“No!” She laughs, “I’m not a creep, people are just interesting.”
“Well has anything caught your interest? Anyone?”
“Maybe. There are just so many attractive people here today, I can hardly see them all.” She starts to joke, but her chest flutters when you make eye contact, refusing to break it. She has to work to remember what this scenario is for a brief moment. Instinctively pushing on her time at Elysium. “Music’s **** though.”
You scoot closer, hand on her thigh. An unfair advantage. “There are quieter places…with better views.”
“And I’m sure you’re desperate to show them.” Dame forces herself to look away, only for you to pull off her thigh, and gently put a finger against her jaw. You guide her back to look at you, a new look on your face. Something all too hungry.
“Could you blame me if I was?”
Dame understands it all now.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Difficult to say. Dame has been with very few people in this life, in fact you can count on one hand how many people. Dame’s had a single girlfriend in the past, just before Johnny, that she’s slept with. So that’s two that Dame doesn’t regret. However, M!Dame has slept with one person to make a deal, and F!Dame has slept with two; No matter what, both Dames regret doing so. Dame simply does not enjoy *** without some sort of emotional connection.
That said…she’s Aphrodite, and Aphrodite has been around the block a few times. In the hundred years of Ares’s disappearance especially, Dame’s past lives searched for connection and trust wherever they could find it. This led to two long lives that, if not full of love, definitely full of ***.
If Damiana wants to think about her past experience she would hardly even count those two lives. They were full of grief and were too caught up in wild emotions for Dame to “learn” anything from them. It was a very dreamlike time for her. So most of what Dame calls experience will be from her collective lives, and from her most guarded and secret memories of Ares.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Once Aphrodite and you were a livewire of passion and connection. Together there was nothing that could contain your love, and in the wake of your joined desires there would be left ruined beds, sofas, tables, chairs, walls… But that was over a century ago. Now things have changed, Dame isn’t the Aphrodite of the past, and you are not the Ares of the past. She has missed you for so long that when you return she doesn’t know exactly what to do.
When you finally break the tension, and let your shared desires guide you, Dame will pull you to someplace quiet to hear you, someplace dim enough to comfort but lit enough to see, someplace soft. A bed, preferably, but beggars can't be choosers and Dame has been begging for this for so long. She will pull you on top, and not let you leave. Relying on your weight to remind her that this is real, this is not another falsehood that her mind has cooked up. You’re back, and you’re trapping her on the bed. It will bring more comfort than she thinks she deserves.
After you two are together, and have been together for quite some time, Dame's preference will change. On top, on bottom, beside, upside down, suspended from the ceiling on silk ropes…none of it matters to her as long as she can see your face.
If you’re in a meeting with Jackie, standing at her desk as she speaks, then Dame will imagine bending you over or being bent over it. If you’re kneeling, tying a shoe or just picking something up, Dame will imagine using your mouth. If you’re laying in bed she won’t have to imagine a thing because she will simply climb on top and satisfy the hunter that’s been starving her.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Dame’s not that goofy to begin with, savoring every second she has with you and always trying to wring more and more out. *** will last hours and hours if Dame has her way, and every second will be more passionate than the last. And just when you begin to think every moment with her will be like that Dame’s walls will fall away, brick by brick. She’ll be overwhelmed with joy in the moment, and she’ll make a joke, say the most cringey flirtatious line she can think up. It’ll be like a cat learning to climb. Clumsy, awkward, curious at the limits but too cautious to take them. She’ll regret it immediately and return to the quiet serious passion that she’s had.
Then months will wash away, Dame’s emotions will settle, become comfortable. And that’s when she’ll surprise you again. She’ll whisper a joke, one not awkward, and that she won’t regret. And though your time with Dame will remain earnest and intense, she will welcome levity, even in the most intimate of moments.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Dame dyes her hair blonde, but even the casual observer will see that her natural hair color is a dark brown. Naturally the rest of her bodyhair will be this color. When you first get with Dame she will still be with Johnny, as such she will be meticulously groomed.
After her and Johnny’s relationship has ended, and she is free to be with you openly then she will not groom herself at all, nor will she dye her hair anymore. In fact there may be other changes she has been wanting to do in regards to her hair. Though we’ll get to that later.
Dame has no strong feelings about body hair, nor does she understand the disgust many people have with it. If Ares tries to get her to shave she’ll say no, and it could start a fight. She won’t be trapped in a controlling relationship again. Though her pubic hair doesn’t grow to be very long.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Dame? The reincarnation of Aphrodite? The god of love? That should be obvious. She is endlessly intimate, and needs you to be as well. Anything less than extraordinarily intimate is going to immediately turn her off and make her bitter for the rest of the day.
Foreplay with her will last five times as long as the actual ***, and the aftercare will last until you fall asleep. This can actually cause problems if you and her have *** in the morning, because then you have an entire day of an affectionate Dame following you around, or checking on you in solitary moments.
That sounds nice until you need privacy, for a phone call, to relax, even for the bathroom. She may talk to you through the door, or listen to your conversation. If you need to be alone just to be alone it’s better to not **** in the morning.
J = Jack off (************ headcanon)
In short? She rarely masturbates, and when she does she may need your help.
Alone. Dame’s alone, she has been for a while. You disappeared on her yet again. Sure, at least this time you send texts, make daily calls. Jackie has you half a continent away, some bullshit job she could have had anyone do. But she chose you. Dame stares at her phone, it's pointless. You can’t talk often, you made that clear. But the anxiety won’t go away.
She wants your attention, craves your gaze, your voice, your touch. The weight of you in the bed next to her, your hand on her neck, your lips…
Dame stuffs a pillow over her face and groans angrily into it. She needs a distraction. Rolling over and laying on the pillow, she pulls up her phone. Mindlessly scroll through contacts, Franco, no. Mitch, god no. Riley…Maybe they’d be able to bring Dame to you… But no. It’s a risk Dame won’t take. She clicks her tongue once she reaches the bottom.
She has friends, she has to! Dame is the god of love, of course she must have friends. Another scroll and… nope. Surely she missed something, her finger darts back up, but before she reaches the top of the contacts a message comes through.
[ARES has sent a picture]
She catches it, just barely as the icon flits away. Just the barest glimpse at the condensed picture. Dame’s inside thrills, quickly clicking on your messages. Her entire body stops once she sees it. You. Bare, water dripping down your body. A selfie through a fogged up mirror, the steam wiped away from everywhere except the parts Dame wants most. Your face with the world's most perfect smirk.
She bites her lip as she gawks at it, trying to see through the fog. Her insides playing with her mind, swearing if she just keeps staring then the fog will go away. Dame types a response, deletes it, thinks about it again, types, deletes, types, deletes. She must look a fool, her message popping and disappearing. All while your naked body taunts her above the keyboard. When she finally sends it’s a single, hungry, word. More.
The next picture comes quickly. You’re dry now, drier at least. There’s still a sheen on your skin that the light glints off of. A towel is wrapped around you, keeping the sight even more hidden than it was before.
More.
It takes longer this time, Dame lets out a quiet noise. She doesn’t get this bad often. Normally the only way to get her in the mood is you being next to her. Wrapped around each other, small words and soft kisses spread through hours. But there must be a blue moon because tonight Dame needs you, it's a curse that you’re not here.
The phone buzzes and Dame is already hungry for the photo.
You’re on the hotel’s bed, the top of your face is cut off this time, but you still bite your lip. The rest of the picture has you sprawled out on the bed. Legs open, everything shown.
Dame lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She’s on her knees now, pillow pressed between her thighs, soft blanket pooling around her feet as she grinds down. A quiet groan escaping her. Dame stares at your body, the picture doesn’t do you justice. The hotel lighting doesn’t do you justice.
She’s forced to close her eyes and imagine you next to her, posing as you are. Her hand between her legs moving slowly. But imagination doesn’t do you justice. She doesn’t touch herself often. Never wanted to, never had to. But today’s a lucky day, or unlucky if you’re in Dame’s sexually frustrated shoes. You make the nerve endings through her entire body scream without you here to soothe. It’s torture. She needs a release. She calls you, her hand moving more rapidly as the phone rings. And rings… and rings.
And then a click.
“Hey—” You start, your voice nearly sends her over the edge.
“Talk me through it.” Dame interrupts. Compared to your words Dame must sound sick. She feels sick.
You laugh, and Dame shoves her face into the mattress. “What?”
“Talk me through it.” Her hand moves quicker, the pillow digging into a perfect spot, just to imagine you there. “Please?”
No response, just a quiet breath from your end. “Of course.” She can hear your smile and it almost makes her finish then and there.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
In short? (Heavy) praise, and (light) choking.
“Are you sure?” Dame moves in front of you, it's so easy to admire her in the morning light. ****. You didn’t even realize it was morning. In truth you were hoping that the sun wouldn’t rise. You and Dame could stay here, together, forever. Talking like there’s no end. She’s curled up in the corner of your bed, where it meets the wall, tanned skin lit aflame by hues of the orange and pink sunrise.
“Of course.” Your voice is soft, and tender. As if one wrong tone will make Dame disappear. As proof of your words you gently bring your lips to her. She shows her greedy side here, opening to swallow you whole. You don’t let yourself idle in the act, you’ve burnt up the night, you don’t want to waste the day. As soon as you bring your lips away, she lets out a low whine. “Just tell me what you like, I’ll do it.”
Dame takes a shuddering breath, tongue sliding along her lips, then she bites it. You nearly feel her teeth cut into your own lip, as if your taste alone was enough to bind you to her. Slowly Dame slides her hand over yours. “Now… don’t be a dick by judging me.” she whispers.
“Never.”
“I really like… well…” Dame lets out a laugh, a bit loud, clearly embarrassed, a red tint blossoming through her cheeks.
“You can do it.” You try to motivate her but it only seems to send a small sputtering noise from her.
“That.” She whispers.
You quirk a brow and lean closer in the bed, “What?”
“Don’t laugh but I like to be…” Dame waves a hand as if casually throwing the word out, “Encouraged.”
Oh. Oh my. You smile, not laughing, but suddenly endlessly pleased. “Encouraged?”
“Yes.”
“You mean praised?”
“I… Yes.”
“Told you’re doing so well? That you look so good beneath me.”
“****—” She doesn’t meet your eye as you move closer and closer. “I’m not beneath you now.” She murmurs.
“You want to change that?” You kiss her again. Dame sinks into it, moaning an affirmative, or at least what you take as one. You part from her just enough to whisper “Good girl. She lets out a breath and shuts her eyes. “And the second? Are you going to show me that one too?”
Dame nods, eagerly too. Nearly headbutting you in the process. “Yes, yes.” She seems more excited about this one, far more, quickly starting to shift along the bed. “Here—” she sinks down, “Climb on top of me.” You do as she asks, straddling her. Greedily she takes the chance to run a hand up your stomach, a smile on her face as you take position.
Dame presses your hand to her collar, open fingers splayed across the bone. Then, slowly, she moves them up, keeping an eye on you as she goes. Your hand runs up to just below her chin. “Right here.” She taps your thumb, on one side of her neck, and your forefinger on the other. “Just a little pressure.” Dame swallows, her breath clearly eager. “Only here, if it's too much I'll tell you—” You squeeze, barely anything at all before she opens her mouth and smiles. “Yeah,” it comes out more like a gasp than actual words.
You smile, tilting your head to watch her. Dame gently rocks her hips from beneath you, “Oh, you’re eager.”
She nods, watching you with darkened eyes and a trembling lip. You lay next to her, pressing your body against her, and add a bit more pressure to her neck before slowly sinking your hands down her pelvis. Quickly you learn just what to do to make Dame unravel. A whisper here, a squeeze there, following her directions until right at the end you hear her whisper, “Harder.”
And she becomes a mess in your hands.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Though it’s certainly possible for Dame to get worked up enough to make love to you anywhere…realistically the only time it’ll happen is some place warm, comfortable, and safe. When your relationship begins it won’t be uncommon for her to gift you blankets and pillows after seeing how few you sleep with. Because how can she be expected to relax in your home without luxuries available. Not even for ***, in fact Dame’s the last person who will give you something even considering *** at all. At the start she’ll want to enjoy every moment with you, and being in a comfortable place will make that enjoyment happen quicker.
This also applies during ***. With few exceptions, Dame will need some place she feels safe.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Dame can be turned on in a number of ways. She likes it when you’re aggressive with others, but not a dick. Other than that, simply showing you love her. Going out of your way to bring her food, remembering her coffee order. Doing any of these won’t fully light the fire but it’ll get it started. Though normally that fire dies long before you can get someplace to really fuel it.
If you are alone and someplace she can relax then you could undress her. Not to the nude, of course, but small pieces of clothing. (check out the Wild Card letter for more) A surefire way to turn her on is…by talking. Lay in bed next to her, hold each other, talk, laugh, cry. It’ll always lead to kissing, grinding, and eventually, yes, ***. Just be careful not to push too quickly, otherwise she’ll drop out of the mood, leaving you high and dry.
Now, that said…there is a way to flip that switch for Dame. To send her from zero to a hundred in under a second. And it is…spite. Which sounds counterintuitive to what has been discussed, but if Dame really hates someone she will not only be willing to ****, but will actively initiate *** with you, so long as it’s in a place that the person Dame hates enjoys, or somehow sticks it to someone she hates. She’s petty, and spiteful, and desires to defile what place her enemies deem holy.
Places such as Jackie’s office, the back of Verne’s truck, Jackie’s home, Riley’s home (if you can get there unnoticed somehow), or…her own home when Johnny’s out for the day…Maybe even the church she’s being married in…on her wedding day.
All of these are fantasies Dame will have, even if she can never fullfil them.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Dame will never accept you frightening or hurting her. The only exception to this is choking, and only when she desires it, which is often but moods can change. She won’t let you pressure her into ***, and will be very firm with her boundaries. Dame doesn’t want to do anything that could take one, or both, of you out of the moment. Things such as taking pictures, videos, role playing, none of that. She wants you, and only you. Finally: Don’t bring up Johnny or Jackie before, during, or after ***. Seriously.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Dame would enjoy both giving and receiving, but in very different ways.
When giving she’ll tease you, dance around beginning by focusing on other parts of you to kiss. You’ll be left with bite marks on your thighs, and hickies on your hips. When she does begin it’ll be with the pace she sets in all things sexual. Gently pulling you to the edge and dancing on it until you’re begging for her to let you finish, or taking what you want. Either way the goal is to leave you frustrated enough that when you do finally go over the edge, you empty all of your energy in that single overwhelming climax. She’ll consider that a win.
When receiving it’ll leave Dame without your mouth to kiss and without your body to hold. She will want you to bring her to the edge and over quickly so she can hold you again, but at the same time she will desperately try to keep herself from finishing, even going so far as to screw her eyes shut and breathe very slowly. For if she looks down and makes eye contact with you it’s over and she’ll refuse to let you tease her for becoming a mess so entirely.
Some part of her would wish to have a way to use your mouth and hold you at the same time. Dame would probably enjoy both giving and receiving at the same time, but 69ing has always felt a touch too kinky for her to actually try it.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
It’s been said to death already how slow Dame is, so it won’t be restated. Instead, you should know that once Dame’s in the mood she loves to be overwhelmed and left seeing stars, all while her pleas to slow are left unanswered. It can only be done as you and her near the peak of your love making.
If you take the initiative then pin Dame beneath you. **** her, or ride her from an angle that gives you an advantage and do not let up. Be quick. Relentless. Let your muscles burn and scream within you. And keep going.
If Dame’s taking the initiative then wrap your legs around her waist, or grab her hips and command “Faster.” She will listen. Then say “Harder.” Repeat again “Faster.” “Don’t let up.” “Keep going.” “Harder.” and watch as she cries from above you, desperately overwhelming herself by your command.
You can return to the letter K if you want ways to keep her in the moment. Telling her how good she’s taking/****ing you, holding her by the throat to keep her from leaving. You can trust that, despite how much she’ll beg to stop, if Dame truly didn’t like it she would throw you off, and she wouldn’t beg you to keep going when you do listen.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
In short? Dame hates quickies, but there can be a rare mood when her passion is overshone by lust. Then, and only then, she’ll love something fast and raw.
Dame’s back presses against the door, sending a loud click through Jackie’s marble office. You look back only briefly, eyes almost bored before you see the predatory gleam over Dame’s face.
Her smile is sharp, almost cruel. You look concerned as you watch, Dame slowly raises her hand, delicately trailing a finger up the wooden frame before finding the latch. She snaps it closed, you seem to understand and let out a nervous laugh.
“Dame—” You begin as she meets you, with prodding fingers pushing you just an inch, for the back of your thighs to meet Jackie’s desk. Your hands cup Dame’s face and she leans into it, excitement playing up her core. Alone, finally alone with you. Her fingers loop beneath the waist band, pull it back just enough to catch a sliver of skin she hadn’t seen in a week.
She whispers your name, a challenge, and watches your eyes drift to her lips, open mouth and quiet breaths. Dame’s already excited, even the prospect of you and her alone here. So easy to be caught, the idea of Jackie walking in to see you two over her desk, too love drunk to care. Dame already doesn’t care.
Now that her engagement is over she wonders how often she denied Johnny something like this? Dame’s always despised quickies. There’s no passion, it’s just ****ing for the sake of ****ing. But today…today her mind is swirling with need.
“Here?” You ask in equally as quiet of a voice. You turn your head, lean closer. Dame bites her lip in anticipation, your hand slides to the back of her head and unravels her with a kiss. Your first kiss is revenge and hunger wrapped into one. Good. Dame wasn’t the only one that needed this.
Dame tries to separate to say something snide but only gets so much as a wet gasp of air before you’re on her again. Your second kiss is your declaration of love. It makes her melt, fingers falling away from your zipper and slapping onto the marble desk for support. You break off and Dame finally gets to speak the answer she’s wanted to say.
“Please…”
“Needy.” You chide and Dame lets out a groan, but doesn’t disagree.
“We don’t have to.” She mutters, despite the desperate growing hunter to sink her teeth into you. “But, I’m burning up…can we? Please?”
“Needy.” It’s your turn to smile like a predator. “Well?”
She lets out a chuckle and shoves you past the desk, you stumble and hit a bookshelf, with a confidence Dame hasn’t felt in years she grabs you by a belt loop and strides to Jackie’s chair behind the desk. With gentle fingers she leads to the chair, and a gentle push sends you stumbling into it.
The way you stare at Dame sends a fiery desolation in her heart. You look perfect on this holy throne…She can’t wait to defile it…defile you.
Dame leans over you in the chair, knee between your thighs, sinking into the leather. Her soft lips kiss against your own, then along your cheek and jaw, down your neck, your collar. Dame’s fingers slip beneath your shirt, a dangerous laugh gets sent through her as she feels skin denied to her.
Dame slowly slides to her knees. Her skin presses into the cold stone floor from the tears along her pants. Endlessly teasing, she runs a finger up your calf, staring up at you from the floor expectantly. “Well?” She asks.
In your excitement your fingers fumble the zipper twice, glancing towards the door during it. Each mistake ignites something cruel inside of her. On the third slip Dame grabs it herself, fingers tangling with yours, and pulls it down. Your hips shake from anticipation, and she’s in a similar way. With yank, your pants are at your knees and exposing what was once beneath them.
Dame doesn’t let you adjust to the cold before her mouth takes what it wants. Normally she would draw this out, but she’s starving and you taste so good.
“Oh ****—” Your mumbles slip into a wordless moan. A noise that only fuels the heat in Dame’s core.
Her fingers work you through it, and she devours every hitch of your breath.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)
Though it’s rare, Dame can be a risk taker when in the mood, especially when motivated by spite. She’ll love the thrill of ****ing in places you two absolutely shouldn’t. But that’s about as far as the risk will go.
As for experimenting with other things…Maybe. For Dame, you can’t just thrust kink out and say “lets try this” because Dame will need to really…research it. Even very small ones like being blindfolded. Dame finds enjoyment in learning about things, and she will spend hours on forums, watching tutorials, even reading smut. Anything to get into how to do a kink safely and why it even exists. If it's safe to do by herself, then she will, just to try and get in the headspace.
So when you bring up an idea of something new to do, just be sure you’re not about to have ***, otherwise Dame will be next to you, naked and on her lap top, reading forum posts.
And after all of that…most of the time Dame will come back days later and simply say no. She likes passion, and isn’t going to experiment too much if it could take your mind off her loving you, or her mind off you loving her.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Out of every member in the cast Dame is the least sexual, in practically every way. She’ll always make sure you’ve finished, and is more than willing to focus hours on you alone, but she’s the main course…it’s a quick meal. Dame won’t last long. She’ll try to, of course. Try to not immediately fall apart in your hands, but she will finish quickly, in under ten minutes, most likely. And after she’s finished Dame won’t be ready to go again for hours at minimum, sometimes days.
That said, as long as she isn’t the one focussed on, *** will tend to last far far longer. Just let Dame pace herself.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
No toys. Anything will either feel like she’s being used, or using you. For an Ares with a ******, Dame will enjoy having a strap on, or vibrators in the mix. Anything of silicon will need to be warmed beforehand. It's possible that she’ll allow you to be cuffed if you desire it, especially if you fight against the cuffs while she’s with you. But she’ll always prefer you in your entirety to one restrained.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
This is complicated, as there are different stages to Dame’s romance that most others don’t get.
Before you and her get together? Dame will tease you in ways that you may not even know is her teasing you. She’ll stretch, making her shirt ride up. F!Dame will wear no *** and subtly show off, or M!Dame may even answer the door shirtless. Basically, Dame will tease you in exact ways that make you feel like you’re the pervert for sexualizing her. However, after the relationship started…
If Dame is still with Johnny then in public she will barely acknowledge you, and may even go out of her way to seem less appealing to you to hide your relationship. This may even extend to when you know that you both are alone but in a more public place, because someone may be watching…Hell, even when you’re alone in private, Dame will never tease you. But that is for an entirely different reason. Because why would she waste time when she can have you?
Now, when openly in a relationship things will change. Dame becomes extremely unfair. She’ll find joy in waiting until nobody’s looking to do something very quick to make you jump.
Pinching your butt is a very tame version. Expect the return of the subtle flirting from before, but this time a bit more egregious. She’ll still be subtle, but it will skirt the line and have those around you wondering if Dame was actually flirting with you, or if they are mistaken. When alone Dame will tease you for hours. Since she doesn’t exactly last long in bed, *** will be foreplay and she will make sure it’s drawn out.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Quiet. Barely a noise, try to get her to talk and all that will come out are soundless breaths, and the occasional whine. At the right moment, during a brief rest or a shift of positions, Dame will pull you closer and breathlessly whisper “I love you, I love you, I love you,” like a tortuous prayer, for as long as it takes to begin again.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
In short? Undress them, and talk to them. It drives them wild.
Dame stumbles through your doorway, arms around you, lips against yours. Today was perfect, she couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than with you. Finally, you two can be publicly intimate. Nothing will happen if you’re caught hand in hand, nobody will mind. Well, some do, but they can’t do a thing. So she spent her first day of freedom dragging you to her favorite places.
Unfortunately, a day like this has left Dame exhausted…and drunk. Exceedingly so. She kisses you, bites your lower lip just a smidge, and laughs into your mouth. You mutter something dangerous to her already weak composure, but it's muffled by her.
You break away, just for a second, to take your shoes off. In that time Dame’s mind swims, while her body sways. A loud pop makes both you and Dame flinch. She searches for the culprit and finds it was her own hand desperately slapping the wall to prevent her from falling.
“I gotta sit down.” Dame mumbles, then takes one step and her boots, wet from snow, slide against the hardwood floor. Now she ends up smacking a hand on your shoulder for support, ever thankful at how immovable you’ve always been. “My boots…” Dame leans down, presses her head against your chest, on purpose because she knows she can blame the alcohol, and struggles to work the laces free.
Damn sober Dame. Damn her to hell.
“Hey,” you murmur softly, hand sliding up her arm, and down her side until your fingers are pressed against her ribs. “Let me.”
Confused, Dame lets you guide her to your couch, and sits down. Her legs splayed out, the heels of her boots resting against the floor. Instinctively she tilts her head back, looks to the ceiling before finding her eyelids heavy. The encroaching wall of sleep is only beaten back by the delicate dance of your fingers. Like a kid in church, Dame peeks to see what you’re doing, before her eyes widen and she can only stare.
You’re kneeling between her legs, focused entirely on the tangled laces that hold Dame’s boots. Softly you say, “Next time let’s just stay in.” And Dame’s heart swells. Next time, of course there’s going to be a next time.
Your fingers undo the knot, just as your presence has undone Dame. How can a thing of war be so soft? It's a wonder how all things have not been unmade by your diametric nature. But maybe that’s a side you have only shown Dame…it would make sense, you are the only one who’s seen the whole of her.
“I liked the park,” she whispers back.
You open the tongue of the boot, grab it by the back. The cold air hits the warmth of her ankle and travels down, as you remove her foot from the boot like delicate glass work. Oh, oh this. She’s forgotten this small ritual. You have too, of course, but at least Dame remembers this act of submission, and love.
“I did too.” Her foot is gently set on your thigh, you’re careful to not let it slip into the puddle left behind. Then you move to the next one. “I liked the movie as well...” “And the drinks after,” she snorts.
This boot comes off easier, your hands working quickly. “We can have those last two inside though, away from people.” when you pull it off your hand stays on the arch of her foot for just a moment.
She tries to respond but all that comes out is a shaky breath. You glance up to Dame, probably assuming that she’s fallen asleep. What a desperate thing she must appear. Eyes wide, pupils wider, practically panting at the sight of your submission. Your lips are red and soft. “Keep going,” Dame murmurs.
You take a sock off, and then the next. Dame reaches down hand aloft for you, “Keep going.” And just as gently you pull her gloves, needing to raise to your knees to remove her scarf. The movement brings your face too close to Dame and it’s over. She kisses you, sinking down to the floor, pants sliding against the melted snow. It’s fine, because those are what you take off
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Dame’s body is well groomed to begin with, but after Johnny then Dame won’t shave often. But she doesn’t have much body hair to begin with. Her leg hair is dark but thin, and her pubic hair is mostly wild and ungroomed. Once in a relationship she won’t shave if you ask her to. She’s had to change her body enough for one partner, she won’t do it again for another. Even you.
There are a few minor scars that dot Dame’s body, as well as several small dark moles on her chest, shoulders, and back, including one on her stomach that she enjoys having you kiss as it’s an excellent place to watch you and allows her to run her fingers through your hair.
Dame’s skinny, maybe underweight as she doesn’t eat often, nor does she work out. F!Dame has smaller breasts, and wider than average shoulders.
Though it has been considered many times, Dame has never gotten a tattoo. If Ares were to suggest matching ones she would agree, so long as they’re small but easy to look at in public. Like on the wrist. She’d want it as her little reminder. In her youth she had several piercings both above and… below the neck. Including one below the belt… But those were removed when she got together with Johnny.
If she ever tells Ares that, then perhaps Ares can convince her to get those piercings again, in fact even a minor interest would do it. Dame enjoyed those pieces quite a lot, all she needs is to be reminded of them.
Y = Yearning (how high is their *** drive?)
Nearly non-existent *** drive. It takes her a while to work up to wanting someone intimately. If Dame’s to be truthful she’s actually fine with not having *** ever again. Though she can be worked up fairly quickly if… encouraged by Ares. She won’t often go out of her way to try to have ***.
This does not mean Dame is asexual, as she is, and will always be, sexually attracted to Ares. But Dame rarely desires *** out of nowhere, and even still the physical intimacy is secondary to the emotional intimacy. She will be happy to not act on those desires so long as Ares can fill the romantic and emotional intimacy.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Sleep? If Dame sleeps then she risks waking to find that you’ve disappeared on her again. She needs to watch you. Watch your breathing, your parted lips, your eyes moving as you dream. Dame won’t sleep until she’s forced to. Until her body gives in. She’ll wake to find hours have passed, fear overcoming her, the fear that she has lost you again, only then to find that you two are curled together.
