💪 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕣 ⋮ ♂ 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙶𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚙 ♂
๋࣭ ⭑ 𓆩 Xylo Forbartz - Sentenced to Be a Hero 𓆪 ⭑ ๋࣭
MASC MARCH MASTERLIST | 2026
Hosted by @thepromptfoundry
[A03] [Fanfiction.net] [Wattpad]
The Night Watch (2.4k words)
Xylo Forbartz x Reader
summary: After fairies destroy your village, you’re escorted to safety by the Penal Hero Unit. That night, when sleep refuses to come, you discover the man who stands watch at the edge of the camp.
warnings/themes: Reader Insert, Vaginal Sex, Riding/Cowgirl Position, Outdoor Sex, Quiet Sex/Risk of Being Caught, Protectiveness, Strangers to Lovers, Survival, Refugees, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Safety, Intimacy, Trust, First Tme, Kissing, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved, Size Difference, Pre-Canon.
You expect Holy Knights when the bells ring.
You expect white-lacquered plate armour, every edge trimmed in gold, every visor lowered so you can’t see the eyes behind it. Men who look like the stories told to children when they are meant to sleep without fear. The fairies came in a swarm of crawling mouths and colour; fat shapes low to the ground, eyes shining, ugly, glowing growths pulsing on their backs as they pushed through your home. Your village was half-burned and half-empty by the time the noise finally stopped, and you clung to the promise of Holy Knights the way others clung to buckets and blades.
Holy Knights restore order.
Instead, you are escorted from the wreckage by criminals.
That is what the whispers say when Penal Hero Unit crests the hill—that they are condemned men, oath-breakers, murderers bound by sacred seals and forced into service. They arrive in dark armour scarred by use, cloaks torn at the edges, weapons strapped in more places than seem necessary. They do not ride under temple banners or offer soft reassurances. They look like men sent to do things no one wishes to witness.
And yet, they move the children first.
You notice that before anything else. One of them lifts your neighbour’s boy with careful hands, despite the metal claws fitted over his gloves. Another carries sacks of grain as though they weigh nothing at all. No one lingers to admire the damage. No one wastes any time.
The one who gives most of the orders stands apart.
He’s tall and broad across the shoulders, enough that, even among the other armed men and women, he draws the eye. His skin is sun-darkened, his hair is brown and unbound, spiking where sweat has dried it stiff, strands falling over a face marked by experience rather than vanity. His armour fits him close; bandages wound around his forearms to keep his broken gauntlets strapped in place. A red cloak hangs at his back, heavy and weather-worn.
He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to.
He points, and the others move.
When the cart jolts over broken stone during the march out, and you stumble, he catches your elbow without looking at you, steadying you before turning back to scan the path ahead.
You had been told heroes like him were monsters.
But monsters don’t check that strangers can keep walking.
Camp is made beyond the ridge, where the trees grow thicker, and the ground dips low enough to shield firelight. The villagers are arranged toward the centre. The heroes form an outer ring without discussion, as though they have done this a hundred times before.
Your bones ache from the walk, so you lie beneath a borrowed blanket and tell yourself you are safe.
Your eyes close.
The dark behind your eyelids is wrong.
You see your village again—fire catching in the thatch, those swollen shapes pushing through the smoke, their sickly glow spilling across the ground. The moments after most of the screaming stopped, when the village went horribly quiet.
You sit upright before you can stop yourself. The camp is quiet. Someone coughs softly. Beyond that, the forest breathes in the dark.
Your breath comes unevenly. The dark presses too close. You tell yourself you are not a child. You’ve seen winters harder than this plenty of times. But fear sits under your ribs anyway.
The canvas of your tent suddenly feels suffocating. You need air.
You slip from the tent as quietly as you can manage, careful not to disturb the bodies sleeping close together beneath their blankets. The flap falls shut behind you, and the night air meets you immediately—sharp and cold against your skin.
It helps.
