You angrily threw your deck of cards down, glaring angrily at his hand. Four of a kind. It wasn't very often that during your games you witnessed someone drawing such a hand which was why you just could not believe that it didn't happen just once but twice today. And every single time it was Tyki who had such a strong hand whilst your cards were all over the place.
A low chuckle vibrated through his chest, his gaze hidden beneath the thick glasses he had put on observing your angry-looking face with a fond gleam that was hidden from your eyes. "Can you prove that, darling?"
"So you're admitting it!" you cried out, pointing one accusing finger at him. To that he merely lifted a finger of his own though instead of pointing it at you, he wiggled it around whilst clicking his tongue.
"I'm not admitting to anything. Unless you can prove it of course. Cheating is after all only a bad thing if you're careless enough to get caught."
Great. Just great. The way you just looked at him with that straight face told much more than words could have done, your frustration simmering wonderfully within. Unable to point successfully out that you understood his tactics of cheating despite being directly in sight of you, you decided to do the childish thing of throwing the remaining pile of cards at him.
"I'm not giving you my watch, you jackass," you muttered quietly, heaving yourself up from the box you had been sitting on before turning your back on him in a desperate attempt to preserve some of your dignity. Gambling normally was fun as you were a naturally skilled person with a good portion of luck so tasting defeat so many times in a row was not familiar for you yet even if it would have been, you would have hated it. Especially since you had just gambled your favorite watch away, one you were not willing to part ways with.
So instead of giving it to him you walked away. He had cheated after all even though you were unable to prove that at the moment. So you didn't owe him anything. You'd already lost your jacket, scarf and hat to him so he had more than enough taken from you.
If there was one thing Tyki seemed to be similar to you though it was that in his eyes a win was a win, meaning that he was determined for you to keep your part of the bet. So whilst you were startled, you were not surprised when his fingers suddenly wrapped around your wrist and held you in place.
"Now, now, little miss. I believe that a bet is still a bet and as such you should keep your part of it."
That was a logic you could not argue with, unfortunately. That's why you kept quiet for a while after he had spoken those words before you finally decided to look at him, your eyes narrowed.
"Fine then. But not my watch. I know I bet on it but it is important to me. Demand anything else from me instead."
You had meant it all only in a physical sense with the objects that you currently owned, none of them necessarily of great value. That's why it took you slightly by surprise when Tyki suddenly pushed his glasses up, the lenses now on his head which revealed his full face to you for the first time. You had to admit that you were slightly taken back when you gazed at what was a rather pretty face, especially since you hadn't expected it. What turned you off though was that gleam that had appeared within his eyes the moment you had offered anything else if only you could keep your pocket watch in return.
"Anything?" He repeated after you, his words laced with a greedy ambition that had you regret your choice of words as you realised just how much one could explore them. Nevertheless though, it was already too late to go back on those words. So all you could do instead was give a simple nod, mentally already preparing for what he might ask of you now. You would not tolerate it though if he were to demand something highly inappropriate.
Long and slender fingers grazed your cheek, sliding down the soft flesh before grasping your chin and holding your head in place. The sudden touch took you by unpleasant surprise, especially as you tried to move your head away but couldn't due to his tight grip.
There was a war that was fought within him, you could tell that only by staring into his eyes. He was weighting his options right now, something that made your skin crawl. You didn't like this. You didn't like this at all.
"I want a kiss then."
It was far more tame than what you had anticipated yet still you wondered if you were comfortable enough to do as he had demanded. As it turned out though, Tyki didn't give you a choice in that regard. That much was made obvious as he suddenly yanked your head slightly forward so that soft lips could meet your own.
Initially it was innocent and smooth and despite your pounding heart and your conflicted thoughts you could not deny that he was a good kisser. It didn't take long before that innocence quickly disappeared, making way for something far more greedy. Your back was suddenly pushed against the wall behind you, your body squished between it and his body pressing against your front. The feeling of smooth lips moving skillfully against your own was disrupted as teeth and his tongue joined, quickly causing your heart to jump in your throat.
A muffled whine of panic echoed from your throat, your lips pressing tightly together out of fear that he would immediately push his tongue in otherwise. The hand that wasn't held in place by his grip instantly pushed against his shoulder, attempting to push him away from you.
You didn't know what it was. It couldn't have been your measly attempts to push him away for he had far more strength than you had. When he abruptly pulled away though, allowing you to gasp for air again, you couldn't find yourself able to care too much though as relief flooded you. The moment you dared to glance up, you found yourself tensing under Tyki's heavy gaze and instantly clasped your hand in front of your mouth when his eyes landed on your lips again.
When his head moved closer, your body pressed tighter against the stones behind you, unable to move anywhere else. He didn't dive in for another kiss though, his breath instead only caressing your skin though the proximity still kept you on edge.
“You must have cast a spell on me. Hit me with some bow and arrow. Only that can explain what I’ve been feeling for you.”
Your brain started rattling slowly when those whispers reached your ears, your heart tumbling when for one short moment it almost looked like his eyes turned amber though that may have been the light. You stayed like this, pressed against the wall even after he slowly pulled away as if unwilling to abandon the sensation of having your body so close to his own.
Perhaps it was time for you to continue your journey. You had the creeping suspicion that otherwise something terrible would happen.
Note: This isn't proofread yet because it's like 4am here. I'll go over everything when I have time.
A = Aftercare (what are they like after sex):
When he was younger and still a little inexperienced, he was awful. Truly, truly awful.
He was absolutely the type to get what he wanted and immediately dash - often while the person he had just slept with was still recovering from their recent romp and too dazed to really be aware that he had even left.
On the flip side, he had even (embarrassingly) passed out a few times after he and his current lover had reached their peaks. Snoring and still covered in cum, in a stranger's bed. He's been slapped awake and thrown out onto the street on many occasions.
If only he had a nickel.
He can at least say that's all in the past, and he's since then learned that aftercare is an important step after sex. It's even become one of his favorite aspects of it. He's usually a bit sluggish afterwards, body heavy and sapped, all relaxed and malleable like heated wax. All he wants to do is bask in the afterglow. The scent of sex in the air, the salt of your skin, the heady fragrance of your shampoo and lotions, it's all an intoxicating cocktail.
