𓏲ּ𝄢 featuring 𓂃 XAVIER, RAFAYEL, ZAYNE, SYLUS & CALEB — how lads men would give you head.
𓏲ּ𝄢 content warnings 𓂃 lots and lots of cunninglingus, they EAT it (that's the main point here), pwnp, somno in xav’s part, lots of focus on female orgasm, praise & degradation, clitplay, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, fingering, sixty-nine position in zayne’s, oral for both f&m in his part too, riding nose for sylus, caleb is stealing panties (.... again), whimpering and begging for him as usual... (I don't know what else)
𓏲ּ𝄢 cherry’s note 𓂃 I've spent embarassing amount of time and effort into this. so, if this flops I'll blow up with everyone here. thank you @lunarkyn & @beatricetonguedi for helping me sorting out xav ’n raf’s part...also, this ask right here....you guys saved me there. big kisses for y'all <3
沈星回 ⛦ XAVIER !
Xavier slips through the door just past three a.m., the apartment dim and quiet except for the soft hum of the city outside. His shoulders sag under the weight of the day —endless missions, blood, light-blades, paperwork— but the moment he sees you curled in the middle of his bed, everything else fades.
You’re wearing his favorite oversized sweater, the one that smells like him even after a wash, sleeves slipping over your hands, hem riding high on your thighs. Nothing underneath but a whisper-thin pair of panties—pale blue, already darkened at the center with the faintest hint of want. You’re on his sheets, in his clothes, breathing slow and sweet… it’s the only reward he ever needs.
He exhales, long and shaky, kicking off his boots. Doesn’t bother with the light. Just shrugs out of his jacket, peels away the holster, and crawls onto the mattress like a starving man finally allowed to eat.
You stir when the bed dips, murmuring his name in that sleepy-soft voice that makes his cock twitch painfully against his zipper.
“Shh, baby,” he whispers, lips brushing your knee as he settles between your thighs. “Go back to sleep. Just need my dessert.”
He starts slow—god, so fucking slow—like he has all the time in the world. Mouth warm and lazy, kissing over the damp cotton first, breathing you in through the fabric until the panties are soaked twice over. Only then does he hook a finger under the gusset and tug it aside, humming at the sight of you make—swollen, glistening, already fluttering for him.
The first lick is a long, flat stripe from entrance to clit, deliberate, savoring. He groans like he’s tasting something forbidden and perfect, the sound rumbling straight into your core.
“Fuck… missed this all day,” he mumbles against you, voice thick with exhaustion and hunger. “Missed this pretty pussy waiting for me.”
His thumb settles over your clit, pressing in slow circles—just enough pressure to make your hips jerk—while his tongue pushes inside you, slow and filthy, curling like he’s trying to drink you dry. Every tiny reaction you give him—the gasp, the whimper, the way your thighs tremble on either side of his head—he catalogues it, stores it, uses it. He learns you like he learns constellations: reverent, obsessive, permanent.
Hours. He stays down there for hours.
Sometimes he pulls back just to watch his thumb work you, eyes heavy-lidded and dark, lips shiny with you. “Look at you leaking for me already… such a messy girl.” Then he dives back in, lips sealing around your clit in a tight, perfect “O,” sucking soft and steady while two fingers slide in to stroke that spot that makes your back arch clean off the bed.
You’re close—so close—when he suddenly changes.
It’s like a switch flips.
The lazy worship turns feral in a heartbeat. Tongue flicking fast and hard, thumb grinding rough circles, fingers curling and pumping with ruthless precision. The wet sounds are obscene—loud, sloppy, echoing in the quiet room. He growls against you, hips grinding into the mattress because he’s so hard it hurts, chasing his own edge just from the taste of you.
“Give it to me,” he rasps, voice wrecked. “Cum on my tongue—wanna feel you fall apart, baby, please—”
You shatter—sobbing his name, thighs clamping around his head, whole body shaking as he drinks down every pulse, every gush, licking you through it like he’ll die if he misses a single drop.
When the aftershocks fade, he doesn’t stop. Just slows again, gentle now, soothing, pressing sleepy kisses to your swollen folds, your inner thighs, the soft crease where leg meets hip. His lower face is drenched—chin, lips, even his nose glistening—and he doesn’t care. Wipes it off on your thigh and smiles, drowsy and satisfied.
“C’mere,” he murmurs, voice hoarse.
He gathers you close, pulling you into his chest, your back to his front, legs tangled. His cock is still hard against your ass, but he ignores it, nuzzling into your hair.
“Love you,” he whispers, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Love how you taste… love how you sound you make when you come for me… love you in my sweater, in my bed…”
You feel him smile against your neck, hear the soft, contented hum as he finally lets sleep take him.
“Just needed my dessert,” he mumbles, already half-gone. “Best part of the whole damn day.”
And with your taste still on his tongue and your body limp in his arms, Xavier drifts off—happy, full, and utterly yours.
祁煜 ⛦ RAFAYEL !
Rafayel comes to you pouting.
You hear it before you see him— the dramatic sigh, the keys tossed onto the counter with theatrical flair, the soft thud of his shoes kicked off one by one.
“Cutie ignored me all day,” he announces to the empty living room, voice lilting like he’s wounded. “Left me to rot in that boring studio while you were out doing… whatever mysterious human things you do.”
You’re on the couch in nothing but his silk button-up—three buttons done, the rest hanging open) and a pair of lace panties he bought you “as a joke.” The joke’s on him; they’re already ruined.
He stops in the doorway, eyes narrowing, lips curling into that dangerous little smirk.
