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.