#lawrence oleander x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

renhanaschewtoy · 9 months ago

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Coworkers

FINALLY. I'm so sorry it took so long. All the chaos and junk really got the better of me. I hope y'all like this, I really tried. I can't wait to write more. Strade's Favorite Bartender will be next! 💚 NSFW MDNI

You’d always had a certain fondness for Lawrence you supposed. He was always the quiet guy at work, hesitant to ever really speak or have attention be directed his way.

And it wasn’t like you’d bulldozed into his life either.

It had started small, really. He was stronger than he looked and often you both shared shifts. You’d asked him a few times if he could help you move some things, speed up the task and he’d always given a little nod and followed you to do so.

You wanted to bridge that gap, you bought some tea you kept in your locker, offering it to Lawrence on breaks. At first he just stared at you for a long moment before slowly giving a nod of his head, crystalline eyes directed anywhere but you. And then grabbing the sandwiches or other items from the corner Mart you saw him buy from time to time. You simply wanted Lawrence to feel appreciated in the warehouse. That you were grateful he helped you.

And it turned into routine after a little while.

Sharing breaks, eating together in the silence that was the wee hours of morning before the sun broke. Settled in the stale smelling break room or outside on the bench in the parking lot, side by side. You usually did most of the talking but from time to time, it was exciting to hear Lawrence talk. When he'd mention his plants, the most recent time he went on a trek through the park or on a hike, better was when he’d actually give you his opinion. Even if it was differing. If it weren’t for the occasional stutter or stammer, you’d reckon to say he’d have a rich voice. Dulcet to you, if you dare say so.

You gave him your number, just in case you switched shifts at work or something came up of course! Though that didn’t stop you from sending the occasional message asking how he was doing, or if you shared a shift a “have a good night! Oops, I mean morning!” sort of text. You wanted to endear yourself to Lawrence.

And you had.

You wormed your way under his skin and into his heart like vines of twisting ivy, you made it hard for Lawrence to breathe around you sometimes. The saccharine scent about you that was so alien, so absolutely opposite of damp rot and soil he’d become accustomed to. You were the fragrant bulbs of flowers he tried to nurture and fight the impulse to cut. You were soft, you were succulent in a way Lawrence didn’t understand like the occasional ones he had spotted around his apartment. Visions of you swam in his head at night in his bed, in the fog of his shower. Emboldened by the haze of burnt hash of a blunt that was discarded on the ashtray nearby. Lawrence wondered how you would feel…from the inside. How different you would feel from his hand. Water or lotion made do in a pinch when he’d fist himself to completion, more often than not he would grow frustrated after the clarity hit him.

“huff…huff…nngh…f-fuck…(Name)...” Water cascades down Lawrence’s pale body, head bowed with one hand braced against the cool tile wile the other hand stroked his weeping cock. You brushed up against him on more than one occasion today, he felt the soft warmth of your skin through your clothes, caught a peek of skin when you’d reach up high, Lawrence swore…goddamn it, he could hear the blood in your veins. Your hand brushed against his when you handed him a paper cup of some herbal tea you’d been so proud to prattle about hoping he’d like it. And he’d die before telling you that it was actually too sweet for his taste. But maybe that was you and your influence on the moment. Too sweet. His breathing grew ragged as his glacier eyes screwed shut, trying a slight twist of his wrist as Lawrence fisted his cock; reliving the encounters behind his eyelids.

The warm flush of your cheeks, he wondered how much blood could reach the apples of them…the plush look of your lips that always curled into a little grin, what might they look like swollen from his own pressed to them or his teeth sinking into them? Would your heart hammer in your chest? Or would it be slow and calm? Would you let him touch you? Actually touch you? To crawl inside of you and feel your warmth from the inside, to break your ribs and truly be in your embrace until you were cold and still like he often felt. A grunt passed Lawrence’s lips as he grappled with the thoughts– did he want that? No…no, he didn’t think he did. Lawrence wanted to savor you if he was ever presented the opportunity. You’d feel different. You were different. His mind rewound and pulled forward like a video on a loop, searching for just the thing to focus on. That breathless face you made after exerting yourself, the way your breathing drew a little rough and you tried to chuckle through, the way your (color) eyes would look up at him so gratefully in a way only you ever looked at him.

“Hhngh…haah…(N-Name)...” Lawrence choked your name from his throat as a shudder ripped down his spine, hips jerking erratically in a rhythm that grew sloppy before pearly, viscous cum splurted forward, coating his hand and dropping into the water to disappear down the drain. The smell of stale, foggy air and eucalyptus as the evidence of his mild perversion disappeared from sight. Maybe that’s why it was always easier in the shower. His panting eventually subsided into just one heavy sigh, the heaviness left him and again the frustration followed.

It wasn’t the same.

It wasn’t you.

Maybe Lawrence was getting greedy. Not that he could ever act on it. It always made him seize up worse when you were just looking at him with those eyes of yours. So patient for whatever he may say or do. It was maddening that he let it get this far. That you somehow had sunk so deeply into him instead that keeping you was now a regular rotation in his fantasy. That fire fed and fanned by content he consumed on the internet. But there was always just a slight pause on maybe trying such on you. Maybe. Exhaling through his nose, Lawrence turns off the water and steps out of the shower. His brow is deep set in thought as he lazily towels off his pallid skin and blonde hair that falls over his shoulders limply still damp.

Dressing for bed, Lawrence dares to glance at his phone- he never gets notifications. Not really. Just from you. And today must be one of those nights that the stars just align, one message from you.

(Name): “Hey!! I have some news tomorrow!”

Lawrence’s brows furrow and lips press in a thin line, he’s not sure how to reply. If he should. But he wants to.

Lawrence: Okay.

Like most or any social interaction- not his best work. Not that you cared. It never stopped you at all or caught you off. Most might find him brusque and socially awkward, which wasn’t untrue. Lawrence doesn’t linger on the thoughts of what it could possibly be, it could be anything with you; infinitely more optimistic than himself. You found the silver linings in most things, took joy in the small victories or whathaveyou. Something he would possibly find overwhelming or even annoying but you seemed to broach him a way just so that it never…felt that way. Lawrence didn’t want to keep you at an arms length like he had the first handful of shifts where he’d nearly tried to avoid you. And now he craved you. You were sunlight, warm and necessary. You were nourishment Lawrence didn’t believe he needed. He was starved in ways that didn’t make sense.

Tugging on old, worn sweatpants, Lawrence crawls into his bed and tries to settle in and stares at the ceiling for a while before his breathing lulls into sleep.

The next day, the next shift. Stars litter the sky and the moon hangs along them. The streets are mostly dead, the silent stillness of the parking lot of the warehouse is usually comforting but there’s an odd looming sense regarding your news and Lawrence doesn’t know why. Why his stomach turns and twists so strangely when he sees you eagerly wave him over as he pushes the heavy door open after a swipe from his employee badge.

“Hey, Law!” you greet, warmly as ever- you were probably the only one who forced themself to adapt to the lifestyle of working this shift and still function. Or function better than most of the other workers here. Granted it made sense to Lawrence, it was what he preferred though it never showed.

Lawrence gives a low hum of acknowledgement you had grown accustomed to as you met him halfway to walk to the lockers together. “You…mentioned you had news…?” After spinning the dial on his lock, those piercing baby blues turned to you, seeming to perk up at his voice addressing you.

You bite your lip in that way that makes him wish he could be one of your teeth. To feel the plush skin under pressure. Lawrence blinks before turning his focus back to your eyes. “Yeah! Yeah, I finally got a grown up job, heh…” You run a hand through your (length) (color) (type) hair, your grin faltering to something almost akin to nervousness or anxiety. Because all Lawrence can do is stare at you with a blank, unreadable expression. The silence hangs over heavy as you scuff your shoe on the floor.

“... you're quitting…?” It feels like he's choking it out but if he did, you didn't seem to notice. And he's grateful for it.

“Well, yeah, I mean…I gave my two weeks. It's just…I can't work here forever. It doesn't pay enough and I'm not exactly cut out for it long term.” You admit with a little bob of your head, glancing around the warehouse stacked with pallets and equipment. And it was true if Lawrence was being honest, you weren't as strong to continue this sort of labor for long without it doing something to your musculature or God forbid your beautiful bones. It was bad enough when you bruised.

“...oh.” There's an odd sort of thrum in his chest he can't discern, a tension that settles tight in too many places for his liking. Your sharp eyes seem to snap to him at the monosyllabic reply and soften. That look. Not of pity, just soft.

“But we can still text! Or meet up on off days! I'd like to check out that trail sometime, if you'd be down?” You're quick, so quick, to offer him the modicum of comfort. That you somehow, some way, want to be around him even when no longer coworkers. You were so odd. But it wasn't unwelcome. “But uh…I was gonna throw a little party. At my place with people from our shift. If you wanted to come.”

Lawrence raises a brow at that, it isn't a “no” (it would be for anyone else)but it's more of that confusion. He didn't do parties. He didn't do other people. Crowded spaces. Not without some sort of necessity or incentive tied to it. His pause seems to make you fidget. “I know it's not your thing, so don't feel you have to or anything. But it would really nice to have you there.” You uplilt your word with that hopeful tone.

He shifts on his feet, his eyes unable to hold your gaze. Honestly? He doesn't want to. He really doesn't want to. Lawrence shifts on his feet a little as if still chewing all of the information over. He didn't like any of it. Most of all your leaving. Your absence would be felt so deeply. Lawrence felt like had something, had someone, even on the humdrum shifts you shared. Be it normalcy, warmth, Lawrence didn't know. But he wasn't about to let it go. Let you go. He couldnt. You might be vines constricting around him, but Lawrence could be all the thistles, barbs, and thorns in the world of it kept you ensnared to him.

Sometimes the stars just aligned like that.

“But, like I said- I know it's not…”

“I'll come.”

You blink up at Lawrence, surprise stark on your face for just a moment at his definitive tone. It lingers before your lips curl into a toothy grin making his heart thud against his ribs. “Yeah? That's great. Really great.” You pull out your phone and tap on it few times before a buzzing comes from his pocket. “That's my address, it starts at seven but y'know…it's a party so show up whenever.” You shrug casually.

Lawrence glances to the side, racking his brain for a moment, thinking of what next, of what to do when he gets there- nevermind that it's days away. “Alright! Well, let's go kick this shift in the teeth!” You chime, clapping your hands together and wandering off to whatever task you were assigned and Lawrence slowly trailing after you.

×××

Relationships were complicated. People were complicated. Well…living people were complicated anyway. For the briefest moment Lawrence thinks back to his family, people that meant little to him in the grand scheme of things but whether he liked it or not was part of his building blocks. At least a little.Which brought a vague memory of a muffled voice from childhood, “We can’t go to a dinner party empty handed.” A few hours before Lawrence decided he would make his appearance, he stopped at the liquor store on the corner to bring a bottle of…fuck. What did you even like?? All you drank when you were together was whatever was at the vending machines, the convenience store, or tea. Lawrence stood near the door of the shop- bottles lined all over the shelves and walls. Advertisements of several brand plastered all over in bright colors or neons.

Augh.