The chill sinks through the thin fabric covering your body, grounding in a way the cramped warmth of the tent was not. For a moment, you simply stand there, breathing it in. There is no smoke in the air tonight. No bitter, burned smell clinging to the back of your throat.
You tilt your head back and look up.
The sky stretches wide above the treetops, clear and unbroken, stars scattered across it. Your shoulders loosen a little as you look at them. Then your gaze lowers and settles on him.
You find him exactly where you expected: perched on a moss-covered log, positioned at the very perimeter of the clearing. His back is straight despite the long march, and he faces outward, toward the forest, toward whatever might try to slip through the trees. He hasn’t removed his armour. His dark hair is a messy crown against the moonlight, and even from here, you can see the dull gleam of the knives tucked into the straps across his thighs.
You fill a waterskin from the water barrel, your hands still a little unsteady. As you approach, you expect him to startle, but he doesn’t move a muscle. He knew you were there long before you cleared the circle of the fire.
"You should be asleep," he says without turning. His voice is a low grumble that barely carries over the wind. He doesn’t look at you. His eyes stay fixed on the tree line.
"I couldn’t," you murmur, stepping closer. You hold out the waterskin. "I thought you might be thirsty. You’ve been out here since the sun went down."
The man finally shifts, his armour clinking softly. When he takes the waterskin, the leather of his glove brushes your fingers.
"I’ll sleep later," he replies, taking a long sip. You find yourself staring at his throat as he swallows, then looking away like you’ve been caught doing something foolish.
You lower yourself onto the log beside him despite the cold seeping through your skirts. Up close, you notice a faint scar across his eyebrow, small lines at the corner of his eyes that speak more of squinting into the distance than of laughter.
"I know you... I think—Xylo,right?" You press quietly. You had heard the name more than once during the march here, whispered between the villagers whenever he moved ahead of the group to speak with the others.
"Yeah, that’s me."
Something shifts somewhere beyond the trees. His attention moves instantly. You watch the change in him, the way his focus locks, and realise he hasn’t let his guard drop once.
"They say you’re ruthless," you blurt, then wince. You’re not sure why you said it at all, only that sitting this close to him has your stomach tight, and you can’t tell if it’s fear or something else.
Xylo scoffs, his hand drifting to the hilt of one of his throwing daggers. "People talk too much. You saw what happened to your home. You’re either standing or dead. I prefer standing."
"I... dreamed they came back," you admit.
His gaze shifts to you at last. The firelight catches in his eyes when he turns, lighting them gold in the dark.
"They won’t," he says. His jaw sets, the kind of look that warns you he’ll say it once and won’t dress it up for you.
You pry anyway. "How can you know that?"
"I just do." The certainty in his tone is not boastful. It’s the same tone he’d use to tell you the sky is dark and the ground is cold. It makes something inside you steady a little, containing your fear.
You rise, looking at his broad shoulders, how the fur on his pauldrons has caught the frost, and you feel an overwhelming need to thank him—not the hero. The man. You lean down, intending to press a quick, chaste kiss to his cheek.
But just as you move, a branch snaps in the distance. Xylo flinches, his head whipping around to check the sound at the exact second you lean in.
Your lips meet his instead.
The contact is a shock. His lips are soft and thin, and the warmth of them makes you want more. When you draw back slightly, you realise distantly that his hand is on your waist, steadying you where you stand.
"Oh... erm... sorry," he mutters, though his voice has shifted lower, and he’s still not pulled away.
He studies you—the tightness in your shoulders, the way your fingers have twisted in the fabric of your skirt, the small tremble that won’t leave you alone. His hand slides to cradle your jaw, thumb resting just beneath your ear, and he leans in again.
This time, the kiss deepens not in haste but in intention, gentle in a way that makes your pulse climb slowly rather than race. It occurs to you, suddenly, that a man like him might not have room in his life for this anymore—no time, no freedom, nothing that belongs to him alone. He draws you toward him, and you find yourself straddling his lap, your knees digging into the rough bark of the log. His cloak falls around your shoulders, enclosing you both in a small pocket of heat against the chill.