After days, weeks, sometimes months apart acting out missions for the Earl or working the mines with the boys, all he wants to do is enjoy being with you. Feeling the warm shape of your body pressed up against his after so much time apart. Murmuring sweet nothings in your ear, gently kissing the water-colored marks and bruises he left behind like little apologies, and just whispering and joking together. Just holding you against his chest and feeling you while he breathes in the nicotine of a post sex cigarette.
So, if you're eager to clean up afterwards you may have to nudge him to do it. He'll groan and moan about it but it's all in good fun. If you're in the mood for another round and goad him into cleaning up by having him join you in the bath, he'll have you up in his arms and out of bed so fast it'll make your head spin.
B = Body part (their favorite body part belonging to themselves and their partner):
His dic-
No, but on a serious note if he had to really narrow it down, it would have to be his hands. He usually channels his abilities through his hands. Cloaking them with dark matter to block enemy blows or slice through an opponent. Releasing Teez through his palms to subdue Exorcist and Finders alike.
But he likes them best because of the effect they have on you. His hands are rough. Calloused and worn from working in the mines. From grappling an axe for hours on end to split and break apart the earth, gripping the worn splintered wood of a breast auger to twist it into the face of coal like a comically sized bottle opener. It's grueling work. But the way you react to the beaten texture of his hands is enough to make it all worth it. The way you shiver and writhe under his palms, arching against his touch.
Yeah, probably his hands.
It's so cliche, but your eyes for sure. The shape, the color, the delicate bend of your eyelashes - he loves it all. He has a thing for eye contact, so whenever he catches you staring at him it's a stroke to his ego. He can't help the mix of pride and sappy adoration that inflates his chest whenever he notices you watching him. That you're just as infatuated with him as he is with you. That you can't help but look.
When he locks gazes with you and your eyes flicker away, skipping off like a startled deer. Visibly embarrassed that you had been caught. It's so cute. So sweet. He eats it up every time. But sometimes when he meets your vision you don't look away. You level him with a flirty glare, weighted and sweet like warm honey. Your eyes dark with barely contained want. It's a proposition for a challenge. A call he can't resist.
He loves that look just as much.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):
He's utterly filthy with it. If you leave the decision of where he cums up to him, he'll be divided that's for sure. It's a 50/50 split between pulling out and marking your body with his cum or staying deep inside and filling you up completely. He loves the way it looks against your skin. To cover you with it. To smear it across your body as a way to please that possessive little voice that nips at the back of his mind.
But he loves to watch it drip out of you as well. To push it back inside with his fingers, making sure none escapes. Of course, he can always just give you another load if it does.
Sometimes, unable to resist, he'll duck between your legs and scoop it up with his tongue. Moaning at the taste of you both. Sucking your collective mess into his greedy mouth despite how sensitive you still are. Pinning you down by trapping your twitching hips underneath a forearm so that he can lap at your dripping cunt, smearing your cum all over his face.
D = Dirty secret (a fantasy, fetish or kink that they may be reluctant to share): It's probably not all that surprising for someone like him and you've probably already had assumptions about it yourself, but he's entertained the idea of a threesome more than once.
Tyki isn't the type to be embarrassed about his kinks or new things he'd like to try in the bedroom, but this is something that he himself is on the fence about.
Back before the two of you became involved and put a name on your relationship Tyki had been involved in many threesomes. Hell, he's been a part of orgies before. You'd be surprised the sort of parties that the bored and wealthy may throw. And as Lord Sheril's bachelor brother with a reputation for sleeping around he's been invited to many. So, there's no insecurity in that department.
But what he is, is hesitant to do is to share you.
It's no secret that he's a possessive lover. And as bad as it may be, it's a quality of his that you actually enjoy.
But the thought of someone else putting their hands on you in the way that he does, seeing you bare and naked. It makes his blood boil.
But it also excites him too. To be able to just lay back and watch you writhe on your king-sized bed, to see someone else take you in their mouth and make you cry in ecstasy.
He'd love to make you keep eye contact with him while someone else eats you out and he jerks himself off.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?): Very experienced. Even before he was taken in by the Earl and realized his status and identity as the Noah of Pleasure, Tyki had always loved sex. The joy, the intimacy, the closeness, the trust, the pleasure that comes from it.
Everything about it, the lead up, the game of seducing someone beforehand, the feel of skin on skin, the grip of fingers combing and gripping his hair, the relief and contentment that comes afterwards. It's all so good. It's familiar. It's peaceful.
He spent years learning to read what someone wants just based of the pitch of a moan, the way that a body twitches or clenches, the sort of look someone gives him. It's a language all on its own. One he's perfected.
That's not to say that his first times with you wasn't a learning experience. But that's what made it so exciting. Figuring out what you liked, what made you melt for him, cum the quickest.
He caught on quick. Perhaps too quick. It left you breathless, lost gasping in a torrent of new sensations, clinging to him as some sort of support.
It's safe to say that he knows what he's doing.
F = Favorite position:
Doggy style: He loves watching the recoil of your ass hit against his hips.
Full nelson: There's nothing like holding you and thrusting into you while you moan like a helpless bitch.
Cowgirl (includes reverse cowgirl): He loves it whenever you take control, using him for your benefit. But if he feels like assuming control, he can always hold onto you and thrust up into your dripping cunt.
Sixty-nine position: He's aware that it can be a tricky position, so he saves it for special occasions like an anniversary or a celebration. He loves that you're both simultaneously bringing and controlling each others pleasure together.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? Ect.): It depends on the mood. It can be serious, and intense with him regardless of which one of you is in control. Completely trapped in the moment and each other's pleasure.
You can get so lost in each other that it only feels like it's the two of you left in the whole world.
But if someone manages to pull a muscle or hit their head or roll off of the bed and onto the floor, he's quick to laugh it off with you.
Sex is funny sometimes. Awkward even.