Eventually she’ll stop fearing your loss. Eventually she’ll be able to close her eyes next to you and know you’ll be there when she wakes. It will take time though. Once she reaches that point you won’t be able to keep her awake after you two lie together, too quickly will she succumb to your comfort.
hello !! does anyone know where i could find the final version of gilded shadows? i checked f95 but no luck
This is my file
Here.
Do you have Rebel's ABC?There is likely a better way to upload this but...oh whale!
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after ***)
In short? Soft, affectionate, and more than a little possessive and dependant.
Dame’s fingers hook into your hips leaving red cuts behind, not breaking the skin but coming damn near. Your legs shake as you try to climb off of him, he doesn’t allow it at first, letting a low groan roll through his throat. You smile, and breathlessly down, your lips gently opening to kiss along his neck, “Should I declaw you?” You whisper just below his ear.
Dame seems to realize what you mean and a small gasp whispers out. He lifts his fingers, looking down to your bare hips, waist, and… Dame snaps his head back up, red faced despite what the two of you had just done. “S— Sorry.” His voice is hoarse and gentle, the pads of his fingers rubbing circles against the place he grabbed you.
You detach yourself from him, letting his hands fall back. Without much thought you move beside him, Dame does the same, wrapping his arm around you. A move that feels natural to your very soul. He faces you, fingers sliding across your skin as he watches you, mesmerized by every subtle movement your body makes.
Dame presses a kiss into your collarbone, he bites down along the skin, making your back twitch in surprise, only parting to quickly ask “Can I stay for the night?” You almost laugh.
“You never have to ask me that.” Your hand cups his cheek, his hair falling through your fingers as you slide your palm around his neck to pull him closer.
“I still like hearing it.” Dame lets himself be pulled closer and you smile at his words.
“Well then,” You press your forehead against his, sharing his air as he lets out a quiet excited laugh, “Stay the night with me, why don’t you?”
“Mhmm…” he slips a tanned hand up your chest, his fingers running just over your collar yet again. God only knows what he’s so possessive of there, and why his gaze watches to it like your throat is a wellspring in a desert. “You never have to ask me that.” He whispers.
“Okay,” You whisper, putting a hand over his fingers and pulling it off your collar. Immediately he slides them down to hold your waist. “What’s got you so obsessed?” You run your hand over the skin, trailing up your neck to try and feel something.
Dame laughs a little louder now, a little goofy. “Nothing.”
“Liar, what’d you do?”
Dame’s smile can be heard through his words, “You had to have felt me put them there.” He rests his head on your chest, staring up to you.
Your fingers stop rubbing and suspiciously you gaze down. “Hickies?” You ask blandly, and you see him light up.
“Oh yes.” The words come out as a long low purr.
“Dame— How bad is it?”
He closes his eyes, using you as a pillow as he traces patterns with his fingers, “You should wear a scarf tomorrow.”
“We have a meeting— Everyone is going to be there.”
“Then they’ll see you’re taken.”
You almost feel annoyed by that, annoyed that he would do this, but it’s an effort when he holds you like you were crafted to slot together, “Johnny—”
“Won’t know they’re from me.” He cuts you off, “ And I don’t want to think about him. Or Jackie, or anyone else.” Dame slowly raises his head to meet your eye, “It’s only us here. Let it just be only us.”
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Dame doesn’t love a lot about his body. Far too much of it has been objectified, clinically considered as an asset or a defect for him to really love any single piece of him. With you Dame will come to love what you do, where your hands drift to while you kiss, what you stare at when he is bare beside you.
Only once he has healed, gained a semblance of his personhood back, will Dame come to like the way his thighs look. It’s nothing that he will outwardly show. Simply wearing pieces of clothing that will show them off more in private. Skinnier jeans and shorts, or if you’re lucky nothing at all.
On you, however? Well he will say he likes every inch of you equally, maybe not your annoying mouth on some days. But you know that's a lie. There’s a part of you that he clearly favors far far above any other piece. Your hips, but especially your waist. Dear god, Dame will latch onto your waist like you’re a ship’s mast in a storm.
You stretch enough to raise your shirt and his gaze falls to the bare skin, uncaring who may notice the blatant want in his gaze. During ***, he will bruise you there from holding onto it too tight, and after he will mark you there with his mouth and teeth. Walking down the street he will put a hand around it. Even asleep you’ll feel him holding on to it. Because to him it’s like a natural handle. Perfect to pull you closer to him.
Truly, no matter what he says, you’ll know what part of your body he loves. There’s really no debate about it.
C = *** (anything to do with ***, basically)
Dame hates the texture. *** is always so sweaty and wet that it takes away from the experience. Much to his grief and annoyance, yours drives Dame wild. For ***** he likes the bloom of warmth if you’re inside of him. For wetness he wants you absolutely soaked when you’re with him.
Dame likes the way your voice pitches when you’re close, the contractions your body makes as you’re cumming. He likes the way it glistens across his skin, the feeling between his fingers. Dame bask in the proof of your arousal for as long as he can. And if you finish on or in his mouth then it’s all the better.
Though Dame would never say this, ask him and he’ll act revolted and claim you’re sick in the head. It’s embarrassing to him, knowing how much he likes to feel used, claimed, and desired.
When everything has calmed down, then Dame will quickly snap back to hating the texture. As for his own…
Dame doesn’t really care for it.
He’d like to finish in your mouth, see maybe even on your face.
Just don’t expect a kiss until after you’ve brushed your teeth.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
In short? Dame is jealous of anyone who’s able to have casual ***. (Written with a ***-vice Ares)
“I have secrets…” Dame can tell just how whiny he sounds the moment it leaves his mouth.
You don’t believe him, Dame can tell by how you look at him. It’s only the third most annoying thing you’ve done today, right behind you cornering him outside and not letting him taste you properly, and of course that thing you did with your tongue right as he was about to finish an hour ago. He’ll never forgive you for that.
“I do,” Dame defends, and you nod along idly.
“I’m all ears,” you purr, pressing your lips to his collar bone, nipping softly at the skin. ****. Dame really doesn’t have dirty secrets. He’s boring in bed, prefers a single partner, and has never done anything risky. Hell, he’d rather stay inside for weeks at a time than go and be...sexually active. If Dame couldn’t feel the lust that rolls off of people…****, he’d probably still be a virgin. Pathetic for a love god.
Your hand slips lower, fingers gently tracing the line of his ribs, moving to his stomach. Dame hasn’t spoken for a hot moment, and he hesitates before saying, “I’m jealous.”
The movement slows, he doesn’t meet your eye. “Of me?”
“A bit,” he laughs. “But, not just of you…gods this is going to sound awful but I’m jealous of anyone who’s more…active.”
Your hand pulls back just a fraction, Dame doesn’t want to initiate that argument again. Especially now that you two are together. “I mean…*** for me…needs what we have.I can’t be casual, the concept is an entire ****ing world away from me.” He grabs your hand softly, kisses the knuckles. **** you have wonderful hands.Your last few lives didn’t have that, did they? “I used to think something was wrong with me. None of my past lives needed connection like this”
You lift the hand, cupping Dame’s cheek. “You think you’ve missed out?” You ask, voice as soft as your touch.
“Before you returned I used to sit at the bar in Elysium, just watching everyone.”
Even now he remembers the arousal in that place. A constant bombardment of desires and disappointment. He would feel people who felt like a wasteland become a garden of want through a single conversation. Dame’s felt people cheat, felt people rebound, but the most confounding ones were those that stayed a wasteland. Those who weren’t even attracted to the person they hit on, those who egged the conversation on and knew how to make the other’s lust flourish and left with them even when they felt nothing. Those are people he couldn’t conceive of, an entire opposite from Dame in every possible way.
“I may have been hit on…four times?” He’s asking because it was hard to see who wanted to talk, and who wanted to flirt. Most nights nobody approached him. “Each time I’ve tried to emulate what everyone else did, and I couldn’t. It felt forced.”
“Well.” Your thumb runs across his cheekbone, then curves down to his earlobe. “You probably were forcing it.”
Dame leans into the touch, closes his eyes, then he speaks in a breathy whisper. “That’s why I’m jealous…the only time I’ve never had to force it was with you.”
You hum against his neck, “I can tell you that everyone’s wired differently but you’ve already thought of that, haven’t you?” He nods and you continue. “We could roleplay. Go out, pretend to be strangers…”
Dame snickers at the idea. “What if fake-you’s a dick?” He doesn’t let you answer. ”Maybe. How did it feel for you?”
“Oh.” Your voice sounds very surprised, the moment stretches long enough for Dame to panic, then you speak. “Depends on the night, I guess some days felt like work. I knew I just wanted to relax, the *** was relaxing, and it was so much work to get there some days that I just gave up. But other days…it was thrilling.”
When you say that your breath hits his ear in a way that makes his body tingle. “Tell me, like I was there, your target for the night.”
A tiny chuckle comes out of you, makes Dame’s face warm. “After I saw you, I’d start soft. Ask a question that gets your attention.”
“A pickup line?”
“Only if I was desperate. I like to start with something about your clothes. So it’d depend on what you’re wearing, which…” You hook a finger on the edge of the blanket, gently raising it, attempting to spy what’s beneath—
Dame yanks it back down, face feeling hot. “Noted,” he croaks, thick and embarrassed even though you’ve just spent hours staring at it.
“I’d give you my name, get a drink, ask if you’d want one since the bartender was there. All casual-like.”
“Hmm, I’d say no. I already have a drink, can’t you see?” He teases, and moves further down, readjusting to be face to face now.
“Well…I thought it was your friend’s. Oh? You’re here alone? That’s a shame. I am too, seems like everyone here is in a group, right?”
Dame snickers, “Maybe we’re just both losers.”
“You don’t look like a loser to me, but you’re welcome to prove me wrong.” Beneath the blankets you slide some fingers up his forearm, leave them there for a heart beat, slowly take them off. Though what makes Dame feel light is the way you hold his eyes. Like you truly want to know.
He breaks the contact first. “I’m antisocial.”
“Right, because clubs are the best places to be alone.”
Your tone makes him want to roll his eyes and smile. It takes him a moment to smile, not ready for improvisation. “It's good for people watching.”
"Is that why you’re a loser? You like to spy on strangers?”
“No!” He laughs, “I’m not a creep, people are just interesting.”
“Well has anything caught your interest? Anyone?”
“Maybe. There are just so many attractive people here today, I can hardly see them all.” He starts to joke, but his chest flutters when you make eye contact, refusing to break it. He has to work to remember what this scenario is for a brief moment. Instinctively pushing on his time at Elysium. “Music’s **** though.”
You scoot closer, hand on his thigh. An unfair advantage. “There are quieter places…with better views.”
“And I’m sure you’re desperate to show them.” Dame forces himself to look away, only for you to pull off his thigh, and gently put a finger against his jaw. You guide him back to look at you, a new look on your face. Something all too hungry.
“Could you blame me if I was?”
Dame understands it all now.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Difficult to say. Dame has been with very few people in this life, in fact you can count on one hand how many people. Dame’s had a single girlfriend in the past, just before Johnny, that he’s slept with. So that’s two that Dame doesn’t regret. However, M!Dame has slept with one person to make a deal, and F!Dame has slept with two; No matter what, both Dames regret doing so. Dame simply does not enjoy *** without some sort of emotional connection.
That said…he’s Aphrodite, and Aphrodite has been around the block a few times. In the hundred years of Ares’s disappearance especially, Dame’s past lives searched for connection and trust wherever they could find it. This led to two long lives that, if not full of love, definitely full of ***.
If Damiana wants to think about his past experience he would hardly even count those two lives. They were full of grief and were too caught up in wild emotions for Dame to “learn” anything from them. It was a very dreamlike time for him. So most of what Dame calls experience will be from his collective lives, and from his most guarded and secret memories of Ares.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Once Aphrodite and you were a livewire of passion and connection. Together there was nothing that could contain your love, and in the wake of your joined desires there would be left ruined beds, sofas, tables, chairs, walls… But that was over a century ago. Now things have changed, Dame isn’t the Aphrodite of the past, and you are not the Ares of the past. He has missed you for so long that when you return he doesn’t know exactly what to do.
When you finally break the tension, and let your shared desires guide you, Dame will pull you to someplace quiet to hear you, someplace dim enough to comfort but lit enough to see, someplace soft. A bed, preferably, but beggars can't be choosers and Dame has been begging for this for so long. He will pull you on top, and not let you leave. Relying on your weight to remind him that this is real, this is not another falsehood that his mind has cooked up. You’re back, and you’re trapping him on the bed. It will bring more comfort than he thinks he deserves.
After you two are together, and have been together for quite some time, Dame's preference will change. On top, on bottom, beside, upside down, suspended from the ceiling on silk ropes…none of it matters to him as long as he can see your face.
If you’re in a meeting with Jackie, standing at her desk as she speaks, then Dame will imagine bending you over or being bent over it. If you’re kneeling, tying a shoe or just picking something up, Dame will imagine using your mouth. If you’re laying in bed he won’t have to imagine a thing because he will simply climb on top and satisfy the hunter that’s been starving him.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Dame’s not that goofy to begin with, savoring every second he has with you and always trying to wring more and more out. *** will last hours and hours if Dame has his way, and every second will be more passionate than the last. And just when you begin to think every moment with him will be like that Dame’s walls will fall away, brick by brick. He’ll be overwhelmed with joy in the moment, and he’ll make a joke, say the most cringey flirtatious line he can think up. It’ll be like a cat learning to climb. Clumsy, awkward, curious at the limits but too cautious to take them. He’ll regret it immediately and return to the quiet serious passion that he’s had.
Then months will wash away, Dame’s emotions will settle, become comfortable. And that’s when he’ll surprise you again. He’ll whisper a joke, one not awkward, and that he won’t regret. And though your time with Dame will remain earnest and intense, he will welcome levity, even in the most intimate of moments.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Dame dyes his hair blonde, but even the casual observer will see that his natural hair color is a dark brown. Naturally the rest of his bodyhair will be this color. When you first get with Dame he will still be with Johnny, as such he will be meticulously groomed.
After his and Johnny’s relationship has ended, and he is free to be with you openly then he will not groom himself at all, nor will he dye his hair anymore. In fact there may be other changes he has been wanting to do in regards to his hair. Though we’ll get to that later.
Dame has no strong feelings about body hair, nor does he understand the disgust many people have with it. If Ares tries to get him to shave he’ll say no, and it could start a fight. He won’t be trapped in a controlling relationship again. Though his pubic hair doesn’t grow to be very long.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Dame? The reincarnation of Aphrodite? The god of love? That should be obvious. He is endlessly intimate, and needs you to be as well. Anything less than extraordinarily intimate is going to immediately turn him off and make him bitter for the rest of the day.
Foreplay with him will last five times as long as the actual ***, and the aftercare will last until you fall asleep. This can actually cause problems if you and him have *** in the morning, because then you have an entire day of an affectionate Dame following you around, or checking on you in solitary moments.
That sounds nice until you need privacy, for a phone call, to relax, even for the bathroom. He may talk to you through the door, or listen to your conversation. If you need to be alone just to be alone it’s better to not **** in the morning.
J = Jack off (************ headcanon)
In short? He rarely masturbates, and when he does he may need your help.
Alone. Dame’s alone, he has been for a while. You disappeared on him yet again. Sure, at least this time you send texts, make daily calls. Jackie has you half a continent away, some bullshit job she could have had anyone do. But she chose you. Dame stares at his phone, it's pointless. You can’t talk often, you made that clear. But the anxiety won’t go away.
He wants your attention, craves your gaze, your voice, your touch. The weight of you in the bed next to him, your hand on his neck, your lips…
Dame stuffs a pillow over his face and groans angrily into it. He needs a distraction. Rolling over and laying on the pillow, he pulls up his phone. Mindlessly scroll through contacts, Franco, no. Mitch, god no. Riley…Maybe they’d be able to bring Dame to you… But no. It’s a risk Dame won’t take. He clicks his tongue once he reaches the bottom.
He has friends, he has to! Dame is the god of love, of course he must have friends. Another scroll and… nope. Surely he missed something, his finger darts back up, but before he reaches the top of the contacts a message comes through.
[ARES has sent a picture]
He catches it, just barely as the icon flits away. Just the barest glimpse at the condensed picture. Dame’s inside thrills, quickly clicking on your messages. His entire body stops once he sees it. You. Bare, water dripping down your body. A selfie through a fogged up mirror, the steam wiped away from everywhere except the parts Dame wants most. Your face with the world's most perfect smirk.
He bites his lip as he gawks at it, trying to see through the fog. His insides playing with his mind, swearing if he just keeps staring then the fog will go away. Dame types a response, deletes it, thinks about it again, types, deletes, types, deletes. He must look a fool, his message popping and disappearing. All while your naked body taunts him above the keyboard. When he finally sends it’s a single, hungry, word. More.
The next picture comes quickly. You’re dry now, drier at least. There’s still a sheen on your skin that the light glints off of. A towel is wrapped around you, keeping the sight even more hidden than it was before.
More.
It takes longer this time, Dame lets out a quiet noise. He doesn’t get this bad often. Normally the only way to get him in the mood is you being next to him. Wrapped around each other, small words and soft kisses spread through hours. But there must be a blue moon because tonight Dame needs you, it's a curse that you’re not here.
The phone buzzes and Dame is already hungry for the photo.
You’re on the hotel’s bed, the top of your face is cut off this time, but you still bite your lip. The rest of the picture has you sprawled out on the bed. Legs open, everything shown.
Dame lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He’s on his knees now, pillow pressed between his thighs, soft blanket pooling around his feet as he grinds down. A quiet groan escaping him. Dame stares at your body, the picture doesn’t do you justice. The hotel lighting doesn’t do you justice.
He’s forced to close his eyes and imagine you next to him, posing as you are. His hand between his legs moving slowly. But imagination doesn’t do you justice. He doesn’t touch himself often. Never wanted to, never had to. But today’s a lucky day, or unlucky if you’re in Dame’s sexually frustrated shoes. You make the nerve endings through his entire body scream without you here to soothe. It’s torture. He needs a release. He calls you, his hand moving more rapidly as the phone rings. And rings… and rings.
And then a click.
“Hey—” You start, your voice nearly sends him over the edge.
“Talk me through it.” Dame interrupts. Compared to your words Dame must sound sick. He feels sick.
You laugh, and Dame shoves his face into the mattress. “What?”
“Talk me through it.” His hand moves quicker, the pillow digging into a perfect spot, just to imagine you there. “Please?”
No response, just a quiet breath from your end. “Of course.” He can hear your smile and it almost makes him finish then and there.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
In short? (Heavy) praise, and (light) choking.
“Are you sure?” Dame moves in front of you, it's so easy to admire him in the morning light. ****. You didn’t even realize it was morning. In truth you were hoping that the sun wouldn’t rise. You and Dame could stay here, together, forever. Talking like there’s no end. He’s curled up in the corner of your bed, where it meets the wall, tanned skin lit aflame by hues of the orange and pink sunrise.
“Of course.” Your voice is soft, and tender. As if one wrong tone will make Dame disappear. As proof of your words you gently bring your lips to his. He shows his greedy side here, opening to swallow you whole. You don’t let yourself idle in the act, you’ve burnt up the night, you don’t want to waste the day. As soon as you bring your lips away, he lets out a low whine. “Just tell me what you like, I’ll do it.”
Dame takes a shuddering breath, tongue sliding along his lips, then he bites it. You nearly feel his teeth cut into your own lip, as if your taste alone was enough to bind you to him. Slowly Dame slides his hand over yours. “Now… don’t be a dick by judging me.” he whispers.
“Never.”
“I really like… well…” Dame lets out a laugh, a bit loud, clearly embarrassed, a red tint blossoming through his cheeks.
“You can do it.” You try to motivate him but it only seems to send a small sputtering noise from him.
“That.” He whispers.
You quirk a brow and lean closer in the bed, “What?”
“Don’t laugh but I like to be…” Dame waves a hand as if casually throwing the word out, “Encouraged.”
Oh. Oh my. You smile, not laughing, but suddenly endlessly pleased. “Encouraged?”
“Yes.”
“You mean praised?”
“I… Yes.”
“Told you’re doing so well? That you look so good beneath me.”
“****—” He doesn’t meet your eye as you move closer and closer. “I’m not beneath you now.” He murmurs.
“You want to change that?” You kiss him again. Dame sinks into it, moaning an affirmative, or at least what you take as one. You part from him just enough to whisper “Good boy. He lets out a breath and shuts his eyes. “And the second? Are you going to show me that one too?”
Dame nods, eagerly too. Nearly headbutting you in the process. “Yes, yes.” He seems more excited about this one, far more, quickly starting to shift along the bed. “Here—” he sinks down, “Climb on top of me.” You do as he asks, straddling him. Greedily he takes the chance to run a hand up your stomach, a smile on his face as you take position.
Dame presses your hand to his collar, open fingers splayed across the bone. Then, slowly, he moves them up, keeping an eye on you as he goes. Your hand runs up to just below his chin. “Right here.” He taps your thumb, on one side of his neck, and your forefinger on the other. “Just a little pressure.” Dame swallows, his breath clearly eager. “Only here, if it's too much I'll tell you—” You squeeze, barely anything at all before he opens his mouth and smiles. “Yeah,” it comes out more like a gasp than actual words.
You smile, tilting your head to watch him. Dame gently rocks his hips from beneath you, “Oh, you’re eager.”
He nods, watching you with darkened eyes and a trembling lip. You lay next to him, pressing your body against his, and add a bit more pressure to his neck before slowly sinking your hands down his pelvis. Quickly you learn just what to do to make Dame unravel. A whisper here, a squeeze there, following his directions until right at the end you hear him whisper, “Harder.”
And he becomes a mess in your hands.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Though it’s certainly possible for Dame to get worked up enough to make love to you anywhere…realistically the only time it’ll happen is some place warm, comfortable, and safe. When your relationship begins it won’t be uncommon for him to gift you blankets and pillows after seeing how few you sleep with. Because how can he be expected to relax in your home without luxuries available. Not even for ***, in fact Dame’s the last person who will give you something even considering *** at all. At the start he’ll want to enjoy every moment with you, and being in a comfortable place will make that enjoyment happen quicker.
This also applies during ***. With few exceptions, Dame will need some place he feels safe.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Dame can be turned on in a number of ways. He likes it when you’re aggressive with others, but not a dick. Other than that, simply showing you love him. Going out of your way to bring him food, remembering his coffee order. Doing any of these won’t fully light the fire but it’ll get it started. Though normally that fire dies long before you can get someplace to really fuel it.
If you are alone and someplace he can relax then you could undress him. Not to the nude, of course, but small pieces of clothing. (check out the Wild Card letter for more) A surefire way to turn him on is…by talking. Lay in bed next to him, hold each other, talk, laugh, cry. It’ll always lead to kissing, grinding, and eventually, yes, ***. Just be careful not to push too quickly, otherwise he’ll drop out of the mood, leaving you high and dry.
Now, that said…there is a way to flip that switch for Dame. To send him from zero to a hundred in under a second. And it is…spite. Which sounds counterintuitive to what has been discussed, but if Dame really hates someone he will not only be willing to ****, but will actively initiate *** with you, so long as it’s in a place that the person Dame hates enjoys, or somehow sticks it to someone he hates. He’s petty, and spiteful, and desires to defile what place his enemies deem holy.
Places such as Jackie’s office, the back of Verne’s truck, Jackie’s home, Riley’s home (if you can get there unnoticed somehow), or…his own home when Johnny’s out for the day…Maybe even the church he’s being married in…on his wedding day.
All of these are fantasies Dame will have, even if he can never fullfil them.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Dame will never accept you frightening or hurting him. The only exception to this is choking, and only when he desires it, which is often but moods can change. He won’t let you pressure him into ***, and will be very firm with his boundaries. Dame doesn’t want to do anything that could take one, or both, of you out of the moment. Things such as taking pictures, videos, role playing, none of that. He wants you, and only you. Finally: Don’t bring up Johnny or Jackie before, during, or after ***. Seriously.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Dame would enjoy both giving and receiving, but in very different ways.
When giving he’ll tease you, dance around beginning by focusing on other parts of you to kiss. You’ll be left with bite marks on your thighs, and hickies on your hips. When he does begin it’ll be with the pace he sets in all things sexual. Gently pulling you to the edge and dancing on it until you’re begging for him to let you finish, or taking what you want. Either way the goal is to leave you frustrated enough that when you do finally go over the edge, you empty all of your energy in that single overwhelming climax. He’ll consider that a win.
When receiving it’ll leave Dame without your mouth to kiss and without your body to hold. He will want you to bring him to the edge and over quickly so he can hold you again, but at the same time he will desperately try to keep himself from finishing, even going so far as to screw his eyes shut and breathe very slowly. For if he looks down and makes eye contact with you it’s over and he’ll refuse to let you tease him for becoming a mess so entirely.
Some part of him would wish to have a way to use your mouth and hold you at the same time. Dame would probably enjoy both giving and receiving at the same time, but 69ing has always felt a touch too kinky for him to actually try it.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
It’s been said to death already how slow Dame is, so it won’t be restated. Instead, you should know that once Dame’s in the mood he loves to be overwhelmed and left seeing stars, all while his pleas to slow are left unanswered. It can only be done as you and him near the peak of your love making.
If you take the initiative then pin Dame beneath you. **** him, or ride him from an angle that gives you an advantage and do not let up. Be quick. Relentless. Let your muscles burn and scream within you. And keep going.
If Dame’s taking the initiative then wrap your legs around his waist, or grab his hips and command “Faster.” He will listen. Then say “Harder.” Repeat again “Faster.” “Don’t let up.” “Keep going.” “Harder.” and watch as he cries from above you, desperately overwhelming himself by your command.
You can return to the letter K if you want ways to keep him in the moment. Telling him how good he’s taking/****ing you, holding him by the throat to keep him from leaving. You can trust that, despite how much he’ll beg to stop, if Dame truly didn’t like it he would throw you off, and he wouldn’t beg you to keep going when you do listen.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
In short? Dame hates quickies, but there can be a rare mood when his passion is overshone by lust. Then, and only then, he’ll love something fast and raw.
Dame’s back presses against the door, sending a loud click through Jackie’s marble office. You look back only briefly, eyes almost bored before you see the predatory gleam over Dame’s face.
His smile is sharp, almost cruel. You look concerned as you watch, Dame slowly raises his hand, delicately trailing a finger up the wooden frame before finding the latch. He snaps it closed, you seem to understand and let out a nervous laugh.
“Dame—” You begin as he meets you, with prodding fingers pushing you just an inch, for the back of your thighs to meet Jackie’s desk. Your hands cup Dame’s face and he leans into it, excitement playing up his core. Alone, finally alone with you. His fingers loop beneath the waist band, pull it back just enough to catch a sliver of skin he hadn’t seen in a week.
He whispers your name, a challenge, and watches your eyes drift to his lips, open mouth and quiet breaths. Dame’s already excited, even the prospect of you and him alone here. So easy to be caught, the idea of Jackie walking in to see you two over her desk, too love drunk to care. Dame already doesn’t care.
Now that his engagement is over he wonders how often he denied Johnny something like this? Dame’s always despised quickies. There’s no passion, it’s just ****ing for the sake of ****ing. But today…today his mind is swirling with need.
“Here?” You ask in equally as quiet of a voice. You turn your head, lean closer. Dame bites his lip in anticipation, your hand slides to the back of his head and unravels him with a kiss. Your first kiss is revenge and hunger wrapped into one. Good. Dame wasn’t the only one that needed this.