The physical reality of him is staggering. He’s all solid muscle and heavy gear. The leather straps of his chest plate press into your chest. He smells of old leather and iron and the faint, sharp bite of woodsmoke. Your fingers curl into the fur over his shoulders.
Your skirts gather higher as you settle, and you clearly feel the answering firmness between your thighs, pressing insistently against the fabric barriers between you. He exhales through his nose, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
"You should go back," he murmurs against your mouth.
You nod. "Yeah, I should."
But your hands find the straps at his waist, working them loose with trembling fingers while you keep your eyes on his. He groans, a low, frustrated sound, and hitches you closer, grinding you against him. His hands on your hips somehow feel safer than any canvas wall, safer even than your village ever did.
When he’s free, you guide him into you, the sensation steals a soft sound from your throat. He’s silent, save for the heavy sound of his breathing, but his head bows until his forehead rests against your shoulder.
You begin to move together in the dark, slow at first, adjusting to the stretch and heat, to the unfamiliar fullness that makes your thoughts blur into nothing. You lean back, your hands finding the thick, dark hair at the nape of his neck. His hands direct you in subtle shifts, his hips thrusting upwards, ensuring the rhythm doesn’t falter. Still, his restraint is palpable—the strength in his grip, the way he reins himself in rather than driving into you. It is that control that makes you feel protected even now.
You can’t help the moan that slips from your lips.
"Quiet," he warns you gently, mindful of the sleeping camp behind you.
Each motion eases something knotted inside you. The fear that had clawed at your ribs recedes under the steady cadence of his body meeting yours. When you breathe his name, his eyes lock onto yours with a fierce intensity. He reaches up, his thumb pressing over your bottom lip, before he pulls you down for another bruising kiss.
It doesn’t take long for either of you to reach the edge. The tension between you finally gives way, the release catching both of you at the same time and rolling through your bodies in a shared shudder. It’s not frantic or violent. It feels, strangely, like peace.
You keep moving even after. Some stubborn part of you, trying to stretch the moment out before it disappears. His hands tighten on your hips then, steadying you, holding you there until your breathing begins to slow. You rest your chin against his furs, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath it.
He holds you like that for a while, still watching the treeline over your shoulder with one arm around your waist; never relinquishing vigilance. When you finally lift your head from his shoulder, you realise you have no idea how much time has passed.
You press a final kiss to his jaw. "I guess I really should get some sleep."
A faint hint of amusement touches his mouth. "Go."
You slip from his lap, smoothing your skirts, legs a little weak. As you step away, another figure slips out of the dark—pale-haired, freckled, and a little hunched at the shoulders, his gaze darting around the camp as if he’s waiting for something unpleasant to crawl out of the trees at any moment.
He stops a few paces away, glancing between you and Xylo before settling his attention on the latter.
"You’re still up?" He says quietly.
"Someone’s gotta keep watch," Xylo replies without looking at him.
The smaller man rubs the back of his neck, shifting on his feet. "Yeah, well… someone should probably take over."
"You?" Xylo finally glances his way. The doubt in the single word is unmistakable.
The man scowls faintly. "I can do it."
"You sure you’re not gonna start going through people’s packs?" Xylo says flatly.
"Hey! I said I can do it." The two stare at each other for a moment. The man straightens a little under the look, stubborn despite the nervous energy still twitching in his shoulders. "…Get some rest," he adds more quietly.
There’s a brief pause before Xylo pushes himself off the log.
You’ve nearly reached your tent when you hear his steps behind you. You pause, then turn, the tent flap still in your hand.
He stands a few paces away, half in shadow, the firelight catching the edges of his armour and the gold of his eyes. For a moment, he just looks at you, then the corner of his mouth lifts into a smile.
He tips his chin toward a smaller tent near the camp’s edge. "Come on."