Eventually Lawrence meanders over to the wine section, staring at the bottles blankly, drifting from label to label. White wine? Red wine? If you would even drink it. Dry? Semi? Sweet? It was alcohol for fuck’s sake, why did it have to be so complicated. With a shake of his head, frustration beginning to simmer in the pit of his stomach, Lawrence swipes a bottle of sweet red with a delicate looking label adorned in little gilded flowers. Maybe even if you didn’t like it, you would think it’s pretty. Or maybe you’d think he was weird, like most other people– no…no, that wasn’t true. It was you. None of his antisocial tendencies seemed to deter you or bother you, opposite; you’d been nothing but accommodating and patient with Lawrence.

Keeping his head down, Lawrence shoves a few bills at the unbothered clerk who bothers to spare him a second glance before he begins the trek to where your apartment is supposed to be. Gingerly stepping through the building, Lawrence lingers in the hallway probably a beat longer than necessary before rapping his knuckles against the door. His palms are sweaty as he cradles the bottle of wine and waits…and waits…he can hear the thrum of bass through the door, music playing paired with a few voices…by the sound of it, not to many people (thankfully) or so he hoped. Just as he debated leaving and tossing away any hopeful ideations, the door is abruptly pulled open to reveal you. In more casual clothes. A warm flush blooms beautifully over your cheeks that has his breath hitch ever so slightly.

“Law! Oh man, I was beginning to worry you weren’t gonna show up!” You lilt, posture so much more relaxed and…oh. Lawrence spies the red plastic cup in your hand, of course. It was a party. People drank. He brought a bottle that he’d almost forgotten about seeing you the way you were. The drunk blush on your cheeks looked ever so enticing. “C’mon, c’mon in!” You usher him in warmly and he can take in your apartment. Posters decorate the walls, well loved furniture, a small cozy kitchen…that same sweetened perfume that was so uniquely you seemed to seep into the very walls. Lawrence shuffles inside, keeping his eyes down, only sparing glances to the other coworkers mingling around your place. Some chatting, some playing video games you had set up on your television, others bobbing a little to the music.

Lawrence’s hands tighten around the bottle before looking up to you and awkwardly thrusting it towards you. “I…I didn’t know what to bring…If I should bring anything.” He admits, biting the inside of his cheek as you blink and accept it, looking it over.

“Huh? That’s real sweet of you, thanks Law! Wine, huh? Fancy. I’ve never really tried it.” You inspect it, but keep it carefully tucked in the crook of your arm, though before Lawrence can feel embarrassed about his actions you give a mischievous grin. “You’ll have to come over again and maybe try it with me, huh? Can’t drink alone.” You chime warmly before disappearing only briefly to tuck it safely in the kitchen so nobody thinks to open it. Something for just the two of you…it ignites a spark of hope that he allows himself to buoy on for comfort now that he’s vastly out of his element. You poke your head out of the kitchen, “You want something to drink? I can mix you something or uh…I’ve got water, soda, juice…” Lawrence takes the opportunity to follow you and the variety of beverages and snacks.

Opting for water, Lawrence takes up post along one of your walls, simply watching you and everyone else. Time ticks on as his hands worry the label of the water bottle to shreds. The music feels too loud, he can feel the bass in his bones. Nobody but you really wants to talk to him, he’s spared a nod of acknowledgement or a brief greeting but nothing more- if anything people seem surprised to see him here at all. Lawrence swallows thickly and glances to the clock and moves to stand up and you seemingly appear out of nowhere. Your eyes seem to trace over his features, lingering on his face for a beat before you do that wonderful thing you do. Soften up. Relax. “Hey...I know this isn’t really your scene. It can probably be a lot huh? Here…my room is quieter, you can chill there for a bit maybe? Kinda decompress? I really…hah…I really don’t want you to go yet…if that’s okay?” The alcohol has you emboldened, your lips a little looser, your thoughts more apt to slip between them.

And a strange warmth is surging through his veins, he feels it in his own cheeks, feels his fingers twitch slightly before Lawrence finds himself nodding. Your hand slips in his smoothly, gently- and he’s tempted to flinch but instead he squeezes, carefully. True to your words, your room is notably quieter than the living room, the length of hallway giving a decent berth. You settle on your bed with a dramatic sigh and Lawrence almost shyly sits beside you, hands in his lap. “...I’m glad you came.” You admit as you fall onto your back on your duvet and tilt your head to look up at him. “Is it greedy I wanted to keep you a little longer? Just to myself?”

It’s not greedy.

You’re not greedy.

You’re perfect.

Lawrence swallows thickly, your words reverberating in his skull, echoing his same thoughts. You wanted what he wanted. He could only hope anyway but you said what he was thinking aloud. You made it real. You were real. “N-No..No I don’t think that about you.” Lawrence manages to mutter out and it makes that smile grow wider on your lips. Your hand reaches for his again, delicately, as your fingers trace his knuckles.

“We could hangout more often, y’know. I meant it when I said I still wanted to see you even after I’m outta there.”

He doesn’t know what to say. Nobody’s ever wanted to hang out around him, much less. Well beside that one friend he made online who seemed down to maybe talk in person. But they weren’t you. Nobody compared to you. The silence hangs for a moment but in the soft lighting of your room, your eyes roam over his face again before you push yourself to sit up again, shuffling a little closer to him that Lawrence can feel the warmth of your body next to his. “...is it okay if I…” You dip your head slightly, lashes fluttering to make a point of looking down at his lips before meeting his gaze again. Just barely, Lawrence shakes his head before you give a breathy little chuckle and press your lips to his, a hand raising to cradle his jawline. The light stubble there is felt against the soft, smooth skin of your palm. Your lips are plush and sweetened by whatever alcohol you’d been drinking before, slightly sticky and sweet that Lawrence savors before clumsily kissing you back. Pushing back against you perhaps with an eagerness you hadn’t anticipated that draws a soft sound from your throat. Lawrence swallows down your groan, wanting more, feel you more, taste you more, feel all that livelihood that seems to emanate from you.

The kiss grows, heat building as your arms string around his neck and hands tangle in his blonde hair as it falls messily from its elastic. Lawrence leans, arms circling around your waist, a soft grunt muffled against your lips as he dares to deepen the kiss, tongue tracing your lower lip before being granted. Being able to explore inside of your mouth before pressing you down into the mattress. He can feel every breath you take, the expanding and compression of your chest, the way your heart thrums against your chest- Lawrence swears he can hear your heartbeat. Or maybe it’s his own pounding in his hears. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is more. More.

And you seem of the same mind. Your hands drift down to his hoodie, moving to push it off his shoulders and Lawrence awkwardly shrugs out of it, loathe to part from your lips even to breathe. With you on your back, his hands take the opportunity to roam, albeit shakily. Taking in every curve, noting the muscle and fat on your body- soft under his larger hands and so very warm. Lawrence could get lost in you endlessly. He wanted to. Parting only for a moment, his breathing ragged, you seem to waste no time as you greedily take in air while yanking your shirt up and over your head and reaching for the buttons of his plaid shirt. It isn’t long between the two of you, clumsy hands- some from alcohol and others from lack of real heated experience, before clothes are strewn over your floor and you and Lawrence are a tangle of limbs on your bed. His body cages you in, body anchored to you as he savors each sensation, each beautiful sound he’s able to pull from your lips, feeling the way your body moves and the way it works against his own. Lawrence reminds himself to be affectionate, what he was taught affection is supposed to look like through media consumption anyway, though with you it’s easier. It’s so lovely to kiss along your neck, feel you gasp and shudder, to feel your pulse flutter under his lips. “...feels…fuck…so good…” he groans lowly against your skin.

Lawrence can almost picture the expression on your face as you give a chime of laughter and dare to roll your hips against his own, feeling his erection straining against the cotton of his boxers in a very obvious tent. “It can feel better…I can make you feel better…” You croon softly and that’s the snap that breaks him. Pulling away so abruptly you look up at him owlishly, he shoves his boxers down his pale thighs, impulse and need overriding most if not all thought in this moment. The desperation that burned through Lawrence to feel you from the inside.You lift your hips accordingly as he paws at your underwear before they slip down your legs and carelessly discarded with everything else. Bare before each other, there’s the briefest moment between the way the two of you have been interlocked, drinking the other one in. Before Lawrence’s hands grip the meat of your hips and tugs you closer with a strength you usually thought was reserved for the warehouse, not that you minded. The feeling of his fingers digging into your skin, you certainly wouldn’t mind a little bruising if not more come morning.

“Just…Just stay still…Just let me…” He pants, his eyes clouded and glazed over, transfixed as he mumbles almost to himself and you arch your back just so to give him a better angle as one hand releases you to line his aching cock up to your sweet entrance.First he notches the bulbous head in and groans, chest heaving with every breath as you bite your lip with a soft whine- spurning him on, urging him to just push. And so he does, inch by inch, Lawrence spears you on his length and his eyes threaten to roll back into his skull. You feel divine; tight, wet, impossibly warm around him as you clench like a vice that his his hips already stutter the first time within you. Sweat already begins to bead his forehead as Lawrence’s jaw clenches- as tempting as it is, he couldn’t bear the embarrassment if he came undone within you so quickly.

You keen below him, hushed little murmur of, “Please…fuck, Law…need you, please.” While resting your hands on his shoulders with a little squeeze, you don’t mean to rush him, really you don’t- but you’d wanted this, thought about this, more times than you cared to count. And with a little liquid courage in your veins, you finally fucking had it. Had him.

And surely, he begins to rock his hips. The push and pull between you growing as Lawrence begins to rut within you, rhythm building and pressure mounting as you buck your hips in kind, pushing him deeper until his cockhead nudged against that delicious spot within you that made your lashes flutter and moans spill from your lips. Ordinarily, Lawrence wasn’t one for much noise- but the music muffled anything beyond your door and these sounds were for him and him alone. Shouldering your legs over his shoulders, Lawrence picks up his pace and his hips snap against you, heavy balls wetly slapping against your ass that has you squeak until you relax some in his grip. It leaves you helpless, putty as he fucks you into the mattress with reckless abandon now- your headboard knocking against the wall with each brutal thrust as he moans and grunts above you. While the sight of your is ever enticing, something Lawrence wants to burn into the folds of his brain, the need to feel close to you wins as he hunches over, nearly folding you in two. Hands bracing on the bed as he buries his face in the crux of your neck and shoulder as he kisses along the skin, breathing hotly into your ear as he continues to pump his cock into you. “...close…so…need to feel you…so warm…so fucking good…” Lawrence babbles to you, drunk on the euphoria as he feels pleasure coil hot in his stomach, on the brink.

So close.

“L-Law…’m not…a-ah, oh fuck…!” You gasp and choke on your words as you’re pinned below him, bliss drawn over your flushed features as your brain struggles to send words to your mouth, “...’m not gonna last...just like that, like that…!” You encourage as he surges with renewed vigor. Lawrence wants, no, needs to feel you come undone around. What you feel like when overcome with pleasure, what you look like, all of it. He grits his teeth before finding better use for his mouth, latching onto your throat to suckle a deep mottled mark into your skin that has you nearly scream into the room before he claps a hand over your lips to muffle it as he feels you contract around him. Convulsing, throbbing, spasming all around him in a way that Lawrence shuddering as his engorged cock finally empties itself within you, the excess forming a creamy ring around the base of his shaft and dripping down the plush swell of your ass onto the duvet. Ragged huffs fan over the hickey now left into your skin as Lawrence gives a few more languid, shallow strokes to enjoy the lingering feeling of you tightly wrapped around him as you try to catch your breath with a few low sounds of complacency. Sated, Lawrence almost begrudgingly lowers your legs carefully and his piercing eyes look up at you- trying to gage if you might be disappointed or upset, but instead is met with a bleary, satisfied smile and a breathy chuckle.