Dame tries to separate to say something snide but only gets so much as a wet gasp of air before you’re on him again. Your second kiss is your declaration of love. It makes him melt, fingers falling away from your zipper and slapping onto the marble desk for support. You break off and Dame finally gets to speak the answer he’s wanted to say.
“Please…”
“Needy.” You chide and Dame lets out a groan, but doesn’t disagree.
“We don’t have to.” He mutters, despite the desperate growing hunter to sink his teeth into you. “But, I’m burning up…can we? Please?”
“Needy.” It’s your turn to smile like a predator. “Well?”
He lets out a chuckle and shoves you past the desk, you stumble and hit a bookshelf, with a confidence Dame hasn’t felt in years he grabs you by a belt loop and strides to Jackie’s chair behind the desk. With gentle fingers he leads to the chair, and a gentle push sends you stumbling into it.
The way you stare at Dame sends a fiery desolation in his heart. You look perfect on this holy throne…He can’t wait to defile it…defile you.
Dame leans over you in the chair, knee between your thighs, sinking into the leather. His soft lips kiss against your own, then along your cheek and jaw, down your neck, your collar. Dame’s fingers slip beneath your shirt, a dangerous laugh gets sent through him as he feels skin denied to him.
Dame slowly slides to his knees. His skin presses into the cold stone floor from the tears along his pants. Endlessly teasing, he runs a finger up your calf, staring up at you from the floor expectantly. “Well?” He asks.
In your excitement your fingers fumble the zipper twice, glancing towards the door during it. Each mistake ignites something cruel inside of him. On the third slip Dame grabs it himself, fingers tangling with yours, and pulls it down. Your hips shake from anticipation, and he’s in a similar way. With yank, your pants are at your knees and exposing what was once beneath them.
Dame doesn’t let you adjust to the cold before his mouth takes what it wants. Normally he would draw this out, but he’s starving and you taste so good.
“Oh ****—” Your mumbles slip into a wordless moan. A noise that only fuels the heat in Dame’s core.
His fingers work you through it, and he devours every hitch of your breath.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)
Though it’s rare, Dame can be a risk taker when in the mood, especially when motivated by spite. He’ll love the thrill of ****ing in places you two absolutely shouldn’t. But that’s about as far as the risk will go.
As for experimenting with other things…Maybe. For Dame, you can’t just thrust kink out and say “lets try this” because Dame will need to really…research it. Even very small ones like being blindfolded. Dame finds enjoyment in learning about things, and he will spend hours on forums, watching tutorials, even reading smut. Anything to get into how to do a kink safely and why it even exists. If it's safe to do by himself, then he will, just to try and get in the headspace.
So when you bring up an idea of something new to do, just be sure you’re not about to have ***, otherwise Dame will be next to you, naked and on his lap top, reading forum posts.
And after all of that…most of the time Dame will come back days later and simply say no. He likes passion, and isn’t going to experiment too much if it could take your mind off him loving you, or his mind off you loving him.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Out of every member in the cast Dame is the least sexual, in practically every way. He’ll always make sure you’ve finished, and is more than willing to focus hours on you alone, but he’s the main course…it’s a quick meal. Dame won’t last long. He’ll try to, of course. Try to not immediately fall apart in your hands, but he will finish quickly, in under ten minutes, most likely. And after he’s finished Dame won’t be ready to go again for hours at minimum, sometimes days.
That said, as long as he isn’t the one focussed on, *** will tend to last far far longer. Just let Dame pace himself.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
No toys. Anything will either feel like he’s being used, or using you. It’s possible that he’ll allow you to be cuffed if you desire it, especially if you fight against the cuffs while he’s with you. But he’ll always prefer you in your entirety to one restrained.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
This is complicated, as there are different stages to Dame’s romance that most others don’t get.
Before you and him get together? Dame will tease you in ways that you may not even know is him teasing you. He’ll stretch, making his shirt ride up. F!Dame will wear no *** and subtly show off, or M!Dame may even answer the door shirtless. Basically, Dame will tease you in exact ways that make you feel like you’re the pervert for sexualizing him. However, after the relationship started…
If Dame is still with Johnny then in public he will barely acknowledge you, and may even go out of his way to seem less appealing to you to hide your relationship. This may even extend to when you know that you both are alone but in a more public place, because someone may be watching…Hell, even when you’re alone in private, Dame will never tease you. But that is for an entirely different reason. Because why would he waste time when he can have you?
Now, when openly in a relationship things will change. Dame becomes extremely unfair. He’ll find joy in waiting until nobody’s looking to do something very quick to make you jump.
Pinching your butt is a very tame version. Expect the return of the subtle flirting from before, but this time a bit more egregious. He’ll still be subtle, but it will skirt the line and have those around you wondering if Dame was actually flirting with you, or if they are mistaken. When alone Dame will tease you for hours. Since he doesn’t exactly last long in bed, *** will be foreplay and he will make sure it’s drawn out.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Quiet. Barely a noise, try to get him to talk and all that will come out are soundless breaths, and the occasional whine. At the right moment, during a brief rest or a shift of positions, Dame will pull you closer and breathlessly whisper “I love you, I love you, I love you,” like a tortuous prayer, for as long as it takes to begin again.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
In short? Undress them, and talk to them. It drives them wild.
Dame stumbles through your doorway, arms around you, lips against yours. Today was perfect, he couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than with you. Finally, you two can be publicly intimate. Nothing will happen if you’re caught hand in hand, nobody will mind. Well, some do, but they can’t do a thing. So he spent his first day of freedom dragging you to his favorite places.
Unfortunately, a day like this has left Dame exhausted…and drunk. Exceedingly so. He kisses you, bites your lower lip just a smidge, and laughs into your mouth. You mutter something dangerous to his already weak composure, but it's muffled by him.
You break away, just for a second, to take your shoes off. In that time Dame’s mind swims, while his body sways. A loud pop makes both you and Dame flinch. He searches for the culprit and finds it was his own hand desperately slapping the wall to prevent him from falling.
“I gotta sit down.” Dame mumbles, then takes one step and his boots, wet from snow, slide against the hardwood floor. Now he ends up smacking a hand on your shoulder for support, ever thankful at how immovable you’ve always been. “My boots…” Dame leans down, presses his head against your chest, on purpose because he knows he can blame the alcohol, and struggles to work the laces free.
Damn sober Dame. Damn him to hell.
“Hey,” you murmur softly, hand sliding up his arm, and down his side until your fingers are pressed against his ribs. “Let me.”
Confused, Dame lets you guide him to your couch, and sits down. His legs splayed out, the heels of his boots resting against the floor. Instinctively he tilts his head back, looks to the ceiling before finding his eyelids heavy. The encroaching wall of sleep is only beaten back by the delicate dance of your fingers. Like a kid in church, Dame peeks to see what you’re doing, before his eyes widen and he can only stare.
You’re kneeling between his legs, focused entirely on the tangled laces that hold Dame’s boots. Softly you say, “Next time let’s just stay in.” And Dame’s heart swells. Next time, of course there’s going to be a next time.
Your fingers undo the knot, just as your presence has undone Dame. How can a thing of war be so soft? It's a wonder how all things have not been unmade by your diametric nature. But maybe that’s a side you have only shown Dame…it would make sense, you are the only one who’s seen the whole of him.
“I liked the park,” he whispers back.
You open the tongue of the boot, grab it by the back. The cold air hits the warmth of his ankle and travels down, as you remove his foot from the boot like delicate glass work. Oh, oh this. He’s forgotten this small ritual. You have too, of course, but at least Dame remembers this act of submission, and love.
“I did too.” His foot is gently set on your thigh, you’re careful to not let it slip into the puddle left behind. Then you move to the next one. “I liked the movie as well...” “And the drinks after,” he snorts.
This boot comes off easier, your hands working quickly. “We can have those last two inside though, away from people.” when you pull it off your hand stays on the arch of his foot for just a moment.
He tries to respond but all that comes out is a shaky breath. You glance up to Dame, probably assuming that he’s fallen asleep. What a desperate thing he must appear. Eyes wide, pupils wider, practically panting at the sight of your submission. Your lips are red and soft. “Keep going,” Dame murmurs.
You take a sock off, and then the next. Dame reaches down hand aloft for you, “Keep going.” And just as gently you pull his gloves, needing to raise to your knees to remove his scarf. The movement brings your face too close to Dame and it’s over. He kisses you, sinking down to the floor, pants sliding against the melted snow. It’s fine, because those are what you take off
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Dame’s body is well groomed to begin with, but after Johnny then Dame won’t shave often. But he doesn’t have much body hair to begin with. His leg hair is dark but thin, and his pubic hair is mostly wild and ungroomed. Once in a relationship he won’t shave if you ask him to. He’s had to change his body enough for one partner, he won’t do it again for another. Even you.
There are a few minor scars that dot Dame’s body, as well as several small dark moles on his chest, shoulders, and back, including one on his stomach that he enjoys having you kiss as it’s an excellent place to watch you and allows him to run his fingers through your hair.
Dame’s skinny, maybe underweight as he doesn’t eat often, nor does he work out. M!Dame has an average *****, and wider than average hips.
Though it has been considered many times, Dame has never gotten a tattoo. If Ares were to suggest matching ones he would agree, so long as they’re small but easy to look at in public. Like on the wrist. He’d want it as his little reminder. In his youth he had several piercings both above and… below the neck. Including one below the belt… But those were removed when he got together with Johnny.
If he ever tells Ares that, then perhaps Ares can convince him to get those piercings again, in fact even a minor interest would do it. Dame enjoyed those pieces quite a lot, all he needs is to be reminded of them.
Y = Yearning (how high is their *** drive?)
Nearly non-existent *** drive. It takes him a while to work up to wanting someone intimately. If Dame’s to be truthful he’s actually fine with not having *** ever again. Though he can be worked up fairly quickly if… encouraged by Ares. He won’t often go out of his way to try to have ***.
This does not mean Dame is asexual, as he is, and will always be, sexually attracted to Ares. But Dame rarely desires *** out of nowhere, and even still the physical intimacy is secondary to the emotional intimacy. He will be happy to not act on those desires so long as Ares can fill the romantic and emotional intimacy.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Sleep? If Dame sleeps then he risks waking to find that you’ve disappeared on him again. He needs to watch you. Watch your breathing, your parted lips, your eyes moving as you dream. Dame won’t sleep until he’s forced to. Until his body gives in. He’ll wake to find hours have passed, fear overcoming him, the fear that he has lost you again, only then to find that you two are curled together.
Eventually he’ll stop fearing your loss. Eventually he’ll be able to close his eyes next to you and know you’ll be there when he wakes. It will take time though. Once he reaches that point you won’t be able to keep him awake after you two lie together, too quickly will he succumb to your comfort.
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after ***)
In short? Soft, affectionate, and more than a little possessive and dependant.
Dame’s fingers hook into your hips leaving red cuts behind, not breaking the skin but coming damn near. Your legs shake as you try to climb off of her, she doesn’t allow it at first, letting a low groan roll through her throat. You smile, and breathlessly down, your lips gently opening to kiss along her neck, “Should I declaw you?” You whisper just below her ear.
Dame seems to realize what you mean and a small gasp whispers out. She lifts her fingers, looking down to your bare hips, waist, and… Dame snaps her head back up, red faced despite what the two of you had just done. “S— Sorry.” Her voice is hoarse and gentle, the pads of her fingers rubbing circles against the place she grabbed you.
You detach yourself from her, letting her hands fall back. Without much thought you move beside her, Dame does the same, wrapping her arm around you. A move that feels natural to your very soul. She faces you, fingers sliding across your skin as she watches you, mesmerized by every subtle movement your body makes.
Dame presses a kiss into your collarbone, she bites down along the skin, making your back twitch in surprise, only parting to quickly ask “Can I stay for the night?” You almost laugh.
“You never have to ask me that.” Your hand cups her cheek, her hair falling through your fingers as you slide your palm around her neck to pull her closer.
“I still like hearing it.” Dame lets herself be pulled closer and you smile at her words.
“Well then,” You press your forehead against her, sharing her air as she lets out a quiet excited laugh, “Stay the night with me, why don’t you?”
“Mhmm…” she slips a tanned hand up your chest, her fingers running just over your collar yet again. God only knows what she’s so possessive of there, and why her gaze watches to it like your throat is a wellspring in a desert. “You never have to ask me that.” She whispers.
“Okay,” You whisper, putting a hand over her fingers and pulling it off your collar. Immediately she slides them down to hold your waist. “What’s got you so obsessed?” You run your hand over the skin, trailing up your neck to try and feel something.
Dame laughs a little louder now, a little goofy. “Nothing.”
“Liar, what’d you do?”
Dame’s smile can be heard through her words, “You had to have felt me put them there.” she rests her head on your chest, staring up to you.
Your fingers stop rubbing and suspiciously you gaze down. “Hickies?” You ask blandly, and you see her light up.
“Oh yes.” The words come out as a long low purr.
“Dame— How bad is it?”
She closes her eyes, using you as a pillow as she traces patterns with her fingers, “You should wear a scarf tomorrow.”
“We have a meeting— Everyone is going to be there.”
“Then they’ll see you’re taken.”
You almost feel annoyed by that, annoyed that she would do this, but it’s an effort when she holds you like you were crafted to slot together, “Johnny—”
“Won’t know they’re from me.” She cuts you off, “ And I don’t want to think about him. Or Jackie, or anyone else.” Dame slowly raises her head to meet your eye, “It’s only us here. Let it just be only us.”
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Dame doesn’t love a lot about her body. Far too much of it has been objectified, clinically considered as an asset or a defect for her to really love any single piece of her. With you Dame will come to love what you do, where your hands drift to while you kiss, what you stare at when she is bare beside you.
Only once she has healed, gained a semblance of her personhood back, will Dame come to like the way her thighs look. It’s nothing that she will outwardly show. Simply wearing pieces of clothing that will show them off more in private. Skinnier jeans and shorts, or if you’re lucky nothing at all.
On you, however? Well she will say she likes every inch of you equally, maybe not your annoying mouth on some days. But you know that's a lie. There’s a part of you that she clearly favors far far above any other piece. Your hips, but especially your waist. Dear god, Dame will latch onto your waist like you’re a ship’s mast in a storm.
You stretch enough to raise your shirt and her gaze falls to the bare skin, uncaring who may notice the blatant want in her gaze. During ***, she will bruise you there from holding onto it too tight, and after she will mark you there with her mouth and teeth. Walking down the street she will put a hand around it. Even asleep you’ll feel her holding on to it. Because to her it’s like a natural handle. Perfect to pull you closer to her.
Truly, no matter what she says, you’ll know what part of your body she loves. There’s really no debate about it.
C = *** (anything to do with ***, basically)
Dame hates the texture. *** is always so sweaty and wet that it takes away from the experience. Much to her grief and annoyance, yours drives Dame wild. For ***** she likes the bloom of warmth if you’re inside of her. For wetness she wants you absolutely soaked when you’re with her.
Dame likes the way your voice pitches when you’re close, the contractions your body makes as you’re cumming. She likes the way it glistens across her skin, the feeling between her fingers. Dame bask in the proof of your arousal for as long as she can. And if you finish on or in her mouth then it’s all the better.
Though Dame would never say this, ask her and she’ll act revolted and claim you’re sick in the head. It’s embarrassing to her, knowing how much she likes to feel used, claimed, and desired.
When everything has calmed down, then Dame will quickly snap back to hating the texture. As for her own…
Dame doesn’t really care for it.
She’d like to see your mouth glistening after she’s wrapped her legs around it when finishing.
Just don’t expect a kiss until after you’ve brushed your teeth.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
In short? Dame is jealous of anyone who’s able to have casual ***. (Written with a ***-vice Ares)
“I have secrets…” Dame can tell just how whiny she sounds the moment it leaves her mouth.
You don’t believe her, Dame can tell by how you look at her. It’s only the third most annoying thing you’ve done today, right behind you cornering her outside and not letting her taste you properly, and of course that thing you did with your tongue right as she was about to finish an hour ago. She’ll never forgive you for that.
“I do,” Dame defends, and you nod along idly.
“I’m all ears,” you purr, pressing your lips to her collar bone, nipping softly at the skin. ****. Dame really doesn’t have dirty secrets. She’s boring in bed, prefers a single partner, and has never done anything risky. Hell, she’d rather stay inside for weeks at a time than go and be...sexually active. If Dame couldn’t feel the lust that rolls off of people…****, she’d probably still be a virgin. Pathetic for a love god.
Your hand slips lower, fingers gently tracing the line of her ribs, moving to her stomach. Dame hasn’t spoken for a hot moment, and she hesitates before saying, “I’m jealous.”
The movement slows, she doesn’t meet your eye. “Of me?”
“A bit,” she laughs. “But, not just of you…gods this is going to sound awful but I’m jealous of anyone who’s more…active.”
Your hand pulls back just a fraction, Dame doesn’t want to initiate that argument again. Especially now that you two are together. “I mean…*** for me…needs what we have.I can’t be casual, the concept is an entire ****ing world away from me.” She grabs your hand softly, kisses the knuckles. **** you have wonderful hands.Your last few lives didn’t have that, did they? “I used to think something was wrong with me. None of my past lives needed connection like this”
You lift the hand, cupping Dame’s cheek. “You think you’ve missed out?” You ask, voice as soft as your touch.
“Before you returned I used to sit at the bar in Elysium, just watching everyone.”
Even now she remembers the arousal in that place. A constant bombardment of desires and disappointment. She would feel people who felt like a wasteland become a garden of want through a single conversation. Dame’s felt people cheat, felt people rebound, but the most confounding ones were those that stayed a wasteland. Those who weren’t even attracted to the person they hit on, those who egged the conversation on and knew how to make the other’s lust flourish and left with them even when they felt nothing. Those are people she couldn’t conceive of, an entire opposite from Dame in every possible way.
“I may have been hit on…four times?” She’s asking because it was hard to see who wanted to talk, and who wanted to flirt. Most nights nobody approached her. “Each time I’ve tried to emulate what everyone else did, and I couldn’t. It felt forced.”
“Well.” Your thumb runs across her cheekbone, then curves down to her earlobe. “You probably were forcing it.”
Dame leans into the touch, closes her eyes, then she speaks in a breathy whisper. “That’s why I’m jealous…the only time I’ve never had to force it was with you.”
You hum against her neck, “I can tell you that everyone’s wired differently but you’ve already thought of that, haven’t you?” She nods and you continue. “We could roleplay. Go out, pretend to be strangers…”
Dame snickers at the idea. “What if fake-you’s a dick?” She doesn’t let you answer. ”Maybe. How did it feel for you?”
“Oh.” Your voice sounds very surprised, the moment stretches long enough for Dame to panic, then you speak. “Depends on the night, I guess some days felt like work. I knew I just wanted to relax, the *** was relaxing, and it was so much work to get there some days that I just gave up. But other days…it was thrilling.”
When you say that your breath hits her ear in a way that makes her body tingle. “Tell me, like I was there, your target for the night.”
A tiny chuckle comes out of you, makes Dame’s face warm. “After I saw you, I’d start soft. Ask a question that gets your attention.”
“A pickup line?”
“Only if I was desperate. I like to start with something about your clothes. So it’d depend on what you’re wearing, which…” You hook a finger on the edge of the blanket, gently raising it, attempting to spy what’s beneath—
Dame yanks it back down, face feeling hot. “Noted,” she croaks, thick and embarrassed even though you’ve just spent hours staring at it.
“I’d give you my name, get a drink, ask if you’d want one since the bartender was there. All casual-like.”
“Hmm, I’d say no. I already have a drink, can’t you see?” She teases, and moves further down, readjusting to be face to face now.
“Well…I thought it was your friend’s. Oh? You’re here alone? That’s a shame. I am too, seems like everyone here is in a group, right?”
Dame snickers, “Maybe we’re just both losers.”
“You don’t look like a loser to me, but you’re welcome to prove me wrong.” Beneath the blankets you slide some fingers up her forearm, leave them there for a heart beat, slowly take them off. Though what makes Dame feel light is the way you hold her eyes. Like you truly want to know.
She breaks the contact first. “I’m antisocial.”
“Right, because clubs are the best places to be alone.”
Your tone makes her want to roll her eyes and smile. It takes her a moment to smile, not ready for improvisation. “It's good for people watching.”
"Is that why you’re a loser? You like to spy on strangers?”
“No!” She laughs, “I’m not a creep, people are just interesting.”
“Well has anything caught your interest? Anyone?”
“Maybe. There are just so many attractive people here today, I can hardly see them all.” She starts to joke, but her chest flutters when you make eye contact, refusing to break it. She has to work to remember what this scenario is for a brief moment. Instinctively pushing on her time at Elysium. “Music’s **** though.”
You scoot closer, hand on her thigh. An unfair advantage. “There are quieter places…with better views.”
“And I’m sure you’re desperate to show them.” Dame forces herself to look away, only for you to pull off her thigh, and gently put a finger against her jaw. You guide her back to look at you, a new look on your face. Something all too hungry.
“Could you blame me if I was?”
Dame understands it all now.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Difficult to say. Dame has been with very few people in this life, in fact you can count on one hand how many people. Dame’s had a single girlfriend in the past, just before Johnny, that she’s slept with. So that’s two that Dame doesn’t regret. However, M!Dame has slept with one person to make a deal, and F!Dame has slept with two; No matter what, both Dames regret doing so. Dame simply does not enjoy *** without some sort of emotional connection.
That said…she’s Aphrodite, and Aphrodite has been around the block a few times. In the hundred years of Ares’s disappearance especially, Dame’s past lives searched for connection and trust wherever they could find it. This led to two long lives that, if not full of love, definitely full of ***.
If Damiana wants to think about her past experience she would hardly even count those two lives. They were full of grief and were too caught up in wild emotions for Dame to “learn” anything from them. It was a very dreamlike time for her. So most of what Dame calls experience will be from her collective lives, and from her most guarded and secret memories of Ares.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Once Aphrodite and you were a livewire of passion and connection. Together there was nothing that could contain your love, and in the wake of your joined desires there would be left ruined beds, sofas, tables, chairs, walls… But that was over a century ago. Now things have changed, Dame isn’t the Aphrodite of the past, and you are not the Ares of the past. She has missed you for so long that when you return she doesn’t know exactly what to do.
When you finally break the tension, and let your shared desires guide you, Dame will pull you to someplace quiet to hear you, someplace dim enough to comfort but lit enough to see, someplace soft. A bed, preferably, but beggars can't be choosers and Dame has been begging for this for so long. She will pull you on top, and not let you leave. Relying on your weight to remind her that this is real, this is not another falsehood that her mind has cooked up. You’re back, and you’re trapping her on the bed. It will bring more comfort than she thinks she deserves.
After you two are together, and have been together for quite some time, Dame's preference will change. On top, on bottom, beside, upside down, suspended from the ceiling on silk ropes…none of it matters to her as long as she can see your face.
If you’re in a meeting with Jackie, standing at her desk as she speaks, then Dame will imagine bending you over or being bent over it. If you’re kneeling, tying a shoe or just picking something up, Dame will imagine using your mouth. If you’re laying in bed she won’t have to imagine a thing because she will simply climb on top and satisfy the hunter that’s been starving her.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Dame’s not that goofy to begin with, savoring every second she has with you and always trying to wring more and more out. *** will last hours and hours if Dame has her way, and every second will be more passionate than the last. And just when you begin to think every moment with her will be like that Dame’s walls will fall away, brick by brick. She’ll be overwhelmed with joy in the moment, and she’ll make a joke, say the most cringey flirtatious line she can think up. It’ll be like a cat learning to climb. Clumsy, awkward, curious at the limits but too cautious to take them. She’ll regret it immediately and return to the quiet serious passion that she’s had.
Then months will wash away, Dame’s emotions will settle, become comfortable. And that’s when she’ll surprise you again. She’ll whisper a joke, one not awkward, and that she won’t regret. And though your time with Dame will remain earnest and intense, she will welcome levity, even in the most intimate of moments.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Dame dyes her hair blonde, but even the casual observer will see that her natural hair color is a dark brown. Naturally the rest of her bodyhair will be this color. When you first get with Dame she will still be with Johnny, as such she will be meticulously groomed.
After her and Johnny’s relationship has ended, and she is free to be with you openly then she will not groom herself at all, nor will she dye her hair anymore. In fact there may be other changes she has been wanting to do in regards to her hair. Though we’ll get to that later.
Dame has no strong feelings about body hair, nor does she understand the disgust many people have with it. If Ares tries to get her to shave she’ll say no, and it could start a fight. She won’t be trapped in a controlling relationship again. Though her pubic hair doesn’t grow to be very long.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Dame? The reincarnation of Aphrodite? The god of love? That should be obvious. She is endlessly intimate, and needs you to be as well. Anything less than extraordinarily intimate is going to immediately turn her off and make her bitter for the rest of the day.
Foreplay with her will last five times as long as the actual ***, and the aftercare will last until you fall asleep. This can actually cause problems if you and her have *** in the morning, because then you have an entire day of an affectionate Dame following you around, or checking on you in solitary moments.
That sounds nice until you need privacy, for a phone call, to relax, even for the bathroom. She may talk to you through the door, or listen to your conversation. If you need to be alone just to be alone it’s better to not **** in the morning.
J = Jack off (************ headcanon)
In short? She rarely masturbates, and when she does she may need your help.
Alone. Dame’s alone, she has been for a while. You disappeared on her yet again. Sure, at least this time you send texts, make daily calls. Jackie has you half a continent away, some bullshit job she could have had anyone do. But she chose you. Dame stares at her phone, it's pointless. You can’t talk often, you made that clear. But the anxiety won’t go away.
She wants your attention, craves your gaze, your voice, your touch. The weight of you in the bed next to her, your hand on her neck, your lips…
Dame stuffs a pillow over her face and groans angrily into it. She needs a distraction. Rolling over and laying on the pillow, she pulls up her phone. Mindlessly scroll through contacts, Franco, no. Mitch, god no. Riley…Maybe they’d be able to bring Dame to you… But no. It’s a risk Dame won’t take. She clicks her tongue once she reaches the bottom.
She has friends, she has to! Dame is the god of love, of course she must have friends. Another scroll and… nope. Surely she missed something, her finger darts back up, but before she reaches the top of the contacts a message comes through.
[ARES has sent a picture]
She catches it, just barely as the icon flits away. Just the barest glimpse at the condensed picture. Dame’s inside thrills, quickly clicking on your messages. Her entire body stops once she sees it. You. Bare, water dripping down your body. A selfie through a fogged up mirror, the steam wiped away from everywhere except the parts Dame wants most. Your face with the world's most perfect smirk.
She bites her lip as she gawks at it, trying to see through the fog. Her insides playing with her mind, swearing if she just keeps staring then the fog will go away. Dame types a response, deletes it, thinks about it again, types, deletes, types, deletes. She must look a fool, her message popping and disappearing. All while your naked body taunts her above the keyboard. When she finally sends it’s a single, hungry, word. More.
The next picture comes quickly. You’re dry now, drier at least. There’s still a sheen on your skin that the light glints off of. A towel is wrapped around you, keeping the sight even more hidden than it was before.
More.
It takes longer this time, Dame lets out a quiet noise. She doesn’t get this bad often. Normally the only way to get her in the mood is you being next to her. Wrapped around each other, small words and soft kisses spread through hours. But there must be a blue moon because tonight Dame needs you, it's a curse that you’re not here.
The phone buzzes and Dame is already hungry for the photo.
You’re on the hotel’s bed, the top of your face is cut off this time, but you still bite your lip. The rest of the picture has you sprawled out on the bed. Legs open, everything shown.
Dame lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She’s on her knees now, pillow pressed between her thighs, soft blanket pooling around her feet as she grinds down. A quiet groan escaping her. Dame stares at your body, the picture doesn’t do you justice. The hotel lighting doesn’t do you justice.