Inside, the tent is dim and close, the noises of the camp reach you like they’re coming through thick cloth; distant, softened, not quite your concern. When you lie down, he settles behind you, solid and warm against your back, one arm heavy across your waist as if it belongs there. You wait for your thoughts to spiral back into that night, for your body to tense and listen.
But the silence stays ordinary.
For the first time since your home burned, you let the dark exist without fighting it. You let your eyes close without bracing for what comes next.
Dwayne would give such a good hugs and forehead kisses, like he would just wrap his arms around you and hold you as long as you want and you’d immediately feel safe with him.
Dwayne would also let you shave his face, along side cutting his hair when it gets too long, he trusts you enough to do so.
Dwayne would also let you braid his hair.
Dwayne would also teach you how to skate, on HIS skateboard:
start of a lil story
“Like this?” you ask, your eyes fixated on the wooden skateboard you currently stood on, it felt like you were floating and it brought you a weird feeling. You turn your head to Dwayne, as he already stood behind you, he held you by your waist as he kept your balance still. He nod with his head as he then looked at you with a small smile. You shot him a smile of your own too. “Okay, ready?” Dwayne asked, his voice low. “Mhm.” you hummed and let out a breath you didn’t even know you held as your eyes fixated on the plank again. You felt Dwayne being close now, your body leaning against his and you felt his arms around you now, his hands resting on your stomach. “Now sweetheart, don’t look at the skateboard, look forward, so you know where you go and what to do. For example, when you have to turn, you’d react slow if you’d look at the plank instead of if your eyes were fixated what’s in front of you. Do you understand what i’m saying to you?” he said softly, trying to explain it to you as easy as possible. You turn your head to him and look up at him, you felt your cheek catch a slight pink color at his little nickname. He’s been calling you that since ever you met him and to be honest? You love it. “Yes okay,” you nod your head. “Yes i understand, Dwayne.” you smiled at him and turned your head back. He nodded slightly, as he pushed the both of you with his foot and you rode. It was hard for you to keep balance at first but Dwayne kept it still. You two went around the cave for few minutes just for you to get used to it. He stopped the both of you and got off the plank, leaving you alone on it. You missed the touch of his hands already but.. that’s not important right now. You were surprised as you turned your head to look back where he was going, but he just stood there, looking at you. “I.. um-“ you struggled to put words together, you got nervous pretty quickly knowing that he’s going to watch you trying. “Do you want me to go alone now?” you asked, not sure. He nodded with a slight smile as a yes. Great.. “Okay..” you managed to whisper and turn yourself back as you steadied yourself on the plank. You took a deep breath and pushed yourself slightly, trying to keep the balance and looked forward, you surprisingly didn’t fall. You kept going straight, your feet tilting to the left side a bit and the direction now you went was left. “Oh so that’s how you do it!” you figured out. You were a pretty quick learner, but still it gave you anxiety. You kept going on for few minutes and then stopped as you looked at Dwayne. “DID YOU SEE??” you squeaked happily as you rushed to Dwayne. He rushed to you laughing, you could tell he was happy for you too and proud. You couldn’t help but jump on him, your arms wrapping around his neck, holding him tight. He wrapped his arms around your lower back as he held you in the air now. He spun with you, you both laughed. Finally, he put you down and you looked at him, smiling from ear to ear. He looked at you too, having a playful smirk on his face. “I’m proud of you, sweetheart.” he said as he put few hair behind your ear. You felt your cheeks growing a bit pink at his gesture, “thank you, Dwayne.” you said with a smile.
end of a lil story
Dwayne would leave you gifts every day near your bed or on the couch, winning them when he played games with the boys on the boardwalk.
Dwayne would also not care about how you dress, you dress more feminine? he loves it, you dress more masculine? he loves it either way. he finds any clothes attractive on you, mostly his jacket tho.
He would go to a beach walks with you, in the night, just randomly or as a date, or when you are overwhelmed, you’ll yap about everything and he will listen, he’s also a great listener + he’d give you advices and his opinions too.