“Oh. Look who decided to dress up like a present.”
You don’t even get to answer before he’s on you, knees hitting the rug, hands sliding up your thighs and spreading them wide like he’s unveiling a masterpiece.
“Missed this pretty cunt,” he murmurs, voice velvet and venom. “Bet it missed me too, hm?”
He starts slow, cruelly slow. Kisses everywhere except where you need him: soft presses along the crease of your thigh, the delicate skin just above your clit, the lace edge of your panties. Every time you twitch toward his mouth he pulls back, laughing under his breath.
“Rafayel—”
“Shh. Good art takes time, baby.”
He drags the flat of his tongue over the soaked fabric once, just once, then blows a cool stream of air right through it. Your hips jerk; he pins them down with one hand like it’s nothing.
“Sensitive tonight? Cute.”
Finally, finally, he tugs the lace aside with his teeth. The first real touch is just his lips: plush, warm, closing over your folds in a slow, open-mouthed kiss. He makes out with your pussy the way he kisses you when he’s trying to ruin your lipstick: deep, lazy, filthy, lips sliding and catching and sucking like he’s trying to drink you through them. A soft, wet sound every time he pulls away and dives back in.
You feel it in your spine.
He hums some annoying pop song that’s been stuck in his head for three days, the vibration rolling straight into your clit. Your hand flies to his hair on instinct.
“Yes—fuck—pull it,” he breathes against you, tongue flicking out to trace your entrance. “Use me, cutie, c’mon.”
You do. You fist those soft violet strands and shove his face exactly where you want it. He moans like you just gave him a gift, nose bumping your clit, rubbing it in messy circles until it’s shiny with you. Then he pulls back just far enough to spit, once, twice, watching it drip down your folds with half-lidded eyes.
“Pretty,” he whispers, and seals his mouth over you again.
He edges you twice. Brings you right to the cliff with that wicked mouth and those long artist’s fingers curling inside you, then stops, blowing cool air over your throbbing clit until you’re shaking and cursing his name. The third time you sob, actually sob, he laughs softly and gives in.
“Alright, alright. Greedy baby.”
And then he doesn’t stop.
He sucks your clit between those sinful lips and flutters his tongue so fast your vision whites out. Fingers scissoring, stroking, spitting again just to hear the wet sound when he pumps them back in. You come with his name cracked in half on your tongue, thighs clamping around his ears, and he just groans like he’s the one unraveling, drinking every pulse like it’s paint and he’s starving.
You’re still trembling through the aftershocks when he starts again.
Second orgasm. Third. Fourth. By the fifth you’re crying, oversensitive, pushing weakly at his forehead while he licks you open like he’ll never get enough.
“R-Raf—please—too much—”
He pulls off just long enough to flash you a lazy, smug grin, lips swollen pink, chin dripping, eyes glassy with lust.
“One more,” he coos, voice hoarse. “You can give me one more, can’t you? For your poor neglected boyfriend who missed you all day?”
He waits until your hand falls limp against the cushion, until your body going soft and trusting again.
Then he dives back in.
By the time he finally lets you breathe, you’re boneless, tears drying on your cheeks, his silk shirt twisted around your waist. He crawls up your body, kisses you slow and deep so you taste yourself all over his tongue, and smiles against your lips.
“Best welcome-home ever,” he whispers, nipping your bottom lip. “Next time leave the panties off. Save me thirty whole seconds.”
You’re too wrecked to even roll your eyes.
He just laughs, tucks you into his chest, and hums that stupid song again, content, smug, and absolutely drenched in you.
黎深 ⛦ ZAYNE !
You come home dragging your feet, shoulders knotted, temples throbbing from twelve straight hours of deadlines and idiots. Zayne is already there—white coat traded for a charcoal sweater, sleeves pushed to the elbows, glasses low on his nose while he reviews charts on the couch. He glances up once and immediately closes the tablet.
“Bed. Now,” he says, voice calm, clinical, final. “You’re presenting with acute sympathetic overdrive. Heart rate elevated, trapezius spasming, cortisol through the roof.”
You groan. “I’m fine—”
“You’re not.” He stands, towering, gentle but immovable. “Doctor’s orders: you need to relieve yourself properly. Thoroughly.”
You flop face-first onto the mattress still in your work clothes. He follows, fingers already working the buttons of your blouse with surgical precision.
“And you?” you mumble into the pillow. “You pulled a double shift yesterday. You must be just as tense.”
A low hum behind you. “I am. Which is why we’re going to treat both of us at once. Efficiency, darling.”
Before you can ask what that means, he’s sliding your skirt and panties off in one smooth motion, lifting you like you weigh nothing, settling on his back in the center of the bed. His cock is already hard against his slacks—thick, flushed, curving slightly toward his stomach when he frees it. He pats his chest.
“Straddle me. Face down.”
You know the position. You love the position—sixty-nine. Still, your thighs shake as you climb over him, knees bracketing his ribs, hands bracing on either side of his hips. He guides you back until your soaked cunt hovers an inch above his mouth.
“Good girl. Now lower yourself. Let me take care of you.”
The first touch of his tongue is precise—one long, deliberate lick from entrance to clit that makes your arms buckle. He groans, deep and satisfied, hands clamping on your hips to pull you flush against his face.
“Labia minora engorged,” he murmurs, voice muffled, vibrating straight into your clit. “Clitoral hood retracted. Perfect autonomic response.”
You whimper around the head of his cock as you sink down, lips stretching wide. He’s thick, hot, pulsing against your tongue, and the taste of him—clean skin, faint salt, pure Zayne—makes you dizzy.