“...fuck, Law. I knew you had in you.” You mutter playfully before resting your arm over your sweaty forehead and Lawrence can feel his lips quirk ever so slightly. Something akin to pride settling in him slightly, but he remains knelt between your legs as a silence settles over the pair of you and you raise your arm to peek at him. Wordlessly, you pat shift and shuffle, peeling back the blankets and patting the spot next to you.

“But…your party…?”

“I’m pretty sure people heard and I’m pretty sure they didn’t. What’re they gonna do? Rob me? I don’t have shit.” You chuckle, though Lawrence seems to give pause and glance to the door. His reluctance seems to sober you some as you sit up slightly. “Uh…unless you wanted to go.” You try to keep your tone steady not to betray the tinge of hurt that creeps in all the same.

“No…! No, that’s not what I want…uhm…” Lawrence awkwardly scoots off your bed and grabs his boxers to tug on padding to your door and opening it a crack, peeking and listening for any other life in your apartment. The music had since stopped and it was still silence.With the knowledge your apartment is now empty, Lawrence locks your door for you before returning into bed and you just smile. The simplest thing, as if this was normal. Maybe it was, Lawrence sure as fuck didn’t know what that was, but this was nice. This was beautiful. You were beautiful.

Slowly, he moves to the other side of the bed and slides in beside you. Lawrence has not slept next to another person, honestly it was never something he thought he would like but it feels like it’s both what you want and what is expected. And frankly- it could be worse. “...Can I…?” He shuffles under the blankets, swathed in your detergent and perfume, his frame shifts over yours and his head presses to your chest where he can hear the steady beat of your heart. The intrusive thought rings in through his head that he could have it, have that piece of you forever. Sealing this moment forever between the two of you...but he pushes it to the back of his head. No, another part of him didn’t want that- as tempting as it may be. If he took that part of you, this wouldn’t be possible. And Lawrence wanted this, whatever this may be, and more of it. More of you. Sex. Intimacy. The touch and warmth of another living being. It was odd, it was still something Lawrence was trying to make sense of. A way that this could remain but you might still be wholly his. All his. Only his.

Lawrence’s reverie is broken only by your arms encircling him and hugging him close to you, one hand carding through his hair to keep his head pressed to your chest as you hum in contentment. “Night, Law.” You mutter with an affectionate kiss to his head as you reach an arm out to turn off your lamp and succumb to sleep. Lawrence lingered awake a while longer, his nocturnal nature something he was grateful for as he relished in the soft breaths while you slept, how your heart slows, the sweet silence as he curls around your body and eventually, an hour or so after observing you, Lawrence sleeps as well.

Eventually sunlight dapples through your blinds, making Lawrence crinkle his nose slightly- he wasn’t accustomed to this. Not that he slept poorly necessarily, but it would take a day or so to get his circadian rhythm back. But it hadn’t been a waste as you groggily rouse beside him with a sleepy smile. “...Hey.” You greet warmly, throat still raspy from sleep as you push some of his bangs from his face. “You sleep okay?” Lawrence nods slowly, drinking in this vulnerable vision of you as you yawn and roll to look at him on your pillow. “You want breakfast or something?” You offer up with that languid smile and something akin to adoration lingering in your eyes, the afterglow looked all the more prepossessing on you. “I have some of that tea still that I brought you a few days ago.”

He pushes up to sit and chews his lip for a moment. Maybe a part of Lawrence had hoped. Had known. “Uh…actually I, uh…I brought some tea for you. I can make us some.” He replies slowly, shifting his gaze to look at you, testing your reaction, if you would find it odd that he brought something besides the wine.

“Aw! Yeah, I’d love that.” You grin and sit up as well, moving to tug fresh underwear on and a large shirt, “You know where the kitchen is, the kettle is on the stove. I’m just gonna freshen up quick.” And with that you disappear into the bathroom while Lawrence prepares you his own specialty brew.

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blade287 · 5 months ago

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Stalker hcs - Lawrence and Ren

Slight NSFW, stalking, kidnapping

Lawrence;

- Very careful about following you. Likes to keep his distance and will be deterred if you're around other people. If you're alone or it's late at night, he'll be less cautious.

- Has your routine written in notes and will research the places you go frequently. If the place is public, he may 'show up' on occasion, but will avoid getting too close. Will get anxious if you don't follow or have an unpredictable routine.

- If you work in retail or customer service, you might notice him during your shifts (mostly in passing, but sometimes he'll stick around). Maybe he'll muster up the courage to approach you one day... Or not. He's shy!

- Will lurk around your house whenever he can, peeking through your windows if he thinks he won't be spotted. Would be pretty disappointed if your curtains were closed.

- If he's absolutely certain you aren't home, he may try and sneak in. If he does, he'll make sure to leave as little evidence as possible, he does not want to be caught.

- Doesn't like seeing you with other people and will get progressively more jealous if you're with them often.

- Likes to leave you small gifts. You'll often find trinkets or dried flowers, sometimes with short notes (something simple usually, like "have a nice day"). If you're sad or sick, he'll leave them more often. He doesn't have the money to get you anything expensive

- Closet perv. He'll go through your laundry or underwear and jerk off to your scent, but feels so guilty afterwards. Doesn't have the nerve to take anything home, no matter how much he'd like to. Clothes you throw away however... He will absolutely take those.

- If you were to call him out or catch him in the act, he'd panic. He'd get very defensive and deny it, and if that doesn't work, he'd get violent.

- Would spend months planning a kidnapping (because there's no way you'd willingly go with him, right?), but the longer he waited the more anxious he'd get. Will likely end up hurting you in the process, though it would be unintentional.

Ren;

- Much less careful. It won't be obvious he's following you, but it'll be much more noticeable than Lawrence. You might actually spot him if you're quick enough.

- Has your routine memorised and will show up almost everywhere you go, regardless of if the place is public or not. Will 'wander' into the wrong bathroom or a restricted area just to follow you. The more you notice him the happier he is.

- If you work retail or customer service, he'd be a regular. Always asking for you over other workers and may even refuse help if you're not available. More than happy to chat with you and often tries to make small talk.

- Stalks your social medias and has all your posts saved. If you have photos of yourself, he'll jerk off to them.

- Will find a way to break into your home, no matter how much security you have. He's small and nimble so will squeeze through open windows, or at least climb up to them. You might find claw marks where he's tried to force his way in.

- Very easily jealous and doesn't like seeing you with other people. The closer you are with them, the angrier he gets. If they're in any photos of you, he'll crop them out.

- Definitely the type to steal your underwear, or any clothing for that matter. If it smells like you, he wants it, and if he can take it, why shouldn't he? You'll have to go clothes shopping pretty often...

- Loves to lay in your bed, hug (and hump) your pillows, smell your clothes. Unlike Lawrence, Ren has no shame and wants to leave his scent on everything. If he could get away with cumming on your things, he would.

- If he was called out or caught in the act, he'd probably break down. Crying, begging, apologising, anything to make you understand. He'd be heartbroken if you hated him.

- If he kidnapped you, he'd probably drug you, think chloroform rags or a spiked drink. Best case scenario, he invites you over and simply doesn't let you leave. Worst case, he has to get violent.

#lawrence oleander #ren hana #btd lawrence #btd ren #boyfriend to death x reader #boyfriend to death #lawrence oleander x reader #ren hana x reader #btd2 #boyfriend to death 2

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horriblengrossstories · 1 month ago

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I wonder what would happen if Lawrence and Derek met? Will they kill each other?

by the time Derek is grown, Lawrence is already living his best post-human life in the woods, fully lichified, rotting gloriously in some godforsaken swamp and making little bog tea with fingerbones in it. He is THRIVING. He left society on purpose.

So picture this:

Derek stomps into the forest in his boots yelling at birds. He’s lost. He’s hungry. He’s mad. And then he sees Lawrence.

A 7-foot decaying nightmare.Derek SCREAMS. Like full lungs. Just goes fetal and yells. The loudest he’s ever been outside of a coke rage and books it the other way till he finds Matt who was hopeing he was lost alone in the woods forever.

Meanwhile Lawrence just sighs through his exposed ribcage and sinks back under the water like,

“This is why I left.”

No murder. No battle. Just mutual revulsion.

One is the horror. The other is horrified.

If by some cursed alignment of stars Derek did see Lawrence while he was still human like pre-lich but still weird and forest-coded Derek would 100% mistake him for a particularly greasy philosophy major or a high-functioning swamp hobo.

He’d be like:

“Here.” throws a crumpled twenty at his feet “Go take a shower, freak. You smell like mushrooms and wet bark. Jesus.”

Meanwhile Lawrence is just blinking slow like an owl and mentally calculating how long it would take to peel Derek’s lungs out like a damp fruit roll-ups.

He doesn’t respond. He just tilts his head like he’s trying to guess what kind of rot lives inside this man.

One will forget the encounter, The other never will.

#the price of flesh #derek goffard #tpof #tpof derek #birdie chirps #derek goffard x reader #anon #answers #answered #lawrence oleander #btd lawrence

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hiddensanctuarywrites · 5 months ago

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Oh how the turn tables

Lawrence Oleander x Reader/MC

Warning: NSFW, Noncon. Read at your own risk!

A/N: I felt an overwhelming desire to be mean to Lawrence, so I wrote this instead of working on my main story lol. Enjoy! ❤️

This is what you get for asking a cute stranger what time it is, you guess. Stuck taped down to a chair after he freaks out and knocks you unconscious. Waiting until he decides to go through with killing you or something, you're not really sure.. It's really hard to tell what is going on in Lawrence's head.

It's the second day here and you woke up to find him asleep on his bed. You're sure he was more careful taping your arms down this time and decided it's worth trying to free yourself again. You pray that he doesn't wake up as you begin your second battle with your restraints.

It was actually the left arm of the chair that loosened, then eventually gave way after a little more effort. You used your free arm to quietly pull off the right side and took the small knife left on the table in front of you to cut yourself free.

You're a bit dizzy and sore standing up but you need to figure out what to do now. You look around the room and then to your captor. Your frustratingly handsome, mentally unstable captor.

…An idea suddenly hits you. You hope to hell it'll work and you'll be very happy if it does. Time to try and give this man a taste of his own medicine, and then some.

You single out a large heavy pot with a fern growing inside, set on his kitchen counter. You very slowly walk over and lift it up as quietly as possible. Walking over to him didn't wake him up, but as you strain to lift the pot high in the air, you accidentally nudge the bed, scaring him awake.

But by then it's too late for him, considering you drop the pot directly on his head, knocking him unconscious. You wince a bit out of sympathy and quickly grab the pot, noticing that it's left a small gash on his forehead.

You're unsure when he'll wake back up so you have no time to waste. You quickly put the fern back in its place, fix the chair up again, and heave Lawrence over to it. It takes quite a bit of effort to move his body but you manage to get him propped up before securing his arms and legs to the chair. Not sure how he'll react initially, you decide to put some tape over his mouth as well.

You take a step back, satisfied with how restrained he is, before looking for something to scare him into cooperation. The tiny knife you cut yourself free with won't do and the giant sheers he has set aside seem overkill…

You rummage through his kitchen and eventually find a chef's knife in one of his drawers. You sigh in relief before standing in front of your captor turned captive and wait patiently for him to wake up. It wouldn't be fun playing with him while he's still unconscious, after all.