Dwayne wouldn’t be the type to bite you, not even when you ask him to or say that you don’t mind it. he minds it, he finds it disrespectful towards you.
When you feel down, he would make a little “cave” on the couch or somewhere place in the cave and he’d read you and cuddle with you.
Your first meeting with Dwayne would be him watching over you, lurking in the shadows like a hunter and a prey.
OK. Imagine you’re a hairstylist. You’re successful, busy, you have your own little salon - just a space with one cutting station and a sink - and you’re good at what you do. You have repeat customers, a great reputation and you make your own hours. Life is great! What you also have is a Paul…
• He met you organically (was actually hunting you, fully intending to kill you before he realized you had amazing hair. He wanted to get your stylist’s info before eating you up and thus made contact) and the two of you struck up a friendship. He thought it was so cool how you did your own hair and you were flattered by his interest. You offered him an appointment and from there, he was yours.
• He’s never been late for or missed an appointment. He always shows early and so you schedule yourself to make sure that you’re free about thirty minutes before his appointment officially starts.
• You introduce him to a deep conditioning treatment and life’s never been the same since.
• You also make sure he’s your last appointment of the night because somehow - even if you’re having a bad day and just wanna cry in the shower then sleep - he always manages to convince you to come hang with him. He’ll take you for a night on the boardwalk, for a beer or two, for a late dinner, he’ll shoot the shit with you on the beach. It’s great. He’s not just a customer but a friend.
• Loves flicking through the magazines. Has lots of ideas about styles and occasional cuts but is always happy to just let you be creative. Some days he has a vision of what he wants, others he tells you to have fun and do what you think suits.
• When he’s finished with the hair magazines he’ll pick up a gossip one and read the problem pages to you, snickering through the silliest of stories.
• The hair wash is his favorite part of the whole experience. He’s like a puppy being petted. You actually started draping a warm towel over his eyes because the intensely happy eye contact was wigging you out.
• He always, always tips you really well. He uses Max’s money, too. He doesn’t want you to deal with blood money. Literally and figuratively. Kills get messy and he’d feel terrible if you got caught up in any of it. He likes you and wants to keep you happy!
• He’s kind of nervous that one day you’re going to change your mind about him. He doesn’t understand how he can get so lucky. You’re an amazing person and an amazing stylist AND you’re ok with him being a vampire? He’s so far into ‘too good to be true’ territory that sometimes it scares him.
• He’s introduced you to Marko and David. They both see you now and then. Not as regular as Paul is but they’re definitely counted as regulars. David always goes for wash and style. Never changes what he asks for. Marko’s the same but occasionally asks for something with braids.
• Hasn’t introduced you to Dwayne and has no intention of doing so. Paul thinks he might be falling for you? He really likes you so he’s being careful. He doesn’t want to hurt you or fuck up the amazing friendship the two of you have so he’s taking things slow. Dwayne has amazing hair - which you would appreciate - and amazing looks - which you would have to be blind not to appreciate - and that scares the hell out of Paul. Sorry but no. Dwayne doesn’t exist in your world.
• Has to placate Dwayne when he finds out. ‘Sorry bud, it’s not you, it’s me. Well no, it is you. You’re too good looking. It’s too risky for me’
• Has to placate David and Marko when they realize he doesn’t think their good looks are a threat. A fight almost breaks out when Paul snort laughs at them. As if you’d reject him for David or Marko?! They’re funny. He’s always happy for a laugh.
• Once or twice he’s succeeded in doing your hair. Has to beg and plead but he’s happy as a clam when he’s the one wielding the shampoo and dryer. Once burned your hair trying to crimp it though, so he had some privileges revoked.
• All in all him not killing you has been one of his better decisions. The two of you have a great thing going! Doesn’t believe David when he says his ego is disproportionately big. Paul knows that with his shiny, bouncy, voluminous hair that he’s absolutely unstoppable.
note: it's my first time writing something like this!!
note #2: i don't own Dwayne nor The Lost Boys.