He starts slow, academic, like he’s mapping you. Tongue tracing every fold, cataloguing every twitch.
“The levator ani is fluttering beautifully,” he says, breath ghosting over your clit. “Pelvic floor tension releasing already. Excellent.”
Then his fingers slide in—two at once, no resistance because you’re dripping for him—and crook upward in that cruel, perfect angle that hits your front wall dead-on. His mouth seals over your clit, sucking in steady pulses while his fingers pump slow, deep, relentless.
You choke on his cock, eyes watering, throat working to take him deeper. He rewards you with a throaty moan that you feel in your spine.
“Sexual release triggers oxytocin and prolactin cascade,” he lectures between licks, voice wrecked now. “Reduces serum cortisol by up to thirty percent. You’re going to come for me at least three times. Minimum therapeutic dose.”
You try to pull off to breathe and he growls, hips flexing up, fucking shallowly into your mouth.
“No. Stay. Breathe through your nose. Relax your soft palate—yes—like that.”
His fingers speed up, scissoring, curling, while his tongue flicks your clit in tight, merciless circles. You come the first time with a muffled scream around his cock, thighs clamping on his head, entire body seizing. He doesn’t stop —just switches to soft, soothing licks while you ride it out, murmuring praise against your folds.
“First orgasm achieved. Heart rate one-thirty and climbing. Preparing second.”
The second hits harder, faster, because he adds a third finger and sucks your clit like he’s trying to leave a bruise. You sob around him, tears streaking into his trimmed hair, hips grinding helplessly.
He’s leaking steadily now, precome painting your tongue, cock jerking every time you swallow around him. You can feel him getting close—his thighs tensing under your hands, breath ragged against your cunt.
“Cum with me,” he orders, voice cracking for the first time. “Third one. Now.”
He curls his fingers hard, tongue lashing your clit without mercy, and you shatter again—vision whiting out, whole body locking up. The clench of your throat around his cock drags him over with you; he spills hot and thick down your throat with a broken groan, hips stuttering, fingers buried to the knuckle inside you while he licks you through both climaxes like he’ll never get enough.
When it’s over you collapse forward, cheek against his thigh, panting. He gently maneuvers you off him, turns you around, gathers you close. His face is flushed, lips swollen and shining with you, glasses fogged and crooked. He kisses your temple, voice soft again.
“Cortisol levels should be negligible now,” he whispers. “Sleep. I’ll run a warm bath in twenty minutes. Hydration and electrolytes next.”
You laugh, hoarse and wrecked. “You’re such a nerd.”
He hums, already half-asleep, arms locked around you like steel bands.
“And you’re cured,” he murmurs against your hair. “For tonight, at least.”
秦彻 ⛦ SYLUS !
Sylus is sprawled on the couch in nothing but low-slung grey sweatpants and that infuriating little smirk, scarlet eyes flicking across the tablet in his hand like the numbers on the screen are more interesting than you.
You’re curled against his side, wearing his black dress shirt and literally nothing else, pretending to scroll on your phone. Except you’re not pretending very well. Your gaze keeps sliding to the sharp, arrogant line of his nose, the way it cuts through the dim light like it was sculpted for sin.
The words slip out before you can stop them.
“Your nose looks so rideable.”
Silence.
Then the tablet lowers, slow and deliberate. Those crimson eyes lock onto you, amusement and pure danger swirling together.
“Come again, sweetie?”
Heat floods your face. You slap a hand over your mouth, mortified, but it’s too late. The smirk spreads, wicked and slow.
“Didn’t know my kitten was so obsessed with my nose,” he drawls, voice velvet and smoke. “How long have you been thinking about grinding that pretty little cunt all over it, hm?”
You squeak. Actually squeak.
He tosses the tablet aside, stands in one fluid motion, and scoops you up like you weigh nothing. Two strides and you’re in his bedroom, the city glittering through floor-to-ceiling windows behind the massive bed.
Sylus drops onto his back, arms folded behind his head, looking like a king waiting for tribute.
“Well?” He arches one brow. “Ride it, then. Ride until you’re satisfied, kitten. I’ve got all night.”
Your thighs are trembling before you even straddle his chest. He watches, hungry, as you crawl forward, knees settling on either side of his head. The moment your slick folds brush the bridge of his nose he inhales, deep and filthy, eyes fluttering half-shut.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “You’re already dripping for me. Greedy girl.”
You sink down slowly, gasping at the first contact (his nose is perfect, straight and firm, slotting right between your lips, the tip nudging your clit). The groan he lets out vibrates through your entire body.
“Move,” he orders, voice rough. “Use me.”
You do.
It starts tentative—little rolls of your hips, testing, savoring, but his big hands slide up to grip your ass, spreading you wider, guiding you harder, faster. Every forward drag smears your wetness along the sharp ridge of his nose; every backward glide has the tip bumping your clit so perfectly your vision sparks.
“That’s it,” he growls against you, tongue flicking out to lap at your entrance between breaths. “Fuck my face exactly how you want. Make a mess.”
You lose it.
Hands flying to the headboard, you start riding him in earnest—hips snapping, thighs burning, tits bouncing under the open shirt. His tongue spears inside you every time you glide back, nose grinding your clit mercilessly when you rock forward. The room fills with wet, obscene sounds and your broken moans echoing moans of his name.
“Sylus—oh god—right there—”
He laughs, dark and filthy, the sound muffled against your cunt. “Not God, sweetie. Just your very devoted boyfriend letting you ruin his face.”