And he's glad that you love him enough to shrug off something unplanned happening. That it doesn't ruin the mood but just changes it.
Unless of course someone pulls a muscle. Then the sex can be put on hold and a warm bath and massage is in order. Some aspirin.
H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? Ect.): It depends. Back when you weren't dating, he tried to keep everything neat and clean so that he was always prepared. You never know ya know?
But know that you're together, if he's off on a mission that'll keep you apart for a long stretch of time with no chance of you popping up on a surprise visit, he won't keep up on it too much. Mostly when he's back wandering around with Clark, Eeze and Momo. He spends hours down in the coal mines, typically around 11 to 12 hours a day, if not more. So, by the time he's back on the surface and is able to take a shower he's not really concerned about his pubic hair.
He's busy scrubbing off layers of dark soot and dirt and sweat from his skin. Sometimes just sitting under the spray of the shower nozzle (or if he's less fortunate sponging it off from a bucket of water and hoping for the best). But if he's back home and has the means to he'll keep himself trim and clean.
As for the carpet matching the drapes, yeah all of his hair is the same color. A gorgeous dark black color. If you squint the hair on his head is just a degree lighter because of sun exposure.
I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect): If he isn't in love then there's no mistake that it's just sex and that's all it is. He's not necessarily rude about it, but the boundary is definitely there and clear. He was the unobtainable bachelor before. The one that women and men alike fawned for and hoped to tie down. In his eyes you'd have to be completely disillusioned to think you'd have a chance with him apart from detached sex.
But now that he's with you, someone that he does love (even though it took his dense ass forever to open up and realize it) he makes it very apparent.
It does depend on the mood. There are times were he just wants to fuck you, to take out all of his frustrations and not think. To have sloppy gross sex that leaves you both covered in sweat and struggling to catch your breath. Sometimes he wants you to do the same to him. To just use him for your pleasure and forget all of your troubles and just be in the moment.
But other times he just wants to love and be loved. He wants you to know that you're the only one that ever truly made him feel like this. That it's you. Just you and no one else. That he loves you so much it hurts.
J = Jack off (masturbation head cannon): His libido is insane. There are times when you're having sex that you genuinely think that he's going to kill you with too many orgasms. Yes, he has made you cum so much that you've passed out. And no, he has not forgotten it. It's inflated his ego to dramatic proportions and every time you try for marathon sex, he aims to best his record.
So, it's safe to say that when the two of you are apart that he's chewing at the hypothetical bars of his enclosure.
Whenever Tyki goes without sex, he gets pent up, and when he gets pent up, he gets cranky. Touchy, pouty even.
There's a permanent scowl on his face, and a perpetual furrow on his brows.
Mild inconveniences that he would usually brush off now ruins his entire day. A quip from a hated coworker at the mines that he would usually deflect with a sarcastic jab of his own nearly sets him off. Clark and Momo have to hold him back, dragging him off with sheepish apologies thrown over their shoulders. He almost punched the supervisor once. Thank God Momo was there to catch him before he could.
It's safe to say that he jerks off at least once a day. And if he isn't able to- probably too exhausted to after a day of labor- he wakes up with an attitude.
All he has to work off is memories and a couple instant film photographs he has of you, usually stuffed in the pocket of his worn work pants or the inner pocket of his frock coat depending on the job.
If he has time, sometimes he'll edge himself for as long as he's able to and pretend that it's your hand gripping his hard cock instead of his own.
It's safe to say you're in for it once he gets back home.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):
Oh God, there's so many. . . Where to even start? Maybe we'll just try and narrow it down to a few.
Scent kink: It may be a strange one to some people, but there's something about your particular scent that drives him crazy. It doesn't matter if you puff on layers of perfumes or scented products. He'll love the way they interact with the natural aroma of your skin and your hair.
He especially loves it when he can smell you on his person or clothes, carrying a bit of you with him wherever he goes.
And he loves it when he can pick up his scent on you. It satisfies the possessive side of him. It's a way to telegraph to others that you belong to him and him alone.
This kink (like many) gets amplified once his inner Noah, Joyd is awoken.
Whenever he takes control of the body, he likes to cling to you using his arms and tentacles to keep you pinned to him, purring like a cat while he nuzzles his face against yours. No doubt making sure to spread his scent all across your person.
Primal play: Another one that Joyd defiantly enjoys as well, perhaps even more than Tyki if that's at all possible.
Tyki has always found pleasure in hunting you down. Especially when he's in his darker state.
He always makes sure to give you a head start of course; he doesn't want the game to end too quickly.
Precautions are always set in place, a pack full of a fresh set of clothes, snacks and a canteen full of water is within the vicinity of area of choice. The safe word is always repeated before the game starts, even though it's yet to be used. But he understands that he can be a bit intense when he's in this state.
This is something to be enjoyed, the last thing he wants to do is to harm you, even if it's an accident.
He always acts cocky during your games and at times downright feral. The longer it takes him to find you the more he loses his composure. His voice will become frayed around the edges, calling out cocky taunts into the night air, tight with shaky self-restraint while he has to physically hold himself back from sniffing you out too quickly.
He really wants to enjoy this, but damn if you don't make it difficult sometimes.
There are times when he gets worried that he's going overboard, that he needs to reel in the nasty snarl in his voice and dampen the crazed grin that pulls at his mouth. To hide the nasty fangs that his teeth had sharpened into.
But that's when he smells it, sweet and heady, curling up and settling in his lungs like an aphrodisiac. He nearly moans, he can almost taste it on his tongue.
It's arousal.
Your arousal to be specific. So very familiar but he never tires of it.
Yeah, you're enjoying this just as much as he is. And that's all it usually takes for his resolve to snap. For him to slink out of the shadows with the grace of honed predator and tackle you down onto the ground. You always let out a little squeak whenever he snatches you. But not out of fear but of complete uninhibited joy.
. . . well maybe a bit of fear but you like anyways.