…

When he finally comes to, he wakes with a start. He very soon realizes that he’s tied to the same chair you were just in earlier that day and you're standing in front of him, watching him. He looks up at you with a terrified expression, unable to say anything with the tape over his mouth.

“Do as I say and I won't hurt you, okay?” you say gently, but the knife in your hand is showing that you're not messing around.

He's shaking and tearing up now as the gravity of the situation sinks in but eventually nods and you smile gleefully.

“It doesn't feel very good being tied up, now, does it? …Well, I'm not letting you go. I'll take the tape off your face so I can hear your pretty voice though. Be good and quiet or I'll find something else to shut up that mouth with, okay?”

You rip it off as painlessly as you can and when it's finally off, he asks, “W-what do you want from me..?”

You give him a very obvious once-over. “What I'm Going to do... is play with you. However I want.. until I'm completely satisfied.” He shifts uncomfortably in the seat, a nice blush starting to dust his cheeks. “Wha- N-no..don't…”

You pet him, running your hand through his hair, even though it doesn't console him in the slightest. “Oh, honey.. You don't have a Say in what happens to you now.”

He whimpers at that and you continue petting him. “Even though I wanted you so badly from the moment I saw you, I Was going to let you go on your way.. But then you knocked me out, took me home with you...even gave me a wound to remind me of you when I leave. And now.. we're here. You had Your turn..and now it's mine.”

“W..what are you going to do..?” He's still shaking, looking equally bewildered and terrified. When you grab his flaccid cock through his sweatpants, his breath hitches. “I told you, I'm going to play with you until I'm satisfied.”

Now understanding what you mean, his face turns red as his dick twitches in your hand, hardening slightly. You smile coyly, squeezing him lightly to make sure he knows that you know he's reacting to you.

He turns his head away and closes his eyes, clearly disliking how his body is betraying him. “Nuh uh, no looking away. You know what happens when you don't listen, right?” you quietly chastise him, moving your knife back and forth a bit.

You don't actually want to hurt him but this is the only way you figured he'll listen. Thankfully he does, looking back at you but clearly getting frustrated. You knock that look off his face by rubbing the length of his cock a few times through his clothes. “Good boy.. keep those eyes on me, got it?”

You set the knife down on the table behind you before running your hands along his body, from his bare arms to his shoulders, down his torso, along his sides and ending on his thighs.

He's really wrestling with that command to keep looking at you as you're doing this but he’s able to focus on your face since you're busy paying so much attention to the rest of him.

You kneel in front of him, looking up to make sure he's still watching you. You rub his thighs as you talk, “I'm going to need to take these off. You'll cooperate with me, right?”

Not waiting for an answer, you undo the string on his sweatpants and work on pulling them off. You grin teasingly when you see that he's going commando and he looks away, shutting his eyes tightly from embarrassment.

You let it slide this time and tug on his pants more. When you clear your throat as a warning, he cooperates by hovering above the seat just enough to get it down to his ankles.

He's not fully hard yet but he's well on the way. You blow on it, watching it twitch from the smallest bit of contact. “So cute.. I'm going to really enjoy this, Lawrence.”

He doesn't say anything but you can tell a part of him likes it because he keeps getting harder.

“D-don’t look…” he whines out, his embarrassment getting to him. You decide to take it easy on him and focus elsewhere, running your hand up his torso and further up, past his neck to gently cradle his face.

“...Do you have any idea how attractive you are?” you ask him almost accusingly, brushing your thumb along his cheek before sinking your fingertips into his hair.

You really want to bully him a bit more so you grab a fist full of hair near his scalp and yank his head back to run your tongue roughly up the side of his neck.

He reacts by letting out a strangled moan, so you bring your free hand down to jerk off his cock as you suck on his neck hard enough to leave a deep bruise. At that, he cries out your name in a low moan but still is coherent enough to beg “no, not the-ere..”

It's not enough. You need him turned into a pathetic mess. Lucky for you, you know exactly what to do to get him there.

You kiss down his torso, spreading his legs apart wider and getting between them. You make sure that he's looking at you before opening your mouth and lightly slapping the head of his dick against your extended tongue.

He's entranced now and watches closely as you slide him deep into your mouth and rub your tongue against it. It must feel really good because he's twitching again and letting out another strangled whimper, louder than before.

It doesn't take long for him to let go and just enjoy you giving him head. Not much longer than that, he's almost at the edge of coming undone and filling your mouth with his load.

…And that's exactly when you move back, sitting on your legs and watching his reaction. He looked like he was in such bliss until he realized his cock left your mouth. “Why..? Why did you stop..?” He's confused but that quickly turns to frustration and anger when he realizes that you're toying with him.

“Until I’M satisfied, remember?” you say teasingly. You run your fingertip down his length and rub his inner thigh with your other hand but that's clearly not enough for him.

“You damn flower. I should've just killed you when I had the chance.” he growls out. “Well, that's no way to talk to your captor, especially one that's been treating you so nicely.” Your hand reaches back for the knife, a reminder of who's in charge right now.

That seems to shut him up and you're satisfied with that. “Ask nicely and I Might let you cum… eventually.” He's still pissed but clearly thinking it over. You rub his cock a few more times to keep it nice and hard as you add on some probably vital information. “Otherwise I'll just edge you as much as I want without giving you any release.”

He looks a little worried as your words sink in but he still doesn't give in. So you do what you said, going between sucking him off and jerking him off until you can tell his orgasm is close, then backing off completely to let him cool down. It takes a couple rounds of this until he finally cracks, whining out “l…let me cum..”

“Say please.” you demand, keeping your hand hovering around his painfully hard member. He whimpers at that, not wanting to give in completely. He rubs his thighs together, thrusting up a bit in a pitiful attempt to get some friction. To get you to touch him again.

He has tears in his eyes when he finally gives in. “....p..please..” Extremely satisfied, you practically purr your reply. “Good boyy, that wasn't so hard, was it? I'll make sure you cum so hard you're seeing stars… When I'm done.”

Knowing that you're not going to give him his release yet makes him sob quietly but that's quickly turned into another moan when you put your hot mouth back on him.

By the time you have him at the edge again, he's broken down completely, begging “ple-ease, please, Y/N, I'll do anything.”

That stops you. Anything? You were going to just use that tea on him to knock him out and leave after untying him but.. “Anything huh? You promise?”

He whimpers, shaking. “A-anything.” You smile, going back to playing with him. This time, when he's close you keep going, jerking him off and fondling his balls with your mouth firmly over his head.

When he finally comes, his whole body locks up as loads of his spunk aggressively shoot into your mouth, filling it up easily. You work him through his orgasm until he's whining from overstimulation.

He looks completely dazed when you get up but comes to when you're suddenly grabbing his jaw and kissing him, forcing his mouth open enough to spit his own load inside before clamping your hand over his lips.

“Swallow.” You demand, and having no choice, he does. You smile happily at that. “You said Anything, right?” He suddenly looks afraid but nervously nods.

You pick up the knife and slice of the tape binding one of his arms before undoing your pants and sliding them down. You grab his hand and hold it against your parts, watching as he flushes all over again.

“Look at what you did to me.. Be a good boy and take care of it for me.” You notice his cock is twitching again as he feels up your excitement.

...Maybe you'll keep him locked up a while longer.

#lawrence oleander #btd lawrence #btd2 lawrence #btd #btd2 #lawrence oleander x reader #lawrence oleander x MC #boyfriend to death

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mothwingwritings · 1 year ago

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Boyfriend To Death/The Price Of Flesh Sleeping Headcanons 🌙💤🛌

Hello everyone! In between fics I have been working on some headcanons, like this one, for your reading pleasure. :) It's some bedtime/sleeping arrangement scenarios feat. you and our favorite murderous companions. <3 It’s dedicated to all the sleepy individuals out there that just want to hit the hay and snooze the day away-I feel you and you are valid. Also there is a bonus plushie headcanon for each character because why not! If you don’t have at least stuffed creature on your bed, this is your sign to love yourself. Go acquire a friend and snuggle up with him, I demand it. ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

DUE TO THE NATURE OF THESE HEADCANONS AND THE SOURCE MATERIAL, 18+ ONLY PLEASE!

Warnings: abuse/abusive relationships, noncon/dubcon, forced cuddling, forced interaction, forced relationships, implied kidnapping, being held against your will, reader is threatened and hurt, mentions of/implied sex, very lightly edited.

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Ren/Fox🦊

· Exceptionally clingy when he sleeps. Honestly like a suction cup. Regardless of if he’s the little or big spoon, he’ll be latched to you the whole night. Wiggle and complain as much as you like, he’s not relinquishing his hold.

· Even if you two are just taking a little nap together, he always has to have some kind of skin contact with you. Holding hands, cuddling, a limb draped over you, something. He needs the reminder that you are there and that you aren’t going anywhere, he can’t sleep peacefully without it.

· He’s warm. Too warm, really. Uncomfortably warm. In winter this poses no problem, but during the summer it’s nearly unbearable. You need to crank the AC to keep yourself from melting into a puddle of sweat, but the added cold only makes him cling to you tighter, increasing the heat. He doesn’t seem to mind the warmth at all and takes offense if you try and voice your irritation, giving you an earful (if not worse) over how you need to be more grateful for the affection he douses you with, warning that if you don’t watch yourself, next time it snows you’ll be camping outside with nothing but the clothes on your back. We’ll see how much you miss his warmth then.

· He’s a night owl, but he also somehow always wakes up before you do. It’s not uncommon for you to be awoken by an eager beastkin shoving a homemade breakfast in your face, excited to start his day with his love by sharing breakfast in bed with you and watching anime. <3

· Though sometimes he gets a little too excited in the morning, and if that’s the case you’ll be waking up to a very handsy man pawing at you, kissing any and every place his lips can reach, pressing himself against you so you can feel just how excited he is. It’s a good thing you are in bed because by the time he’s done you’ll be so worn out you’ll need some more rest. ^^;

· Also, he is an avid fan of plushies. If you also collect them your bed is going to be 90% plushies and he is 100% going to use that as an excuse to be squeezed on the bed with you as close as physically possible so as you all can have room. None of them are allowed on the floor, no man is left behind, and he’ll make sure you all fit whether it is comfortable or not.

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Lawrence🌿

· Lawrence is the exact opposite of Ren when it comes to contact. Though he may fall asleep with you in his arms (or vice versa), he very quickly grows uncomfortable with the prolonged contact, his body used to being the sole person in his bed. Very shortly after he falls asleep, he will unconsciously push you away to try and create distance. No matter how much he may yearn for your contact in his waking hours, he has no control over his subconscious actions. Often times the shoving is much rougher than it needs to be, abruptly (and painfully) waking you up in the process.

· However, this does not deter him from making you sleep with him. Even if he ends up damn near shoving you off the bed, he wants you to be close to him for as long as and as much as possible.

· Lawrence is basically nocturnal, and even if you are also a night owl there are bound to be some times when your sleep schedules don’t fall in line with each other. He gets a little excited when you fall asleep when he is awake, taking pleasure in watching you as you slumber. The way you lay near him, completely unguarded and quiet, only the slow rise and fall of your chest denoting that you are alive at all… It does something for him. More than once you’ve woken up to him standing over you, face flushed and tears in his eyes as he’s pumping his dick to the sight of your passed out form. If you wake before he can finish himself, he’s gonna use you to complete the job.