You’re dripping everywhere—down his nose, his cheeks, his chin, pooling in the hollow of his throat. He drinks it like wine, tongue thrusting deep, nose rubbing hard circles until your legs start shaking uncontrollably.
“Close,” you sob, nails scraping the headboard. “Sylus, I’m—”
“Do it,” he snarls, fingers digging bruises into your ass, forcing you to ride faster. “Come all over my fucking face. Mark me up, kitten. Want to smell you for days.”
The orgasm slams into you so hard you nearly collapse. Your whole body locks, a silent scream tearing from your throat as you gush against his mouth, hips jerking helplessly while he keeps licking, keeps rubbing keeps you riding the peak until you’re crying from overstimulation.
When the tremors finally fade, you try to lift off, legs jelly. His arms lock around your thighs like steel.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he rasps, voice hoarse, face absolutely drenched and gleaming. “I said until you’re satisfied. We’re nowhere near done.”
You whimper, because you’re still pulsing, still empty and aching in the best way.
He grins up at you, wicked and adoring, nose shiny with you, lips swollen and red.
“Round two, sweetie. And this time I’m setting the pace.”
He flips you effortlessly, pinning your thighs open with his broad shoulders, and dives back in like a man possessed.
You’re not leaving that bed until the sun comes up—and neither is the smug, perfect, rideable nose that started it all.
夏以昼 ⛦ CALEB !
You can’t even remember how you got here.
One minute you were storming into Caleb’s room, cheeks burning with second-hand shame embarassment—finding your favorite pair of panties balled up under his pillow like some dirty little secret. The next, he was on his knees in front of you, sunshine smile gone, pupils blown wide, begging in that cracked, desperate voice you’d never heard from him before.
“I’m sorry, pipsqueak—fuck, I’m so sorry, I just—your smell—”
And now it’s been hours.
Hours of him on his knees between your spread thighs, face shoved into the soaked cotton of the panties you didn’t even bother taking off. Hours of his tongue dragging slow, worshipful stripes over the fabric, nose buried so deep he’s practically suffocating himself in you. Hours of him whining like a kicked puppy every time you let him up for air.
You’ve got one leg hooked over his shoulder, knee locked around the back of his neck, heel digging into his spine to keep him exactly where you want him. His hands are fisted in the sheets because you threatened to stop everything if he touched himself.
“Please,” he mumbles again, voice muffled and wet against your crotch. “Please, I’m sorry—”
“Please what, huh?” You tug his hair hard enough to make him gasp, forcing his red-rimmed eyes up to yours. “You thought you’d just get away with stealing my panties like some gross little pervert? Look at you now.”
A broken whimper spills out of him. His hips jerk forward involuntarily, grinding against nothing, and you feel the wet spot on his sweatpants brush your ankle.
You laugh, mean and sweet. “Licking my cunt through my own panties like a dog. Pathetic.”
He sobs—actually sobs, hot breath fanning over the soaked fabric. His cock is outlined obscenely in his pants, flushed angry red at the tip, a steady drip of precome darkening the grey cotton. When his hand twitches toward it you kick it away with your free foot.
“Oh no no no. This is a punishment, remember? You don’t get to touch that filthy cock of your’s.”
Caleb’s whole body shakes. He leans forward again without being told, tongue flattening against the gusset, licking broad, desperate stripes like he’s trying to drink you through the barrier. You reward him with a slow roll of your hips, grinding your clit against the bridge of his nose, and he moans like he’s the one coming undone.
“You humiliated me, Caleb,” you sigh, threading fingers through his hair just to yank harder. “Ruined everything we had. Our friendship, everything. Least you can do is feel a fraction of it.”
You glance down and, oh. There’s a fresh, darker patch spreading at the front of his sweats. He came just from this. Just from tasting you through cotton and being called a pervert.
You laugh again, delighted and cruel. “Aww, did you just come in your pants? Already?”
He whimpers, nodding frantically, hips still twitching through the aftershocks.
“Poor baby,” you coo, and finally, finally hook your thumbs into the waistband of your ruined panties. “Guess I’ll be nice—ah!—wait, wait—ahhh, fuck!”
The second the fabric is pushed aside Caleb snaps.
Hands shoot up to grip your thighs hard enough to bruise, spreading you open like he’s starving. There’s a sharp rip as he tears the panties clean in half, and then his mouth is on you, no hesitation, no teasing, just pure, sloppy desperation.
He buries his face so deep his nose is flush against your clit, shaking his head side to side to coat himself in you. Tongue plunging inside, curling, licking up every drop like it’s the first time he’s ever tasted anything good in his life. The noises are obscene, wet, animal, his moans vibrating straight into your core.
You cry out, back arching, fingers tightening in his hair until he whines. He doesn’t care. He’s humping your leg now, cock still hard and leaking through his soaked sweats, dragging himself against your leg like he can’t help it. You twitch at the sheer size of it, the feeling of it dragging against your skin through his pants.
“F-fuck—Caleb—”
He pulls back just long enough to gasp, “Taste so fucking good, pipsqueak, please don’t stop, please—”
Then he’s back, sucking your clit between his lips, tongue flicking fast and messy while his hips rut helplessly against your calf. You can feel how big he is even through the fabric, thick and ridiculous, and the thought alone makes you clench around nothing.
Your thighs start shaking. You’re close, so close, and he can tell because he doubles down, licking into you like he’s trying to crawl inside and never leave.