Dirty talk (that has roots in degradation and praise): Dirty talk goes both ways for him, but he absolutely loves dishing it out. His ability to build you up with a little praise and sugared words or leave you a whimpering mess from a little degradation inflates his already massive ego. The way he can mold you into whatever he wants, his good girl, his sweet baby or maybe you're being a brat, a filthy slut that needs to put back in her place.
Regardless of the mood, with enough time and patience on his part and a few words he can have you a cross-eyed mess.
. . .
"That's all you are, isn't it? A little cockdrunk slut for me. All it takes is a little dick for you to go stupid. "
Your brain was complete mush at this point, useless and too overloaded with the pleasure encompassing your body to even register what he was saying. Far too focused on the drag of his cock thrusting in and out of you to even care. Repetitively hitting that devastating spot inside of you that had your body spasming like it was struck with an electrical current. Drool smearing past the corners of your mouth and your eyes nearly rolling back, all you could do was keen and weakly nod your head in agreement.
" Yeah? " He cooed mockingly, snickering under his breath. Your mushy brain had managed to catch that. That cocky shit. You'd snap at him with a snarky quip if you had the brain compacity to do it. But that is what got you in this situation to begin with. Instead, all you could do was lay and take, struggling to meet the brutal pace he had set.
" It's alright baby. I'll give you what you need," he crooned. His mouth twisting into a lethal grin. Peering at you in that intense golden shade from underneath his lashes, molten gold flashing like a warning.
He cups both of your legs from the bends of your knees and stretches them up and over his shoulders, folding your body like a sheet of paper. The change punches the air out your lungs, it lets him move so much deeper.
You didn't think your brain could lose much more of its grip. But Tyki shoves himself forward, completely trapping your body underneath his own, and grips the headboard above you to better support his weight and digs in deep.
You go boneless. Settling into the mattress completely limp. You can't even moan anymore, the drag of his cock punching the air out of your lungs with each thrust. All you can do is just sit uselessly. Lay and listen to the way the old wooden bones of the bed creeks in protest, the wet smack of skin on skin, the slick sounds of his cock thrusting in and out of your pussy.
"Aw look at that. " You can just barely manage to make out the silky cadence of his voice through the haze of it all. "And I thought I had you dumb before."
All you can do is let out a broken drunk sob, choking on air in a weak hiccup.
Then you feel him moving even closer to you, eliminating as much space between you as he can without throwing off the devastating rhythm he set. "It's alright, baby." He assures, like he isn't fucking you within an inch of your life. He takes your earlobe into his mouth, nipping and sucking before he lets it go. "You just have to lay there and take. After all, that's all your good for."
L = Location (favorite place to do the do): As long as you're alright with it, Tyki will fuck you just about any time, anywhere. He has little reservations about it. Plus, he likes the thrill of nearly being caught.
On the beach, the grounds of Sheril's estate, in the hallway of the mansion while a lively party thrives downstairs, anywhere any time. You name it he'll do it.
He even fingered you at the dining room table while the Earl was trying to close a deal with a possible benefactor. Don't worry, no one figured it out (apart from Wisely, obviously. You two couldn't look at each other for about a month afterwards).
But if he had to narrow it down . . . probably somewhere private. Somewhere where you'd feel comfortable enough to ride and fuck him without abandon or worrying about being caught.
So probably his private beach house in Portugal, miles away from any village, city or settlement. At most there may be a sailor's boat bobbing on the cerulean waters off in the horizon, far too distant to spot anything explicit happening.
On his fishing boat, in the ocean just off the shore, on the beach, or in his house you two can do whatever you want.
M = Motivation (what turns them on? What gets them going?): You. You do. Every facet of you. Are you shy and uncertain? That turns him on. The fact that he has that sort of effect on you. That he can make you so flustered.
Are you bold and self-assured? He may just want to break that confidence. To remind you who's in control. Or maybe he won't. He likes you in control too. Guiding his pleasure, telling him when to cum. Punishing him if he does something without your permission.
But honestly it all gets him going. The scent of you on the wind, the sound of your voice, the way you look at him, the feel of your hand on his body. All of it. It doesn't take much to set him off.
N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs): He doesn't want to genuinely hurt you. Listen, Tyki is a sadist in his own right. Yes, he likes rough sex. To mark your pretty body and be marked in return, to blot your gorgeous body in blue and yellow and green and to feel you slicing red rivulets down his back, to feel your gasping throat underneath his hand and have you grip him by his wavy locks and shove him face first into your pussy. He loves it. The pain and pleasure
But he'll refuse to do something that will cause you long lasting pain. It doesn't matter if it's days of pain or months, it's a downright loud unapologetic no!
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): Just about fifty-fifty.
He loves giving oral. To break you down and leave you a helpless quivering mess. To have that effect on someone despite only using his mouth. It gets him off.
But he loves receiving as well.
Feeling the pressure of your hot mouth wrapped around his throbbing cock, aiming to suck him of all he has to offer. God, there's little else that compares to it.
If you offer to go down on him after a long taxing mission this man will absolutely melt for you. He's willing to just lay back and let you do whatever you want to him. But if you're alright with him fucking your throat and use you like a toy for his pleasure, he'll eat you out for hours if you want.
Seriously, he won't stop until you tell him to.
P = Pace (are they face and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.): As stated before, it depends on the mood. There are different sides to sex, and in his eyes and just sticking to one is like going to a buffet and just putting a single thing on your plate.
Why not indulge in all of it?
Some days he wants to fuck you hard and fast. The kind of sex that leaves you aching for a week. Bruised and walking around with a limp, a reminder of what he did to you. Of how good he made you feel. The way you gasped and keened and whimpered like a mindless little thing whose sole purpose was to feel pleasure and to please him.
On the other hand, he wants you to feel loved and cherished. You were the first to make him fall in love. Sure, he's had a few crushed over the years, and at one time in the past he did think he was in love. Hell, maybe he did love them. Back when he was young and regularly fishing off of the docks of a quaint town in Portugal, snatching bread off of carts that were parked along the main street. But they left him to survive. Marrying into a family to survive.
He couldn't blame them despite the hurt.
But now he has you.