She’s forced to close her eyes and imagine you next to her, posing as you are. Her hand between her legs moving slowly. But imagination doesn’t do you justice. She doesn’t touch herself often. Never wanted to, never had to. But today’s a lucky day, or unlucky if you’re in Dame’s sexually frustrated shoes. You make the nerve endings through her entire body scream without you here to soothe. It’s torture. She needs a release. She calls you, her hand moving more rapidly as the phone rings. And rings… and rings.
And then a click.
“Hey—” You start, your voice nearly sends her over the edge.
“Talk me through it.” Dame interrupts. Compared to your words Dame must sound sick. She feels sick.
You laugh, and Dame shoves her face into the mattress. “What?”
“Talk me through it.” Her hand moves quicker, the pillow digging into a perfect spot, just to imagine you there. “Please?”
No response, just a quiet breath from your end. “Of course.” She can hear your smile and it almost makes her finish then and there.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
In short? (Heavy) praise, and (light) choking.
“Are you sure?” Dame moves in front of you, it's so easy to admire her in the morning light. ****. You didn’t even realize it was morning. In truth you were hoping that the sun wouldn’t rise. You and Dame could stay here, together, forever. Talking like there’s no end. She’s curled up in the corner of your bed, where it meets the wall, tanned skin lit aflame by hues of the orange and pink sunrise.
“Of course.” Your voice is soft, and tender. As if one wrong tone will make Dame disappear. As proof of your words you gently bring your lips to her. She shows her greedy side here, opening to swallow you whole. You don’t let yourself idle in the act, you’ve burnt up the night, you don’t want to waste the day. As soon as you bring your lips away, she lets out a low whine. “Just tell me what you like, I’ll do it.”
Dame takes a shuddering breath, tongue sliding along her lips, then she bites it. You nearly feel her teeth cut into your own lip, as if your taste alone was enough to bind you to her. Slowly Dame slides her hand over yours. “Now… don’t be a dick by judging me.” she whispers.
“Never.”
“I really like… well…” Dame lets out a laugh, a bit loud, clearly embarrassed, a red tint blossoming through her cheeks.
“You can do it.” You try to motivate her but it only seems to send a small sputtering noise from her.
“That.” She whispers.
You quirk a brow and lean closer in the bed, “What?”
“Don’t laugh but I like to be…” Dame waves a hand as if casually throwing the word out, “Encouraged.”
Oh. Oh my. You smile, not laughing, but suddenly endlessly pleased. “Encouraged?”
“Yes.”
“You mean praised?”
“I… Yes.”
“Told you’re doing so well? That you look so good beneath me.”
“****—” She doesn’t meet your eye as you move closer and closer. “I’m not beneath you now.” She murmurs.
“You want to change that?” You kiss her again. Dame sinks into it, moaning an affirmative, or at least what you take as one. You part from her just enough to whisper “Good girl. She lets out a breath and shuts her eyes. “And the second? Are you going to show me that one too?”
Dame nods, eagerly too. Nearly headbutting you in the process. “Yes, yes.” She seems more excited about this one, far more, quickly starting to shift along the bed. “Here—” she sinks down, “Climb on top of me.” You do as she asks, straddling her. Greedily she takes the chance to run a hand up your stomach, a smile on her face as you take position.
Dame presses your hand to her collar, open fingers splayed across the bone. Then, slowly, she moves them up, keeping an eye on you as she goes. Your hand runs up to just below her chin. “Right here.” She taps your thumb, on one side of her neck, and your forefinger on the other. “Just a little pressure.” Dame swallows, her breath clearly eager. “Only here, if it's too much I'll tell you—” You squeeze, barely anything at all before she opens her mouth and smiles. “Yeah,” it comes out more like a gasp than actual words.
You smile, tilting your head to watch her. Dame gently rocks her hips from beneath you, “Oh, you’re eager.”
She nods, watching you with darkened eyes and a trembling lip. You lay next to her, pressing your body against her, and add a bit more pressure to her neck before slowly sinking your hands down her pelvis. Quickly you learn just what to do to make Dame unravel. A whisper here, a squeeze there, following her directions until right at the end you hear her whisper, “Harder.”
And she becomes a mess in your hands.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Though it’s certainly possible for Dame to get worked up enough to make love to you anywhere…realistically the only time it’ll happen is some place warm, comfortable, and safe. When your relationship begins it won’t be uncommon for her to gift you blankets and pillows after seeing how few you sleep with. Because how can she be expected to relax in your home without luxuries available. Not even for ***, in fact Dame’s the last person who will give you something even considering *** at all. At the start she’ll want to enjoy every moment with you, and being in a comfortable place will make that enjoyment happen quicker.
This also applies during ***. With few exceptions, Dame will need some place she feels safe.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Dame can be turned on in a number of ways. She likes it when you’re aggressive with others, but not a dick. Other than that, simply showing you love her. Going out of your way to bring her food, remembering her coffee order. Doing any of these won’t fully light the fire but it’ll get it started. Though normally that fire dies long before you can get someplace to really fuel it.
If you are alone and someplace she can relax then you could undress her. Not to the nude, of course, but small pieces of clothing. (check out the Wild Card letter for more) A surefire way to turn her on is…by talking. Lay in bed next to her, hold each other, talk, laugh, cry. It’ll always lead to kissing, grinding, and eventually, yes, ***. Just be careful not to push too quickly, otherwise she’ll drop out of the mood, leaving you high and dry.
Now, that said…there is a way to flip that switch for Dame. To send her from zero to a hundred in under a second. And it is…spite. Which sounds counterintuitive to what has been discussed, but if Dame really hates someone she will not only be willing to ****, but will actively initiate *** with you, so long as it’s in a place that the person Dame hates enjoys, or somehow sticks it to someone she hates. She’s petty, and spiteful, and desires to defile what place her enemies deem holy.
Places such as Jackie’s office, the back of Verne’s truck, Jackie’s home, Riley’s home (if you can get there unnoticed somehow), or…her own home when Johnny’s out for the day…Maybe even the church she’s being married in…on her wedding day.
All of these are fantasies Dame will have, even if she can never fullfil them.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Dame will never accept you frightening or hurting her. The only exception to this is choking, and only when she desires it, which is often but moods can change. She won’t let you pressure her into ***, and will be very firm with her boundaries. Dame doesn’t want to do anything that could take one, or both, of you out of the moment. Things such as taking pictures, videos, role playing, none of that. She wants you, and only you. Finally: Don’t bring up Johnny or Jackie before, during, or after ***. Seriously.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Dame would enjoy both giving and receiving, but in very different ways.
When giving she’ll tease you, dance around beginning by focusing on other parts of you to kiss. You’ll be left with bite marks on your thighs, and hickies on your hips. When she does begin it’ll be with the pace she sets in all things sexual. Gently pulling you to the edge and dancing on it until you’re begging for her to let you finish, or taking what you want. Either way the goal is to leave you frustrated enough that when you do finally go over the edge, you empty all of your energy in that single overwhelming climax. She’ll consider that a win.
When receiving it’ll leave Dame without your mouth to kiss and without your body to hold. She will want you to bring her to the edge and over quickly so she can hold you again, but at the same time she will desperately try to keep herself from finishing, even going so far as to screw her eyes shut and breathe very slowly. For if she looks down and makes eye contact with you it’s over and she’ll refuse to let you tease her for becoming a mess so entirely.
Some part of her would wish to have a way to use your mouth and hold you at the same time. Dame would probably enjoy both giving and receiving at the same time, but 69ing has always felt a touch too kinky for her to actually try it.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
It’s been said to death already how slow Dame is, so it won’t be restated. Instead, you should know that once Dame’s in the mood she loves to be overwhelmed and left seeing stars, all while her pleas to slow are left unanswered. It can only be done as you and her near the peak of your love making.
If you take the initiative then pin Dame beneath you. **** her, or ride her from an angle that gives you an advantage and do not let up. Be quick. Relentless. Let your muscles burn and scream within you. And keep going.
If Dame’s taking the initiative then wrap your legs around her waist, or grab her hips and command “Faster.” She will listen. Then say “Harder.” Repeat again “Faster.” “Don’t let up.” “Keep going.” “Harder.” and watch as she cries from above you, desperately overwhelming herself by your command.
You can return to the letter K if you want ways to keep her in the moment. Telling her how good she’s taking/****ing you, holding her by the throat to keep her from leaving. You can trust that, despite how much she’ll beg to stop, if Dame truly didn’t like it she would throw you off, and she wouldn’t beg you to keep going when you do listen.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
In short? Dame hates quickies, but there can be a rare mood when her passion is overshone by lust. Then, and only then, she’ll love something fast and raw.
Dame’s back presses against the door, sending a loud click through Jackie’s marble office. You look back only briefly, eyes almost bored before you see the predatory gleam over Dame’s face.
Her smile is sharp, almost cruel. You look concerned as you watch, Dame slowly raises her hand, delicately trailing a finger up the wooden frame before finding the latch. She snaps it closed, you seem to understand and let out a nervous laugh.
“Dame—” You begin as she meets you, with prodding fingers pushing you just an inch, for the back of your thighs to meet Jackie’s desk. Your hands cup Dame’s face and she leans into it, excitement playing up her core. Alone, finally alone with you. Her fingers loop beneath the waist band, pull it back just enough to catch a sliver of skin she hadn’t seen in a week.
She whispers your name, a challenge, and watches your eyes drift to her lips, open mouth and quiet breaths. Dame’s already excited, even the prospect of you and her alone here. So easy to be caught, the idea of Jackie walking in to see you two over her desk, too love drunk to care. Dame already doesn’t care.
Now that her engagement is over she wonders how often she denied Johnny something like this? Dame’s always despised quickies. There’s no passion, it’s just ****ing for the sake of ****ing. But today…today her mind is swirling with need.
“Here?” You ask in equally as quiet of a voice. You turn your head, lean closer. Dame bites her lip in anticipation, your hand slides to the back of her head and unravels her with a kiss. Your first kiss is revenge and hunger wrapped into one. Good. Dame wasn’t the only one that needed this.
Dame tries to separate to say something snide but only gets so much as a wet gasp of air before you’re on her again. Your second kiss is your declaration of love. It makes her melt, fingers falling away from your zipper and slapping onto the marble desk for support. You break off and Dame finally gets to speak the answer she’s wanted to say.
“Please…”
“Needy.” You chide and Dame lets out a groan, but doesn’t disagree.
“We don’t have to.” She mutters, despite the desperate growing hunter to sink her teeth into you. “But, I’m burning up…can we? Please?”
“Needy.” It’s your turn to smile like a predator. “Well?”
She lets out a chuckle and shoves you past the desk, you stumble and hit a bookshelf, with a confidence Dame hasn’t felt in years she grabs you by a belt loop and strides to Jackie’s chair behind the desk. With gentle fingers she leads to the chair, and a gentle push sends you stumbling into it.
The way you stare at Dame sends a fiery desolation in her heart. You look perfect on this holy throne…She can’t wait to defile it…defile you.
Dame leans over you in the chair, knee between your thighs, sinking into the leather. Her soft lips kiss against your own, then along your cheek and jaw, down your neck, your collar. Dame’s fingers slip beneath your shirt, a dangerous laugh gets sent through her as she feels skin denied to her.
Dame slowly slides to her knees. Her skin presses into the cold stone floor from the tears along her pants. Endlessly teasing, she runs a finger up your calf, staring up at you from the floor expectantly. “Well?” She asks.
In your excitement your fingers fumble the zipper twice, glancing towards the door during it. Each mistake ignites something cruel inside of her. On the third slip Dame grabs it herself, fingers tangling with yours, and pulls it down. Your hips shake from anticipation, and she’s in a similar way. With yank, your pants are at your knees and exposing what was once beneath them.
Dame doesn’t let you adjust to the cold before her mouth takes what it wants. Normally she would draw this out, but she’s starving and you taste so good.
“Oh ****—” Your mumbles slip into a wordless moan. A noise that only fuels the heat in Dame’s core.
Her fingers work you through it, and she devours every hitch of your breath.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)
Though it’s rare, Dame can be a risk taker when in the mood, especially when motivated by spite. She’ll love the thrill of ****ing in places you two absolutely shouldn’t. But that’s about as far as the risk will go.
As for experimenting with other things…Maybe. For Dame, you can’t just thrust kink out and say “lets try this” because Dame will need to really…research it. Even very small ones like being blindfolded. Dame finds enjoyment in learning about things, and she will spend hours on forums, watching tutorials, even reading smut. Anything to get into how to do a kink safely and why it even exists. If it's safe to do by herself, then she will, just to try and get in the headspace.
So when you bring up an idea of something new to do, just be sure you’re not about to have ***, otherwise Dame will be next to you, naked and on her lap top, reading forum posts.
And after all of that…most of the time Dame will come back days later and simply say no. She likes passion, and isn’t going to experiment too much if it could take your mind off her loving you, or her mind off you loving her.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Out of every member in the cast Dame is the least sexual, in practically every way. She’ll always make sure you’ve finished, and is more than willing to focus hours on you alone, but she’s the main course…it’s a quick meal. Dame won’t last long. She’ll try to, of course. Try to not immediately fall apart in your hands, but she will finish quickly, in under ten minutes, most likely. And after she’s finished Dame won’t be ready to go again for hours at minimum, sometimes days.
That said, as long as she isn’t the one focussed on, *** will tend to last far far longer. Just let Dame pace herself.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
No toys. Anything will either feel like she’s being used, or using you. For an Ares with a ******, Dame will enjoy having a strap on, or vibrators in the mix. Anything of silicon will need to be warmed beforehand. It's possible that she’ll allow you to be cuffed if you desire it, especially if you fight against the cuffs while she’s with you. But she’ll always prefer you in your entirety to one restrained.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
This is complicated, as there are different stages to Dame’s romance that most others don’t get.
Before you and her get together? Dame will tease you in ways that you may not even know is her teasing you. She’ll stretch, making her shirt ride up. F!Dame will wear no *** and subtly show off, or M!Dame may even answer the door shirtless. Basically, Dame will tease you in exact ways that make you feel like you’re the pervert for sexualizing her. However, after the relationship started…
If Dame is still with Johnny then in public she will barely acknowledge you, and may even go out of her way to seem less appealing to you to hide your relationship. This may even extend to when you know that you both are alone but in a more public place, because someone may be watching…Hell, even when you’re alone in private, Dame will never tease you. But that is for an entirely different reason. Because why would she waste time when she can have you?
Now, when openly in a relationship things will change. Dame becomes extremely unfair. She’ll find joy in waiting until nobody’s looking to do something very quick to make you jump.
Pinching your butt is a very tame version. Expect the return of the subtle flirting from before, but this time a bit more egregious. She’ll still be subtle, but it will skirt the line and have those around you wondering if Dame was actually flirting with you, or if they are mistaken. When alone Dame will tease you for hours. Since she doesn’t exactly last long in bed, *** will be foreplay and she will make sure it’s drawn out.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Quiet. Barely a noise, try to get her to talk and all that will come out are soundless breaths, and the occasional whine. At the right moment, during a brief rest or a shift of positions, Dame will pull you closer and breathlessly whisper “I love you, I love you, I love you,” like a tortuous prayer, for as long as it takes to begin again.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
In short? Undress them, and talk to them. It drives them wild.
Dame stumbles through your doorway, arms around you, lips against yours. Today was perfect, she couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than with you. Finally, you two can be publicly intimate. Nothing will happen if you’re caught hand in hand, nobody will mind. Well, some do, but they can’t do a thing. So she spent her first day of freedom dragging you to her favorite places.
Unfortunately, a day like this has left Dame exhausted…and drunk. Exceedingly so. She kisses you, bites your lower lip just a smidge, and laughs into your mouth. You mutter something dangerous to her already weak composure, but it's muffled by her.
You break away, just for a second, to take your shoes off. In that time Dame’s mind swims, while her body sways. A loud pop makes both you and Dame flinch. She searches for the culprit and finds it was her own hand desperately slapping the wall to prevent her from falling.
“I gotta sit down.” Dame mumbles, then takes one step and her boots, wet from snow, slide against the hardwood floor. Now she ends up smacking a hand on your shoulder for support, ever thankful at how immovable you’ve always been. “My boots…” Dame leans down, presses her head against your chest, on purpose because she knows she can blame the alcohol, and struggles to work the laces free.
Damn sober Dame. Damn her to hell.
“Hey,” you murmur softly, hand sliding up her arm, and down her side until your fingers are pressed against her ribs. “Let me.”
Confused, Dame lets you guide her to your couch, and sits down. Her legs splayed out, the heels of her boots resting against the floor. Instinctively she tilts her head back, looks to the ceiling before finding her eyelids heavy. The encroaching wall of sleep is only beaten back by the delicate dance of your fingers. Like a kid in church, Dame peeks to see what you’re doing, before her eyes widen and she can only stare.
You’re kneeling between her legs, focused entirely on the tangled laces that hold Dame’s boots. Softly you say, “Next time let’s just stay in.” And Dame’s heart swells. Next time, of course there’s going to be a next time.
Your fingers undo the knot, just as your presence has undone Dame. How can a thing of war be so soft? It's a wonder how all things have not been unmade by your diametric nature. But maybe that’s a side you have only shown Dame…it would make sense, you are the only one who’s seen the whole of her.
“I liked the park,” she whispers back.
You open the tongue of the boot, grab it by the back. The cold air hits the warmth of her ankle and travels down, as you remove her foot from the boot like delicate glass work. Oh, oh this. She’s forgotten this small ritual. You have too, of course, but at least Dame remembers this act of submission, and love.
“I did too.” Her foot is gently set on your thigh, you’re careful to not let it slip into the puddle left behind. Then you move to the next one. “I liked the movie as well...” “And the drinks after,” she snorts.
This boot comes off easier, your hands working quickly. “We can have those last two inside though, away from people.” when you pull it off your hand stays on the arch of her foot for just a moment.
She tries to respond but all that comes out is a shaky breath. You glance up to Dame, probably assuming that she’s fallen asleep. What a desperate thing she must appear. Eyes wide, pupils wider, practically panting at the sight of your submission. Your lips are red and soft. “Keep going,” Dame murmurs.
You take a sock off, and then the next. Dame reaches down hand aloft for you, “Keep going.” And just as gently you pull her gloves, needing to raise to your knees to remove her scarf. The movement brings your face too close to Dame and it’s over. She kisses you, sinking down to the floor, pants sliding against the melted snow. It’s fine, because those are what you take off
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Dame’s body is well groomed to begin with, but after Johnny then Dame won’t shave often. But she doesn’t have much body hair to begin with. Her leg hair is dark but thin, and her pubic hair is mostly wild and ungroomed. Once in a relationship she won’t shave if you ask her to. She’s had to change her body enough for one partner, she won’t do it again for another. Even you.
There are a few minor scars that dot Dame’s body, as well as several small dark moles on her chest, shoulders, and back, including one on her stomach that she enjoys having you kiss as it’s an excellent place to watch you and allows her to run her fingers through your hair.
Dame’s skinny, maybe underweight as she doesn’t eat often, nor does she work out. F!Dame has smaller breasts, and wider than average shoulders.
Though it has been considered many times, Dame has never gotten a tattoo. If Ares were to suggest matching ones she would agree, so long as they’re small but easy to look at in public. Like on the wrist. She’d want it as her little reminder. In her youth she had several piercings both above and… below the neck. Including one below the belt… But those were removed when she got together with Johnny.
If she ever tells Ares that, then perhaps Ares can convince her to get those piercings again, in fact even a minor interest would do it. Dame enjoyed those pieces quite a lot, all she needs is to be reminded of them.
Y = Yearning (how high is their *** drive?)
Nearly non-existent *** drive. It takes her a while to work up to wanting someone intimately. If Dame’s to be truthful she’s actually fine with not having *** ever again. Though she can be worked up fairly quickly if… encouraged by Ares. She won’t often go out of her way to try to have ***.
This does not mean Dame is asexual, as she is, and will always be, sexually attracted to Ares. But Dame rarely desires *** out of nowhere, and even still the physical intimacy is secondary to the emotional intimacy. She will be happy to not act on those desires so long as Ares can fill the romantic and emotional intimacy.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Sleep? If Dame sleeps then she risks waking to find that you’ve disappeared on her again. She needs to watch you. Watch your breathing, your parted lips, your eyes moving as you dream. Dame won’t sleep until she’s forced to. Until her body gives in. She’ll wake to find hours have passed, fear overcoming her, the fear that she has lost you again, only then to find that you two are curled together.
Eventually she’ll stop fearing your loss. Eventually she’ll be able to close her eyes next to you and know you’ll be there when she wakes. It will take time though. Once she reaches that point you won’t be able to keep her awake after you two lie together, too quickly will she succumb to your comfort.
I would shoot him a DM, but my membership is ending in a few hours, and I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get back on.
Sorry about that. Hopefully someone else has it so he can also redo these NSFW ABCs.
And to pay for my sins, I'm going to commit sepukku.
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after ***)
In short? Immediately after he's very lazy, he'd like to cuddle for a bit, but it doesn’t last forever. Rebel will savor you though.
Rebel’s body is taut. Against the car seat he takes rapid hungry breaths of air. Eyes screwed shut as the last waves of pleasure wash over him. You have to hold his hips down until the ecstasy washes away. Rebel’s hands are gripped so tight against the seat that the leather has torn. Whatever, you’re not sure whose car this is but you know it isn’t your problem. However, what is your problem is the now lazy body of your lover.
He doesn’t move, staying wedged against the back. There is very little room and you know Rebel has no desire to stay, but still he loosely opens his arms and you readily accept the invitation. You can only take a moment to admire the moonlight shining against him, glinting off sweat, making a hundred stars shining against the midnight sky of his skin. Rebel’s need for touch lasts about as long as yours does, so you don’t stay on it long.
Sliding next to him you rest your head against his shoulder. His throat works and you don’t dare resist the allure of nipping at his collar bone. Rebel grumbles beneath you. He’s hot, and his sweaty skin feels tacky as it cools in the winter air.
“Perhaps…next time we shall find somewhere that might bear us both.” Rebel whispers, trying to make you more comfortable. His arms gently wrapping around you, like he’s scared of you falling off the seat.
“You’re the one who couldn’t wait.” Your voice is thick and exhausted. He runs his fingers along your back, enjoying you.
“I am not as prudent as I should be when it comes to…these sessions.” He admits, though you could have told him that.
You focus on Rebel’s heart, and thrill in your selfishness as you know you’re the only one it beats for. A revealing flash shines through the window, showing you the full beauty of his body. Rebel tilts his head to smell your hair. His stomach flutters beneath the firm touch of your palm.
The night air presses closer but for just this moment it is you and him. His nails scratch down your back, all at once a comforting reminder of him and a threat to not disrupt his comfort. Rebel’s nail scrapes along the back of your ear, his breath catching in a quiet laugh as your breath shudders. He’s a cat playing with his mouse.
Your fingers slide up his back, he adjusts so welcome your embrace. You only stop when your fingers dance along the hairs at the base of his skull. Rebel lets out a pleased little moan, his muscles unwind. Biceps, shoulders, even his pecs slowly relax beneath your cheek. His breath slows down to a crawl in your ear, heart beat doing the same. But as your body begins to slip off the seat, you hook a leg up and that movement seems to be the most he can take.
Rebel groans and shifts beneath you. “Off,” he commands. You don’t question it. You’ve done this enough to know he dislikes being caged in. You expect Rebel to start getting dressed and pull you away to a proper place to sleep, where he can watch you without being forced to be held. That’s the usual way he ends these, but you let out a questioning hum as Rebel turns you to lay down instead.
Not arguing, you shift into place and Rebel flops down onto you. No consideration for the position like you had, no worrying about falling off. Just laying on you like a strangely shaped weighted blanket.
“Hold.” You don’t question this command either, letting him tuck his arms under yours while you wrap him in an embrace. Voice thick, he whispers once more. “We shall leave soon, but I will enjoy this first.”
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
In short? Your mouth, and his hands.
Rebel doesn’t understand the purpose of this question. Hell, he doesn’t understand the purpose of half the questions you ask during times like these.
“Was it good for you?” Of course it was, if Rebel wasn’t satisfied and happy then you and he wouldn’t be finished.
“Did I hurt you?” Of course you did, but Rebel asked you too so why worry?
“Will you stay?” Always.
And now you ask this? Is this a simple wandering of your thoughts, or does this question have more meaningful implications?
“I like all of you,” he whispers, a little confused because it’s true. What part of you is there not to like? Has another insulted you? Who would dare commit such an act? The thought of it is enough to make him boil. His fingers tighten around the coarse sheets.
“That doesn’t count—” Your whisper sends a breath across Rebel’s hips, but it turns to a slightly raised concern. “Are you angry?”
“No.” He lies, and regrets it so immediately that he curses, “****. Yes, I suppose I am.”
“Why?”
He clenches his jaw. “This question…Has someone insulted you?”
The laugh you make is so sudden it finally makes him glance back to you.
An old quilt is draped across your body, exposing your bare shoulders and the curve of your neck. You’re forced to lay on your side, facing Rebel, as Inkwell has taken up residence in the bend of your knees. When you and Rebel first began this the poor cat nearly got squashed, but now he returns from whatever corner he hid in.
Rebel shouldn’t indulge in this too long, the sight alone is enough to get drunk on. As much as he wants to soak in every inch of it, that carries a risk of Rebel becoming immune to, or worse bored by it. So he blinks and turns away.
“No, nobody insulted me.” You trail a finger up Rebel’s spine and it makes him shudder.
He’s sitting up, his knees pressed to his chest, not covered like you. It’s always far too hot after ***. “Then you ask this question out of vanity?”
“Maybe,” you say and it brings a smile to his lips.
“Well, I suppose your ego is worth stroking,” he leans closer and runs a hand over your jaw, cupping your cheek. “You have quite a nice face…”
“You only like me for my looks then?” You ask, clearly attempting to goad another compliment from him.
“No….” Rebel barely finishes the syllable when you grab his wrist and press a kiss into it. Oh. He now understands the meaning of melting into someone. He watches the little movement of your mouth with an interest he has not felt in some time. Gently Rebel runs his thumb across your bottom lip. “This. If I had to choose my favorite part of you, it would be your mouth.”
“Naughty,” you hum and he can’t argue with that assessment.
“There is so much to enjoy about it…I enjoy the voice that comes from it. I enjoy its taste…how it leaves marks on me…” Rebel dips closer, sinking under the quilt with you until you’re eye to eye. His hand never pulls away, and when he’s settled Rebel gently brings you closer to add in a whisper, “I believe it was made to take me.”
Whether that means claim him or be claimed by him is anyone’s guess.
“Naughty naughty naughty,” you chide and use that mouth of yours, smiling into the kiss. “And—” you ask, pulling away and leaving Rebel to whine, “—what’s your favorite part of your own body?”
“Oh, that’s simple. My hands.” How else can he hold you like this? Or use a knife? “Let me show you why it’s my favorite.”
C = *** (anything to do with ***, basically)
In short? It’s another way to mark his territory.
For a thousand years it was obvious that you’d find your way to Rebel. He imagined every possible way it would click in your head that Aphrodite was a but a pitstop to your true partner. He imagined you begging, imagined you taking. He sometimes dreamt of you confessing by accident, or in secret. He could make this an excellent love affair. But in all those centuries, it was this moment that he tried to prevent himself from envisioning. This is essential for you and Rebel to be together, you know it, he knows it. So why was it such a terrifying prospect to even consider? He needs to see the outcome, see who will click into what role. Rebel’s fine with either, in fact would prefer to submit to you. But if he just allows it then it wouldn’t prove a thing, so he makes you work.
If you want to claim him you need to take it.
“Take it.”
Rebel pumps his **** above you, free hand shoving you back to the bed. You whimper, hand reaching to grab it yourself but accepting your place in his capture. He growls and slips the head back into your mouth.
“Fuh—” He whines, sliding into your mouth.