When you come it’s sudden and brutal, a full-body spasm that has you yanking his hair hard enough to hurt. He moans like it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him, drinking you down in greedy gulps, hips stuttering as he spills again in his pants just from the taste of you cuming on his tongue.
When the haze clears you’re both panting. He’s still on his knees, face shiny and wrecked, eyes glassy with devotion and shame.
You loosen your grip in his hair, petting gently now.
“Friendship’s not the only thing ruined,” you whisper, breathless.
Caleb just smiles, small and sheepish and utterly fucked-out. “Good,” he rasps, voice raw. “Was getting tired of pretending anyway.”
Your breathing hitched as you stayed behind to catch up with Lawrence. You couldn’t help it, but you found yourself growing slightly fearful as you sat alone in the room with him. You felt stupid for it. Why would you be afraid? This was Lawrence you were talking about. He was the sweetest guy here, and he’d never harm a fly. He was just trying to save you and Harry, right? You couldn’t possibly be mad at him for that.
Before you could snap out of your thoughts, Lawrence caught you staring at him, giving you one of those kind smiles that always seemed to calm you right down. “We should get that blood off of you, right? Don’t want you getting sick!” you mumbled quietly as you grabbed out the rubbing alcohol. Sure, Lawrence wasn’t injured, but it was far better than using your drinking water. “Awe, you care,” Lawrence replied jokingly. You rolled your eyes “of course I care.”
You put some of the alcohol on a cotton ball, immediately starting to scrub the blood off of Lawrence’s hands. As you stared down at the red liquid, your mind wandered back to the vision of Lawrence.. beating in that man’s skull. You shivered slightly as you scrubbed harder, as if you were attempting to scrub the image from your head. Lawrence would never hurt anybody, right? He was your fearless leader, right? He was the cute boy with the heart of gold, right? You were so deep in your scary thoughts that you hadn’t even heard Lawrence yelp, asking you to stop rubbing so hard because you were starting to peel skin.
“I-I’m sorry! I’m so sorry,” you replied before switching to his left hand. His smile remained in tact, however. “As long as you don’t hurt this one too, you’re more than forgiven,” he teased. Then, a severely awkward silence fell between the two of you. You could cut the tension with a knife. Lawrence eye’s locked onto yours “is something wrong? Are you okay?” his voice is still as sweet as ever. You force a smile for him, giving a small nod. “Yeah, I’m fine!” Lawrence furrowed his eyebrows “okay, but you don’t look fine.”
And then the silence reappeared. Out of nowhere, Lawrence questioned “are you afraid, (Y/N)?” you were surprised by how bold his voice was. He wasn’t mumbling, or even the slightest bit afraid to ask. You thought about lying to him, about saying you weren’t afraid at all, but you sucked up your pride and let it out. “Maybe a little bit. You didn’t seem very phased by what you did to that man, Lawrence..” Lawrence pouted “of course I am! What I did was horrifying, but I did it to protect Harry.. and you..” the last part was said softer than the rest. You two met eyes again.
You felt calm.
You giggled lightly, looking back down at his hand. “You’re right, I was being silly, I apologize. Are you sure you’re not hurt at all? You were gripping that bat kinda hard..” Lawrence smiled back “I’m fine, thank you for your concern!” your smile slowly turned into a smirk “of course, you wouldn’t listen to any of the other group members if they expressed concern.” The first real laugh you had heard from Lawrence erupted from his mouth, causing him to shyly cover his mouth. “If you want to laugh, you can laugh.”
"That’s alright, there’s no time for laughter. Thanks, (Y/N), but I think I’m mostly clean no-“ you cut him off "Lawrence, I haven’t even started your face..” he nervously quirked an eyebrow “o-oh, I forgot it got on my face.” You forced him back down after he had previously attempted to get up, noticing the curious look in his eyes as he felt the force you had managed to put onto him. You put a little more alcohol on the cotton before gently cupping Lawrence’s cheek with your one hand. You pulled his face a bit closer, inspecting it first. “Okay, there’s not a lot of blood here. It won’t take long at all.”
Without warning, you pressed the cold liquid to his face, him squirming quickly before returning to his normal position. Another silence approached, but this time it was comfortable. You felt safe with Lawrence. Maybe it was odd after he had just killed a man, but he did it to protect you. Just thinking about the idea of Lawrence protecting you throughout all of this made a smile rise on your face. Lawrence seemed amused by this. “Thinking about something?” you nodded “isn’t your head always full of thoughts?” Lawrence nodded “yes, I suppose it was a silly question.”
You squeezed Lawrence’s cheeks in your hand, going to scrub at his forehead and nose, but you quickly realized his glasses were in the way. “Can you.. take these off for a couple of seconds?” Lawrence nodded, reaching up to grab them. He set them on the desk beside him, giving a defeated sigh. “Now I can hardly make out your face.. bummer..” you were glad he couldn’t see the bright red blush proudly worn on your face. Well, he probably could, but he would probably blame it on his poor eyesight. You began to scrub his nose, pausing as you stared at Lawrence without his glasses.
He seemed so helpless. He was sat there, unable to see, completely trusting you to clean him up and then tell him he could put his glasses back on. He was putting his trust in you. “When was the last time you cleaned your glasses?” you asked. You could tell Lawrence was confused that he couldn’t feel the cloth on his face anymore, but he pondered for a second. “It’s been awhile. It’s pretty hard to clean your glasses when you can’t take them off. If I do, I can’t see.”
