#trynnak

Bio Below

Hithon:

Biting

scale: fuck no, gross, not for them, eh, no opinion, kinda, hot, fuck yes, p l e a s e do this

Body worship (recieving)

scale: fuck no, gross, not for them, eh, no opinion, kinda, hot, fuck yes, p l e a s e do this

Giving

scale: fuck no, gross, not for them, eh, no opinion, kinda, hot, fuck yes, p l e a s e do this

Recieving

scale: fuck no, gross, not for them, eh, no opinion, kinda, hot, fuck yes, p l e a s e do this

Trynnak:

Biting

scale: fuck no, gross, not for them, eh, no opinion, kinda, hot, fuck yes, p l e a s e do this

Body worship (giving)

scale: fuck no, gross, not for them, eh, no opinion, kinda, hot, fuck yes, p l e a s e do this

Giving

scale: fuck no, gross, not for them, eh, no opinion, kinda, hot, fuck yes, p l e a s e do this

Recieving

🍬 Is my muse a sub, dom, or switch?

Tryn: Switch! This entirely depends on the relationship he has with the person he's sleeping with. He doesn't have a preference and really just enjoys the having sex part.

Hithon: Sub, through and through! He is quite delicate and has very little experience with lovers.

💑 What are my muse’s requirements for a potential partner?

Tryn: Someone lighthearted, kind, playful. Someone he's good friends with. Personality!

The first few years of Trynnak's life were spent on the sunwashed islands of his home nation. The fruits were bountiful, the clothing draped with lavish gold pins, barely holding on.

It was the dead of winter in Volor, many years had passed since his younger days. The land was different here, but the taste of the spices of his home never left his mind. Even as the spirit of the winter wind burned his cheeks rose-gold.

"I'm home!" He called, pushing through the door, catching the handle just before it slammed against the wall.

"Close it close it!" His mother shouted, her language was foreign to this land, but it rolled off her tongue like the azure waves of home dancing on white sand beaches. "My son, look at you! As frozen as the snow." She scolded him, brushing the white from the wide curls of his hair. Her hands were lithe, lined with fine wrinkles, the skin of someone who worked with them their whole life. She took the basket from her son's arms and urged him towards the fire where her husband lounged comfortably, tinkering with a small globe.

"It should be you going out into this agápi." She turned her scorn to him, hitting his shoulder with a thick-skinned leek. "This weather is your problem!"

"My problem?" Trynnak's father laughed, holding his arm feigning injury, "how could I possibly tell the weather what to do?!"

"Ah," She waved him off, taking Tryn's head in her arms, holding him to her chest. "You send my poor baby boy out in this, look at him-"

"Moyam!" Trynnak laughed, I'm fine, I'm used to the cold-"

"See the cold has made him delusional, his soft skin wasn't made for this. His skin, it glows like the gilded amaranth, he needs to be in the warm to flourish." She let him go, but not without a kiss.

Trynnak's father admired his wife as she left the room, giving his son a playfully spirited look that often meant trouble. "It is your coddling that makes the boy so soft!" No sooner did he finish speaking before a wooden spoon flew across the room. He ducked, mere inches from being hit.

Quickly followed by a string of curses, she glared from the doorway. "If you are trying to be a single man, you are saying all the right things."

He placed down the orb, coming to the curly haired woman, arms outstretched. "Agápi..." He captured her in a hug, kissing her sweetly despite her protests. "You know I am a simple moth, and you the most beautiful flame." He kissed her more. "It is your fire I fell in love with, can you blame me if I wish to stoke it?"

"Stoke it too much and you will get burned." She warned, love shimmering in her pale green eyes.

"A risk I'm willing to take." He laughed, snaking his hand over her backside, grasping a handful.

"That is enough of you," she whispered, "your son has just come home you will scare him away. Now go make yourself useful and wash the vegetables."

She turned her attention to Trynnak now, hanging his mits to dry. "Have you any plans this evening, my son?"

"Just the same as usual."

"Ah," She smiled knowingly, "when he gets here you invite him in for dinner this time."

"But we were going to go out right away!"

"I will not hear of that! It has been too long, and I've made enough to feed you both."

"You haven't even started dinner." Tryn protested.

"All this back talk. You spend too much time with your father."

From the next room his father yelled. "You listen to your mother! It's been too long since I've seen my other son!"

Tryn couldn't help but smile. "When are you going to take us to visit uncle back at your home like you promised?"

"If the weather keeps like this we will leave tonight."

"If you're gone, who is going to take care of me?" His father protested.

Trynnak followed Jezebeth to the door of her office. Their meeting went well, actually it went great. He had secured a job upon one of her finest ships, the newest one in the fleet to be precise. Working on a beauty like that was every engineer’s dream. The Starship Galaxy Cruiser, was that her name? Trynnak couldn’t remember, he was far too excited, only hearing half of what Jezebeth had said after she told him that he had the position.

Jezebeth stopped before the door, she was really something to admire. Her black and gunmetal dress teased about as much as it respectably could for someone in a political position. While any man would have given their life savings to steal an up close glimpse at Jezebeth, Trynnak’s gaze never once strayed further than her face. His grins never hinted at flirtation, they remained respectful and as professional as he could be considering how excited he was. 

When Jezebeth opened the door, the sound of the club burst in. The Kiliktin could see that she was saying something, but he couldn’t hear a word passed the heavy bass. “I’m sorry, pardon?” He called, leaning towards her to try and pick up more of her voice. Trynnak suspended his movements when the Lady herself took a step daringly close to him. He pulled his hands back instinctively, lifting them by his shoulders to show the glowering bodyguards that he had nothing that warranted him getting shot. 

“I said,” Jezebeth lips brushed against the Kiliktin’s jaw, her words long and slowly drawn out. “Welcome to the SS. Nebula Cruiser, Mr. Y’Rill.” 

♬ - a friend/best friend memory

“What?!” Trynnak glared at Chester. “You think you’re all high and mighty.” He waved his grease covered hand dismissively. The sun seared into the exposed flesh of his shoulders, he had left his old shirt back in the underground workshop. 

Trynnak walked away, he didn’t have time for Chester’s games. And yet just as he was no more than two steps from the floor panel that would descend him into the workshop he spun around and strode back.

“You know, ya’ cunt, that’s my scrap pile, Just because your sittin’ on it, doesn’t make it yours.”

Chester remained smugly silent.

“Yeah, nah, yeah, I could climb up there if I wanted.” He folded his arms. “I’m just above that, I’m above your childish actions.”