You allow yourself to be used and all he can do is watch you. Sweat beads across your face and you grab onto Rebel’s thighs, creating divet with your pinching fingers. He examines you, wondering if you’ll try to pull him off of your face, but then you recognize your place and press his thighs harder against your cheeks. Rebel could watch you work for days.
His core tightens and his vision tunnels with bliss. Rebel clenches his jaw as he tries to hold the release back, only for your tongue to swirl around the head and send him just to the edge, no further.
The world around Rebel shudders, every muscle in his body tensing until he’s as taut as a bowstring. He bites his finger, tears forming along his eyes and he’s barely able to see through them. Rebel whines, wanting to retreat, not wanting this to be over so quickly. But you don’t let him. The focus in your eyes can be mistaken for fury as you take him.
His hips buck, sliding deeper into your mouth before letting out a final noise. Your cheeks hollow, tongue licks along the underside of his ****, the tip teasing him back and forth. Just as he’s about to break your hand splays across his stomach and shoves.
Rebel is sent sprawling back, the wave doesn’t stop as it hits him. It’s impossible for him to think and the few things his mind does allow are pitiful needy thoughts. Even those sizzle away at your touch. You only pump a few times. His muscles draw in one final time. You hum in approval when the build up finally breaks. Rebel spasms, guided by your grip, and sends thick ropes of his arousal across your face, once, twice, and a final weaker shot against your chest.
Rebel takes raw and heavy breaths. His body still shakes, but he steals every second he’s allowed to admire how beautiful you are with his *** across your face. You gently raise a hand, examining the seed that bridges across your fingers. So that’s the answer… Rebel claimed you first… He smiles, of course he would win. There was never a doubt.
Assuming this has finished, Rebel tries to shift, but your steady grip keeps him in place. When he looks back to you all that he can recognize is the dark cast to your gaze. His muscles tense, and every inch of him recognizes the predator he’s in the claws of. With a smile he bucks his hips to escape, but your hold burns against his thighs like a brand, and you yank him back down. Either panic or excitement surges, Rebel isn’t sure which but knows he wants this all the same. Wants to be yours, even if it means he’s devoured.
Shakily Rebel settles in your lap. Licking across your lips, and with a voice as hungry as your eyes you whisper, “My turn.”
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Before you? Either none, or just one. Rebel’s past relationship with Jammer will always (mostly) reflect Ares’s past relationship with Harper. In the routes that have a past relationship with Harper as either “Friends”, or “Confusing”, then Rebel will have not been with anyone intimately. But if your Ares was a past lover of Harper, then Rebel would have been with Jammer intimately. This is just for narrative differences between routes. In-universe they are not related.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
In short? Trapped beneath you after a long fight, or claiming you from above. Always laying down.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Rebel’s relative ignorance in both *** and relationships means he tends to be serious during the act of lovemaking, (And it is always lovemaking to him, even if done after or during a fight.) And he expects you to be serious too. If you aren’t, if you’re making jokes and laughing then Rebel will assume you’re making light of him, or that your mind is wandering because you aren’t enjoying it enough. Maybe much later Rebel will laugh and have fun in other ways during ***, but for now he’s serious.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Rebel doesn’t shave, he doesn’t like feeling smooth, doesn’t like the sight of it either. He’s maybe done it once some years ago because he thought he was meant to. But after seeing himself in a mirror it just made him feel like a child.
So Rebel lets everything grow out, only cutting it down during the hotter months to keep himself cool. His hairs are coarse between his thighs.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Rebel’s very intimate. He shows it in other ways however. He will be focused entirely on you during the act, holding you, studying you, making sure you’re brought to the edge and kept there until he’s ready. He’ll be so focused on you that he may simply forget his own desires should be satisfied as well. This may unknowingly lead to him becoming sexually frustrated by his own accidental denial.
After the act he will lay with you, before eventually breaking off. After time has passed he will bring you something to eat and drink, and watch you rest.
J = Jack off (************ headcanon)
Hardly ever, it’s boring and unfulfilling. Rebel wants emotion, intensity, a kiss of venom and a choking embrace. He wants skin on skin. Even if you’re there, showing off, the best that can occur is Rebel getting ready for you. If you won’t touch him then Rebel won’t get off. It’s as simple as that.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
In short? Rebel likes to take, or be taken, by surprise. Preferably in the dark when it’s least expected, and with a struggle. Oh, what a delight you are, Rebel thinks. You step into your home with a grumble, the shadows concealing you entirely, save for your vague outline in the dark. He made sure of that, when he slipped into your residence he unscrewed every bulb in your home, closed most of the blinds as well. Though you look best bathed in his light, the moon would risk exposing him, so he only allowed the light to shine through a single window.
You click the lamp once, twice, nothing. Rebel follows you into the kitchen, a breath behind you, less so actually as he leans in to smell the sweat on your neck. What have you done to get so worked up? Had Jackie misused your talents again to send you on another job? No. This sweat doesn’t smell like that… There’s an aroma to it… who were you with?
You jerk around in surprise but Rebel effortlessly slips around you, ducking around your table. You look around the living room again and grumble something. He waits for you to return to the kitchen, click the switch again to find no response from the light.
He’s practiced for days by now, finding the perfect path in your home to tread silently. Your naivete sets desire alight in his core. Rebel wonders how long he can drag this out, how long can he let you feel safe before he reveals himself. Rebel could pull this out, he could make a noise here, take a breath there, and dodge around your gaze as you search for him. He wants to build it up, make you terrified before he strikes.
You fumble around the edge of your bed to find your charger. Rebel wonders if he can slip into your closet, then maybe through texts he can make you bothered enough to please yourself as he watches. Yes, that’s the better plan. Unfortunately someone else decides to interfere. There’s a buzz from your phone. A message, Rebel knows that much but from whom? No. This won’t do. It’s a full moon tonight and you aren’t allowed to think of another.
Rebel presses close to you, hands suddenly on your waist, teeth on the back of your shoulder with possessive hiss. You growl in surprise, and with a panic jut an elbow back. Rebel’s quick enough to slap it away. You struggle more and he hooks an arm around your neck. The choke brings a smile to him, as he jumps to wrap his legs around your waist.
“****—” you begin and Rebel grinds against you, tongue and teeth finding new places along your neck to latch and taste. You stumble back, adjusting to the weight before he leans forward, forcing you onto the bed.
He whispers in your ear, “Don’t yell.” And then lets out a pleased sound when you stop struggling entirely.
“Rebel?” You whisper in the dark, but you had to have known before you heard his voice. You gave in too quickly not to.
“Who else would it be?” He asks between pulling new marks to your skin with his mouth.
“Why are—Get off.” Your command is ignored, mocked even by his low laughter. Rebel’s hand snakes down your stomach and beneath your pants, which brings a low moan out of you. “What are you doing?”
“Taking.” He nips at your earlobe, his other arm tightening around your throat. Your hips shift to give him better access.
“****ing hate you—” you let out high whine, shifting at first to try and shove him off, but then submitting and tugging your own pants down.
“That’s it? No fight?”
“**** you,” the needy tone of your voice is all that Rebel needs to enjoy this.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Rebel wants you somewhere that won’t threaten to take your attention away from the act. He covets you in a safe, quiet, dark and warm place, somewhere comfortable. Preferably at home, where he can enjoy you entirely uninterrupted for however long you two desire.
That being said, being caught doesn’t actually matter to him. As long as he knows who will be doing the catching, and knows it won’t interrupt you. Hell, someone can be actively watching and as long as they aren’t distracting either you or him, and as long as they don’t think they’ll have a chance of claiming you, Rebel will allow it, even be thrilled by it.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
So many things. All of them involve you and you alone. The most prevalent is you showing your dominance in a fight. It will make him shiver with anticipation and you’ll be lucky to make it home before he’s on you.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
I think of everyone Rebel will stop for the most reasons.
Rebel will not share you, he will not accept you speaking another’s name when intimate with him. Despite enjoying the fight-to-**** pipeline, if you two are in a rough patch or having an argument he won’t “**** out” the feelings. He wants you to be with him entirely, if you’re distracted he won’t continue even if you beg him to.
If Rebel isn’t in a safe place it's unlikely he will even kiss you unless emotions are high. He won’t roleplay in any way because Rebel wants you and if you’re acting like someone else he’ll grow bored. If you talk too much, or make jokes, or try to take it as anything but serious and intimate then Rebel will pull away frustrated, disappointed, and… well, sad. He’ll feel you take him seriously.
Rebel has truly terrible sensory issues, something that can be blamed on his divinity. So if it's too loud, if there’s even a slightly unpleasant texture on his skin, if there’s the wrong smell, or after he’s just eaten something, all can be reasons Rebel will say no. Rebel prefers you clean, so if you haven’t showered recently he’ll reject you, this rule however doesn’t apply to sweat, just general dirt and grime. It also doesn’t apply if you’ve just been in a fight. Then Rebel prefers you marred by battle, hot, and exhausted.
You can see an additional “no” in the Toys section.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
The answer should be obvious. Does Rebel get to taste you or be tasted by you? If so then he will enjoy it quite a lot. Either giving or receiving, though he is partial to you taking control, grabbing him by the back of his head and guiding his mouth to its destination.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Rebel’s preferred way is to have somewhere that the two of you won’t be disturbed because he takes his time, slowly, methodically, passionately. But he does not need to start somewhere secluded. No, in fact often when you’re with him Rebel is actively working you up. His seduction can last several days if there fails to be an appropriate time. Several days where he observes your every movement, picking and choosing the perfect time to whisper in your ear, to touch your arm as he passes you, to brush his fingers against your thigh.
Honestly, it can be quite a song and dance with Rebel, and you’ll find yourself at home with a body on fire and him in your thoughts until you’re forced to crawl back to him or satisfy yourself. And Rebel knows that your own hand cannot compare to the things he would do.
That doesn’t even count the times he isn’t there. If able to, he will still watch you, of course. Choosing a time to text or call, maybe even taking care of any visitors who dare think they’ll get a crumb of your attention.
For Rebel, every second is foreplay and he oh so loves to take his time.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Contrary to the previous prompt; Rebel does also enjoy quickies…Provided they’re after, or perhaps even during a fight. When your body is hot and there’s blood smeared across your face Rebel will get so excited that he may not even be able to find a secluded place to begin.
Aside from that you’ll need to be doing something equally exciting, something to get his blood pumping and drive his hormones wild. Though what that will be you’ll have to figure out.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Oh Rebel loves a risk in any form. You hardly have to ask. It takes quite a lot to scare him, typically the only way to actually make him afraid is if the people he cares about are in danger. So, as long as you avoid mass casualties, or at least avoid the risk of his loved ones being part of the mass casualties, Rebel will be excited no matter the risk.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Rebel would have had a high endurance and quick recovery period even as a mortal. With his godly physique he will only stop when you cannot, or do not wish to continue, or when the emotions have died down inside of him. If you manage to keep the energy up, the emotions high, and the exhaustion at bay, then Rebel will eventually tire. Though it could take up to a full day of non-stop lovemaking.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
In short? Not a fan of toys used directly for ***, but does enjoy binding and collars.
Rebel scowls at your selection. With a hesitant finger he prods it, his mind unable to process how a device like that can even be sexual. As if by his touch, the toy comes alive with a gentle vibrating hum. Immediately Rebel’s hand retreats.
“No,” he says too quickly.
You play up your faux disappointment just enough to make Rebel huff a laugh as you put it back.
“Your tastes worry me, Lamb.”
“You wanted to come here, I’m just showing you the…” You flick a long rubber tentacle and tilt your head towards him as it shakes. “...boundless possibilities.”
Rebel snickers at the joke but grows bored of this aisle’s selection. He can only see so many phalluses before the shock wears away. “I did not come here for those,” he hums.
“Oh!” You let out a giddy laugh as you’re pulled to follow by the collar of your jacket. Excitement still in your voice you ask, “And what did you come here for?”
he glances at you from the corner of his eye, lips pressed between his teeth. “‘I fail to see how that is your concern.”
“Are you planning to use it on someone else?” You lower your voice as Rebel guides you past another couple.
A burst of annoyance fills him at that. Rebel wouldn’t let them shame you, in fact he’d rather you flaunt the truth of your relationship with him. Though Rebel does enjoy how easy it is to embarrass you. “Oh I’ll use it on you, Lamb. I simply enjoy seeing how you shiver with anticipation.” He doesn’t lower his voice letting it echo over the aisles. It has the desired effect when you duck your head. Like teasing a puppy. Which is fitting for your destination.
You let out a cough, as Rebel drags you into an aisle of leather and latex. His grip unwavering, even as you stumble. “I should have expected this,” you whisper, as if the cuffs would come alive and bind you to the rack. Actually, Rebel may prefer that.
“Am I so obvious with my desires?” Rebel slows as he gets to the section he wants.
“Just this one,” you say, watching with dark eyes as he gently picks through the cuffs.
Most of these are wrong. Too hard, too soft, Rebel picks a set of cuffs up and pulls them apart, the chain snapping quicker than he expected it, the broken link flying somewhere even gods don’t know.
“Mhmm,” You take the broken cuff from Rebel’s hand oh so gently, the warmth of your fingers makes his own curl to hold you. The useless band is dropped back on the shelf. “And why are we buying these? I assumed you’d prefer…”
“Something more intrusive?” He walks backwards, letting you guide him now. “Jurry rigged?”
“I’d say surprising and improvised, but yes.”
It is true, Rebel’s leapt out with chains, and copper wiring more than once. But when he’s finished and tosses it aside, their purpose returns to what it was originally. There’s no lasting impact aside from the marks on your skin. Rebel’s fingers play over another cuff with a stronger chain, but when he goes to grab it you block his hands. Instead you reach above his head and grab a band that is fully leather.
The heat in your eyes is enough to burn the world. You allow Rebel to take it from you and he returns the dark look. “Imagine, Lamb.” He purrs, “You return home after a most horrid day, your back aches, the world is too loud, Your body sings with too many sensations…” He slips only one of your hands into the cuff, “And then I arrive.” Then your other. The leather hangs from your wrists. And Rebel’s body goes electric.
“With these?” You ask, and he laughs, yanking the strap and forcing your arms together. You teasingly try to pull it apart and the coy smile falls as you realize just how strong these ones are.
“Of course…” Rebel looks around and spies the leather padded collar and pulls it from the rack, “And this…and perhaps even a blindfold.”
You writhe your hands inside the leather but can’t weasel out. “So you want me to be stressed and trapped?”
“No,” he leans forward and raises the collar to your neck, not opening it but scrutinizing it. The color does not suit you, so he picks another, and another, before finding the perfect one. That one, he slips around your neck, the chain dangling in front of you. “I simply desire for you not needing to think, to let you sit back…” he tugs at the chain gently, jerking your head to follow so quick that Rebel needs to control himself before he leads you somewhere with fewer cameras. “...And do as I say.” He locks eyes with you again, “‘Twould be… most relaxing for you, I suspect.”
You open your mouth to speak but the couple from before step into the aisle, their eyes go wide as they see you cuffed and collared. You turn to look at the ground, so Rebel pulls your collar again to keep your eyes on him.
“Perhaps I shall entrust these to you when we’re finished. So you may see them hanging from your bed posts, and draw comfort in knowing you’re mine.”
You try to answer with words, but can only let out a whispered whine.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Extremely.
Rebel thinks of you as his sole equal and that will never change. You two are above all others, it is a simple fact of the universe… but that only means the changes in power are all the more enticing for intimate moments. He will only let you feel that you are on equal footing with him in the most romantic of times. Every other second is one he can spend being a menace.
If you’re more dominant then Rebel will be a bit of a brat. He may tease, annoy, evade, or even fight back when you’re together. Anything to frustrate you and to the point that you have to prove your dominance over him. You’ll learn the best way to show Rebel the consequences of annoying his betters.
If you’re more submissive then Rebel will leave you wanting for hours, coming back to tease you, pull you to the edge of satisfaction and keep you there. He loves to play with his food and you are by no means an exception. Rebel will tease you until you’re teary-eyed and whining, and only then will he claim you.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Rebel is not loud during intimate moments by any means, but he isn’t silent either. Rebel will talk to you, in your ear he will whisper sweet, or teasing words, but his voice will not scream. There will be no loud declarations of love when you’re with him, just quiet promises of what will happen next.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
I can’t quite say. I feel like I’ve shown that as long as Rebel’s comfortable he’ll do most anything. But to circle back to the Location prompt from before…
In short? Rebel would enjoy it quite a lot if he could claim you in front of others, as a way to show off that you’re his and he’s yours. If not that, he will mark you in other ways and would want you to mark him. “Why are you laughing?” Rebel asks.
“You don’t find it funny?” You ask, the nervous vulnerable laughter dying away.
“Lamb, how are your own desires funny?”
You shrug, which irritates Rebel. There’s no need to be nervous with him, even still your words are laced with anxiety as you speak. “Well…that’s my dirtiest secret.”
“I have seen what makes you tick, that is hardly a secret.” He scoffs.
You press a finger into his stomach, prodding him on, “Well, now’s a chance to one-up me. Go on.” Rebel grumbles from the attack, and takes in the view as he thinks. Central Park is a fine place, Rebel supposes. It doesn’t hold a candle to the beauty of real nature. Everything here is… organized. Cut down and pruned so much that it is more of a diorama than anything real. How he craves to just walk in a proper forest again. He spends too long in the city, it isn’t right for a god of the hunt. The balustrade of the bridge presses into his ribs, forcing him to face you instead, an infinitely better view in his opinion.
Rebel doesn’t have dirty secrets, everything he wants he takes. Like you. He wants you here and now. So why can’t he have you?
Some joggers run past and Rebel nearly trips them. They’re why, of course. People running, walking, enjoying this sham of a forest and intruding on his time with you. He wants you now and he doesn’t care if anyone sees. You and Rebel are gods, it’s not like anyone can stop you. That isn’t a secret though, not to you. Of course Rebel would want that, he knows you want it too. Otherwise this conversation wouldn’t be happening so early in the morning.
But maybe it’s enough to satisfy you…it will be enough to satisfy Rebel, certainly.
“Fine, my dirty secret…” He leans in looking up at you with wide eyes, “I want you here and now.”
“As much as I like to hear that, it isn’t a dirty secret.” You murmur, leaning in closer, the air around you and Rebel getting hotter.
Rebel takes a step further, putting a hand on your hip and making you breathe out a delightful sound when he pivots to push you against the railing instead. “Hmm, I do not think you understand. I want you here and now.” His fingers slip beneath your waistband and you let a nervous laugh out.
“We can go back to my place…”
“I did not say your place, I said here and now.” He wonders how far you’ll let him go. Maybe just this once you’ll release your inhibitions.
Rebel hears another jogger approaching from behind him. Your eyes widen and you move to block the view of his hand in your pants. They pass by without a second thought and he slides a finger further. “There are people,” you protest.
“I fail to see how it matters, Lamb.”
“They—” you take a breath as Rebel works you, “This is a good way to get put on a list.”
“Let them.”
“****… Rebel, someone will try to—”
“They will try nothing. They cannot stop us, Lamb.” Rebel kisses your neck and you lean your head back, rocking your hips with his hand. “And if they try to take you from me…” his whisper in your ear causes you to whine loud enough to draw attention, “...then I will kill them.”
Rebel’s hand moves quicker, and you meet his pace, losing yourself entirely. Gripping onto his shoulder for support you lean back, your pelvis moving in rhythm. Right in the open, the lake to your back, on a jogging path, free for anyone to see. Your breath fogs the air around you, the morning light peeking from between buildings just to light your clouds in orange and yellow. Finally, he’s always wanted you to breathe fire. If it wasn’t for the winter air Rebel would have stripped you of your clothes.
You finish, trying to contain your moan even as it bubbles out of you in a wrecked sigh. Rebel drinks in every shiver, slowly pulling his hand from your pants. You desperately pull them up, making it just in time for two more joggers to cross beside you two. It doesn’t matter if they saw or not, Rebel’s entire focus is the mess you made between his fingers. “Mhm…we shall do this often, Lamb.”
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
If you’re looking for impressive sizes you won’t be finding them on Rebel. His manhood is below average, and he has neither pride nor shame in his size, and finds the concept of comparing sizes a stroke of one’s ego and nothing more.
He also doesn’t shave his body hair, be it on his legs, arms, or in more intimate areas. But Rebel does shave his chest, not liking having hair there.
Rebel’s hips and arms are deceptively unshapely, giving one the impression of a weak individual. But that’s only because Rebel likes to stay thin and unassuming, his godly physique keeps him plenty strong even without working out. So Rebel mostly does cardio mostly, giving him a tightly wound and lean body. His skin is a dark rich brown, and through the entirety it’s nearly unblemished, save for three small beauty marks down his lower back.. and the multitude of light scars. The majority of which are across his arms, shoulders, and chest. But scars still line up his stomach, back, and thighs as well. They are by far the most striking part of his body, and he likes to show them off. Rebel has no tattoos and would only be willing to get one if either you or Jammer asked for matching ones.
Y = Yearning (how high is their *** drive?)
When away Rebel’s focus goes to other matters. He has hobbies and his own friends and work, as such he doesn’t often desire ***. But when you’re with him Rebel will find himself with an annoying and new need. A need that he’s felt before but not often.
The first days of your relationship will be the worst. Rebel will burn and writhe during the nights, and may even intrude in your home just to help satisfy him. Though, as you become more attuned with each other, and your presence becomes familiar in his life, then Rebel’s desires will simmer. Though it will never be as low as it was before you set his world on fire.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
If you’re a cuddler then Rebel will allow it, and stay awake until he no longer wants to be held. If you’re not a cuddler, or after Rebel breaks away if you are one, he will not stay awake long at all. Rebel will scoot to the other side of the bed and watch you sleep until he too succumbs. Sleep will come swiftly for him, but he won’t stay awake for long periods of time.
You may often find yourself waking up at 3am alone in bed, only to find Rebel working on some project in the moonlight. But this will be the same for most nights, regardless if you’ve laid with him or not. You may call him back to bed and Rebel will realize just how exhausted he is, or you can drift back to sleep, the sound of his work becoming a lullaby for you alone.
In short? Immediately after he's very lazy, he'd like to cuddle for a bit, but it doesn’t last forever. Rebel will savor you though.
Rebel’s body is taut. Against the car seat he takes rapid hungry breaths of air. Eyes screwed shut as the last waves of pleasure wash over him. You have to hold his hips down until the ecstasy washes away. Rebel’s hands are gripped so tight against the seat that the leather has torn. Whatever, you’re not sure whose car this is but you know it isn’t your problem. However, what is your problem is the now lazy body of your lover.
He doesn’t move, staying wedged against the back. There is very little room and you know Rebel has no desire to stay, but still he loosely opens his arms and you readily accept the invitation. You can only take a moment to admire the moonlight shining against him, glinting off sweat, making a hundred stars shining against the midnight sky of his skin. Rebel’s need for touch lasts about as long as yours does, so you don’t stay on it long.
Sliding next to him you rest your head against his shoulder. His throat works and you don’t dare resist the allure of nipping at his collar bone. Rebel grumbles beneath you. He’s hot, and his sweaty skin feels tacky as it cools in the winter air.
“Perhaps…next time we shall find somewhere that might bear us both.” Rebel whispers, trying to make you more comfortable. His arms gently wrapping around you, like he’s scared of you falling off the seat.
“You’re the one who couldn’t wait.” Your voice is thick and exhausted. He runs his fingers along your back, enjoying you.
“I am not as prudent as I should be when it comes to…these sessions.” He admits, though you could have told him that.
You focus on Rebel’s heart, and thrill in your selfishness as you know you’re the only one it beats for. A revealing flash shines through the window, showing you the full beauty of his body. Rebel tilts his head to smell your hair. His stomach flutters beneath the firm touch of your palm.
The night air presses closer but for just this moment it is you and him. His nails scratch down your back, all at once a comforting reminder of him and a threat to not disrupt his comfort. Rebel’s nail scrapes along the back of your ear, his breath catching in a quiet laugh as your breath shudders. He’s a cat playing with his mouse.
Your fingers slide up his back, he adjusts so welcome your embrace. You only stop when your fingers dance along the hairs at the base of his skull. Rebel lets out a pleased little moan, his muscles unwind. Biceps, shoulders, even his pecs slowly relax beneath your cheek. His breath slows down to a crawl in your ear, heart beat doing the same. But as your body begins to slip off the seat, you hook a leg up and that movement seems to be the most he can take.
Rebel groans and shifts beneath you. “Off,” he commands. You don’t question it. You’ve done this enough to know he dislikes being caged in. You expect Rebel to start getting dressed and pull you away to a proper place to sleep, where he can watch you without being forced to be held. That’s the usual way he ends these, but you let out a questioning hum as Rebel turns you to lay down instead.
Not arguing, you shift into place and Rebel flops down onto you. No consideration for the position like you had, no worrying about falling off. Just laying on you like a strangely shaped weighted blanket.
“Hold.” You don’t question this command either, letting him tuck his arms under yours while you wrap him in an embrace. Voice thick, he whispers once more. “We shall leave soon, but I will enjoy this first.”
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
In short? Your mouth, and his hands.
Rebel doesn’t understand the purpose of this question. Hell, he doesn’t understand the purpose of half the questions you ask during times like these.
“Was it good for you?” Of course it was, if Rebel wasn’t satisfied and happy then you and he wouldn’t be finished.
“Did I hurt you?” Of course you did, but Rebel asked you too so why worry?
“Will you stay?” Always.
And now you ask this? Is this a simple wandering of your thoughts, or does this question have more meaningful implications?
“I like all of you,” he whispers, a little confused because it’s true. What part of you is there not to like? Has another insulted you? Who would dare commit such an act? The thought of it is enough to make him boil. His fingers tighten around the coarse sheets.
“That doesn’t count—” Your whisper sends a breath across Rebel’s hips, but it turns to a slightly raised concern. “Are you angry?”
“No.” He lies, and regrets it so immediately that he curses, “****. Yes, I suppose I am.”
“Why?”
He clenches his jaw. “This question…Has someone insulted you?”
The laugh you make is so sudden it finally makes him glance back to you.
An old quilt is draped across your body, exposing your bare shoulders and the curve of your neck. You’re forced to lay on your side, facing Rebel, as Inkwell has taken up residence in the bend of your knees. When you and Rebel first began this the poor cat nearly got squashed, but now he returns from whatever corner he hid in.
Rebel shouldn’t indulge in this too long, the sight alone is enough to get drunk on. As much as he wants to soak in every inch of it, that carries a risk of Rebel becoming immune to, or worse bored by it. So he blinks and turns away.
“No, nobody insulted me.” You trail a finger up Rebel’s spine and it makes him shudder.
He’s sitting up, his knees pressed to his chest, not covered like you. It’s always far too hot after ***. “Then you ask this question out of vanity?”
“Maybe,” you say and it brings a smile to his lips.
“Well, I suppose your ego is worth stroking,” he leans closer and runs a hand over your jaw, cupping your cheek. “You have quite a nice face…”
“You only like me for my looks then?” You ask, clearly attempting to goad another compliment from him.
“No….” Rebel barely finishes the syllable when you grab his wrist and press a kiss into it. Oh. He now understands the meaning of melting into someone. He watches the little movement of your mouth with an interest he has not felt in some time. Gently Rebel runs his thumb across your bottom lip. “This. If I had to choose my favorite part of you, it would be your mouth.”
“Naughty,” you hum and he can’t argue with that assessment.
“There is so much to enjoy about it…I enjoy the voice that comes from it. I enjoy its taste…how it leaves marks on me…” Rebel dips closer, sinking under the quilt with you until you’re eye to eye. His hand never pulls away, and when he’s settled Rebel gently brings you closer to add in a whisper, “I believe it was made to take me.”
Whether that means claim him or be claimed by him is anyone’s guess.