· In fact, he just likes to stare at you while you sleep in general. He doesn’t have to feel anxious or worried of how you may perceive his gawking if you aren’t aware it’s happening to begin with. It’s a nice chance to really take in and appreciate your beauty without facing any backlash, and it comforts him to know you trust him enough to fall that deeply into slumber in his presence.

· Doesn’t really get the point of plushies and never really had a strong attachment to stuffed animals as a child, so he doesn’t have any of his own and has no desire to own any. He thinks it’s cute that you like them though, and won’t deny you if you want to take one or two to bed with you. If you gift him one, he’ll be flustered but thankful, hugging it when he is unable to hug you. The little friend is a perfect cuddle buddy for when your sleep schedules don’t align and he doesn’t want to disturb you once you have fallen asleep.

· Just be mindful that if he gets agitated or you piss him off, he’ll definitely destroy your beloved stuffies, tearing them to shreds with either his bare hands or any of the gardening tools he has lying around. He’ll instantly feel bad if you begin to cry over it, but at that point it’s too late. It’s best to stop the tears before he turns the assault towards you.

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Strade🔪

· Strade is all over the place when he sleeps. It doesn’t matter how big the bed is or how little space you take up in it, his presence is unavoidable. You can try and create as much distance as physically possible, scrunching yourself up in a corner in hopes that he doesn’t come in contact with you, and you’ll still end up with him sprawled all over you come morning.

· He’s also loud. Snoring, grunting, talking in his sleep, he’s so noisy it’s a wonder you can get any sleep at all. You get used to it after a while (you don’t have a choice), but each time he nudges you in his sleep or wakes you up with a particularly loud snore, it’s all just another unpleasant reminder you are stuck with him, unable to find tranquility even in your dreams.

· He has a tendency to latch on to and keep a close hold of whatever is closest to him while he sleeps. The moment he looks even slightly drowsy you try and stay away from him, not thrilled with the prospect of being smashed up against him for hours on end while he’s pleasantly off in dreamland. Were it anyone else or any other situation, you may find the clinginess endearing, but with Strade it’s just extremely uncomfortable and confusing. You spend the whole time unsure if you want him to wake up and let you go (and thus have to deal with an alert and active monster) or if you want to remain silent and just put up with it, thankful for the rare moment of peace.

· He sleeps the best after successfully finding and securing a new victim, the gusto and energy that he puts towards spending time with his new ‘friend’ leaves him completely spent by the end of the day. A tired Strade is usually a good thing for you-if he’s worn out, he’s less likely to bother or hurt you. However the opposite is also true, if he hasn’t been able to blow off steam in a while he’ll grow antsy and restless, and he’s bound to make his lack of sleep and overall disgruntlement your problem. Regardless, you won’t get much sleep either way, as you find no contentment in either situation.

· Though they aren’t really his thing, he is amused by your plushies. While he can see the appeal of them, the only real interest he takes in them is how you react to them. Which ones are your favorite, do you favor one character or animal over another, do you prefer the big and fluffy or small and squishy? Most importantly though, he wants to know how deeply your fondness for them extends and how/if he can use that as a persuasive tool against you in the future. Should they prove to be a promising means of coercion, prepare for quite a few new plush friends to keep you company in the future. :)

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Celia👩‍💼

· She’s an early riser. Not necessarily because she wants to so much as it’s engrained in her from years of putting in overtime at her corporate job. If you try and pull her back into bed she’ll gripe at you, but is secretly happy that you are willingly making yourself a scapegoat for her laziness. Though on days she absolutely has to get up early, you best be getting up right alongside her to help her get ready for the day or you will be deeply regretting it. She always takes precedence, you can sleep more when she leaves.

· She’s on edge most of the time and is overall a very light sleeper. If you snore or toss and turn too much, she’ll get pissed off and roughly shove you awake, grumbling obscenities while complaining about how annoying you are being. If she can’t sleep, she certainly isn’t going to let you sleep either.

· Even if you aren’t a noisy or restless sleeper, she’ll still find constant things to gripe about regarding your sleeping arrangement. Either you take up too much room, or you are encroaching on her personal space, or you have some other sleeping habit she finds grating that you have no control over because you are unconscious when you do it. She doesn’t ever seem overly pleased to share sleeping space with you, and you often wonder why she doesn’t just banish you to the couch or some other place to get your rest.

· And yet, she never does make you sleep elsewhere. In fact, it only makes her MORE pissed off if you suggest it, taking it as a personal offense that you don’t want to spend time with her. She won’t admit it to you, but the act of sleeping near someone she doesn’t positively loathe or who isn’t trying to use her in some way is one of the few things that really brings her peace. Even if it’s against your will, having you in bed with her soothes her. It’s honestly the best sleep she has had in ages.

· She’s not a huge cuddler, but she does like physical confirmation that you are near. Often times she’ll reach out in the night to grab your hand or drape her arm across your body, never smothering, but just enough contact to assure that you are still by her side.

· She staunchly refuses to have any stuffed animals in her bed, telling you she finds them childish and stupid (whether she actually feels this way or is just pissed you are trying to bring things into her bed that take up even more space is debatable). If she finds any plushies you are hiding she will most likely throw them away on sight. You may be able to get away with a little one, but that’s only if she doesn’t find it or is feeling extremely benevolent.

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Derek🦂

· The only time Derek shows any kind of ‘affection’ is when he sleeps. Like Strade, he likes to secure himself to things while he slumbers, and if he doesn’t fall asleep with an item (you) already in his arms at some point in the night, he will subconsciously grab onto something (also you) and not relent until he wakes the next morning.

· The way he clings to you can almost be considered sweet. Wrapping his arms around you securely, burying his face into your chest or the crux of your neck as he snuggles up against you as close as physically possible, it makes you momentarily forget what a monster the man beside you actually is. It’s almost as if he’s a child huddled up close to a parent, seeking comfort from the things that go bump in the night. The spell is broken if he happens to be awoken during one of these cuddle sessions, and he’ll take out his embarrassment over the situation by treating you even crueler than he typically does.

· One of the few niceties he allows you is sleeping in his bed as opposed to the floor-but it comes at a price. It’s an honor to be able to sleep next to him nightly in his huge, plush, expensive bed, an honor far too good for the likes of you. He expects to be compensated for his generosity, so you’d best be ready to do any and everything he asks or desires at the drop of a hat, no matter how degrading or agonizing it may be. If you want to keep this privilege while preventing as much suffering as possible, you’ll do as he says. (Then again, it’s not like he really needs your active participation to force what he wants out of you, but he does like when you obey him ‘willingly’ and has a tendency to be a smidge less cruel when you follow his instruction).

· He usually forces you to either sleep nude or in some very compromising/uncomfortable/embarrassing negligee that covers so little you mine as well BE naked. He’s a blanket hog too, and has a penchant for cranking up the AC at night, leaving your only source of warmth to be curling up beside him. You try and fight it at first, but you inevitably give in when the chill gets to be too much (also you aren’t too keen on getting ill in his presence, swallowing your pride is worth it if you can avoid more suffering).

· He will mercilessly make fun of and belittle you for any stuffed animals you may have or try to sleep with. He’ll infantilize you, asking if you need a binky to go with your stuffy, or tease that he’ll need to put you in diapers so you don’t accidentally shit the bed. However, even with all the constant mocking, he does find it kinda hot when you try and use the plushies as a shield, doing your best to conceal your sniveling face and exposed body behind the fluffy creature as he plows into you ruthlessly. The toy does a shit job shielding you, but it is hilarious to watch you try and hide yourself behind them.

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Mason🐻

· Despite everything, he’s actually probably the nicest of the lot to sleep with. He’s warm and soft, and when he holds you it’s comforting and shockingly soothing. It’s disconcerting how easily you melt into the same person that caused you so much trauma and torment, haunted by the fact that the arms that now wrap snuggly around you were not so long ago the greatest threat to your life. You don’t know whether you should be more disgusted with him for holding you with such familiarity or yourself for enjoying it as much as you do.

· The man can sleep almost anywhere. After years of surviving out in the wilderness he has honed his body to handle tough climates and all manner of conditions, granting him the ability to thrive in less than favorable environments. The man could probably fall asleep in the middle of a torrential downpour with nothing but a rock bed beneath him and come out of it completely rested.

· You aren’t expected to immediately be able to rough it. He realizes this way of life is all fairly new to you and that getting used to nights out in the wilderness has its own learning curve. Because of this, he’s actually surprisingly accommodating about the whole thing. When you camp, he makes sure to bring his best tent and sleeping bag for you to use, even though it’s a hassle to drag around and he himself has long since forgone the need for it. Though it’s nearly impossible to find comfort enough to sleep while stranded deep out in an unfamiliar forest, surrounded by nothing but the pitch black of night, all manner of voracious wild animals, and a serial killer, he does his best to make sure you are adequately cared for and as content as you can possibly be.

· However you best not slack with your survival instincts, this coddling is only a limited time deal. You proved yourself to him once by pulling through his trial, but that doesn’t mean you have a free ride forever. He’ll pamper you a bit in the ‘honeymoon’ phase, but if you grow complacent and begin to let him down… It isn’t going to be a smooth or happy time for either of you. Its best not to betray his expectations, if you do something overly stupid or otherwise show your survival was just a fluke… your sleeping arrangement is going to be the least of your concern.

· He finds your affinity for stuffed animals a bit juvenile, but also slightly endearing. He can’t deny how cute you look when you are curled up in his bed, nestled amongst various furs and blankets, clutching tight to your favorite plushie while you rest. He enjoys that sight so much that he decides to make you his own plushie for you one day as a gift.

· It was a strange little lumpy creature he cobbled together from various fabric scraps and other soft, but unidentified, material, all sloppily hand sewn with little black buttons for eyes. It was a true amalgamation of mismatched cloth and stuffing, and to be honest… You weren’t really sure what it was supposed to be. A bear, maybe? Or a raccoon? Regardless, you take it without question, and once he sees it’s been accepted he’s quick to discard your previous plush. He’s accepting of this hobby to a degree-you can have ONE. And since you were smart and picked the better of the two, you don’t need the ratty old one to cling to for company anymore. You have him and you have his gift, everything else is frivolous.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

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goddessmelon · 2 years ago

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Lawrence Oleander x (gender neutral) Reader- Tease

CW: Teasing, sexual content, touching, restraining, oral sex

You went too far.

It’s a Saturday night… though probably late enough to be more like a Sunday morning. You know because it’s one of his nights off. Rain falls lightly against the building, and you kneel to peer out the window to watch droplets slide down the window, heaving a soft sigh of boredom to yourself. A few feet from you, your captor, provider, twisted-love interest (but oh, what are labels?) sits on the floor, his lower back propped up against the metal and mattress of his shoddy futon, and hunched over a thick book. It’s an encyclopedia of some sort that you’ve seen him read from before, the pages lightly water damaged but the bleeding colors not bothering him at all. You watch him as his eyes trail across the page slowly, fixing on an image here and there, his fingers idly tracing the shapes on the paper including the areas that bled. You think you can even catch a hint of a smile here and there.