Dwayne would listen to Metallica, Bon Jovi, Kiss, Guns N’ Roses, The Rolling Stones etc.
Dwayne would also be a great cook.
Dwayne would fix all the bikes, if one if the boys got or all of them their bike fucked up he would immediately work on it, or he would work on it just for fun. he’d be blasting music whatever sounds good to him, his head buried in the bikes.
if the boys are bored in the cave or not feeling like doing anything/tired, they would sit on one of the couches, Dwayne in the middle, Marko and Paul sitting beside him from both his sides, resting their heads on his shoulders and David between Dwayne’s legs, resting his head against his stomach as they would listen to Dwayne reading, first to fall asleep would be Marko.
Dwayne would skate in the cave, doing new tricks and he’d show them to the boys. or he would just blast music and skate around. First time when Michael showed to the cave, Dwayne was skating around, showing him tricks and then stop as he looked at him and went: “Cool, right?” with a smirk on his face.
Dwayne isn’t the type to be angry or shout, but when someone really pisses him off, he’s furious. The boys will go quiet and stop messing around once they realize.
Dwayne get small amount of sleep, since ever the boys cut his hair when he was asleep. the boys didnt know if he’s really trying to kill them that night.
despite the fact Dwayne is the quiet type and is not expressing much, when it comes to killing, he is brutal. he likes to play with his food aka the people. he hurts them, he makes them beg until they’re barely alive or conscious, then he finally kills them.
Dwayne totally made his own earring and later on he made for all the boys.
Dwayne would sometimes spend time alone, well not sometimes, he 100% mostly would spend time alone. he likes his peace and quiet.
warnings: smut, it’s been a while but you know the drill | NOT PROOFREAD | lowercase intended | reader is implied to have female genitalia | this is my interpretation of this character, please be respectful even if your headcanons are different from my own!
character: dwayne
A/N: i was recently reminded of the absolute peak that is the lost boys, and lately it’s all i’ve been able to think about. i’ve been considering getting back to this account and i figured, what would be a better way than to start writing for some hot 1980s vampires!
that being said, ofc this is my first time writing for dwayne, and he doesn’t have nearly enough screentime in the movie— so apologies if this is kind of OOC! but at the end of the day it’s just for fun, so i hope the fellow TLB fans enjoy reading this as much as i did writing it!
MDNI! 18+ material beneath the cut, reader’s discretion is strongly advised
A= Aftercare
↳ he doesn’t go over the top with service for aftercare, but he will be more than happy to take you in his arms and tell you how good you did. he likes to have you close, so you can guarantee a cuddle session after you fuck
B= Body Part
↳ he’s very confident in his body, there’s a reason he’s shirtless all the time. he’s worked hard to achieve his look, so why would he hide any of it away?
for his partner, he’s a thigh man through and through. he loves to bite and kiss all up on your thighs while he goes down on you.
C= Cum
↳ loves creampies. watching his cum spill out of your pussy after absolutely ruining it is enough to get him in the mood for another round
D= Dirty Secret
↳ has 100% fantasized about you taking full control over him, if by some turn of fate you said you wanted to peg him— he would absolutely NOT be opposed to that
E= Experience
↳ of course dwayne is experienced, but he isn’t cocky about it. even if he does know exactly what he’s doing, he likes when his partner shows him what they want
F= Favourite Position
↳ he is very much a doggy-style truther. he loves having you fully at his mercy, being able to grab your hips tightly as he thrusts into you; your moans and sweet noises being drowned out by the clapping of your cheeks all the while.
G= Goofy
↳ he’s the least likely of the four to tease you. he’s very serious when it comes to sex, but in the heat of the moment if you guys are getting rougher— he might mock you a bit just to get you riled up.