“Naughty naughty naughty,” you chide and use that mouth of yours, smiling into the kiss. “And—” you ask, pulling away and leaving Rebel to whine, “—what’s your favorite part of your own body?”
“Oh, that’s simple. My hands.” How else can he hold you like this? Or use a knife? “Let me show you why it’s my favorite.”
C = *** (anything to do with ***, basically)
In short? It’s another way to mark his territory.
For a thousand years it was obvious that you’d find your way to Rebel. He imagined every possible way it would click in your head that Aphrodite was a but a pitstop to your true partner. He imagined you begging, imagined you taking. He sometimes dreamt of you confessing by accident, or in secret. He could make this an excellent love affair. But in all those centuries, it was this moment that he tried to prevent himself from envisioning. This is essential for you and Rebel to be together, you know it, he knows it. So why was it such a terrifying prospect to even consider? He needs to see the outcome, see who will click into what role. Rebel’s fine with either, in fact would prefer to submit to you. But if he just allows it then it wouldn’t prove a thing, so he makes you work.
If you want to claim him you need to take it.
“Take it.”
Rebel pumps his **** above you, free hand shoving you back to the bed. You whimper, hand reaching to grab it yourself but accepting your place in his capture. He growls and slips the head back into your mouth.
“Fuh—” He whines, sliding into your mouth.
You allow yourself to be used and all he can do is watch you. Sweat beads across your face and you grab onto Rebel’s thighs, creating divet with your pinching fingers. He examines you, wondering if you’ll try to pull him off of your face, but then you recognize your place and press his thighs harder against your cheeks. Rebel could watch you work for days.
His core tightens and his vision tunnels with bliss. Rebel clenches his jaw as he tries to hold the release back, only for your tongue to swirl around the head and send him just to the edge, no further.
The world around Rebel shudders, every muscle in his body tensing until he’s as taut as a bowstring. He bites his finger, tears forming along his eyes and he’s barely able to see through them. Rebel whines, wanting to retreat, not wanting this to be over so quickly. But you don’t let him. The focus in your eyes can be mistaken for fury as you take him.
His hips buck, sliding deeper into your mouth before letting out a final noise. Your cheeks hollow, tongue licks along the underside of his ****, the tip teasing him back and forth. Just as he’s about to break your hand splays across his stomach and shoves.
Rebel is sent sprawling back, the wave doesn’t stop as it hits him. It’s impossible for him to think and the few things his mind does allow are pitiful needy thoughts. Even those sizzle away at your touch. You only pump a few times. His muscles draw in one final time. You hum in approval when the build up finally breaks. Rebel spasms, guided by your grip, and sends thick ropes of his arousal across your face, once, twice, and a final weaker shot against your chest.
Rebel takes raw and heavy breaths. His body still shakes, but he steals every second he’s allowed to admire how beautiful you are with his *** across your face. You gently raise a hand, examining the seed that bridges across your fingers. So that’s the answer… Rebel claimed you first… He smiles, of course he would win. There was never a doubt.
Assuming this has finished, Rebel tries to shift, but your steady grip keeps him in place. When he looks back to you all that he can recognize is the dark cast to your gaze. His muscles tense, and every inch of him recognizes the predator he’s in the claws of. With a smile he bucks his hips to escape, but your hold burns against his thighs like a brand, and you yank him back down. Either panic or excitement surges, Rebel isn’t sure which but knows he wants this all the same. Wants to be yours, even if it means he’s devoured.
Shakily Rebel settles in your lap. Licking across your lips, and with a voice as hungry as your eyes you whisper, “My turn.”
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Before you? Either none, or just one. Rebel’s past relationship with Jammer will always (mostly) reflect Ares’s past relationship with Harper. In the routes that have a past relationship with Harper as either “Friends”, or “Confusing”, then Rebel will have not been with anyone intimately. But if your Ares was a past lover of Harper, then Rebel would have been with Jammer intimately. This is just for narrative differences between routes. In-universe they are not related.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
In short? Trapped beneath you after a long fight, or claiming you from above. Always laying down.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Rebel’s relative ignorance in both *** and relationships means he tends to be serious during the act of lovemaking, (And it is always lovemaking to him, even if done after or during a fight.) And he expects you to be serious too. If you aren’t, if you’re making jokes and laughing then Rebel will assume you’re making light of him, or that your mind is wandering because you aren’t enjoying it enough. Maybe much later Rebel will laugh and have fun in other ways during ***, but for now he’s serious.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Rebel doesn’t shave, he doesn’t like feeling smooth, doesn’t like the sight of it either. He’s maybe done it once some years ago because he thought he was meant to. But after seeing himself in a mirror it just made him feel like a child.
So Rebel lets everything grow out, only cutting it down during the hotter months to keep himself cool. His hairs are coarse between his thighs.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Rebel’s very intimate. He shows it in other ways however. He will be focused entirely on you during the act, holding you, studying you, making sure you’re brought to the edge and kept there until he’s ready. He’ll be so focused on you that he may simply forget his own desires should be satisfied as well. This may unknowingly lead to him becoming sexually frustrated by his own accidental denial.
After the act he will lay with you, before eventually breaking off. After time has passed he will bring you something to eat and drink, and watch you rest.
J = Jack off (************ headcanon)
Hardly ever, it’s boring and unfulfilling. Rebel wants emotion, intensity, a kiss of venom and a choking embrace. He wants skin on skin. Even if you’re there, showing off, the best that can occur is Rebel getting ready for you. If you won’t touch him then Rebel won’t get off. It’s as simple as that.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
In short? Rebel likes to take, or be taken, by surprise. Preferably in the dark when it’s least expected, and with a struggle. Oh, what a delight you are, Rebel thinks. You step into your home with a grumble, the shadows concealing you entirely, save for your vague outline in the dark. He made sure of that, when he slipped into your residence he unscrewed every bulb in your home, closed most of the blinds as well. Though you look best bathed in his light, the moon would risk exposing him, so he only allowed the light to shine through a single window.
You click the lamp once, twice, nothing. Rebel follows you into the kitchen, a breath behind you, less so actually as he leans in to smell the sweat on your neck. What have you done to get so worked up? Had Jackie misused your talents again to send you on another job? No. This sweat doesn’t smell like that… There’s an aroma to it… who were you with?
You jerk around in surprise but Rebel effortlessly slips around you, ducking around your table. You look around the living room again and grumble something. He waits for you to return to the kitchen, click the switch again to find no response from the light.
He’s practiced for days by now, finding the perfect path in your home to tread silently. Your naivete sets desire alight in his core. Rebel wonders how long he can drag this out, how long can he let you feel safe before he reveals himself. Rebel could pull this out, he could make a noise here, take a breath there, and dodge around your gaze as you search for him. He wants to build it up, make you terrified before he strikes.
You fumble around the edge of your bed to find your charger. Rebel wonders if he can slip into your closet, then maybe through texts he can make you bothered enough to please yourself as he watches. Yes, that’s the better plan. Unfortunately someone else decides to interfere. There’s a buzz from your phone. A message, Rebel knows that much but from whom? No. This won’t do. It’s a full moon tonight and you aren’t allowed to think of another.
Rebel presses close to you, hands suddenly on your waist, teeth on the back of your shoulder with possessive hiss. You growl in surprise, and with a panic jut an elbow back. Rebel’s quick enough to slap it away. You struggle more and he hooks an arm around your neck. The choke brings a smile to him, as he jumps to wrap his legs around your waist.
“****—” you begin and Rebel grinds against you, tongue and teeth finding new places along your neck to latch and taste. You stumble back, adjusting to the weight before he leans forward, forcing you onto the bed.
He whispers in your ear, “Don’t yell.” And then lets out a pleased sound when you stop struggling entirely.
“Rebel?” You whisper in the dark, but you had to have known before you heard his voice. You gave in too quickly not to.
“Who else would it be?” He asks between pulling new marks to your skin with his mouth.
“Why are—Get off.” Your command is ignored, mocked even by his low laughter. Rebel’s hand snakes down your stomach and beneath your pants, which brings a low moan out of you. “What are you doing?”
“Taking.” He nips at your earlobe, his other arm tightening around your throat. Your hips shift to give him better access.
“****ing hate you—” you let out high whine, shifting at first to try and shove him off, but then submitting and tugging your own pants down.
“That’s it? No fight?”
“**** you,” the needy tone of your voice is all that Rebel needs to enjoy this.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Rebel wants you somewhere that won’t threaten to take your attention away from the act. He covets you in a safe, quiet, dark and warm place, somewhere comfortable. Preferably at home, where he can enjoy you entirely uninterrupted for however long you two desire.
That being said, being caught doesn’t actually matter to him. As long as he knows who will be doing the catching, and knows it won’t interrupt you. Hell, someone can be actively watching and as long as they aren’t distracting either you or him, and as long as they don’t think they’ll have a chance of claiming you, Rebel will allow it, even be thrilled by it.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
So many things. All of them involve you and you alone. The most prevalent is you showing your dominance in a fight. It will make him shiver with anticipation and you’ll be lucky to make it home before he’s on you.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
I think of everyone Rebel will stop for the most reasons.
Rebel will not share you, he will not accept you speaking another’s name when intimate with him. Despite enjoying the fight-to-**** pipeline, if you two are in a rough patch or having an argument he won’t “**** out” the feelings. He wants you to be with him entirely, if you’re distracted he won’t continue even if you beg him to.
If Rebel isn’t in a safe place it's unlikely he will even kiss you unless emotions are high. He won’t roleplay in any way because Rebel wants you and if you’re acting like someone else he’ll grow bored. If you talk too much, or make jokes, or try to take it as anything but serious and intimate then Rebel will pull away frustrated, disappointed, and… well, sad. He’ll feel you take him seriously.
Rebel has truly terrible sensory issues, something that can be blamed on his divinity. So if it's too loud, if there’s even a slightly unpleasant texture on his skin, if there’s the wrong smell, or after he’s just eaten something, all can be reasons Rebel will say no. Rebel prefers you clean, so if you haven’t showered recently he’ll reject you, this rule however doesn’t apply to sweat, just general dirt and grime. It also doesn’t apply if you’ve just been in a fight. Then Rebel prefers you marred by battle, hot, and exhausted.
You can see an additional “no” in the Toys section.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
The answer should be obvious. Does Rebel get to taste you or be tasted by you? If so then he will enjoy it quite a lot. Either giving or receiving, though he is partial to you taking control, grabbing him by the back of his head and guiding his mouth to its destination.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Rebel’s preferred way is to have somewhere that the two of you won’t be disturbed because he takes his time, slowly, methodically, passionately. But he does not need to start somewhere secluded. No, in fact often when you’re with him Rebel is actively working you up. His seduction can last several days if there fails to be an appropriate time. Several days where he observes your every movement, picking and choosing the perfect time to whisper in your ear, to touch your arm as he passes you, to brush his fingers against your thigh.
Honestly, it can be quite a song and dance with Rebel, and you’ll find yourself at home with a body on fire and him in your thoughts until you’re forced to crawl back to him or satisfy yourself. And Rebel knows that your own hand cannot compare to the things he would do.
That doesn’t even count the times he isn’t there. If able to, he will still watch you, of course. Choosing a time to text or call, maybe even taking care of any visitors who dare think they’ll get a crumb of your attention.
For Rebel, every second is foreplay and he oh so loves to take his time.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Contrary to the previous prompt; Rebel does also enjoy quickies…Provided they’re after, or perhaps even during a fight. When your body is hot and there’s blood smeared across your face Rebel will get so excited that he may not even be able to find a secluded place to begin.
Aside from that you’ll need to be doing something equally exciting, something to get his blood pumping and drive his hormones wild. Though what that will be you’ll have to figure out.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Oh Rebel loves a risk in any form. You hardly have to ask. It takes quite a lot to scare him, typically the only way to actually make him afraid is if the people he cares about are in danger. So, as long as you avoid mass casualties, or at least avoid the risk of his loved ones being part of the mass casualties, Rebel will be excited no matter the risk.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Rebel would have had a high endurance and quick recovery period even as a mortal. With his godly physique he will only stop when you cannot, or do not wish to continue, or when the emotions have died down inside of him. If you manage to keep the energy up, the emotions high, and the exhaustion at bay, then Rebel will eventually tire. Though it could take up to a full day of non-stop lovemaking.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
In short? Not a fan of toys used directly for ***, but does enjoy binding and collars.
Rebel scowls at your selection. With a hesitant finger he prods it, his mind unable to process how a device like that can even be sexual. As if by his touch, the toy comes alive with a gentle vibrating hum. Immediately Rebel’s hand retreats.
“No,” he says too quickly.
You play up your faux disappointment just enough to make Rebel huff a laugh as you put it back.
“Your tastes worry me, Lamb.”
“You wanted to come here, I’m just showing you the…” You flick a long rubber tentacle and tilt your head towards him as it shakes. “...boundless possibilities.”
Rebel snickers at the joke but grows bored of this aisle’s selection. He can only see so many phalluses before the shock wears away. “I did not come here for those,” he hums.
“Oh!” You let out a giddy laugh as you’re pulled to follow by the collar of your jacket. Excitement still in your voice you ask, “And what did you come here for?”
he glances at you from the corner of his eye, lips pressed between his teeth. “‘I fail to see how that is your concern.”
“Are you planning to use it on someone else?” You lower your voice as Rebel guides you past another couple.
A burst of annoyance fills him at that. Rebel wouldn’t let them shame you, in fact he’d rather you flaunt the truth of your relationship with him. Though Rebel does enjoy how easy it is to embarrass you. “Oh I’ll use it on you, Lamb. I simply enjoy seeing how you shiver with anticipation.” He doesn’t lower his voice letting it echo over the aisles. It has the desired effect when you duck your head. Like teasing a puppy. Which is fitting for your destination.
You let out a cough, as Rebel drags you into an aisle of leather and latex. His grip unwavering, even as you stumble. “I should have expected this,” you whisper, as if the cuffs would come alive and bind you to the rack. Actually, Rebel may prefer that.
“Am I so obvious with my desires?” Rebel slows as he gets to the section he wants.
“Just this one,” you say, watching with dark eyes as he gently picks through the cuffs.
Most of these are wrong. Too hard, too soft, Rebel picks a set of cuffs up and pulls them apart, the chain snapping quicker than he expected it, the broken link flying somewhere even gods don’t know.
“Mhmm,” You take the broken cuff from Rebel’s hand oh so gently, the warmth of your fingers makes his own curl to hold you. The useless band is dropped back on the shelf. “And why are we buying these? I assumed you’d prefer…”
“Something more intrusive?” He walks backwards, letting you guide him now. “Jurry rigged?”
“I’d say surprising and improvised, but yes.”
It is true, Rebel’s leapt out with chains, and copper wiring more than once. But when he’s finished and tosses it aside, their purpose returns to what it was originally. There’s no lasting impact aside from the marks on your skin. Rebel’s fingers play over another cuff with a stronger chain, but when he goes to grab it you block his hands. Instead you reach above his head and grab a band that is fully leather.
The heat in your eyes is enough to burn the world. You allow Rebel to take it from you and he returns the dark look. “Imagine, Lamb.” He purrs, “You return home after a most horrid day, your back aches, the world is too loud, Your body sings with too many sensations…” He slips only one of your hands into the cuff, “And then I arrive.” Then your other. The leather hangs from your wrists. And Rebel’s body goes electric.
“With these?” You ask, and he laughs, yanking the strap and forcing your arms together. You teasingly try to pull it apart and the coy smile falls as you realize just how strong these ones are.
“Of course…” Rebel looks around and spies the leather padded collar and pulls it from the rack, “And this…and perhaps even a blindfold.”
You writhe your hands inside the leather but can’t weasel out. “So you want me to be stressed and trapped?”
“No,” he leans forward and raises the collar to your neck, not opening it but scrutinizing it. The color does not suit you, so he picks another, and another, before finding the perfect one. That one, he slips around your neck, the chain dangling in front of you. “I simply desire for you not needing to think, to let you sit back…” he tugs at the chain gently, jerking your head to follow so quick that Rebel needs to control himself before he leads you somewhere with fewer cameras. “...And do as I say.” He locks eyes with you again, “‘Twould be… most relaxing for you, I suspect.”
You open your mouth to speak but the couple from before step into the aisle, their eyes go wide as they see you cuffed and collared. You turn to look at the ground, so Rebel pulls your collar again to keep your eyes on him.
“Perhaps I shall entrust these to you when we’re finished. So you may see them hanging from your bed posts, and draw comfort in knowing you’re mine.”
You try to answer with words, but can only let out a whispered whine.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Extremely.
Rebel thinks of you as his sole equal and that will never change. You two are above all others, it is a simple fact of the universe… but that only means the changes in power are all the more enticing for intimate moments. He will only let you feel that you are on equal footing with him in the most romantic of times. Every other second is one he can spend being a menace.
If you’re more dominant then Rebel will be a bit of a brat. He may tease, annoy, evade, or even fight back when you’re together. Anything to frustrate you and to the point that you have to prove your dominance over him. You’ll learn the best way to show Rebel the consequences of annoying his betters.
If you’re more submissive then Rebel will leave you wanting for hours, coming back to tease you, pull you to the edge of satisfaction and keep you there. He loves to play with his food and you are by no means an exception. Rebel will tease you until you’re teary-eyed and whining, and only then will he claim you.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Rebel is not loud during intimate moments by any means, but he isn’t silent either. Rebel will talk to you, in your ear he will whisper sweet, or teasing words, but his voice will not scream. There will be no loud declarations of love when you’re with him, just quiet promises of what will happen next.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
I can’t quite say. I feel like I’ve shown that as long as Rebel’s comfortable he’ll do most anything. But to circle back to the Location prompt from before…
In short? Rebel would enjoy it quite a lot if he could claim you in front of others, as a way to show off that you’re his and he’s yours. If not that, he will mark you in other ways and would want you to mark him. “Why are you laughing?” Rebel asks.
“You don’t find it funny?” You ask, the nervous vulnerable laughter dying away.
“Lamb, how are your own desires funny?”
You shrug, which irritates Rebel. There’s no need to be nervous with him, even still your words are laced with anxiety as you speak. “Well…that’s my dirtiest secret.”
“I have seen what makes you tick, that is hardly a secret.” He scoffs.
You press a finger into his stomach, prodding him on, “Well, now’s a chance to one-up me. Go on.” Rebel grumbles from the attack, and takes in the view as he thinks. Central Park is a fine place, Rebel supposes. It doesn’t hold a candle to the beauty of real nature. Everything here is… organized. Cut down and pruned so much that it is more of a diorama than anything real. How he craves to just walk in a proper forest again. He spends too long in the city, it isn’t right for a god of the hunt. The balustrade of the bridge presses into his ribs, forcing him to face you instead, an infinitely better view in his opinion.
Rebel doesn’t have dirty secrets, everything he wants he takes. Like you. He wants you here and now. So why can’t he have you?
Some joggers run past and Rebel nearly trips them. They’re why, of course. People running, walking, enjoying this sham of a forest and intruding on his time with you. He wants you now and he doesn’t care if anyone sees. You and Rebel are gods, it’s not like anyone can stop you. That isn’t a secret though, not to you. Of course Rebel would want that, he knows you want it too. Otherwise this conversation wouldn’t be happening so early in the morning.
But maybe it’s enough to satisfy you…it will be enough to satisfy Rebel, certainly.
“Fine, my dirty secret…” He leans in looking up at you with wide eyes, “I want you here and now.”
“As much as I like to hear that, it isn’t a dirty secret.” You murmur, leaning in closer, the air around you and Rebel getting hotter.
Rebel takes a step further, putting a hand on your hip and making you breathe out a delightful sound when he pivots to push you against the railing instead. “Hmm, I do not think you understand. I want you here and now.” His fingers slip beneath your waistband and you let a nervous laugh out.
“We can go back to my place…”
“I did not say your place, I said here and now.” He wonders how far you’ll let him go. Maybe just this once you’ll release your inhibitions.
Rebel hears another jogger approaching from behind him. Your eyes widen and you move to block the view of his hand in your pants. They pass by without a second thought and he slides a finger further. “There are people,” you protest.
“I fail to see how it matters, Lamb.”
“They—” you take a breath as Rebel works you, “This is a good way to get put on a list.”
“Let them.”
“****… Rebel, someone will try to—”
“They will try nothing. They cannot stop us, Lamb.” Rebel kisses your neck and you lean your head back, rocking your hips with his hand. “And if they try to take you from me…” his whisper in your ear causes you to whine loud enough to draw attention, “...then I will kill them.”
Rebel’s hand moves quicker, and you meet his pace, losing yourself entirely. Gripping onto his shoulder for support you lean back, your pelvis moving in rhythm. Right in the open, the lake to your back, on a jogging path, free for anyone to see. Your breath fogs the air around you, the morning light peeking from between buildings just to light your clouds in orange and yellow. Finally, he’s always wanted you to breathe fire. If it wasn’t for the winter air Rebel would have stripped you of your clothes.
You finish, trying to contain your moan even as it bubbles out of you in a wrecked sigh. Rebel drinks in every shiver, slowly pulling his hand from your pants. You desperately pull them up, making it just in time for two more joggers to cross beside you two. It doesn’t matter if they saw or not, Rebel’s entire focus is the mess you made between his fingers. “Mhm…we shall do this often, Lamb.”
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
If you’re looking for impressive sizes you won’t be finding them on Rebel. His manhood is below average, and he has neither pride nor shame in his size, and finds the concept of comparing sizes a stroke of one’s ego and nothing more.
He also doesn’t shave his body hair, be it on his legs, arms, or in more intimate areas. But Rebel does shave his chest, not liking having hair there.
Rebel’s hips and arms are deceptively unshapely, giving one the impression of a weak individual. But that’s only because Rebel likes to stay thin and unassuming, his godly physique keeps him plenty strong even without working out. So Rebel mostly does cardio mostly, giving him a tightly wound and lean body. His skin is a dark rich brown, and through the entirety it’s nearly unblemished, save for three small beauty marks down his lower back.. and the multitude of light scars. The majority of which are across his arms, shoulders, and chest. But scars still line up his stomach, back, and thighs as well. They are by far the most striking part of his body, and he likes to show them off. Rebel has no tattoos and would only be willing to get one if either you or Jammer asked for matching ones.
Y = Yearning (how high is their *** drive?)
When away Rebel’s focus goes to other matters. He has hobbies and his own friends and work, as such he doesn’t often desire ***. But when you’re with him Rebel will find himself with an annoying and new need. A need that he’s felt before but not often.
The first days of your relationship will be the worst. Rebel will burn and writhe during the nights, and may even intrude in your home just to help satisfy him. Though, as you become more attuned with each other, and your presence becomes familiar in his life, then Rebel’s desires will simmer. Though it will never be as low as it was before you set his world on fire.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
If you’re a cuddler then Rebel will allow it, and stay awake until he no longer wants to be held. If you’re not a cuddler, or after Rebel breaks away if you are one, he will not stay awake long at all. Rebel will scoot to the other side of the bed and watch you sleep until he too succumbs. Sleep will come swiftly for him, but he won’t stay awake for long periods of time.
You may often find yourself waking up at 3am alone in bed, only to find Rebel working on some project in the moonlight. But this will be the same for most nights, regardless if you’ve laid with him or not. You may call him back to bed and Rebel will realize just how exhausted he is, or you can drift back to sleep, the sound of his work becoming a lullaby for you alone.
As you can see see here, the NSFW prompts will be rather large. A mix of short drabbles and just direct answers. Enjoy!
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after ***)
In short? Immediately after she's very lazy, she'd like to cuddle for a bit, but it doesn’t last forever. Rebel will savor you though.
Rebel’s body is taut. Against the car seat she takes rapid hungry breaths of air. Eyes screwed shut as the last waves of pleasure wash over her. You have to hold her hips down until the ecstasy washes away. Rebel’s hands are gripped so tight against the seat that the leather has torn. Whatever, you’re not sure whose car this is but you know it isn’t your problem. However, what is your problem is the now lazy body of your lover.
She doesn’t move, staying wedged against the back. There is very little room and you know Rebel has no desire to stay, but still she loosely opens her arms and you readily accept the invitation. You can only take a moment to admire the moonlight shining against her, glinting off sweat, making a hundred stars shining against the midnight sky of her skin. Rebel’s need for touch lasts about as long as yours does, so you don’t stay on it long.
Sliding next to her you rest your head against her shoulder. Her throat works and you don’t dare resist the allure of nipping at her collar bone. Rebel grumbles beneath you. She’s hot, and her sweaty skin feels tacky as it cools in the winter air.
“Perhaps…next time we shall find somewhere that might bear us both.” Rebel whispers, trying to make you more comfortable. Her arms gently wrapping around you, like she’s scared of you falling off the seat.
“You’re the one who couldn’t wait.” Your voice is thick and exhausted. She runs her fingers along your back, enjoying you.
“I am not as prudent as I should be when it comes to…these sessions.” She admits, though you could have told her that.
You focus on Rebel’s heart, and thrill in your selfishness as you know you’re the only one it beats for. A revealing flash shines through the window, showing you the full beauty of her body. Rebel tilts her head to smell your hair. Her stomach flutters beneath the firm touch of your palm.
The night air presses closer but for just this moment it is you and her. Her nails scratch down your back, all at once a comforting reminder of her and a threat to not disrupt her comfort. Rebel’s nail scrapes along the back of your ear, her breath catching in a quiet laugh as your breath shudders. She’s a cat playing with her mouse.
Your fingers slide up her back, she adjusts so welcome your embrace. You only stop when your fingers dance along the hairs at the base of her skull. Rebel lets out a pleased little moan, her muscles unwind. Biceps, shoulders, even her pecs slowly relax beneath your cheek. Her breath slows down to a crawl in your ear, heart beat doing the same. But as your body begins to slip off the seat, you hook a leg up and that movement seems to be the most she can take.
Rebel groans and shifts beneath you. “Off,” she commands. You don’t question it. You’ve done this enough to know she dislikes being caged in. You expect Rebel to start getting dressed and pull you away to a proper place to sleep, where she can watch you without being forced to be held. That’s the usual way she ends these, but you let out a questioning hum as Rebel turns you to lay down instead.
Not arguing, you shift into place and Rebel flops down onto you. No consideration for the position like you had, no worrying about falling off. Just laying on you like a strangely shaped weighted blanket.
“Hold.” You don’t question this command either, letting her tuck her arms under yours while you wrap her in an embrace. Voice thick, she whispers once more. “We shall leave soon, but I will enjoy this first.”
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
In short? Your mouth, and her hands.
Rebel doesn’t understand the purpose of this question. Hell, she doesn’t understand the purpose of half the questions you ask during times like these.
“Was it good for you?” Of course it was, if Rebel wasn’t satisfied and happy then you and she wouldn’t be finished.
“Did I hurt you?” Of course you did, but Rebel asked you too so why worry?
“Will you stay?” Always.
And now you ask this? Is this a simple wandering of your thoughts, or does this question have more meaningful implications?
“I like all of you,” she whispers, a little confused because it’s true. What part of you is there not to like? Has another insulted you? Who would dare commit such an act? The thought of it is enough to make her boil. Her fingers tighten around the coarse sheets.
“That doesn’t count—” Your whisper sends a breath across Rebel’s hips, but it turns to a slightly raised concern. “Are you angry?”
“No.” She lies, and regrets it so immediately that she curses, “****. Yes, I suppose I am.”
“Why?”
She clenches her jaw. “This question…Has someone insulted you?”
The laugh you make is so sudden it finally makes her glance back to you.
An old quilt is draped across your body, exposing your bare shoulders and the curve of your neck. You’re forced to lay on your side, facing Rebel, as Inkwell has taken up residence in the bend of your knees. When you and Rebel first began this the poor cat nearly got squashed, but now he returns from whatever corner he hid in.