After you finished scrubbing the blood off, you grabbed Lawrence’s glasses, using the sleeve of your jacket to clean them off. They weren’t perfect, but they were much better. Especially since you got the blood off. You pushed them back onto Lawrence’s face, watching as he fidgeted them to the correct position. “Thanks, (Y/N), you didn’t have to help me. You’re always so sweet. If you ever need me for anything, I’m in your debt.”
"Just..“ you paused "keep protecting me, okay? Maybe not like that, though..” Lawrence’s smile reappeared “I’ll always protect y-” before he could finish his sentence, you were leaning forward, pressing your lips softly to his. Lawrence could feel his face going hot as he realized you were kissing him. You, the person he had been in love with for such a long time, were kissing him. He hadn’t even had to kill the rest of the group. You were here, you had chosen him. Lawrence had only hesitated for a moment before grabbing your face and pulling you closer to him. He felt like he needed you closer, like if he didn’t grab a hold of you, you were going to fade away. You softly pulled away from the kiss, allowing him to continue to cup your face. “You okay, Lawrence?” he nodded
perhaps it's just me being a simple kinnie, however i think we really down play lawrence's character.
he isn't just some "uwu angy boi yandere," or an yandere sim clone.
he is a well developed character who just so happens to be yandere.
like yes, he desperately wants love and mc's affection. however he also is a natural care giver to even people he doesn't care for.
he loves mc, because he views her as "kind hearted," and "selfless," why? because he never has been treated kindly without the person having a motive in his eyes. he has never seen that happen before, even from himself. he loves baking, and genuinely wants the people around him to thrive, even though he veiws them as nothing. lawrence lacks empathy entirely (which by itself, isn't a bad thing,) yet is completely capable of sympathy, and feels it often.
his true character motivation, is to finally live a calm life. which because of the standards he has always held, was impossible. he cannot allow himself to fail, or else his parents were right.
speaking of his parents. they're the only reason why he views isolation, dependency, acts of service, and manipulation as love.
in the sequel it seems to be something he has moved past from. since he has been out of isolation for much longer than in the start of dangerous fellows.
which is another thing we need to acknowledge is that, for someone who has been socially isolated his whole life, he actually communicates well. i was isolated in a similar fashion (long story short, for five years i couldn't talk to kids my age or anyone outside of my immediete family,) and i behaved similarly. social constructs don't exist for you as much since you haven't been social. lawrence grasps politeness, yes. however cannot figure out social cues to save his life (ex. the shed scene.)
anyways, while i understand hating him. you must admit, lucy dream wrote an amazing character.
“Can you make a headcanon for each of the boys about what they do with mc after a cure for the virus is found and they get released from the safe zone in the good ending? Like, dating, if they go back to school, etc. or go far into the future like propasal, marriage, blahblahisjs? Thanks! ♡♡”
Could you do a headcanon for the dfel boys and how they would act when they're jealous i can understand if u dont want to
heya! here you go, anon. i apologize if this isn’t too good, my writing is a little rusty :((
im so sorry for being gone for so long! my inspiration completely packed it’s bags and dipped, hopefully i can get back to updating regularly for a while!
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how the dfel boys act when jealous:
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Lawrence:
Lawrence is VERY possessive
because of this, his jealous tendencies are stronger than most
when he sees you with another guy around, he will NOT leave you alone around him
he’s constantly by your side, basically shouting out that he’s yours
but if the guy you’re by is feeling brave and gets a little touchy with you, Lawrence has you in his arms immediately
as much as Lawrence trusts you, he doesn’t trust other guys
it did take you a little while to get used to these little things that he did, but once you get used to it, it becomes a part of your everyday life
Harry:
I can’t see Harry being the jealous type at all
but I’m sure he does have a small jealous side to him
but as I mentioned, this side is SMALL
it only comes out when the guy flirting with you is like,,, flirting h a r d
unlike Lawrence, he doesn’t show his jealousy. if he does, it’s normally a very timid hand hold
when he does get jealous, he’ll go home and sulk about it
but when you comfort him, it’s more reassuring than anything else. it makes him remember that he’s the one you’re in love with, and you wouldn’t trade him for anything
Eugene:
Eugene is very complex when it comes to jealousy
I guess it just depends on the day, honestly
if he’s having a rough day, he gets jealous easily
Eugene doesn’t show his jealousy by showing you affection, but more so sending signals to both you and the person making him jealous
he’ll give you a look that says ‘come and hold my hand right now please’
but the glare he gives the other person could kill a man
once the other person notices the look he gives them, they’re running away in a matter of seconds
Zion:
he is very direct when it comes to jealousy
when he’s jealous, he’s mad
and when he’s mad, he’s not afraid to yell
he’ll cuss out the guy making him jealous and will constantly rant about how you’re his s/o, not the other guys
if the other guy starts getting cocky, Zion probably isn’t afraid to start swinging
but his yelling is normally enough to make the other guy stop, so no fighting happens
over time, you’ve realized how angry he gets
so to counter it, you make sure to show the guy trying to make Zion jealous that your Zion’s and only his
Ethan:
similar to Harry, Ethan is the silent type
when he’s jealous, he’ll just go along with his day like nothing happened
until it’s just the two of you
he will continuously rant about how full of himself the other guy was
‘I mean seriously, he was flirting with you like I wasn’t even there! how ignorant’
it makes you laugh a bit, this is the only time Ethan is so talkative
but you make sure to let him rant and reassure him constantly
I like MC who is a character also has time passes.
Something that I noticed a lot is that MC is like an opposite of Lawrance. In other words, she also has a too demanding life since she pushed herself a lot to study even if she did not want to and did very strenuous activities. The difference is that in the words of MC is that despite getting tired she does it for her mother so that she is proud but Lawrence, his parents forced and manipulated him to deprive him of things that he really liked so that he could have a successful life .