H= Hair
↳ all i’m gonna say is.. we see that happy trail 👀
I= Intimacy
↳ like i said, he takes sex very seriously. dwayne isn’t the kind of guy who views the act as something casual, so of course he’s bound to be intimate in the moment. whether you two are having a sensual or more rough encounter, dwayne will always make sure to shower you with loads of affection
J= Jack Off
↳ like all of the lost boys, dwayne is a thrill seeker. he finds it so much hotter to jerk off under the impression that someone is watching.. something about the raw perversion of it all gets him hard
K= Kink(s)
↳ spanking, degradation, marking, mirror sex and overstimulation are all on the table for dwayne
L= Location
↳ he loves taking you in intimate, quiet places. trust he has many “special spots” where he likes to dick you down while no one else suspects a thing
M= Motivation
↳ nothing gets dwayne going quite like seeing you in a loose, flowy dress. the way the fabric can leave so much to the imagination, but also hug you in all the right places at just the right angle drives him absolutely crazy.
N= No
↳ he doesn’t like to have his hair pulled. point blank
O= Oral
↳ he’s down for both, but he’s a slut for giving. dwayne is a pleasure dom, i do not care what anyone says. he gets off on feeling your body twitch an convulse, at the complete mercy of his tongue.
P= Pace
↳ his pace fluctuates, really it all depends on what he feels the situation calls for. personally though, he loves to be rougher and faster in his movements.. but he doesn’t mind going slower and more sensual for his partner.
Q= Quickie
↳ he’s neutral on quickies, with how much he likes overstimulation he would prefer a longer session.. but if you beg him desperately enough, he might give in
R= Risk
↳ you better believe dwayne is down for risk. being a thrill seeker, he’s going to be drawn to trying things out that push that adrenaline. he says it makes the whole thing that much more intense
S= Stamina
↳ he’s a vampire— their stamina is insane. he doesn’t push himself to his full potential because he knows the mortal body cannot withstand it.
T= Toys
↳ if i didn’t say he used whips and paddles on occasion (or even liked them to be used on him 👀), i’d be a stone cold liar.
U= Unfair
↳ it’s not that teasing is a last resort for dwayne, but he’s unlikely to do it unprovoked. however if you start things, you better be prepared to stand your ground.
V= Volume
↳ dwayne isn’t overly noisy while you fuck, but he isn’t silent either. if you’re new to things, he may talk you through it, reassuring you every step of the way. on the flip side, if you’re more promiscuous, he might degrade you a bit (if it’s been established that degradation is a mutual interest)
“look at that, you’re taking me so well..” “fuck, you feel so good.. keep going…” “oh yes, just like that. you catch on quick, don’t ya?”
“so eager to choke on my dick, huh? at least i can finally put that mouth of yours to good use.” “y’know this is all you’re good for, right? to be my personal cumslut?”
W= Wild Card
↳ really, REALLY loves to dry hump. specifically, he likes it when you’re both laying down, that way he can wrap his arms around you and grind against you needlessly as little whimpers leave his throat
X= X-ray
↳ above average, 7 1/2”, on the leaner side.
Y= Yearning
↳ dwayne’s sex drive is honestly pretty shocking. it’s give or take, and typically dependant on how his partner is feeling.
Z= Zzz
↳ he doesn’t fall asleep, even after you have. he might rest his eyes, but that’s about it. honestly, with how hard you guys can go, you’re surprised at this.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
thanks so much for reading! i’m always looking to improve my writing, so if you have any constructive feedback or advice please let me know!
Also i gave him an actual personality. Cause suprisingly, quiet people can have personality traits other that being a brooding,mature,book loving,parental, and having good dick.
Ok Well i kept these traits but added more to him cause i didn't see anyone else doing so.
Enjoy!!
(Ps this was hardly proof read. and written at 2 am so pardon how weird it may be)
Edit: THESE ARE OLD IM MAKING NEW ONES THAT ARE BETTER!!
Contrary to popular belief this man is just as crazy as the others. If not more.
Granted, yeah, he can be chill as hell but do not let that fool you cause just under that quiet persona is an actual sadistic asshole.
I mean damn.
To start off, this dude is brutal when it comes to feeding. I mean, he can give David a run for his money.