You can’t help but love moments like these; Lawrence wasn’t exactly a relaxed individual. Ever since he decided to keep you, even after breaking one of your legs and the other foot in a fit of what he considered love and protection, he still seemed constantly on edge by one thing or another: you, work, the outside world, or whatever else went on in his constantly brewing headspace. Seeing him relaxed was nice in a way, but deep down, a slightly meaner part of you wanted to take that mild tranquility away from him yourself, just as he took it away from you all too often. It wasn’t a good idea but… where did all your good ideas get you anyway? He was totally unpredictable. And sitting around with nothing to do, you felt like testing the waters.

So, you sit against the wall to face him fully, holding your head up in your hands and holding a smile. For a while he’s too entranced in his literature to notice, but before he turns a page he looks at you. His lazy eyes meet yours and widen instantly, darting to the floor at your feet as if the eye contact alone equated to touching a burning stove momentarily. His face instantly looks a little flushed and he presses his lips in a fine line. “Stop that,” he says in a voice that must have meant to sound decisive but in reality came out a tad shaky.

“What?” you ask innocently, still looking at his eyes through his downturned lashes. He looks up at you again to check if you had listened to him but upon seeing that you did not, turns to instead look back at his book, his face burning even brighter than before.

“Y-You… you know what!” he sounds frustrated, flustered, voice rising just a bit before falling into silence again.

“I just think you look pretty,” you say honestly, smiling again though sweating a bit internally. You never know what makes him flip.

“Don’t.” He presses his forehead into the palm of his hand, sounding genuinely upset, yet still red in the face. He sounds serious enough for you to drop it though… for now.

But you have some ideas of ways to make him tick. Frankly, it didn’t seem to even matter what you did and what you believed to be something “good” or “bad” for him. Obedience, silence, and acceptance were generally what he needed from you but even then, too much of a good thing drew him to scary extremes. Where would this bring him?

So you let him read, but after a few minutes, he exhales sharply and closes the book, standing up swiftly. He must not be able to focus anymore. It wasn’t uncommon for the scatterbrained lunatic to drop something the second it no longer “felt right.” He goes into the kitchen abruptly and starts to brew something- you hear the water running as you watch his back while he works quietly. In the meantime you end up looking at his plant book yourself, flipping through the photos and diagrams idly. This page on poppies is pretty well loved… you notice a dogear and pull it open to a section on ferns. Some stuff about true leaves… reproduce through spores… a set of diagrams…whatever.

Soon enough, he’s walking back over to you, two cups of steaming liquid in his hands. He sits on the bed this time, his legs a few feet from your head, and holds out one of the cups. “I… want to go to sleep soon,” he says, offering the drink to you. You recognize the familiar scent of lavender radiating from the liquid as you gingerly take the cup from him, alongside something else you couldn’t put your finger on. He’s been making both of you simple herbal teas rather than whatever it was before now that you were somewhat settled in, for lack of a better term. Probably still not completely legal in terms of ingredients, but it wasn’t something that would knock you out on the spot.

You nod in response as you start drinking the tea, enjoying the lightly sweetened mix with what was probably a little bit of honey. Still kind of bitter, but it was a flavor that was growing on you. In between sips you peer over at him, watching as he stares forward with dull eyes as he downs the hot liquid, as if the temperature hardly bothers him. With another mischievous thought, you scoot slightly over and lean onto his legs. He jumps at first, gulping down what he had in his mouth, but after a quick look at you doesn’t make an effort to move. He seems stiff, though. Even though you’ve been physically intimate before, he can never seem to calm down, unless he is the one initiating. It’s cute, in a way… and it’s why you feel this sudden urge to tease him. When he’s looking away again, you reach an arm up and begin to trail it down his thigh lightly, only to yelp when he grabs your wrist, hard, holding up your arm with little effort as he stares at you. You can feel his glare even as you look away with a whimper. Realizing your pain, he drops your wrist and you let your arm fall weakly to the floor. For a moment you both just sit there quietly, until you break the silence. “It’s okay, you didn’t hurt me.”

You look at each other shortly, before he replies quietly. “I… don’t know what you’re… nnn…” Your gaze trails down his body to the obvious tent forming in his sweatpants. When he notices where your eyes are, he clears his throat and puts his hands in his lap to hide it, eyebrows furrowed and face flushed again.

Before giving him the chance to do anything else, you start to limp-crawl away toward the bathroom. “Well! I’ll be getting ready for bed!” you stammer awkwardly. You can’t see if he reacts any further since you quickly shut the door behind you then climb to sit on the toilet, breathing heavily. God, he was so easy to mess with, but you were afraid of what the consequences of your actions could be. After all, taking it out on you wasn’t ideal with how rough and insensitive he was but… you shook your head as you pictured his flushed face again. You couldn’t help but want to see where this went. Removing the unholy thoughts from your head, you start to freshen up, brushing your teeth and washing your face.

After enough time to calm yourself down and what you hope is enough time for him, you push open the door to find him standing there before you, causing you to make a surprised noise. Unphased, he holds out a large t-shirt toward you, watching your hands. “Here… it’s clean.” It was not an unusual act; since you mentioned once that his clothes were comfortable, he’s been giving you a pair most nights to sleep in and washing what you came in that first day occasionally enough for you to continue wearing during both of your odd waking hours.

You take the oversized clothing and thank him in a soft voice, quickly changing into the shirt as usual and… also as usual, asking him about the shorts in his other hand, “can you help me?”

Normally, he didn’t think anything of it, and since he didn’t, eventually, neither did you. He loves when you need his help with things, and while you probably can do it yourself at this point, he never let you after the first time he watched you struggle and in pain over your freshly broken bones. He always thinks he knows you better and, at this point, you just ask because you can tell it makes him happy.

But today, with still a blush over his face, he looks reluctant.

“I… can do it myself,” you start to say, noticing him standing there unmoving.

“No, you can’t,” he says, quickly moving to his usual position on his knees before you. With you looking at the wall and him at the ground, you both go through your usual act of you shimmying out of your pants while he helps pull it off your legs so you don’t have to bend down and then delicately placing your legs into the new pantholes. Today, though, it’s much more tense. You’re blushing, and so is he. Shit, you didn’t even have to try with this one, but now it was weird for you too. Even when it’s said and done, he stands up and clutches his arm with that same uncomfortable energy as before. You hear him swallow loudly as he appears to debate something internally. “I can… b-bring you to bed… so you don’t have to, um,” he gestures toward your legs.

Of course, you could still sort of crawl by only putting weight on the unbroken knee and, as much as he enjoyed to see you struggle without him sometimes, sometimes he was offering (actually, usually skipping the asking part) to carry you to where you needed to go, whenever he was in a mood.

Tonight is apparently one of those nights, and so when you nod your head, he sheepishly hooks one arm under your legs and another under your back and carefully hoists you up off of the toilet. You bury your face into him so as to not have to meet eyes and can feel his heart pounding for the few seconds he takes to bring you over to his futon. His hand squeezes your thigh as he involuntarily shudders before bending over to place you down in your spot beside the wall and climbing in next to you. With no room for personal space and no desire to give you any, he wraps his arms around you tightly, tighter than usual, and you listen to his heavy breathing. Silently, you press in closer to him, grazing his crotch with your butt “unintentionally” and intertwining your non-broken leg with one of his. You notice his breathing becoming raggedy and pretend not to notice any other changes your action causes. When he doesn’t move, you whisper your goodnights with a racing heart yourself, and eventually are able to fall asleep with the help of the tea.

-----------------

When you wake up, Lawrence is sleeping like the dead behind you, quietly breathing against your ears. Turning around in his now loosened grip and propping yourself up by an elbow, you survey his sleeping face. He looks peaceful, but the dark circles stamped against his eyes darker than normal have you wondering how much he even slept at all. His hair was messy, his lips were bitten, and on top of that…

You look down under the covers to try to determine if what you thought was pressing into your stomach was what you thought it was, or just his hip bone. Not being able to see much, you slowly, rather shyly, dive a hand into the sheets to confirm… and your stomach turns over when you feel him hard in his sleep. Very lightly, you run a few fingers along their landing point back to your stomach, until, to your dismay, his eyes snap open. Lawrence shoots to an upright position and when you start to let out a startled shriek, one of his hands flies to your mouth and the other grabs both of your wrists, forcing you to drop to your back against the mattress. His pupils shake as he stares at you, his face burning. But it wasn’t just from shyness, he looked angry. “Y-You! I’ve had enough of this! I…” he shakes his head and releases the hand against your mouth. “I-I haven’t been able to sleep, or just… fucking… relax, because of you.” Hearing him curse startled you, not that he never did it, but he must have genuinely been pissed off.

“I…” you start, as if to apologize, but he suddenly gets up and, grabbing your shoulders, forces you upright and glares down hard at you. He then looks toward the chair in the center of the room, and your heart sinks. “W-Wait!”

Lawrence ignores your protest and easily lifts you out of the bed under your arms to roughly place you down in the wooden chair. You know better than to fight back as he tapes your ankles and wrists to the chair, and can’t help but wince with the little care he applies to your poorly “healed” leg and foot. When he gets back to his feet, he looms above you looking calmer, albeit still frustrated, with a thoughtful look on his face. “Th-then… we’ll just see how you like it… when you, err, I-” he groans, as if trying to say what he wanted was a challenge.

You feel the tension in your shoulders loosen when he proclaims his intentions. He looks… vengeful? But the violent glint in his eyes that’s usually there when you find yourself in the chair isn’t there.

He doesn’t say anything else as he stands, as if calculating what to do, then smirks slightly. He double checks that your arms are sealed and quickly dips around the corner with purpose. “Lawrence?” you call out softly, and though he doesn’t say anything, he quickly comes back before you with some kind of bandage wrap in his hands. “..What’s that for?”

Not answering your question, he bends down to your level and, looking past your gaze, starts wrapping the soft material around your head at eye level, effectively blindfolding you. Again, you call out, “what are you doing? Lawrence?”

Feeling slightly anxious with your sight taken away, you don’t feel any better when the only response given to you is a thoughtful hum as Lawrence stands somewhere before you. After a few moments of the following silence, you start to feel his cold, clammy hands, running through the hair not behind the thick bandage. Your breath catches in your throat as one starts to trail down your neck in a featherlight touch, gasping when his fingernails eventually graze your shoulder. His other hand runs down the side of your face and stops at your lips. His thumb and forefinger grasp gently at them and you swallow. For a moment, he allows your saliva to just barely wet his thumb as his other hand runs down your arm to grasp your own, lifted just slightly against the tight tape. He rubs circles into your palms in a way that can only be described as sensual, and when you start to softly pant against the tip of his thumb, he sighs contentedly.

“I know what makes you tick,” he says finally, decidedly. Both hands lower further to your chest, though still clothed, and he gives your nipples a gentle squeeze through the fabric. You let out a yelp, much to his supposed satisfaction, as this makes him momentarily squeeze a little harder before releasing you fully.

“And I’m not done yet… I want you to…” he struggles to find the right words. “I want you to know h-how it feels.” The way he puts it is negative, but you only hope for him to touch you more. Your insides were fluttering from his carefully calculated strokes and grasps. You wonder if he had wanted you to touch him more, too, though knew he’d never admit it if it were the case. In the end he was taking out his frustrations on you. And you couldn’t help but want more of it.