Apparently MC did a lot of extra-curricular activities such as playing soccer or how it is revealed here she also practiced Taekwondo although she only managed to reach a red belt (which is a good position). This is not a surprise since both in chats and in some other moment of the game the characters emphasize that MC is fast running although not as fast as Zion, Ethan or Eugene, at least in " Memory 2 of Lawrence" it is mentioned that she is faster than Lawrence because when Lawrence runs he is unable to reach her !!
She has also been shown to be able to defend herself as in the dangerous ones (the scenes where you need to buy the suits) where she knows how to use anything as weapon around or in the true ending when she goes into OP mode to protect Judy and shows that she has the strength to fight against the zombies.In fact, this is also demonstrated at the beginning when they mention that they see her as fragile and she herself says that she has been able to survive alone.
Another thing is that she has very varied tastes such as that she likes romantic movies, she loves to have tea, to go out with her friends like Judy, she likes to read fantasy books, she loves to make lists of things to do, organize her ideas by writing, sing, adores dogs and children, it is also said that she is fearful so it is common that she is easily shocked although she tends to arm herself with courage when it comes to protecting someone as in the true ending, it is also mentioned that to relieve her stress MC needs Judy to reassure her as MC can easily panic so it is common for her to mention that when someone shows her security she calms down.
It is also shown that she is exaggeratedly overprotective with those she wants and does not want. This is shown even when she goes for Scarlett when she sees her leave , although MC dislikes her but prefers a thousand times to protect her than to let her go. MC in the chat with Harry mentions that she does not tolerate many things (like the attitude of Jay and Scarlett) but if she is good people, it is because the situation requires it. Other traits of her personality is that MC is very joking since at least she always makes comments that end up trolling others, she is understanding when understanding situations such as understanding that Scarlett hates her and considered to be very respectful to everyone.
I really like Harry and want to know more details about him such as what he likes or dislikes, his favorite color, fashion, music,... I find it difficult to get enough information about him
Harry --- Mr.Positive
1. Sport he likes : Volleyball ( He play very well! I knew from DMS) and he is also good at playing basketball.
2. Favorite drink : green tea, espresso, bitter stuff...
3. He can cook ! That awesome! He could be a man who did the dishes right, after finishing eating.
4. He loves his mom very much and has a daddy issue.
5. He used to do a part-time job at coffee shop
6. Favorite food : Strawberry
7. Instrument : He can play violin
8. Subjects : He is good at Math !
9. He had ex
10. He is good at lying but he is always honest with MC
11 His birthday : 9/5
12. When MC asked Harry who he hated first, Harry said sometimes he felt uncomfortable with Lawrence
13. He is very strong ! ( of course Ethan too) He caught MC jumped from 3rd floor hospital
14. In DMS, he said he wanted to be a cop because :
"Actually I wanted to go to a police academy. Cops haven't helped our family.But that was all the more reason I wanted to become a cop " said Harry
15 He is the first person who said MC's name was beautiful :D
16. I think his favorite colors : blue, white, purple, green...
17. Harry is a bookworm!
18. He play True or Dare very well :D and this is the first guy of dangerousfellows boys who can kiss MC directly ! (Lip x lip)
19. He likes fiction books, detective stories or games. In DMS, Harry said he should study but Agatha's novel griped him.
20. Nickname Harry used to call MC is : Master
21. Although he is always kind, but sometimes He look like a "villain" - MC said
22. Actually, He also the first person who had a picture of MC :D when they were in noraebang.
23. Harry : "Ah, you asked me for my help. Come to my classroom, I will teach you. You have to pay me later~"
-demon Harry :D
24. The ring his mother gave him is the thing he treasures and considers it is a luck
25. He likes smell of books, rainy,...
26. When he was late to school, he would jump over walls
27. He doesn't snack when he watches movies
28. In Episode Card Package ( buy cards :) ), Harry was in the council student, other students were afraid of him because he gave full of penalty marks to them. But when MC got caught by jumping over the walls , he don't gave any marks for her.
"because she is my crush " - Harry
29. In ECP ( buy cards ) , Harry likes banana milk.
30. He love kids and work at kindergarten.
P/s : help me find more , plz .. I'm already dead...
Thank you for requesting, anon! And sorry if the format is weird, I’m answering this on my phone kahdjsbska
•What they smell like: musk with a hint of lavender•How they sleep (sleeping position, schedule, etc): on his side. He doesn’t sleep on a specific side every night, but every time he wakes up he’s on the opposite side than the one he fell asleep on. •What music they enjoy: Harry really likes indie music. His favorite artist is Cavetown.•How much time they spend getting ready every morning: before the apocalypse it took him around 15 minutes, not including showering. Including showering it can take him around a hour (he likes to take his sweet time in the shower, it helps him with his headaches) if he has any time to spare, if not then 25 minutes. During the apocalypse it takes him like,,,,ten seconds to get ready.•Their favorite thing to collect: he really likes collecting buttons, but like, really cool looking buttons. •Left or right handed: right handed.•Religion (if any): I know absolutely nothing about religions and the different kinds of them, so I’m not gonna answer this due to my lack of knowledge. Sorry! •Favorite sport: soccer/football/whatever the hell it’s called akhshddhaj. He also really likes tennis.•Favorite touristy thing to do while traveling (museums, local food, sightseeing, etc): He likes to go to all the famous monuments. He also really enjoys searching for places that are hidden gems, bonus points if the natives don’t even give it much attention. He really likes to explore.•Favorite kind of weather: sunny with a slight breeze. He likes the aesthetic of rainy weather, but it makes his headaches worse.•Obscure fear they have: butterflies. Most people don’t know why, but that’s because Harry is mortified by the story (one landed in his ice cream once but he didn’t notice it and he licked it by accident. The butterfly was fine, Harry was not).•The carnival/arcade game they always win without fail: he somehow always wins the claw machine games EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. AND EVERYONE THAT KNOWS HIM HATES IT.