And you didn't reject the love that he displayed, in fact you went after it. You chased it even when he was too scared to. Scared of what it meant. The consequences of it. You pursued ahead. You fought.
So, he'll slow. He wants you to feel it. All of him. Every inch, every part. Every hideous side of him that may be alien, despite the fear he may feel. You accepted it all.
The Earl, the Noah, Joyd, him. You accepted it all. Not without challenge but you would fight for him despite your reservations.
He'd do whatever you wanted.
Q = Quickies (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): He's a whore for a quickie. Admittedly he does appreciate it whenever he's free to take you apart piece by glorious piece and leave you a shaken mess. But he's also pressed for time. He is rarely able to indulge in his time with you without the fear of being called to hunt down an Exorcist for the Earl or to assassinate a political rival that may jeopardize his brothers standing.
He's always trying to fuck you if he has to opportunity and you're willing. It may be the last time for a long time that you two can be together. He wants to take advantage of that.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? Etc.): He's willing to take a risk. As long as it doesn't make you uncomfortable or unravel all of the efforts that his family has made then he's pretty much sold.
As long as the stigma is just attached to him then he'll even fuck you at a fully packed soiree. He doesn't care. He really doesn't care if his social standing is stained. In fact, he welcomes it with open arms despite his brother's protests.
But God forbid someone bad mouths you or spreads rumors. They'll probably be found dead from "mysterious circumstances".
But yes, as long as no true impactful harm befalls you, he's down for just about anything.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?): His stamina is insane.
As stated, marathon sex is definitely a thing. He has fucked you to the point of unconsciousness. And if consented he will continue to use you while you're no longer awake.
His libido is wild. It's honestly one of the many reasons why he way hesitant to get in a relationship in the first place. He didn't know if he'd be able to find someone that would be able to keep up with his drive. And he doesn't mean that to be cocky, it comes from a place of actual concern.
He's insatiable. He'd like to blame it on his inner Noah, but the truth is that he's been like this since he's started having sex.
His mood plumets if he goes without you for too long, so once he's finally able to have you he's insatiable. He'll be your shadow once you're finally reunited, following you around like a lost puppy until you're somewhere isolated enough for him to snatch you up and have his way with you.
T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?): He doesn't need them to get you off. He knows that. You know that. But he can't deny that they're fun.
Nipple clamps, anal beads, vibrators, butt plugs, a spreader bar, whatever you like he can use to his advantage. Toys are allies not enemies.
Want him to use something on you and he absolutely will. He'll wreck you with it. Leave you a crying mess, muscles seizing and gripping at the sheets in hopes of orienting yourself. He doesn't care.
You have a toy? It doesn't matter. it's nothing for him to be insecure about. It's a tool not a replacement. You have a favorite dildo that you like, it's okay he'll exploit it.
It's nothing compared to him.
U = Unfair (how much do they like to tease?): Oh-hoho, he loves to tease. To tease you as much as you tease him, whether it's completely intentional or not. He'll edge you for hours if you let him. Please let him!
Slurping at your cunt and moaning into you, sending sweet vibrations up the walls of your pussy. Holding you close by your thighs and basking in the way that you grind your sloppy pussy against his face. Sucking your throbbing clit into his mouth until you're on the edge of ecstasy and tearing himself away at the last second.
It's as painful for him as it is for you.
He gets off to the way you cry, the incoherent moans of protest, the way you beg him to just let you cum. He loves it all so, so much!
Please grip him by his hair and grind yourself onto his face. Please stimulate your clit on the point of his nose. It takes everything for him not to thrust down against the bed like a dog in heat.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): If he's in control then his groans might be subdued, short and sharp. He wants to be the one that has reins on the situation, and he doesn't want you getting the upper hand, no matter how good you feel to him. He's the boss right now and he doesn't care how much of a brat you're being or how long it may take to remind you he's the one that holds your pleasure in the palm of his hands.
The sounds that you get out of him are clipped and guttural and low.
But when he's desperate and hungry for you he's whinny, uninhibited moaning into the air like a common whore. And you love it. He loves it.
Unless you're inclined to gag him, the entire country will be privy to how desperate he is for you.
W = Wildcard (a random head cannon for the character): It's nothing crazy that you probably haven't already assumed, but before you he has turned to prostitutes to quell his sexual desires. It's nothing that you hold him guilty for of course, but he appreciates it, nonetheless.
X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes):He's a little above average, about 6 inches (15.24 cm) when he's hard. Uncircumcised.
He has two veins, one that runs along the side of his cock and another less prominent one that runs underneath and fades just before reaching the head of his dick.
Lightly suck on them or trace them with your tongue and it's an easy way to get him worked up and breathless.
He's on the thicker side. No matter how many times you take him, when he splits you open there's always a bit of a stretch. Not enough to be painful, but it never fails to build a delicious ache inside as he fills you up inch after inch until he's settled deep at the base.
Y = Yearning = (how high is their sex drive?): I'm sure that you've gathered by now that his libido is off the chain. If he hasn't had it in a while, he gets irritable and whinny. Honestly from an outside perspective, it's almost pathetic how ornery he gets without sex. All sharp remarks and unforgiving sarcasm.
He's looking for an excuse to fight at this point, which can be unusual considering that he can be forgiving towards rivals that he isn't required to mark (i.e., he was willing to give Daisya Barry and out as he was not on his list, but the Exorcist prompted a fight with him regardless and Tyki then took his life).
But when he's strung out and desperate and you're unable to see each other it's the enemies that cross his path that suffer. He doesn't tell you this. He doesn't want you to feel guilty for their deaths. The way that he played with them like a barn cat with a mouse.
It's not your fault.
The yearning he feels that he has to stave in off with violence. That it's the only way to even get a sort of emotional release that even nudges the sort of relief he feels when he's with you.
He's always missing you. No matter what. if you're apart, you're on his mind. He craves you constantly.
Z = Zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep afterwards?): He can fall asleep fairly quickly if he doesn't have a need to stay awake afterwards. He's typically tired afterwards after weeks apart.