I mean did y'all see him during the bonfire scene??????
During that, he was honestly a bit rushed cause normally, he will keep his victims alive for a good long while before actually killing them, all while ripping them to pieces.
And cause he is smart as hell he knows the right places to tear into a person where it will take them longer to die from it.
What an asshole.
But when he's not being evil as fuck he is giving the others stupid ideas.
I mean honestly i think the whole taking Michael to the bridge thing was his idea.
He just snuck over to David and was like, "Hey, I have a wonderful idea." And David was like "hell yeah I like that"
Well, ok, that's not exactly how I went, but that's my dummed-down Disney villain version.
They had all hung off the bridge before, but Dwayne knew that that would probably freak Michael the fuck out more than anything, and he just wanted to watch that poor dude suffer.
On that topic he lowkey hated Michael at first.
So he just ignored him as much as possible. But at the same time, he also was just waiting for Michael to start some shit so he could fight him.
When Michael punched David, this man got so excited, only to have his dream crushed when he couldn't swing on him.
Poor dwayne.
The main reason we don't see much of dwaynes personality is cause Michael is around every time we see him and he does not fuck with him enough to grant him access to who he is as a person
Speaking of him and David, I, kinda see them as being evil scheming, besties not gonna lie. Like when Dwayne gets a fun little plan in his head to fuck with people, he's creeping up on David to tell him all about it. (And plant the seed in his mind)
Honestly, if you walk in when these two are talking you swear they both just look like this
Like honestly its just a back away slowly and forget you ever saw them situation 🤣
The best part for him is letting people believe it was David or one of the other boy's ideas so he doesn't get too much attention drawn to himself.
As much as this wannabe attention whore wants to, he will hardly take credit is his plans so as not to get Max on his ass. As much as he wants to be like, "Yeah, I made them do that, hahaha," he won't.
He's literally like a little puppet master.
But enough of him being a silent but deadly dickhead
This guy is amazing at so many things.
He's a bigggg car/ motorcycle guy. If you take him anywhere, like a car show or something, he's gonna be yapping with the owner of a fuckin 1942 Chevrolet Fleetline for 2 hours.
And he can and will spend HOURS, NIGHTS, even working on his bike. Does it need work? No. Does he just wanna work on it for fun? Yes.
Oh, and if the others mention even a slight tick coming from their bike, he's becoming the most insufferable know-it-all in the cave.
" oh well you know if the ticks coming from theirrrr you should already know it needs (blank)
They all hate when he does this but they still let him work on the bikes cause they know he enjoys it so much.
It's relaxing to work on stuff like that for him. He can just sit down, listen to his music, smoke a couple of cigarettes, and tune up the bikes all by himself.
And that's the way he likes to work.
He loves the other's company, but deep down, this man is introverted. He can go crazy and have fun but once his social battery is out, he is out, bye.
He will just disappear once he is done with people for the day. If he doesn't, he gets snappy and sassy, and it's just like "Damnnnnnn. Ok, sir ."
He will start clocking everybody's shit if forced to stick around.
But honestly, most of the time, he's cool. He's kinda like a cat, not gonna lie.
Shits gotta be on his terms or he don't wanna do it.
Ok ok I know I clowned on it but I do think he likes to read
And he does read ALOT.
He keeps a lil shelf of books in his area of the cave.
Aka, he took one of the big ass bookshelves from when the hotel collapsed, fixed it, and now stores all the books he loves on it.
He loves most genres, to he's not picky. From fantasy to westerns he readys whatever catches his interest.
While he reads he likes to listen to music that matches so once he was reading a sci-fi novel he had David Bowie BLASTING
They didn't even know he liked David Bowie. But hey, that's why we love Dwayne. He's full of surprises. And his music taste is the epitome of "I like whatever sounds good"
I could go on and on and on about this man but this might get long so if y'all want me to elaborate on any of these or make a part 2 let me know cause i WILL also if you want hcs of the other boys let me know! Night my little goblins 🖤🖤
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