Hello! I hope you’re doing well and being safe during covid. May I request a headcanon for the fellows of an mc who gets very sick? Thank you and stay safe!
hello anon! I hope you’re staying safe and doing well too, especially with the sudden start of the school season :) also, I’m just going to assume that you mean sick with the virus for this post!
Ethan:
- this would undoubtedly stress him tf out
- he’s a very careful person, and this would obviously transfer over to aspects of the pandemic — he’d never be seen outside without a mask, would use hand sanitiser regularly, and social distance as much as possible
- not to say that you wouldn’t, but especially in a situation like this, sometimes getting sick is just inevitable
- there’s not much he can do safely, but when you tell him that you’ve tested positive for the virus, he would still make every effort possible to make your life a little better in your time of need
- daily calls, sitting below your bedroom window, bringing your favourite takeout to your door — things like that
- your relationship won’t suffer because of this, and he’ll be sure of that
Harry:
- he went with you to be tested, and while you both laughed about how weird the test felt to get done, you weren’t laughing anymore when the person told you that you had tested positive
- harry would be immediately apologetic, even though he really doesn’t have any reason to be
- due to his test coming up negative, he was required to self quarantine for two weeks before getting tested again, and to be wary of any symptoms
- so basically, you’re in this together? as much as you can be, anyway.
- while he wouldn’t be able to see you physically, I think FaceTime would be your go-to for communication. that way, if you’re hurting in some way, he can be at least be there with you through the screen
- he might cry to see you in pain :(
- he’d go a more effortless way of giving you things considering his self-quarantine, and would postmate pretty much anything to your door if he felt like it
- you would wake up to random texts and then find a box of chocolate covered strawberries on your doorstep, like???? it’s 9am sir what—
Eugene:
- the moment you tell him over the phone, he’d want you to be tested again. there’s no way that the person he loves has gotten a life-threatening virus, it’s just not possible
- might be internally denying the situation for a bit, but would drop it pretty quickly when you confirm that you caught it anyway. he doesn’t want to make the situation any more stressful for you than it already is
- when he sees you going through the symptoms with his own eyes over FaceTime, he finally realises what’s at stake and is scared. there hasn’t ever been a day that he considered a world without you, and now that a future like that isn’t completely impossible, he doesn’t know what to do
- though, his methods of comfort are odd, they’re very characteristic
- would offer to kick the virus’ ass for you
- also, he would write songs for you! maybe just to cheer you up, but also to satisfy his thoughts and desire to see you healthy again
Lawrence:
- he never freaks out in front of you, but you can almost visualise the blood draining from his face as you talk to him over the phone that day
- this would hit him very hard. not being able to see you is something that makes him really restless, especially when knows that you’re sick. he just wants to take car of you and make you’re safe, but he can’t :(
- he would try to cheer you and himself up by making you homemade treats and leaving them on your doorstep, and would probably stand at a distance to see you receive them. it’s the only way he can, after all
- Lawrence would definitely send you care packages. you know those cute colour-themed ones, where every item in the basket is or correlates to a certain colour? think of that but with your favourite colour, he’d definitely send you at least a few
- you might tell him that you don’t need him to get you stuff (the treats, care packages, etc, bc we know there’d be more from this extra mf) but he would literally insist. the only scenario I could see him stopping is if you were genuinely uncomfortable with it or it just made you feel bad, but, I think in this case it’d be hard to, since it’s obvious how much attention and love he’s putting into everything
Zion:
- similarly to the rest of the guys, he’d be crushed to know that you’d gotten sick. you’re a careful person, and it was shitty luck that you happened to be on the receiving end of the virus.
- it would make him super anxious and worried, and though he might let that get the best of him occasionally, he’s mostly good in restraining himself
- he would probably try to make as much light of the situation as possible, like joking that some politician should have gotten it instead just to hear your little laugh. it’s important to him that you’re at least happy sometimes, because this virus definitely won’t take you from him — at least not if he has anything to say about it
- he’d be the guy to throw spare change at your window in the middle of the day just to get your attention, rather than texting you or something because that’s boring 🤷🏼♀️ he IS spicing up self quarantine and there’s nothing you can do to stop him
- then he’d throw up something with terrible aim that happens to be more medicine or just a little gift like chapstick, your favourite candy bar, or something miscellaneous
- would try all he can to make you feel normal. he would still play video games with you and insult you over the headset, and send you random memes along with daily checkups
There's something adorable that when you respond rudely or say things that could make another feel bad, Harry always talks as if everyone was normal. If you tell him that Zion no longer remembers that he gave Harry a cup , immediately Harry says he doesn't care, that's okay because he remembers it and that's what matters. No matter what you say to Harry as long as he has a good perspective for him, he's fine. Very positive for someone who thinks they have depression.
LOL, My heart 💕💕 . I really need Harry in my real life. He's so kind and warm. He made me happy so much. My depressed and madness be decreased when I knew him, loved him. He is typical boyfriend I need.