He'll force himself to stay awake if you're hard pressed to get clean afterwards. But as soon as your wiped clean and settled he's out like a light. He has a lot on his plate, between keeping up with orders from the Earl, maintaining his relationships with Momo, Eeze, Clark without suspicion and keeping you satisfied without feeling like your relationship is excluded the man is spread thin.
All he wants to do afterwards is lay back and pass out with you in his arms.
A/N: As stated, I am going to be posting a few of my older one-shots on here from DGM. I do plan on writing some new ones rather soon here, beginning with Tyki/RC. I am scheduling a batch of them now, which will all include this A/N.
These ones are unedited and include (y/n), which I no longer use in my current writing. Nothing wrong with it; just a personal preference. I do also want to state that there may be instances of mentions of face reddening and such, which I now know is not inclusive.
Fic Warnings: drunken sex; tentacles; some bloodplay; enemy sex
It had started as a friendly game of cat and mouse--that is, as friendly as any game between an Exorcist and a Noah could be. The two of you would chase one another upon discovering the other was nearby. Your weapons would collide, your Innocence and his Teaze. The Noah of Pleasure never once missed a chance to mock you, his voice always containing a slight lilt. He would waggle his tongue at you when your attacks missed. Sometimes, when he was in an especially pleasant mood, Tyki Mikk would back off without injuring you at all. He would leave you red in the face with the way he would brush his body against yours before departing; those times, he had managed to collect an Innocence from you and destroyed it with a green flash of light.
You had been on a small vacation after having discovered that the rumor of Innocence was false. A group of adolescents had merely been practicing magic tricks and pulling pranks around the area. In the bar that evening, you had sipped on your favorite alcoholic beverage. When the bartender had given you another and stated that the tab had been covered by an interested gentleman, you had thought nothing of it. Men in those parts were known for such acts. You had felt a light buzz upon leaving the bar. Your fingertips had run along the walls as you walked by various buildngs on your way back to the hotel.
When the gentleman had wrapped his arms around you, placed a kiss on your neck, your toes had curled in response. You turned, unsure whether you would reject his advances or accept--it had been so long since last you had given into such carnal desires. The Order did not give you enough time off to seek out pleasure.
Drunk as you were, you easily recognized the face of the Noah. You stiffened in his hold and opened your mouth to--what, you did not know. His lips immediately sealed over yours, his tongue sliding past your lips and dancing deliciously in the contours of your mouth. You moaned into the kiss. It was so wrong yet felt so good. "Just this once," he whispered in your ear prior to licking it. "Let's play just this once~"
And he had grabbed your hand, leading you in a different direction, all the while a sultry smile played on his lips. You had found yourself acting like a lamb being led to the slaughter. You followed him, undressing as he undressed. Climbing onto the bed with him. Straddling his hips and feeling his hardening cock pressing against you. His hands felt as though they were everywhere at once. The two of you humped at one another. Two of his fingers slipped past your lips, and you greedily sucked on them. Your tongue wrapped around the digits, which began thrusting in and out of your mouth in time with the rhythm of your hips.
His mouth was hot and moist on your breast, his tongue flicking at your nipple, rolling it. Your toes curled and you threw your head back. Tyki's fingers slipped from your lips, trailed down your body, and entered your moist cunt.
In the back of your mind, as he fucked you with his fingers, you asked yourself just how wrong this was. He was a Noah and you were an Exorcist. Mostly likely he was thinking something similar; he suddenly tensed and his movements stopped. You moaned at the lack of contact, the lack of friction. A groan of pain caused you to knit your brow. Your alcohol-impaired brain could not quite grasp what was going on. Nails drug into your sides, and you grit your teeth. They seemed to sharpen, to blacken. You looked down at Tyki in slight horror mixed with awe and lingering arousal.
Placing your hands on his, you tried to gently push him away, but he only bared his teeth, the canines resembling something of fangs. He was growling out his pain, practically yelling and screaming. And you could not blame him. Tentacles branched out from him, and despite your drunk state, you knew to be afraid. Your once more tried to move off of him, only to have two of those dark tentacles wrap around your ankles, pulling you back down. You both groaned as your lower lips slammed against his erection. His eyes were covered by a mask, yet still you knew he was watching you.
As the change continued and his grin grew, your heart pounded faster and faster in your chest. You cursed yourself, your mind starting to sober as Tyki completed his transformation into his Noah from. Tentacles held your legs, wrapped around your waist and brought you closer, and prevented your hands from pushing against him. His hands ran up the length of your body, his grin almost feral. The limbs stopped on your shoulders, and you were pushed roughly onto your back. He ground his hips into yours--hard. You moaned in a mixture of pain and pleasure.
Those same hands moved to your neck, his fingers lacing around and constricting on your throat. You tried to move your hands to grip his, however the tentacles spread them on either side of your head and pinned them against the bed. Tears welled in the corner of your eyes and your vision grew blurry. The muscles in your legs tensed. You could hardly breathe. You closed your eyes for but a moment then opened them wide as you felt something slick and wet travel along your face. His tongue.
A whimper escaped you as he positioned himself at your entrance and slammed inside. Your back arched off the bed. You tried to move your hands again, but failed. His grip on your throat loosened the slighest bit simultaneous to the moment he shuddered. He rocked his hips into yours. Your eyelids fluttered. The tentacles abandoned your ankles and slid up your legs. His hands moved to your collar bone. Able to breathe, you gasped greedily for air. You were panting, and when one tentacle dipped between your nether lips and pressed experimentally against your clitoris, you inhaled deeply and loudly.
His nails bit into your flesh as you rocked your hips into his. Joyd moved the tentacle that was pleasuring you and settled his hips tighter against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your hands gripping at the parts of him that bound them. He leaned down and pressed his mouth aganst yours. You immediately granted him access, his skilled tongue dancing along the roof of your mouth before sliding under your tongue. You moaned, meeting his every thrust, which were becoming harder and harder the more he pounded into you. You were under no misconception that you weren't going to have bruises on your thighs the next day--if you managed to live that long.