You open your mouth as if to say something but quickly stop when you feel Lawrence’s hands grip your sides just above your hips. His hands roam as they hike up your shirt just slightly, and you shudder as you feel him drag his fingers across the skin of your belly by the nails. He must be kneeling at this point but you can’t seem to get a feel for where he is while focusing so intently on his touch. You bite your lip when his hands drop lower, running over your thighs and then moving inward to your nether regions. You start to gasp slightly, “Lawr-”

He quickly covers your mouth and coos, “shh, just relax.” When you nod your head, he begins to palm your most sensitive area, definitely noticing the evidence of your arousal even through your clothing. When you whimper into his hand, he begins to press harder, rubbing you up and down rhythmically yet never dipping inside your clothing. You try to get his attention but he doesn’t uncover your mouth and continues to tease you from the outside, methodically testing your limits. When the mix of pleasure and intense desire for more becomes dizzying, he finally releases the hand blocking your mouth and, lightening his touches on your lower areas to gentle strokes, leans in so that you can feel his breath on your neck. “How does it feel? How does it feel to b-be messed with like this?” he interrogates you though never lets up, awaiting your answer.

“G-Good,” you moan out, bucking your hips further into his hand as much as the chair will allow you, feeling controlled by arousal brought upon you. “Please… I want…”

But before you can finish talking, he removes himself from you again, much to your dismay. You can hear the sound of metal clinking softly as well as the subtle movement of fabric. No time is given to you to ask anything more before he starts to cut the tape off of your legs swiftly, followed by your wrists. As soon as you’re freed he pulls you out of the chair by your underarms and places you on your knees, leaving the blindfolding bandages around your eyes. You wince at the weight placed onto your hurt leg, but when you instinctively try to lower your body he straightens you back up and mutters something about staying still. Then he pinches your nose and, when you open your mouth to breathe, feel his long, throbbing cock push into your mouth, causing you to let out a surprised garble against him. He moves to hold your head in his hands as he continues stuffing himself down your throat until your nose brushes against the hairs of his crotch, making it difficult for you to breathe. You weakly take in air through your nose, sex still throbbing, and he speaks to you again in a wistful voice. “You… you take my breath away. S-Sometimes, it’s hard to deal with. So now…” his voice stays matter-of-fact. “I’ll take away yours.”

Gripping your head securely, he starts to rock his hips against you, thrusting himself in and out of your mouth slowly, at first, but very quickly picking up the pace, though never pulling out enough to let you take in a breath. His fingers tousle your hair as he scrambles to find a place to grab onto as he continues to plunge his dick down your throat repeatedly, his breathing becoming more irregular by the second. Your eyes water and the desire to gag plagues you, but your body isn’t given the chance.

Feeling dizzy from the lack of oxygen, you use your free arms to try to push him away, but he only responds by pushing even harder, moaning quietly above you. “Don’t… stop…” he breathes out in a heated pant, though leaving you no choice in the matter either way, his body rolling into you again and again. His hold on your head gets harder, pulling at your hair painfully. He ignores the tears that roll down your face from the intensity of his movements and the pain it’s causing you. His breath hitches as you notice his thrusting becoming more needy and erratic. You keep trying to breathe, struggling against him still, fearing that he may actually cause you to pass out. He must be getting close, and with what effort you could muster to get him there faster, you stroke your tongue along the underside of his cock as it slides through your mouth. He gasps out loud, provoking you to work harder, tears still falling from your eyes and collecting with drool that drizzled from your mouth around his massive size in what must be a horribly messy scene, but all you can focus on was trying to get him to finish, and the way it was making you feel.

Lawrence’s moaning and gasping sounds grow louder and you feel his manhood become even stiffer than it already was. He was moving in strokes as long and fast as he could get. The man pounding into your mouth gave you no warnings as he bottomed out in your throat, pulling your head against him as far as it could go just before his cock started to throb as he came to a shuddering orgasm. Your stomach lurched as he came heavily down your throat, gasping for breath. His knees buckled as he finished, and he stayed in that position until the throbbing fully stopped. With a contented sigh, he pulls himself out from your mouth and continues to gently hold your head up as you start coughing and sputtering, gasping for air. Your arousal now even greater than before, you moved a hand to grasp at him yourself, but he let you go and took a step back.

“Lawrence,” you moan, still breathing intensely. “Please, I need you to…”

“I have to go,” he says over you, seeming to have collected himself already. He spoke in a self satisfied manner, as he continued, “I need to… get some things from the store before work.” He brushes sweat-slick hair from your face gently, and coos, “you’ll be okay.”

“W-Wait, but I-” you start, but he comes around and takes a hold of your wrists from behind and begins to tape them together behind your back.

“You won’t need these, either,” he hums, preventing any way for you to be able to touch yourself when he leaves. You grind hopelessly against your good foot with a needy cry, but the only sound you can hear is the opening and closing of the apartment door behind him. He leaves you kneeling on the floor, blindfolded with tied wrists, with no indication of when he’d be back.

You knew it before, but he ground it into you this time. Lawrence was a grudge-holder, and he always got his revenge.

#lawrence oleander #lawrence btd x reader #lawrence oleander x reader #lawrence btd

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denimizu · 2 years ago

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His cold ass hands won't stop him from being my babygirl 🏃‍♂️

#art #digitalart #boyfriend to death #btd #btd2 #boyfriend to death 2 #btd lawrence #lawrence btd #lawrence oleander #lawrence oleander x reader

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betbeton · 3 years ago

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𓆱 Poppies and Pills

Lawrence Oleander × Reader

Warnings - Implied/Referenced Drug Consumption, Possible Dubious Consent (due to that damned tea-), Somnophilia

18+ Minors DNI

·GN Reader·

·Request·

·A/N- funky little plant creep·

・❥・ Masterlist

Your body was heavy in his arms as he shifted you onto your stomach, heartbeat picking up slightly as his nerves frayed when your head jerked sharply upwards. Eyes clouded reflecting the haze wafting over your consciousness a garbled mumble of his name pulled Lawrence from his thoughts as his eyes avoided looking directly at you, despite prior consent this moment felt oddly reminiscent of his past actions. From watching you sip on the laced tea to carefully tugging your body onto his bed and positioning you, it was almost too similar. Though the warmth radiating from your skin and the steady beat of your heart and breath kept the fact you were indeed alive at the forefront of his mind. Another slurred call of his name had his gaze darting towards your face, eyes wild portraying his growing worry. Though he noticeably relaxed when you lazily grinned at him before the haze of a drug induced sleep snatched away your consciousness. Slipping his arms from around your body he watched as you limply fell against the mattress beneath you.

Standing from his crouching position at the edge of the bed gazing down at you as he shuffled nervously, yet again. Inhaling deeply as he ran a hand through his hair tugging out the elastic in his hair. Shakily pushing down his pants just enough to expose his boxers, after Lawrence crawled onto the bed to hover over you. Teeth worrying at his bottom lip as he shuffled to tug off your loose lounge clothes, a soft groan leaving his lips when your skin was exposed to the warm air of his apartment. With shaking hands he kneaded and groped at your skin almost reveling in the warmth that radiated from your skin. The gentle thump of your heart against your ribcage soothing when he let his head drop to rest against your chest, fingers digging into your skin to run along the ridges of your bones hidden just beneath the surface. Eyes flicking to the small knife that sat almost ominously on the countertop just feet away he wrestled down the urge to slit a hole in your skin and get closer to the thing currently monopolizing his attention. Groaning in your sleep your back arched trying to dislodge the dull pain his harsh jabbing caused, forcing your chest closer to his head and his fingers deeper into your skin.

Breathing growing ragged Lawrence slipped a hand down worming it between your bodies tugging his cock loose as he shuffled it to rest against your hole. Softly moaning as he tried to press his head impossibly closer to your heart, specifically the heartbeat thudding against your ribcage. Hands slipping from their previous positions to grab the sides of your ass, his hips dropping as he pressed the blunt head of his cock against your hole. As his cock breached your hole his hands slid upwards strong arms looping around your waist as his jaw dropped open. His breath warm and humid as it puffed out onto your warm skin a small whine leaving his lips when a gasp left your unconscious lips. Babbles of how warm your insides felt leaving his lips as he pressed his cock further into you. Hips stuttering as he resisted the urge to slam into your warmth greedily squeezing around him was almost all consuming. Head tilting upwards to rest his chin against your chest He could have sworn he could feel the thudding of your heart inside of his own skull, as he slowly rutted his hips against your unconscious body.

Arms tightening into an almost vice like grip around your torso as your walls tightened around his cock, milking the length when your orgasm ripped through your body. Back arching upwards forcing your body impossibly closer to his own the curve of your spin too enticing for the blonde to resist, one arm moving as he splayed his fingers over the ridges of your bones. A whimper trickling from Lawrence's mouth as his cock dribbled ropes of cum into your warm hole, his nails raking down your skin as he unconsciously desperately clawed for a closer feel of your spine.

#btd x reader #btd drabble #lawrence oleander #lawrence x reader #btd lawrence

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raspberryrotten · 1 month ago

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♡ [Dacryphilia] × [Law/Reader] ♡

This fic is also on AO3: [HERE]

✎ 2600 words

♡ You Are: Someone who went to a bar and spent the night talking with Law and Ren. At the end of the night, Law kidnapped you. GN!Reader.

♡ Plot Peek: You’re trapped in Law’s apartment. He doesn’t want you there, but he won’t let you leave. When you get scared and cry, he’s surprised by how much he enjoys it and keeps pushing you until you cry again.

♡ A/N: I promise that one day I’ll write a Law fic that isn’t just him jerking that thang. Ummm… the issue is that I just really like to think about him jerking off.

⚠ TWs: Kidnapping, Threat of Death

BTD (Boyfriend to Death), TPOF (The Price of Flesh), and YKMET (You Kill Me Every Time) are horror-porn games intended for adult audiences. These fics may include canon-typical violence, disturbing content, and dark psychological themes. They are not suitable for minors.

⎯⎯⎯ ❝ NSFW AHEAD ❞ ⎯⎯⎯

The first thing you hear is someone whispering.

The air is thick and humid, smelling of wet soil, iron, and something strangely sweet. You open your eyes to a jungle of potted plants, pothos, spider lilies, thick trailing vines, covering every surface. The lights are dim and the space is claustrophobic.

You try to move, but your arms don’t answer you. Your chest tightens. You’re strapped down.

No. Taped. Thick duct tape. Your wrists sting from the pressure of it.

Across the room, that guy from the pub is facing away from you, muttering away, his shoulder’s hunched.

“It’s okay… I’ll… I’ll fix it. It won’t be like the last time. J-just stay calm.”

His voice is barely audible, raspy and thin. You don’t speak. You just watch him, your breath shallow. Already, tears are gathering hot in the corners of your eyes. You try to blink them back, try to swallow it all down.

Then he turns.

“AH!”

His whole body jolts like he’s been shocked. He spins to fully face you, gangly limbs pulling inward as if he could physically retract from what he's seeing. Like you’ve ruined something just by opening your eyes.

“You’re awake!”

You suck in a ragged breath, the beginning of panic now fully blooming in your chest. You twist against the chair, feel the scrape of tape against skin. Your breathing speeds up, shallow and rapid, and the sob that escapes you is barely a sound, more like a hiccup breaking through your teeth.

He visibly winces.

“No, no, c-calm down,” he says quickly, lifting both hands in an awkward, stuttering half-wave. “I… I can explain this.”

He can’t. Not in any way that makes sense, at least.

But in his head, there was a reason. When Ren left (so suddenly, so selfishly) it had felt, well, overwhelming. He didn’t want to be alone again. He couldn’t be alone again.