Rebel shouldn’t indulge in this too long, the sight alone is enough to get drunk on. As much as she wants to soak in every inch of it, that carries a risk of Rebel becoming immune to, or worse bored by it. So she blinks and turns away.
“No, nobody insulted me.” You trail a finger up Rebel’s spine and it makes her shudder.
She’s sitting up, her knees pressed to her chest, not covered like you. It’s always far too hot after ***. “Then you ask this question out of vanity?”
“Maybe,” you say and it brings a smile to her lips.
“Well, I suppose your ego is worth stroking,” she leans closer and runs a hand over your jaw, cupping your cheek. “You have quite a nice face…”
“You only like me for my looks then?” You ask, clearly attempting to goad another compliment from her.
“No….” Rebel barely finishes the syllable when you grab her wrist and press a kiss into it. Oh. She now understands the meaning of melting into someone. She watches the little movement of your mouth with an interest she has not felt in some time. Gently Rebel runs her thumb across your bottom lip. “This. If I had to choose my favorite part of you, it would be your mouth.”
“Naughty,” you hum and she can’t argue with that assessment.
“There is so much to enjoy about it…I enjoy the voice that comes from it. I enjoy its taste…how it leaves marks on me…” Rebel dips closer, sinking under the quilt with you until you’re eye to eye. Her hand never pulls away, and when she’s settled Rebel gently brings you closer to add in a whisper, “I believe it was made to take me.”
Whether that means claim her or be claimed by her is anyone’s guess.
“Naughty naughty naughty,” you chide and use that mouth of yours, smiling into the kiss. “And—” you ask, pulling away and leaving Rebel to whine, “—what’s your favorite part of your own body?”
“Oh, that’s simple. My hands.” How else can she hold you like this? Or use a knife? “Let me show you why it’s my favorite.”
Her hips rock, wanting to push deeper into your mouth as she lets out a final noise. She leans forward, hands tugging at your hair and pressing your face against navel. Your tongue teases her clit, she’s close, about to break. When your fingers slide into her she shudders, and when they hook the build up finally breaks. She spasms against you, her muscles drawing in as she grinds harder.
With a single hand splayed across her lower back you control her like a bucking horse. Keeping her pinned against your mouth and not letting up. You hum in approval, the vibrations of your tongue sending fissures through her mind.
Only when she lets out a low broken moan do you allow her to collapse, your fingers sliding out of her as she falls against your lap.
C = *** (anything to do with ***, basically)
For a thousand years it was obvious that you’d find your way to Rebel. She imagined every possible way it would click in your head that Aphrodite was a but a pitstop to your true partner. She imagined you begging, imagined you taking. She sometimes dreamt of you confessing by accident, or in secret. She could make this an excellent love affair. But in all those centuries, it was this moment that she tried to prevent herself from envisioning. This is essential for you and Rebel to be together, you know it, she knows it. So why was it such a terrifying prospect to even consider? She needs to see the outcome, see who will click into what role. Rebel’s fine with either, in fact would prefer to submit to you. But if she just allows it then it wouldn’t prove a thing, so she makes you work.
If you want to claim her you need to take it.
“Take it.”
Rebel’s fingers circle her clit as she grinds herself against your mouth.
Hungrily you accept your place in her capture. She growls and presses deeper against you, your hot breath being trapped as your mouth works.
“Fuh—” She whines, pressing against your tongue.
You allow yourself to be used and all she can do is watch you. Sweat beads across your face and you grab onto Rebel’s thighs, creating divet with your pinching fingers. She examines you, wondering if you’ll try to pull her off of your face, but then you recognize your place and press her thighs harder against your cheeks. Rebel could watch you work for days.
Her core tightens and her vision tunnels with bliss. Rebel clenches her jaw as she tries to hold the release back, only for your tongue to swirl around her clit and send her just to the edge, no further.
The world around Rebel shudders, every muscle in her body tensing until she’s as taut as a bowstring. She bites her finger, tears forming along her eyes and she’s barely able to see through them. Rebel whines, wanting to retreat, not wanting this to be over so quickly. But you don’t let her. The focus in your eyes can be mistaken for fury as you take her.
Her hips rock, wanting to push deeper into your mouth as she lets out a final noise. She leans forward, hands tugging at your hair and pressing your face against navel. Your tongue teases her clit, she’s close, about to break. When your fingers slide into her she shudders, and when they hook the build up finally breaks. She spasms against you, her muscles drawing in as she grinds harder.
With a single hand splayed across her lower back you control her like a bucking horse. Keeping her pinned against your mouth and not letting up. You hum in approval, the vibrations of your tongue sending fissures through her mind.
Only when she lets out a low broken moan do you allow her to collapse, your fingers sliding out of her as she falls against your lap.
Rebel takes raw and heavy breaths. Her body still shakes, but she steals every second she’s allowed to admire how beautiful you are with your face slick with her arousal. You gently raise a hand, examining your fingers, still pressed together and wet from her. So that’s the answer… Rebel claimed you first… She smiles, of course she would win. There was never a doubt.
Assuming this has finished, Rebel tries to shift, but your steady grip keeps her in place. When she looks back to you all that she can recognize is the dark cast to your gaze. Her muscles tense, and every inch of her recognizes the predator she’s in the claws of. With a smile she bucks her hips to escape, but your hold burns against her thighs like a brand, and you yank her back down. Either panic or excitement surges, Rebel isn’t sure which but knows she wants this all the same. Wants to be yours, even if it means she’s devoured.
Shakily Rebel settles in your lap. Licking across your lips, and with a voice as hungry as your eyes you whisper, “My turn.”
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Rebel likes to watch you pleasure yourself. She likes it more when you pleasure yourself whilst unaware that she is there. She won’t touch herself, but Rebel will watch with low steady breath. She will commit every possible detail to memory, every flutter of your muscles, every whine and rocking of your hips as you lose yourself. If in the throes of your own sensation you part your lips and whisper a needy “Rebel” she will lose all sense and join you. So, when you believe yourself to be alone just be sure to give her a show.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Before you? Either none, or just one. Rebel’s past relationship with Jammer will always (mostly) reflect Ares’s past relationship with Harper. In the routes that have a past relationship with Harper as either “Friends”, or “Confusing”, then Rebel will have not been with anyone intimately. But if your Ares was a past lover of Harper, then Rebel would have been with Jammer intimately. This is just for narrative differences between routes. In-universe they are not related.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
In short? Trapped beneath you after a long fight, or claiming you from above. Always laying down.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Rebel’s relative ignorance in both *** and relationships means she tends to be serious during the act of lovemaking, (And it is always lovemaking to her, even if done after or during a fight.) And she expects you to be serious too. If you aren’t, if you’re making jokes and laughing then Rebel will assume you’re making light of her, or that your mind is wandering because you aren’t enjoying it enough. Maybe much later Rebel will laugh and have fun in other ways during ***, but for now she’s serious.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Rebel doesn’t shave, she doesn’t like feeling smooth, doesn’t like the sight of it either. She’s maybe done it once some years ago because she thought she was meant to. But after seeing herself in a mirror it just made her feel like a child.
So Rebel lets everything grow out, only cutting it down during the hotter months to keep herself cool. Her hairs are coarse between her thighs.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Rebel’s very intimate. She shows it in other ways however. She will be focused entirely on you during the act, holding you, studying you, making sure you’re brought to the edge and kept there until she’s ready. She’ll be so focused on you that she may simply forget her own desires should be satisfied as well. This may unknowingly lead to her becoming sexually frustrated by her own accidental denial.
After the act she will lay with you, before eventually breaking off. After time has passed she will bring you something to eat and drink, and watch you rest.
J = Jack off (************ headcanon)
Hardly ever, it’s boring and unfulfilling. Rebel wants emotion, intensity, a kiss of venom and a choking embrace. She wants skin on skin. Even if you’re there, showing off, the best that can occur is Rebel getting ready for you. If you won’t touch her then Rebel won’t get off. It’s as simple as that.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
In short? Rebel likes to take, or be taken, by surprise. Preferably in the dark when it’s least expected, and with a struggle. Oh, what a delight you are, Rebel thinks. You step into your home with a grumble, the shadows concealing you entirely, save for your vague outline in the dark. She made sure of that, when she slipped into your residence she unscrewed every bulb in your home, closed most of the blinds as well. Though you look best bathed in her light, the moon would risk exposing her, so she only allowed the light to shine through a single window.
You click the lamp once, twice, nothing. Rebel follows you into the kitchen, a breath behind you, less so actually as she leans in to smell the sweat on your neck. What have you done to get so worked up? Had Jackie misused your talents again to send you on another job? No. This sweat doesn’t smell like that… There’s an aroma to it… who were you with?
You jerk around in surprise but Rebel effortlessly slips around you, ducking around your table. You look around the living room again and grumble something. She waits for you to return to the kitchen, click the switch again to find no response from the light.
She’s practiced for days by now, finding the perfect path in your home to tread silently. Your naivete sets desire alight in her core. Rebel wonders how long she can drag this out, how long can she let you feel safe before she reveals herself. Rebel could pull this out, she could make a noise here, take a breath there, and dodge around your gaze as you search for her. She wants to build it up, make you terrified before she strikes.
You fumble around the edge of your bed to find your charger. Rebel wonders if she can slip into your closet, then maybe through texts she can make you bothered enough to please yourself as she watches. Yes, that’s the better plan. Unfortunately someone else decides to interfere. There’s a buzz from your phone. A message, Rebel knows that much but from whom? No. This won’t do. It’s a full moon tonight and you aren’t allowed to think of another.
Rebel presses close to you, hands suddenly on your waist, teeth on the back of your shoulder with possessive hiss. You growl in surprise, and with a panic jut an elbow back. Rebel’s quick enough to slap it away. You struggle more and she hooks an arm around your neck. The choke brings a smile to her, as she jumps to wrap her legs around your waist.
“****—” you begin and Rebel grinds against you, tongue and teeth finding new places along your neck to latch and taste. You stumble back, adjusting to the weight before she leans forward, forcing you onto the bed.
She whispers in your ear, “Don’t yell.” And then lets out a pleased sound when you stop struggling entirely.
“Rebel?” You whisper in the dark, but you had to have known before you heard her voice. You gave in too quickly not to.
“Who else would it be?” She asks between pulling new marks to your skin with her mouth.
“Why are—Get off.” Your command is ignored, mocked even by her low laughter. Rebel’s hand snakes down your stomach and beneath your pants, which brings a low moan out of you. “What are you doing?”
“Taking.” She nips at your earlobe, her other arm tightening around your throat. Your hips shift to give her better access.
“****ing hate you—” you let out high whine, shifting at first to try and shove her off, but then submitting and tugging your own pants down.
“That’s it? No fight?”
“**** you,” the needy tone of your voice is all that Rebel needs to enjoy this.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Rebel wants you somewhere that won’t threaten to take your attention away from the act. She covets you in a safe, quiet, dark and warm place, somewhere comfortable. Preferably at home, where she can enjoy you entirely uninterrupted for however long you two desire.
That being said, being caught doesn’t actually matter to her. As long as she knows who will be doing the catching, and knows it won’t interrupt you. Hell, someone can be actively watching and as long as they aren’t distracting either you or her, and as long as they don’t think they’ll have a chance of claiming you, Rebel will allow it, even be thrilled by it.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
So many things. All of them involve you and you alone. The most prevalent is you showing your dominance in a fight. It will make her shiver with anticipation and you’ll be lucky to make it home before she’s on you.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
I think of everyone Rebel will stop for the most reasons.
Rebel will not share you, she will not accept you speaking another’s name when intimate with her. Despite enjoying the fight-to-**** pipeline, if you two are in a rough patch or having an argument she won’t “**** out” the feelings. She wants you to be with her entirely, if you’re distracted she won’t continue even if you beg her to.
If Rebel isn’t in a safe place it's unlikely she will even kiss you unless emotions are high. She won’t roleplay in any way because Rebel wants you and if you’re acting like someone else she’ll grow bored. If you talk too much, or make jokes, or try to take it as anything but serious and intimate then Rebel will pull away frustrated, disappointed, and… well, sad. She’ll feel you take her seriously.
Rebel has truly terrible sensory issues, something that can be blamed on her divinity. So if it's too loud, if there’s even a slightly unpleasant texture on her skin, if there’s the wrong smell, or after she’s just eaten something, all can be reasons Rebel will say no. Rebel prefers you clean, so if you haven’t showered recently she’ll reject you, this rule however doesn’t apply to sweat, just general dirt and grime. It also doesn’t apply if you’ve just been in a fight. Then Rebel prefers you marred by battle, hot, and exhausted.
You can see an additional “no” in the Toys section.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
The answer should be obvious. Does Rebel get to taste you or be tasted by you? If so then she will enjoy it quite a lot. Either giving or receiving, though she is partial to you taking control, grabbing her by the back of her head and guiding her mouth to its destination.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Rebel’s preferred way is to have somewhere that the two of you won’t be disturbed because she takes her time, slowly, methodically, passionately. But she does not need to start somewhere secluded. No, in fact often when you’re with her Rebel is actively working you up. Her seduction can last several days if there fails to be an appropriate time. Several days where she observes your every movement, picking and choosing the perfect time to whisper in your ear, to touch your arm as she passes you, to brush her fingers against your thigh.
Honestly, it can be quite a song and dance with Rebel, and you’ll find yourself at home with a body on fire and her in your thoughts until you’re forced to crawl back to her or satisfy yourself. And Rebel knows that your own hand cannot compare to the things she would do.
That doesn’t even count the times she isn’t there. If able to, she will still watch you, of course. Choosing a time to text or call, maybe even taking care of any visitors who dare think they’ll get a crumb of your attention.
For Rebel, every second is foreplay and she oh so loves to take her time.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Contrary to the previous prompt; Rebel does also enjoy quickies…Provided they’re after, or perhaps even during a fight. When your body is hot and there’s blood smeared across your face Rebel will get so excited that she may not even be able to find a secluded place to begin.
Aside from that you’ll need to be doing something equally exciting, something to get her blood pumping and drive her hormones wild. Though what that will be you’ll have to figure out.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Oh Rebel loves a risk in any form. You hardly have to ask. It takes quite a lot to scare her, typically the only way to actually make her afraid is if the people she cares about are in danger. So, as long as you avoid mass casualties, or at least avoid the risk of her loved ones being part of the mass casualties, Rebel will be excited no matter the risk.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Rebel would have had a high endurance and quick recovery period even as a mortal. With her godly physique she will only stop when you cannot, or do not wish to continue, or when the emotions have died down inside of her. If you manage to keep the energy up, the emotions high, and the exhaustion at bay, then Rebel will eventually tire. Though it could take up to a full day of non-stop lovemaking.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
In short? Not a fan of toys used directly for ***, but does enjoy binding and collars.
Rebel scowls at your selection. With a hesitant finger she prods it, her mind unable to process how a device like that can even be sexual. As if by her touch, the toy comes alive with a gentle vibrating hum. Immediately Rebel’s hand retreats.
“No,” she says too quickly.
You play up your faux disappointment just enough to make Rebel huff a laugh as you put it back.
“Your tastes worry me, Lamb.”
“You wanted to come here, I’m just showing you the…” You flick a long rubber tentacle and tilt your head towards her as it shakes. “...boundless possibilities.”
Rebel snickers at the joke but grows bored of this aisle’s selection. She can only see so many phalluses before the shock wears away. “I did not come here for those,” she hums.
“Oh!” You let out a giddy laugh as you’re pulled to follow by the collar of your jacket. Excitement still in your voice you ask, “And what did you come here for?”
she glances at you from the corner of her eye, lips pressed between her teeth. “‘I fail to see how that is your concern.”
“Are you planning to use it on someone else?” You lower your voice as Rebel guides you past another couple.
A burst of annoyance fills her at that. Rebel wouldn’t let them shame you, in fact she’d rather you flaunt the truth of your relationship with her. Though Rebel does enjoy how easy it is to embarrass you. “Oh I’ll use it on you, Lamb. I simply enjoy seeing how you shiver with anticipation.” She doesn’t lower her voice letting it echo over the aisles. It has the desired effect when you duck your head. Like teasing a puppy. Which is fitting for your destination.
You let out a cough, as Rebel drags you into an aisle of leather and latex. Her grip unwavering, even as you stumble. “I should have expected this,” you whisper, as if the cuffs would come alive and bind you to the rack. Actually, Rebel may prefer that.
“Am I so obvious with my desires?” Rebel slows as she gets to the section she wants.
“Just this one,” you say, watching with dark eyes as she gently picks through the cuffs.
Most of these are wrong. Too hard, too soft, Rebel picks a set of cuffs up and pulls them apart, the chain snapping quicker than she expected it, the broken link flying somewhere even gods don’t know.
“Mhmm,” You take the broken cuff from Rebel’s hand oh so gently, the warmth of your fingers makes her own curl to hold you. The useless band is dropped back on the shelf. “And why are we buying these? I assumed you’d prefer…”
“Something more intrusive?” She walks backwards, letting you guide her now. “Jurry rigged?”
“I’d say surprising and improvised, but yes.”
It is true, Rebel’s leapt out with chains, and copper wiring more than once. But when she’s finished and tosses it aside, their purpose returns to what it was originally. There’s no lasting impact aside from the marks on your skin. Rebel’s fingers play over another cuff with a stronger chain, but when she goes to grab it you block her hands. Instead you reach above her head and grab a band that is fully leather.
The heat in your eyes is enough to burn the world. You allow Rebel to take it from you and she returns the dark look. “Imagine, Lamb.” She purrs, “You return home after a most horrid day, your back aches, the world is too loud, Your body sings with too many sensations…” She slips only one of your hands into the cuff, “And then I arrive.” Then your other. The leather hangs from your wrists. And Rebel’s body goes electric.
“With these?” You ask, and she laughs, yanking the strap and forcing your arms together. You teasingly try to pull it apart and the coy smile falls as you realize just how strong these ones are.
“Of course…” Rebel looks around and spies the leather padded collar and pulls it from the rack, “And this…and perhaps even a blindfold.”
You writhe your hands inside the leather but can’t weasel out. “So you want me to be stressed and trapped?”
“No,” she leans forward and raises the collar to your neck, not opening it but scrutinizing it. The color does not suit you, so she picks another, and another, before finding the perfect one. That one, she slips around your neck, the chain dangling in front of you. “I simply desire for you not needing to think, to let you sit back…” she tugs at the chain gently, jerking your head to follow so quick that Rebel needs to control herself before she leads you somewhere with fewer cameras. “...And do as I say.” She locks eyes with you again, “‘Twould be… most relaxing for you, I suspect.”
You open your mouth to speak but the couple from before step into the aisle, their eyes go wide as they see you cuffed and collared. You turn to look at the ground, so Rebel pulls your collar again to keep your eyes on her.
“Perhaps I shall entrust these to you when we’re finished. So you may see them hanging from your bed posts, and draw comfort in knowing you’re mine.”
You try to answer with words, but can only let out a whispered whine.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Extremely.
Rebel thinks of you as her sole equal and that will never change. You two are above all others, it is a simple fact of the universe… but that only means the changes in power are all the more enticing for intimate moments. She will only let you feel that you are on equal footing with her in the most romantic of times. Every other second is one she can spend being a menace.
If you’re more dominant then Rebel will be a bit of a brat. She may tease, annoy, evade, or even fight back when you’re together. Anything to frustrate you and to the point that you have to prove your dominance over her. You’ll learn the best way to show Rebel the consequences of annoying her betters.
If you’re more submissive then Rebel will leave you wanting for hours, coming back to tease you, pull you to the edge of satisfaction and keep you there. She loves to play with her food and you are by no means an exception. Rebel will tease you until you’re teary-eyed and whining, and only then will she claim you.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Rebel is not loud during intimate moments by any means, but she isn’t silent either. Rebel will talk to you, in your ear she will whisper sweet, or teasing words, but her voice will not scream. There will be no loud declarations of love when you’re with her, just quiet promises of what will happen next.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
I can’t quite say. I feel like I’ve shown that as long as Rebel’s comfortable she’ll do most anything. But to circle back to the Location prompt from before…
In short? Rebel would enjoy it quite a lot if she could claim you in front of others, as a way to show off that you’re her and she’s yours. If not that, she will mark you in other ways and would want you to mark her. “Why are you laughing?” Rebel asks.
“You don’t find it funny?” You ask, the nervous vulnerable laughter dying away.
“Lamb, how are your own desires funny?”
You shrug, which irritates Rebel. There’s no need to be nervous with her, even still your words are laced with anxiety as you speak. “Well…that’s my dirtiest secret.”
“I have seen what makes you tick, that is hardly a secret.” She scoffs.
You press a finger into her stomach, prodding her on, “Well, now’s a chance to one-up me. Go on.” Rebel grumbles from the attack, and takes in the view as she thinks. Central Park is a fine place, Rebel supposes. It doesn’t hold a candle to the beauty of real nature. Everything here is… organized. Cut down and pruned so much that it is more of a diorama than anything real. How she craves to just walk in a proper forest again. She spends too long in the city, it isn’t right for a god of the hunt. The balustrade of the bridge presses into her ribs, forcing her to face you instead, an infinitely better view in her opinion.
Rebel doesn’t have dirty secrets, everything she wants she takes. Like you. She wants you here and now. So why can’t she have you?
Some joggers run past and Rebel nearly trips them. They’re why, of course. People running, walking, enjoying this sham of a forest and intruding on her time with you. She wants you now and she doesn’t care if anyone sees. You and Rebel are gods, it’s not like anyone can stop you. That isn’t a secret though, not to you. Of course Rebel would want that, she knows you want it too. Otherwise this conversation wouldn’t be happening so early in the morning.
But maybe it’s enough to satisfy you…it will be enough to satisfy Rebel, certainly.
“Fine, my dirty secret…” She leans in looking up at you with wide eyes, “I want you here and now.”
“As much as I like to hear that, it isn’t a dirty secret.” You murmur, leaning in closer, the air around you and Rebel getting hotter.
Rebel takes a step further, putting a hand on your hip and making you breathe out a delightful sound when she pivots to push you against the railing instead. “Hmm, I do not think you understand. I want you here and now.” Her fingers slip beneath your waistband and you let a nervous laugh out.
“We can go back to my place…”
“I did not say your place, I said here and now.” She wonders how far you’ll let her go. Maybe just this once you’ll release your inhibitions.
Rebel hears another jogger approaching from behind her. Your eyes widen and you move to block the view of her hand in your pants. They pass by without a second thought and she slides a finger further. “There are people,” you protest.
“I fail to see how it matters, Lamb.”
“They—” you take a breath as Rebel works you, “This is a good way to get put on a list.”
“Let them.”
“****… Rebel, someone will try to—”
“They will try nothing. They cannot stop us, Lamb.” Rebel kisses your neck and you lean your head back, rocking your hips with her hand. “And if they try to take you from me…” her whisper in your ear causes you to whine loud enough to draw attention, “...then I will kill them.”
Rebel’s hand moves quicker, and you meet her pace, losing yourself entirely. Gripping onto her shoulder for support you lean back, your pelvis moving in rhythm. Right in the open, the lake to your back, on a jogging path, free for anyone to see. Your breath fogs the air around you, the morning light peeking from between buildings just to light your clouds in orange and yellow. Finally, she’s always wanted you to breathe fire. If it wasn’t for the winter air Rebel would have stripped you of your clothes.
You finish, trying to contain your moan even as it bubbles out of you in a wrecked sigh. Rebel drinks in every shiver, slowly pulling her hand from your pants. You desperately pull them up, making it just in time for two more joggers to cross beside you two. It doesn’t matter if they saw or not, Rebel’s entire focus is the mess you made between her fingers. “Mhm…we shall do this often, Lamb.”
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
If you’re looking for impressive sizes you won’t be finding them on Rebel. Her breasts are below average, and she prefers it that way. If they were larger then Rebel would have probably got a reduction as soon as it was possible.
She also doesn’t shave her body hair, be it on her legs, arms, or in more intimate areas.
Rebel’s hips and arms are deceptively unshapely, giving one the impression of a weak individual. But that’s only because Rebel likes to stay thin and unassuming, her godly physique keeps her plenty strong even without working out. So Rebel mostly does cardio mostly, giving her a tightly wound and lean body. Her skin is a dark rich brown, and through the entirety it’s nearly unblemished, save for three small beauty marks down her lower back.. and the multitude of light scars. The majority of which are across her arms, shoulders, and chest. But scars still line up her stomach, back, and thighs as well. They are by far the most striking part of her body, and she likes to show them off. Rebel has no tattoos and would only be willing to get one if either you or Jammer asked for matching ones.
Y = Yearning (how high is their *** drive?)
When away Rebel’s focus goes to other matters. She has hobbies and her own friends and work, as such she doesn’t often desire ***. But when you’re with her Rebel will find herself with an annoying and new need. A need that she’s felt before but not often.
The first days of your relationship will be the worst. Rebel will burn and writhe during the nights, and may even intrude in your home just to help satisfy her. Though, as you become more attuned with each other, and your presence becomes familiar in her life, then Rebel’s desires will simmer. Though it will never be as low as it was before you set her world on fire.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
If you’re a cuddler then Rebel will allow it, and stay awake until she no longer wants to be held. If you’re not a cuddler, or after Rebel breaks away if you are one, she will not stay awake long at all. Rebel will scoot to the other side of the bed and watch you sleep until she too succumbs. Sleep will come swiftly for her, but she won’t stay awake for long periods of time.
You may often find yourself waking up at 3am alone in bed, only to find Rebel working on some project in the moonlight. But this will be the same for most nights, regardless if you’ve laid with her or not. You may call her back to bed and Rebel will realize just how exhausted she is, or you can drift back to sleep, the sound of her work becoming a lullaby for you alone.
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after ***)
In short? Immediately after she's very lazy, she'd like to cuddle for a bit, but it doesn’t last forever. Rebel will savor you though.
Rebel’s body is taut. Against the car seat she takes rapid hungry breaths of air. Eyes screwed shut as the last waves of pleasure wash over her. You have to hold her hips down until the ecstasy washes away. Rebel’s hands are gripped so tight against the seat that the leather has torn. Whatever, you’re not sure whose car this is but you know it isn’t your problem. However, what is your problem is the now lazy body of your lover.
She doesn’t move, staying wedged against the back. There is very little room and you know Rebel has no desire to stay, but still she loosely opens her arms and you readily accept the invitation. You can only take a moment to admire the moonlight shining against her, glinting off sweat, making a hundred stars shining against the midnight sky of her skin. Rebel’s need for touch lasts about as long as yours does, so you don’t stay on it long.
Sliding next to her you rest your head against her shoulder. Her throat works and you don’t dare resist the allure of nipping at her collar bone. Rebel grumbles beneath you. She’s hot, and her sweaty skin feels tacky as it cools in the winter air.
“Perhaps…next time we shall find somewhere that might bear us both.” Rebel whispers, trying to make you more comfortable. Her arms gently wrapping around you, like she’s scared of you falling off the seat.
“You’re the one who couldn’t wait.” Your voice is thick and exhausted. She runs her fingers along your back, enjoying you.
“I am not as prudent as I should be when it comes to…these sessions.” She admits, though you could have told her that.
You focus on Rebel’s heart, and thrill in your selfishness as you know you’re the only one it beats for. A revealing flash shines through the window, showing you the full beauty of her body. Rebel tilts her head to smell your hair. Her stomach flutters beneath the firm touch of your palm.
The night air presses closer but for just this moment it is you and her. Her nails scratch down your back, all at once a comforting reminder of her and a threat to not disrupt her comfort. Rebel’s nail scrapes along the back of your ear, her breath catching in a quiet laugh as your breath shudders. She’s a cat playing with her mouse.
Your fingers slide up her back, she adjusts so welcome your embrace. You only stop when your fingers dance along the hairs at the base of her skull. Rebel lets out a pleased little moan, her muscles unwind. Biceps, shoulders, even her pecs slowly relax beneath your cheek. Her breath slows down to a crawl in your ear, heart beat doing the same. But as your body begins to slip off the seat, you hook a leg up and that movement seems to be the most she can take.