Joyd ran his hands up and down your body, his thumbs rolling your nipples, finger tips ghosting over your belly. You grew wetter with every touch, your juices acting as a lubricant that helped him to slide in and out of you faster.
When he pulled out of you, you nearly sobbed. He released your hands, which shot out to grip his shoulders. Grinning once more, the Noah dug his nails into your hips, drawing blood that pooled down onto the bed below. You ignored the pain as he rubbed the head of his cock against your clitoris. Wet from your juices, he moved against you, up and down, at such a delicious pace. You found yourself groaning and moaning, repeating his name like a mantra. You rocked against him, trying to touch more of him while his tentacles wrapped around your breasts and squeezed.
Throwing your head back, you came, gasping out and panting to catch your breath. Joyd continued to shove his cock in and out of your outer lips, pressing tightly against the opening of your vagina and your clitoris.
He shoved you away, and you shuddered and the loss of contact. On your hands and knees before him, you sighed in ecstasy when you felt his hands wrap around your hips. He pulled you backwards to meet his thrust and he plunged inside of you. While two of his tentacles continued to play with your breasts, a third slid along the length of your body. It pressed against your clit, which was rubbed against it with Joyd's every thrust. The tip of the tentacle pressed against your lips, which you opened, and moved into your mouth. It teased your tongue, which lapped at it greedily.
One of his hands entangled itself in your hair and jerked your head roughly. You whimpered then moaned as his tongue ran along your spine from your tailbone to the back of your neck. His cock continued to move inside of you, and you could feel your inner walls clenching around it.
He came inside of you, his nails biting into your upper arms as he enveloped your body with his. More blood fell onto the bed below the pair of you, more injuries you ignored. Joyd nipped lightly at your lips, riding out his orgasm. You closed your eyes and kissed him, and he returned the gesture, this time, surprisingly, he was gentle. The tentacles moved off your body, sliding completely away until all you could feel was his cock inside of you. When your eyelids fluttered open, you were once again in Tyki's embrace rather than the Noah that dwelt within.
Sweat dripping down your forehead, you bit your bottom lip and stared at him. He was grinning at you as though he had just had the time of his life. Tyki turned you over, laying you on your back with your head on the pillow, after he pulled out. He settled between your legs, holding his torso up. He kissed you gently, his lips and tongue creating a trail along your jawline to your ear, which he sucked on. Your toes curled at the feel of it.
The pain of your body was nothing compared to the pleasure running through you. Tyki had once more buried his fingers into your depths. The heel of his hand cupped your pussy, pressed lightly against your pubic bone. You could feel his fingers wriggling about inside of you, curling and uncurling as you started to move in time with him.
"Just this once," you heard him whisper. And you knew, without him needing to tell you, that he was saying it to himself--as though he were trying to convince himself.
♠️ He has a tendency to wander when he's drunk. He had taken you to Portugal for vacation during a festival when you first learned of this little quirk.
The two of you had spent the day gorging yourself on local street food, walking the streets while drinking and admiring the festivities and your activities had carried on well into the night.
Both of you were drunk. And while Tyki's tolerance is admittedly higher than yours, he had been drinking a lot more than you had.
You were busy admiring a string of floats being carted down the street. A prism of colors and flower blossoms, making the street look like a rainbow. And when you had turned to gauge Tyki's reaction you were struck with the startling revelation that he was gone. He had just been next to you. Where was he?
After about fifteen minutes of weaving through the crowd of people and hopelessly calling out to him over the rancorous laughter and chatter, you found the man digging around in some dumpster for a reason that only God knows. His face has lit up like you were the stars incarnate at the sight of you and it was almost enough to dampen the panic and fury in your chest. Almost.
" Hey, babe! I've been looking all over for ya!" He had slurred while dangling from the lip of the dumpster.
That had earned him a smack on the back of the head.
♠️ Rubs his feet together when he's getting ready to go to sleep. It's almost like a ritual for him. If he's completely honest, he doesn't even realize he's doing it half the time. He didn't know how frequently he did it until you had pointed it out to him one night. Once his body makes contact with the mattress he's out like a light.
♠️ He's not much of a morning person but he's used to waking up before dawn to go work the mines when he's with Eaze, Momo, and Clark. But he's also out well past midnight when hunting Exorcist for the Earl, so all in all his sleep schedule is non-existent.
So, when he finally has time to see you he's either falling asleep and crashing for hours on end or he's waking up before the sun can peak over the horizon out of habit. One time he passed out for nearly 15 hours straight and you had to press your ear up to his chest to listen for his heart beat to make sure he was still alive.
He is a bed hog though. Often splaying his arms and legs out like a star fish until you have no choice but to sleep on top of him. You're pretty sure it's intentional.
On the nights where he can't sleep and insomnia kicks in, he'll train smoke through a pack of cigarettes until he gets tired enough to go back to bed and pass out.
You've caught him like this on several occasions. Waking up well past midnight to see his side of the bed empty and cold.
It presses you to leave the comfort of your bed. And you'll find him in the kitchen, sitting at the small table in your pitifully sized dining room.
The window cracked open letting the smoke from his cigarette coil outside into the delicate night air. Tyki will be gazing outside, a set of heavy bags under his eyes. No doubt tired from the long " business trip" he took for the Earl or his little reunions with Eaze, Momo, and Clark.
You'll sneak up behind him (or so you like to think. He'll know you're up as soon as he hears the bed creak from down the hall) and wrap your arms around his shoulders, kissing the crown of his head.
It doesn't take much to coax him back in bed. He's quick to snuff out his cigarette on the ashtray and follow you out of the kitchen as soon as he feels your warm arms around him.
♠️ I see gift giving as one of Tyki's love languages. Much like how he gifts Eaze the silver buttons from the uniforms of slain Exorcists, he likes to pick up random trinkets from the countries that he passes through.
You now have an entire shelf in your house that's devoted to these little nick nacks.
It sits above your writing desk and you often find yourself staring at them when there's a lull in your inspiration.