And then you were there. Just standing there. So soft and human and available. You looked at him like you saw him, even for a second. And that was all it took.

He didn’t plan this. He never plans anything. He just reacted (hit you, grabbed you, dragged you) and now here you are, taped to a chair in the middle of his sanctuary, ruining the stillness.

And he’s realised, all of a sudden, that he doesn’t actually want you here.

He tries to smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes. They’re too glassy. Too… dead.

You're silent in response. Because you genuinely don’t know what the hell you could possibly say. You’re in a stranger’s apartment, bound to a chair in front of a man who seems… particularly unstable.

Lawrence clears his throat. Starts to pace a little. “L-look, this all got out of hand…”

His hands flutter uselessly, like he’s trying to catch thoughts mid-air and put them into words.

“I’ve been talking to Ren for a couple of weeks and—”

He stops. Looks at you again. He takes in your tear-streaked face, your trembling lip, your knuckles straining against the tape. Terror. Disbelief. Disgust. He sees it in your eyes, even though you’re trying to keep your expression neutral. Trying to survive this.

And just like that, the words dry up.

There’s no point in explaining it. You won’t get it. You can’t.

That realization sours on his face. His eyes narrow. His shoulders tense.

“I should never leave this apartment,” he mutters, almost to himself. “…Not worth it. All I found was another problem.”

A new wave of panic swells in your chest. You don’t even think before you speak, you just need to stop whatever path his thoughts are about to go down.

“I…” Your voice quivers. “I don’t have to be a problem.”

He blinks. Slightly thrown off. You push yourself forward, scrambling over the fear tightening in your throat.

“I could be your friend. Instead.”

That word hits the air like a dropped knife.

Friend.

You’re not sure if you believe it. You’re not sure if he does. But you’ll say anything right now if it means staying alive. If it means buying yourself even another five minutes.

Lawrence grimaces, hard. He presses his fingers to his temples and exhales like your suggestion physically hurts.

“That’s not…” He shakes his head. “That’s not a good idea. Not for your sake.”

You push, your voice cracking with effort. “Just… just give me a chance.”

He stops pacing. His head tilts slightly, and for the first time since you woke up, he looks angry.

“A chance…?” His tone curdles. He’s not shouting, not yet, but there’s an edge there now, ragged and rising. “You think I haven’t given people chances? You think I haven’t tried?”

His voice rises, thin and sharp like cracked glass. “I’ve tried a hundred times. A thousand. Everyone is the same. They want to fix you until they realize they can’t. Then they leave. Or they lie. Or they call you a… a monster, or a freak… or something worse.”

His expression twists to an old, ugly rage.

Your tears betray you then. You’ve been holding them in so tightly, but now they break loose. Fat tears that roll down your cheeks in thick, shameful tracks. Your shoulders shake with the effort of not breaking completely.

And it does something to him.

He flinches, not out of pity, but... something. His eyes go unfocused, his posture slackening like he’s buffering through a thought he doesn't know how to hold onto.

He doesn’t understand what he’s feeling.

Something tight coils in his stomach (hot, electric, uncomfortable). Not bad, necessarily. But not something he knows how to handle. Your fear, your helplessness… They’re strangely thrilling. You're looking at him like he has power. Real power. Like you need to beg for his approval.

He doesn’t know why he likes it so much.

His hand runs through his hair, tugging slightly. He turns away from you, not dramatically, just as if he can't be looked at while he thinks this through.

“Stop,” he mumbles. “Stop crying. It’s too much. I can’t think.”

He sounds almost... lost. His voice thinner now, strained. Less angry, more tired.

Then, quieter, like the words aren’t for you at all: “What am I gonna do with you?”

Lawrence turns away from you and drifts toward the window, stepping between thick fronds and over stacked books and cracked pots. Outside, the city is slowly lighting up. The sun bleeds over the tops of distant buildings, casting pale gold between the towers.

“I… I should just rest,” he murmurs. “I… I can’t think straight right now.”

He rubs his eyes with the heel of his palm, then looks back at you, your shaking body, the tears you haven’t quite stopped choking on.

“You’re probably tired too…” he says. “You’re diurnal, right? I kept you up all night.”

You can barely speak, your throat raw and tight, but you manage, “It’s okay.”

He blinks. Caught off guard by your tone. “O-oh!” His voice lifts, surprised. So polite. So soft, even now. “I… I can make you some tea. To help you sleep?” he offers, awkward and halting.

You force a small shake of your head. “I’m sure I can fall asleep on my own…”

His eyes darken, narrowing just slightly. He was trying to be kind. That’s what this was. And you just rejected it. “You should drink it,” he says, firmer this time. The offer now sounds more like an order.

Your pulse jumps again. Your hands tighten in your lap, sticky with the tack of dried sweat and tape glue. Still shaking, you raise your chin as best you can. “I’m not… going to drink it.”

The silence that follows is long. Dense.

“Fine,” he snaps. “I won’t make you sleep.”

With stiff, abrupt movements, he shrugs out of his hoodie, then his shirt, tossing them onto a nearby chair. He doesn’t look at you again. He just climbs into the mess of blankets on the low bed against the far wall, pulling them over his shoulders.

The room falls quiet, but your tiny sobs don’t stop. You try. You press your lips together, bury your face against your shoulder, do anything to muffle the sounds.

You don’t want to wake him. You don’t want to anger him. You don’t want him to see you like this and remember that he still doesn’t know what to do with you.

He doesn’t say anything else. He just lies there. Listening. Each hiccupping breath and shuddering inhale send a thrill rippling through Lawrence's body under the blanket. He keeps his eyes closed, trying to pretend that he’s falling asleep, but he’s sure that you must hear his heart pounding in his chest.

He can't remember the last time he felt this alive. This... aroused.

Fuck. Your tears, your fear, your utter helplessness: it's like some new kind of drug pumping through his veins. More potent than any of the herbs he grows in the jungle of his apartment.

He knows, on some level, he should feel sorry for you. He knows he should feel guilty for causing you this distress. But he doesn't. He feels something else entirely. Something dark and selfish and hungry.

His hand inches lower under the blanket, palming himself through the thin fabric of his sweatpants. He's semi-erect already, his cock twitching and throbbing at the sound of your muffled cries. He has to bite back a moan, not wanting to alert you to what he's doing.

He strokes himself, slow and steady, in time with your shuddering breaths. You're so lovely like this, so vulnerable, so afraid. And the fact that he's the cause of it... it's intoxicating. Addictive. He wants to hear more of it.

You continue crying softly, your sobs tapering off into occasional sniffles as exhaustion takes over. Your body feels heavy, your limbs leaden, and your eyes are sore. You wish you could move your hands, if for no other reason than to wipe away the wetness on your cheeks, but the tape holds your wrists fast. Even overwhelmed and terrified as you are, your body can no longer fight off the pull of sleep.

Lawrence listens intently, taking in every delicate sniffle and shuddering breath. He finds the soft, quiet sounds almost endearing. You're so quiet and gentle. The noises you make are so unlike the loud, wailing cries he imagines most people would produce in your situation. No, he’d hate that. He’d hate the noise of it all. But you’re perfect.

His hand continues its steady, slow rhythm under the blanket, stroking and squeezing himself. He shoves his face into his pillow to muffle a groan as he feels his release approaching. His hips twitch, pushing up into his own touch as his hand works feverishly over his cock.

Unwilling to hold back any longer, Lawrence inhales sharply through his nose as he reaches his peak. His sweatpants grow damp where his cock throbs and pulses, spilling his cum inside them. A shudder runs through his entire body at the intensity of it.

Utterly spent, he lets out a shuddery breath against the pillow, then slips into a deep, dreamless sleep. He’ll decide what to do with you in the morning. But for now, he just feels... satisfied.

★·.·´¯`·.·★

When Lawrence wakes, the sun has crept further across the room, painting long amber lines across the floorboards. He stretches languidly, letting out a slow yawn. Then he remembers.

You’re still here.

He turns his head and looks at you.

You’re asleep. Or faking it. Either way, you’re not looking at him yet, and he prefers it that way.

Dried tears cling in brittle salt lines on your cheeks. Your head is slumped slightly to one side. There’s still redness around your eyes, but your breathing is slow. Shallow. Soft.

You look peaceful.

And so beautiful.

Wait. No. Not beautiful.

That’s not the word.

You’re much more interesting than that.

He tilts his head, studying you like you’re something pinned beneath glass.

A bloom of violet and yellow has formed at your temple where he struck you yesterday, irregular at the edges, the way rot spreads on fruit left too long in the sun.

Your lashes stick together in wet little clumps. Insects caught in dew.

Your body shifts slightly, subtle at first. Then your head twitches, just enough to suggest you're coming to.

You blink, disoriented until your gaze settles on him.

And there it is again.

That look.

Wide. Fragile. Terrified.

And there it is again. That feeling.

He stands a little taller.

You’re afraid. He can see it in the way your muscles tighten, in the rigid hold of your body, in the way your eyes flick away from his face and snap back just as fast, like you’re checking to see if he’s moved.

You’re not crying yet. But he wants you to. He wants to make you cry. He wants to watch your face twist, wants to hear the little crack in your voice when you try not to fall apart. He wants to see what you’ll do when he reminds you that you’re trapped, and that everything, your comfort, your body, your life, is under his control now.

Your thread is in his hands. And he could do anything. That feeling settles in his chest like heat. Heavy. Slow. He doesn't know what to call it. But he knows he likes it.

“You’re never going to leave this apartment,” he taunts you, voice low, deliberate, meant to dig in. “You understand that, right?”

He sees the shift immediately. He sees how your jaw tightens, how your eyes widen just slightly. There’s a tremble starting in your chin. Your body is on the brink of a collapse.

“Whether it’s today,” he continues, voice soft as moss, “or a year from now. You’ll die here. I’m keeping you.”

Your eyes begin to well up again, slow, steady. You try to hold it in, but it’s like trying to hold back a flood. Your shoulders draw in tight. Your nose reddens. Your mouth stretches in that ugly way people cry when they don’t care how they look. Before long, wet snot drips down onto your upper lip.

He likes that, too. The realness of it. The helplessness.

And then the tears come too. Tracking the same paths that they carved the night before.

Your chest hitches with tiny, restrained tremors. Your breath catches in uneven pulses.

Contained. Like you’re trying not to disturb him.

Perfect.

His cock is already chubbing up back to half-mast again.

Then, his name slips out from between your lips, raw and shaky. Barely a whisper. Cracked and wet. “...Lawrence.”

The sound hooks into him and he blinks like, for a moment, he’d forgotten that he existed.

He steps closer then and cups your jaw with one trembling hand. Your skin is almost distractingly warm against his cold, lifeless hands, and he holds you like he’s unsure how to touch you, thumb dragging clumsily beneath your eye, wiping tears that are already replaced by more.

He wants to taste them. Just a little. Just press his thumb to his tongue. But no. He won’t. Not yet, at least.

He smiles again. Wide. But his eyes stay glassy. Empty.

“I would tell you this was going to be alright…” he whispers.

His thumb lingers just a moment longer.

“…but it won’t be.”

#boyfriend to death #btd lawrence #lawrence oleander #lawrence oleander x reader #btd lawrence x reader #btd x reader #btd2 #kinkfic #oneshot #boyfriendtodeath #my writing #text

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