Rebel groans and shifts beneath you. “Off,” she commands. You don’t question it. You’ve done this enough to know she dislikes being caged in. You expect Rebel to start getting dressed and pull you away to a proper place to sleep, where she can watch you without being forced to be held. That’s the usual way she ends these, but you let out a questioning hum as Rebel turns you to lay down instead.
Not arguing, you shift into place and Rebel flops down onto you. No consideration for the position like you had, no worrying about falling off. Just laying on you like a strangely shaped weighted blanket.
“Hold.” You don’t question this command either, letting her tuck her arms under yours while you wrap her in an embrace. Voice thick, she whispers once more. “We shall leave soon, but I will enjoy this first.”
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
In short? Your mouth, and her hands.
Rebel doesn’t understand the purpose of this question. Hell, she doesn’t understand the purpose of half the questions you ask during times like these.
“Was it good for you?” Of course it was, if Rebel wasn’t satisfied and happy then you and she wouldn’t be finished.
“Did I hurt you?” Of course you did, but Rebel asked you too so why worry?
“Will you stay?” Always.
And now you ask this? Is this a simple wandering of your thoughts, or does this question have more meaningful implications?
“I like all of you,” she whispers, a little confused because it’s true. What part of you is there not to like? Has another insulted you? Who would dare commit such an act? The thought of it is enough to make her boil. Her fingers tighten around the coarse sheets.
“That doesn’t count—” Your whisper sends a breath across Rebel’s hips, but it turns to a slightly raised concern. “Are you angry?”
“No.” She lies, and regrets it so immediately that she curses, “****. Yes, I suppose I am.”
“Why?”
She clenches her jaw. “This question…Has someone insulted you?”
The laugh you make is so sudden it finally makes her glance back to you.
An old quilt is draped across your body, exposing your bare shoulders and the curve of your neck. You’re forced to lay on your side, facing Rebel, as Inkwell has taken up residence in the bend of your knees. When you and Rebel first began this the poor cat nearly got squashed, but now he returns from whatever corner he hid in.
Rebel shouldn’t indulge in this too long, the sight alone is enough to get drunk on. As much as she wants to soak in every inch of it, that carries a risk of Rebel becoming immune to, or worse bored by it. So she blinks and turns away.
“No, nobody insulted me.” You trail a finger up Rebel’s spine and it makes her shudder.
She’s sitting up, her knees pressed to her chest, not covered like you. It’s always far too hot after ***. “Then you ask this question out of vanity?”
“Maybe,” you say and it brings a smile to her lips.
“Well, I suppose your ego is worth stroking,” she leans closer and runs a hand over your jaw, cupping your cheek. “You have quite a nice face…”
“You only like me for my looks then?” You ask, clearly attempting to goad another compliment from her.
“No….” Rebel barely finishes the syllable when you grab her wrist and press a kiss into it. Oh. She now understands the meaning of melting into someone. She watches the little movement of your mouth with an interest she has not felt in some time. Gently Rebel runs her thumb across your bottom lip. “This. If I had to choose my favorite part of you, it would be your mouth.”
“Naughty,” you hum and she can’t argue with that assessment.
“There is so much to enjoy about it…I enjoy the voice that comes from it. I enjoy its taste…how it leaves marks on me…” Rebel dips closer, sinking under the quilt with you until you’re eye to eye. Her hand never pulls away, and when she’s settled Rebel gently brings you closer to add in a whisper, “I believe it was made to take me.”
Whether that means claim her or be claimed by her is anyone’s guess.
“Naughty naughty naughty,” you chide and use that mouth of yours, smiling into the kiss. “And—” you ask, pulling away and leaving Rebel to whine, “—what’s your favorite part of your own body?”
“Oh, that’s simple. My hands.” How else can she hold you like this? Or use a knife? “Let me show you why it’s my favorite.”
Her hips rock, wanting to push deeper into your mouth as she lets out a final noise. She leans forward, hands tugging at your hair and pressing your face against navel. Your tongue teases her clit, she’s close, about to break. When your fingers slide into her she shudders, and when they hook the build up finally breaks. She spasms against you, her muscles drawing in as she grinds harder.
With a single hand splayed across her lower back you control her like a bucking horse. Keeping her pinned against your mouth and not letting up. You hum in approval, the vibrations of your tongue sending fissures through her mind.
Only when she lets out a low broken moan do you allow her to collapse, your fingers sliding out of her as she falls against your lap.
C = *** (anything to do with ***, basically)
For a thousand years it was obvious that you’d find your way to Rebel. She imagined every possible way it would click in your head that Aphrodite was a but a pitstop to your true partner. She imagined you begging, imagined you taking. She sometimes dreamt of you confessing by accident, or in secret. She could make this an excellent love affair. But in all those centuries, it was this moment that she tried to prevent herself from envisioning. This is essential for you and Rebel to be together, you know it, she knows it. So why was it such a terrifying prospect to even consider? She needs to see the outcome, see who will click into what role. Rebel’s fine with either, in fact would prefer to submit to you. But if she just allows it then it wouldn’t prove a thing, so she makes you work.
If you want to claim her you need to take it.
“Take it.”
Rebel’s fingers circle her clit as she grinds herself against your mouth.
Hungrily you accept your place in her capture. She growls and presses deeper against you, your hot breath being trapped as your mouth works.
“Fuh—” She whines, pressing against your tongue.
You allow yourself to be used and all she can do is watch you. Sweat beads across your face and you grab onto Rebel’s thighs, creating divet with your pinching fingers. She examines you, wondering if you’ll try to pull her off of your face, but then you recognize your place and press her thighs harder against your cheeks. Rebel could watch you work for days.
Her core tightens and her vision tunnels with bliss. Rebel clenches her jaw as she tries to hold the release back, only for your tongue to swirl around her clit and send her just to the edge, no further.
The world around Rebel shudders, every muscle in her body tensing until she’s as taut as a bowstring. She bites her finger, tears forming along her eyes and she’s barely able to see through them. Rebel whines, wanting to retreat, not wanting this to be over so quickly. But you don’t let her. The focus in your eyes can be mistaken for fury as you take her.
Her hips rock, wanting to push deeper into your mouth as she lets out a final noise. She leans forward, hands tugging at your hair and pressing your face against navel. Your tongue teases her clit, she’s close, about to break. When your fingers slide into her she shudders, and when they hook the build up finally breaks. She spasms against you, her muscles drawing in as she grinds harder.
With a single hand splayed across her lower back you control her like a bucking horse. Keeping her pinned against your mouth and not letting up. You hum in approval, the vibrations of your tongue sending fissures through her mind.
Only when she lets out a low broken moan do you allow her to collapse, your fingers sliding out of her as she falls against your lap.
Rebel takes raw and heavy breaths. Her body still shakes, but she steals every second she’s allowed to admire how beautiful you are with your face slick with her arousal. You gently raise a hand, examining your fingers, still pressed together and wet from her. So that’s the answer… Rebel claimed you first… She smiles, of course she would win. There was never a doubt.
Assuming this has finished, Rebel tries to shift, but your steady grip keeps her in place. When she looks back to you all that she can recognize is the dark cast to your gaze. Her muscles tense, and every inch of her recognizes the predator she’s in the claws of. With a smile she bucks her hips to escape, but your hold burns against her thighs like a brand, and you yank her back down. Either panic or excitement surges, Rebel isn’t sure which but knows she wants this all the same. Wants to be yours, even if it means she’s devoured.
Shakily Rebel settles in your lap. Licking across your lips, and with a voice as hungry as your eyes you whisper, “My turn.”
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Rebel likes to watch you pleasure yourself. She likes it more when you pleasure yourself whilst unaware that she is there. She won’t touch herself, but Rebel will watch with low steady breath. She will commit every possible detail to memory, every flutter of your muscles, every whine and rocking of your hips as you lose yourself. If in the throes of your own sensation you part your lips and whisper a needy “Rebel” she will lose all sense and join you. So, when you believe yourself to be alone just be sure to give her a show.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Before you? Either none, or just one. Rebel’s past relationship with Jammer will always (mostly) reflect Ares’s past relationship with Harper. In the routes that have a past relationship with Harper as either “Friends”, or “Confusing”, then Rebel will have not been with anyone intimately. But if your Ares was a past lover of Harper, then Rebel would have been with Jammer intimately. This is just for narrative differences between routes. In-universe they are not related.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
In short? Trapped beneath you after a long fight, or claiming you from above. Always laying down.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Rebel’s relative ignorance in both *** and relationships means she tends to be serious during the act of lovemaking, (And it is always lovemaking to her, even if done after or during a fight.) And she expects you to be serious too. If you aren’t, if you’re making jokes and laughing then Rebel will assume you’re making light of her, or that your mind is wandering because you aren’t enjoying it enough. Maybe much later Rebel will laugh and have fun in other ways during ***, but for now she’s serious.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Rebel doesn’t shave, she doesn’t like feeling smooth, doesn’t like the sight of it either. She’s maybe done it once some years ago because she thought she was meant to. But after seeing herself in a mirror it just made her feel like a child.
So Rebel lets everything grow out, only cutting it down during the hotter months to keep herself cool. Her hairs are coarse between her thighs.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Rebel’s very intimate. She shows it in other ways however. She will be focused entirely on you during the act, holding you, studying you, making sure you’re brought to the edge and kept there until she’s ready. She’ll be so focused on you that she may simply forget her own desires should be satisfied as well. This may unknowingly lead to her becoming sexually frustrated by her own accidental denial.
After the act she will lay with you, before eventually breaking off. After time has passed she will bring you something to eat and drink, and watch you rest.
J = Jack off (************ headcanon)
Hardly ever, it’s boring and unfulfilling. Rebel wants emotion, intensity, a kiss of venom and a choking embrace. She wants skin on skin. Even if you’re there, showing off, the best that can occur is Rebel getting ready for you. If you won’t touch her then Rebel won’t get off. It’s as simple as that.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
In short? Rebel likes to take, or be taken, by surprise. Preferably in the dark when it’s least expected, and with a struggle. Oh, what a delight you are, Rebel thinks. You step into your home with a grumble, the shadows concealing you entirely, save for your vague outline in the dark. She made sure of that, when she slipped into your residence she unscrewed every bulb in your home, closed most of the blinds as well. Though you look best bathed in her light, the moon would risk exposing her, so she only allowed the light to shine through a single window.
You click the lamp once, twice, nothing. Rebel follows you into the kitchen, a breath behind you, less so actually as she leans in to smell the sweat on your neck. What have you done to get so worked up? Had Jackie misused your talents again to send you on another job? No. This sweat doesn’t smell like that… There’s an aroma to it… who were you with?
You jerk around in surprise but Rebel effortlessly slips around you, ducking around your table. You look around the living room again and grumble something. She waits for you to return to the kitchen, click the switch again to find no response from the light.
She’s practiced for days by now, finding the perfect path in your home to tread silently. Your naivete sets desire alight in her core. Rebel wonders how long she can drag this out, how long can she let you feel safe before she reveals herself. Rebel could pull this out, she could make a noise here, take a breath there, and dodge around your gaze as you search for her. She wants to build it up, make you terrified before she strikes.
You fumble around the edge of your bed to find your charger. Rebel wonders if she can slip into your closet, then maybe through texts she can make you bothered enough to please yourself as she watches. Yes, that’s the better plan. Unfortunately someone else decides to interfere. There’s a buzz from your phone. A message, Rebel knows that much but from whom? No. This won’t do. It’s a full moon tonight and you aren’t allowed to think of another.
Rebel presses close to you, hands suddenly on your waist, teeth on the back of your shoulder with possessive hiss. You growl in surprise, and with a panic jut an elbow back. Rebel’s quick enough to slap it away. You struggle more and she hooks an arm around your neck. The choke brings a smile to her, as she jumps to wrap her legs around your waist.
“****—” you begin and Rebel grinds against you, tongue and teeth finding new places along your neck to latch and taste. You stumble back, adjusting to the weight before she leans forward, forcing you onto the bed.
She whispers in your ear, “Don’t yell.” And then lets out a pleased sound when you stop struggling entirely.
“Rebel?” You whisper in the dark, but you had to have known before you heard her voice. You gave in too quickly not to.
“Who else would it be?” She asks between pulling new marks to your skin with her mouth.
“Why are—Get off.” Your command is ignored, mocked even by her low laughter. Rebel’s hand snakes down your stomach and beneath your pants, which brings a low moan out of you. “What are you doing?”
“Taking.” She nips at your earlobe, her other arm tightening around your throat. Your hips shift to give her better access.
“****ing hate you—” you let out high whine, shifting at first to try and shove her off, but then submitting and tugging your own pants down.
“That’s it? No fight?”
“**** you,” the needy tone of your voice is all that Rebel needs to enjoy this.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Rebel wants you somewhere that won’t threaten to take your attention away from the act. She covets you in a safe, quiet, dark and warm place, somewhere comfortable. Preferably at home, where she can enjoy you entirely uninterrupted for however long you two desire.
That being said, being caught doesn’t actually matter to her. As long as she knows who will be doing the catching, and knows it won’t interrupt you. Hell, someone can be actively watching and as long as they aren’t distracting either you or her, and as long as they don’t think they’ll have a chance of claiming you, Rebel will allow it, even be thrilled by it.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
So many things. All of them involve you and you alone. The most prevalent is you showing your dominance in a fight. It will make her shiver with anticipation and you’ll be lucky to make it home before she’s on you.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
I think of everyone Rebel will stop for the most reasons.
Rebel will not share you, she will not accept you speaking another’s name when intimate with her. Despite enjoying the fight-to-**** pipeline, if you two are in a rough patch or having an argument she won’t “**** out” the feelings. She wants you to be with her entirely, if you’re distracted she won’t continue even if you beg her to.
If Rebel isn’t in a safe place it's unlikely she will even kiss you unless emotions are high. She won’t roleplay in any way because Rebel wants you and if you’re acting like someone else she’ll grow bored. If you talk too much, or make jokes, or try to take it as anything but serious and intimate then Rebel will pull away frustrated, disappointed, and… well, sad. She’ll feel you take her seriously.
Rebel has truly terrible sensory issues, something that can be blamed on her divinity. So if it's too loud, if there’s even a slightly unpleasant texture on her skin, if there’s the wrong smell, or after she’s just eaten something, all can be reasons Rebel will say no. Rebel prefers you clean, so if you haven’t showered recently she’ll reject you, this rule however doesn’t apply to sweat, just general dirt and grime. It also doesn’t apply if you’ve just been in a fight. Then Rebel prefers you marred by battle, hot, and exhausted.
You can see an additional “no” in the Toys section.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
The answer should be obvious. Does Rebel get to taste you or be tasted by you? If so then she will enjoy it quite a lot. Either giving or receiving, though she is partial to you taking control, grabbing her by the back of her head and guiding her mouth to its destination.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Rebel’s preferred way is to have somewhere that the two of you won’t be disturbed because she takes her time, slowly, methodically, passionately. But she does not need to start somewhere secluded. No, in fact often when you’re with her Rebel is actively working you up. Her seduction can last several days if there fails to be an appropriate time. Several days where she observes your every movement, picking and choosing the perfect time to whisper in your ear, to touch your arm as she passes you, to brush her fingers against your thigh.
Honestly, it can be quite a song and dance with Rebel, and you’ll find yourself at home with a body on fire and her in your thoughts until you’re forced to crawl back to her or satisfy yourself. And Rebel knows that your own hand cannot compare to the things she would do.
That doesn’t even count the times she isn’t there. If able to, she will still watch you, of course. Choosing a time to text or call, maybe even taking care of any visitors who dare think they’ll get a crumb of your attention.
For Rebel, every second is foreplay and she oh so loves to take her time.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Contrary to the previous prompt; Rebel does also enjoy quickies…Provided they’re after, or perhaps even during a fight. When your body is hot and there’s blood smeared across your face Rebel will get so excited that she may not even be able to find a secluded place to begin.
Aside from that you’ll need to be doing something equally exciting, something to get her blood pumping and drive her hormones wild. Though what that will be you’ll have to figure out.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Oh Rebel loves a risk in any form. You hardly have to ask. It takes quite a lot to scare her, typically the only way to actually make her afraid is if the people she cares about are in danger. So, as long as you avoid mass casualties, or at least avoid the risk of her loved ones being part of the mass casualties, Rebel will be excited no matter the risk.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Rebel would have had a high endurance and quick recovery period even as a mortal. With her godly physique she will only stop when you cannot, or do not wish to continue, or when the emotions have died down inside of her. If you manage to keep the energy up, the emotions high, and the exhaustion at bay, then Rebel will eventually tire. Though it could take up to a full day of non-stop lovemaking.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
In short? Not a fan of toys used directly for ***, but does enjoy binding and collars.
Rebel scowls at your selection. With a hesitant finger she prods it, her mind unable to process how a device like that can even be sexual. As if by her touch, the toy comes alive with a gentle vibrating hum. Immediately Rebel’s hand retreats.
“No,” she says too quickly.
You play up your faux disappointment just enough to make Rebel huff a laugh as you put it back.
“Your tastes worry me, Lamb.”
“You wanted to come here, I’m just showing you the…” You flick a long rubber tentacle and tilt your head towards her as it shakes. “...boundless possibilities.”
Rebel snickers at the joke but grows bored of this aisle’s selection. She can only see so many phalluses before the shock wears away. “I did not come here for those,” she hums.
“Oh!” You let out a giddy laugh as you’re pulled to follow by the collar of your jacket. Excitement still in your voice you ask, “And what did you come here for?”
she glances at you from the corner of her eye, lips pressed between her teeth. “‘I fail to see how that is your concern.”
“Are you planning to use it on someone else?” You lower your voice as Rebel guides you past another couple.
A burst of annoyance fills her at that. Rebel wouldn’t let them shame you, in fact she’d rather you flaunt the truth of your relationship with her. Though Rebel does enjoy how easy it is to embarrass you. “Oh I’ll use it on you, Lamb. I simply enjoy seeing how you shiver with anticipation.” She doesn’t lower her voice letting it echo over the aisles. It has the desired effect when you duck your head. Like teasing a puppy. Which is fitting for your destination.
You let out a cough, as Rebel drags you into an aisle of leather and latex. Her grip unwavering, even as you stumble. “I should have expected this,” you whisper, as if the cuffs would come alive and bind you to the rack. Actually, Rebel may prefer that.
“Am I so obvious with my desires?” Rebel slows as she gets to the section she wants.
“Just this one,” you say, watching with dark eyes as she gently picks through the cuffs.
Most of these are wrong. Too hard, too soft, Rebel picks a set of cuffs up and pulls them apart, the chain snapping quicker than she expected it, the broken link flying somewhere even gods don’t know.
“Mhmm,” You take the broken cuff from Rebel’s hand oh so gently, the warmth of your fingers makes her own curl to hold you. The useless band is dropped back on the shelf. “And why are we buying these? I assumed you’d prefer…”
“Something more intrusive?” She walks backwards, letting you guide her now. “Jurry rigged?”
“I’d say surprising and improvised, but yes.”
It is true, Rebel’s leapt out with chains, and copper wiring more than once. But when she’s finished and tosses it aside, their purpose returns to what it was originally. There’s no lasting impact aside from the marks on your skin. Rebel’s fingers play over another cuff with a stronger chain, but when she goes to grab it you block her hands. Instead you reach above her head and grab a band that is fully leather.
The heat in your eyes is enough to burn the world. You allow Rebel to take it from you and she returns the dark look. “Imagine, Lamb.” She purrs, “You return home after a most horrid day, your back aches, the world is too loud, Your body sings with too many sensations…” She slips only one of your hands into the cuff, “And then I arrive.” Then your other. The leather hangs from your wrists. And Rebel’s body goes electric.
“With these?” You ask, and she laughs, yanking the strap and forcing your arms together. You teasingly try to pull it apart and the coy smile falls as you realize just how strong these ones are.
“Of course…” Rebel looks around and spies the leather padded collar and pulls it from the rack, “And this…and perhaps even a blindfold.”
You writhe your hands inside the leather but can’t weasel out. “So you want me to be stressed and trapped?”
“No,” she leans forward and raises the collar to your neck, not opening it but scrutinizing it. The color does not suit you, so she picks another, and another, before finding the perfect one. That one, she slips around your neck, the chain dangling in front of you. “I simply desire for you not needing to think, to let you sit back…” she tugs at the chain gently, jerking your head to follow so quick that Rebel needs to control herself before she leads you somewhere with fewer cameras. “...And do as I say.” She locks eyes with you again, “‘Twould be… most relaxing for you, I suspect.”
You open your mouth to speak but the couple from before step into the aisle, their eyes go wide as they see you cuffed and collared. You turn to look at the ground, so Rebel pulls your collar again to keep your eyes on her.
“Perhaps I shall entrust these to you when we’re finished. So you may see them hanging from your bed posts, and draw comfort in knowing you’re mine.”
You try to answer with words, but can only let out a whispered whine.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Extremely.
Rebel thinks of you as her sole equal and that will never change. You two are above all others, it is a simple fact of the universe… but that only means the changes in power are all the more enticing for intimate moments. She will only let you feel that you are on equal footing with her in the most romantic of times. Every other second is one she can spend being a menace.
If you’re more dominant then Rebel will be a bit of a brat. She may tease, annoy, evade, or even fight back when you’re together. Anything to frustrate you and to the point that you have to prove your dominance over her. You’ll learn the best way to show Rebel the consequences of annoying her betters.
If you’re more submissive then Rebel will leave you wanting for hours, coming back to tease you, pull you to the edge of satisfaction and keep you there. She loves to play with her food and you are by no means an exception. Rebel will tease you until you’re teary-eyed and whining, and only then will she claim you.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Rebel is not loud during intimate moments by any means, but she isn’t silent either. Rebel will talk to you, in your ear she will whisper sweet, or teasing words, but her voice will not scream. There will be no loud declarations of love when you’re with her, just quiet promises of what will happen next.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
I can’t quite say. I feel like I’ve shown that as long as Rebel’s comfortable she’ll do most anything. But to circle back to the Location prompt from before…
In short? Rebel would enjoy it quite a lot if she could claim you in front of others, as a way to show off that you’re her and she’s yours. If not that, she will mark you in other ways and would want you to mark her. “Why are you laughing?” Rebel asks.
“You don’t find it funny?” You ask, the nervous vulnerable laughter dying away.
“Lamb, how are your own desires funny?”
You shrug, which irritates Rebel. There’s no need to be nervous with her, even still your words are laced with anxiety as you speak. “Well…that’s my dirtiest secret.”
“I have seen what makes you tick, that is hardly a secret.” She scoffs.
You press a finger into her stomach, prodding her on, “Well, now’s a chance to one-up me. Go on.” Rebel grumbles from the attack, and takes in the view as she thinks. Central Park is a fine place, Rebel supposes. It doesn’t hold a candle to the beauty of real nature. Everything here is… organized. Cut down and pruned so much that it is more of a diorama than anything real. How she craves to just walk in a proper forest again. She spends too long in the city, it isn’t right for a god of the hunt. The balustrade of the bridge presses into her ribs, forcing her to face you instead, an infinitely better view in her opinion.
Rebel doesn’t have dirty secrets, everything she wants she takes. Like you. She wants you here and now. So why can’t she have you?
Some joggers run past and Rebel nearly trips them. They’re why, of course. People running, walking, enjoying this sham of a forest and intruding on her time with you. She wants you now and she doesn’t care if anyone sees. You and Rebel are gods, it’s not like anyone can stop you. That isn’t a secret though, not to you. Of course Rebel would want that, she knows you want it too. Otherwise this conversation wouldn’t be happening so early in the morning.
But maybe it’s enough to satisfy you…it will be enough to satisfy Rebel, certainly.
“Fine, my dirty secret…” She leans in looking up at you with wide eyes, “I want you here and now.”
“As much as I like to hear that, it isn’t a dirty secret.” You murmur, leaning in closer, the air around you and Rebel getting hotter.
Rebel takes a step further, putting a hand on your hip and making you breathe out a delightful sound when she pivots to push you against the railing instead. “Hmm, I do not think you understand. I want you here and now.” Her fingers slip beneath your waistband and you let a nervous laugh out.
“We can go back to my place…”
“I did not say your place, I said here and now.” She wonders how far you’ll let her go. Maybe just this once you’ll release your inhibitions.
Rebel hears another jogger approaching from behind her. Your eyes widen and you move to block the view of her hand in your pants. They pass by without a second thought and she slides a finger further. “There are people,” you protest.
“I fail to see how it matters, Lamb.”
“They—” you take a breath as Rebel works you, “This is a good way to get put on a list.”
“Let them.”
“****… Rebel, someone will try to—”
“They will try nothing. They cannot stop us, Lamb.” Rebel kisses your neck and you lean your head back, rocking your hips with her hand. “And if they try to take you from me…” her whisper in your ear causes you to whine loud enough to draw attention, “...then I will kill them.”
Rebel’s hand moves quicker, and you meet her pace, losing yourself entirely. Gripping onto her shoulder for support you lean back, your pelvis moving in rhythm. Right in the open, the lake to your back, on a jogging path, free for anyone to see. Your breath fogs the air around you, the morning light peeking from between buildings just to light your clouds in orange and yellow. Finally, she’s always wanted you to breathe fire. If it wasn’t for the winter air Rebel would have stripped you of your clothes.
You finish, trying to contain your moan even as it bubbles out of you in a wrecked sigh. Rebel drinks in every shiver, slowly pulling her hand from your pants. You desperately pull them up, making it just in time for two more joggers to cross beside you two. It doesn’t matter if they saw or not, Rebel’s entire focus is the mess you made between her fingers. “Mhm…we shall do this often, Lamb.”
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
If you’re looking for impressive sizes you won’t be finding them on Rebel. Her breasts are below average, and she prefers it that way. If they were larger then Rebel would have probably got a reduction as soon as it was possible.
She also doesn’t shave her body hair, be it on her legs, arms, or in more intimate areas.
Rebel’s hips and arms are deceptively unshapely, giving one the impression of a weak individual. But that’s only because Rebel likes to stay thin and unassuming, her godly physique keeps her plenty strong even without working out. So Rebel mostly does cardio mostly, giving her a tightly wound and lean body. Her skin is a dark rich brown, and through the entirety it’s nearly unblemished, save for three small beauty marks down her lower back.. and the multitude of light scars. The majority of which are across her arms, shoulders, and chest. But scars still line up her stomach, back, and thighs as well. They are by far the most striking part of her body, and she likes to show them off. Rebel has no tattoos and would only be willing to get one if either you or Jammer asked for matching ones.
Y = Yearning (how high is their *** drive?)
When away Rebel’s focus goes to other matters. She has hobbies and her own friends and work, as such she doesn’t often desire ***. But when you’re with her Rebel will find herself with an annoying and new need. A need that she’s felt before but not often.
The first days of your relationship will be the worst. Rebel will burn and writhe during the nights, and may even intrude in your home just to help satisfy her. Though, as you become more attuned with each other, and your presence becomes familiar in her life, then Rebel’s desires will simmer. Though it will never be as low as it was before you set her world on fire.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
If you’re a cuddler then Rebel will allow it, and stay awake until she no longer wants to be held. If you’re not a cuddler, or after Rebel breaks away if you are one, she will not stay awake long at all. Rebel will scoot to the other side of the bed and watch you sleep until she too succumbs. Sleep will come swiftly for her, but she won’t stay awake for long periods of time.
You may often find yourself waking up at 3am alone in bed, only to find Rebel working on some project in the moonlight. But this will be the same for most nights, regardless if you’ve laid with her or not. You may call her back to bed and Rebel will realize just how exhausted she is, or you can drift back to sleep, the sound of her work becoming a lullaby for you alone.