There's a shell that he had found off the coast of Italy, cream and strawberry pink,
a gorgeous pale lavender lace fan from France, a kaleidoscope from Berlin. Not to mention the time he came back with the Kamasutra, the bastard. You may or may not have tried out a few of those positions. One especially adventurous position resulted in a pulled muscle and the two of you laid out on the floor in a heap of tangled limps, bodies shaking with laughter.
♠️ This man falls in love all over again whenever you cook for him.
You know that saying, "the way to a man's heart is through his stomach"?
Well that's Tyki 100%
Just the thought of you making a meal FOR him is enough to make him feel loved.
It doesn't even have to be perfect.
Is it a little burnt? Doesn't matter.
Slightly undercooked. He'll still eat it.
( He might give you some shit for it, but it's all in good fun)
You have to remember, unless he's attending a family meeting with his fellow Noah, or is at Sheryl's, he's most likely with the boys at the mines. Most of the time he's eating a slice of tough, musty bread or some salted pork while he's on lunch break down in the dark, gritty shafts. He's also used to visiting soup kitchens in whatever area he's currently visiting. Drinking down greasy soup that's usually seasoned with enough pepper to make someone choke as a way to mask the weak watery flavor.
Whatever you make doesn't have to be perfect. He's just appreciative that you had taken time out of your day to make something for him.
If there's ever any left over food that you can't finish, he'll eat it for you. He's literally a bottomless pit.
♠️ Physical touch is definitely one of his love languages. This man is very handsy.
He needs to be touching you in some sort of way.
A hand on your waist, an arm slung across your shoulders, having you sit in his lap. You get the picture.
When he's been gone for weeks, if not months on end his next priority is you. No matter where you are or what you're doing he's finding you and pulling you into his arms and smothering you in kisses.
And the kissing and the desperation after being apart for so long is usually a combination that leads to more physical activities.
He's been gone for a while and he needs to feel you. To familiarize himself with your body again. Your scent, your taste, your voice and the sweet sounds that you make.
He wants to hear how you've been and what you've been up to since he's been gone.
For the remainder of the day he's going to be your shadow.
On this note, please bathe or shower with this man. It doesn't even have to turn sexual (not that he's complaining if it does).
There's just something so intimate about the whole experience.
Help him wash his hair. He'll die and go to heaven at the feel of your fingers combing through his hair and massaging his scalp.
♠️ Loves to speak to you in his native tongue. Even if you don't understand him.
He caught on pretty quickly on how you to the sound of his voice rolling and pronouncing Portuguese words.
He practically purrs when he does it.
Watching you get all flustered over it strokes his already massive ego.
And now that he's discovered this little Achilles heel of yours he makes sure to exploit it whenever he can.
Loves doing it to you in public so that he can watch you try and hide how flustered you really are.
He gets a huge kick out of it.
♠️ Definitely jealous and possessive.
Not because he doesn't trust you. It's everyone else he has an issue with. They should know that you're his. Not theirs.
He will absolutely litter your neck in purple and red blemishes unless you tell him he can't. He'll comply, but he's not above pouting about it. Grumbling under his breath with a pinched brow while running his hands through his hair in an irritated tick.
If you do let him, he's over the moon.
Pinning you down underneath him and sucking on every available inch of skin until you're squirming.
He knows how you're conflicted about how you feel when he gets visibly possessive in public. But there are times when he can't help it.
Because someone is flirting with you despite how obviously disinterested you are. Either because they're dense or simply because they choose to ignore your rejection.
He tries to be on his best behavior, he really does. But once someone TOUCHES you, all bets are off.
He's pulling you out from under their grip and behind his body like he's a shield and looming into their space. All of the Noah Clan have a threatening aura to normal humans in general. But when Tyki's pissed, it's jacked up to 100. You would imagine that it feels similar to how looking at a black hole would be. Massive, alien, oppressive. Like being pulled in by a magnetized web.
There's something old and primal in your bones that tells you that you're in the sight of something that's beyond your understanding. That looks like a human, and talks like a human, but isn't.
That maybe you're out of your depth.
And you can't help but be happy that you're on the opposite end of that aura. Those eyes aren't flashing gold like a warning because of you, but for you.
As soon as you see that amber glint you know it's your que to get Tyki away from whoever's responsible. Unless you want to see someone get an organ removed.
Which has happened once before and you'd rather not see something like that again.
Your memory of it is a vague mess. One minute the man was giving some sleazy one liner and was about to rope his arm around your shoulders and the next minute he was collapsing on the ground, gurgling on crimson. Tyki was grinning down at him with maniacal glee and a human heart still pumping grotesquely in the palm of his hand.
" Oh my God!" You had exclaimed once your mind had finally caught up with reality Though it still wasn't functioning at its best. " Put it back!"
Tyki had blinked at you, a little confused. " Eh . . . I'm not sure that's how that works."
♠️ He taught you how to play poker. And by play I mean cheat.
It makes it interesting when you both play against each other, considering that he taught you his tricks. Well, not all of them.
Fortunately for you, Clark and Momo were both generous enough to extend their own little sleights of hand to you.
Tyki was appalled when he first learned of this. He's never fully recovered from the betrayal.
♠️ He takes you on all kinds of dates whenever he's free to.
As both the aristocrat and the vagabond. Reservations to expensive restaurants and trips to high class retreats in some of the worlds most popular cities and counties.
He'll buy you whatever you want, nothing is too expensive when you're dating a relative to the Millennium Earl.
Clothes from the finest fabrics, jewelery made from rare diamonds.
If you want it, you got it.
But his favorite dates are the ones without all the glamor and money.
You both often frequent pubs, getting drunk well into the night and waking up late into the evening the next day with a story to tell (if either of you can remember).
He'll take you on picnic dates out by a pond, so he can fish while you snack on little sandwiches and cheeses and fruits, just basking in each other's presence.
The ocean has a lot of sentimental value to him and he wants to share it with you. So, beach dates are frequent thing.
You'll make a day of it. Sunning yourself atop the warm sand and chasing waves.
He's horrible about splashing you with water or vanishing underneath the blue and snatching you up from bellow to hear you shriek out in surprised joy.
