Can You Write Something About Lawrence?

Can you write something about Lawrence? 👉👈

a/n: yessss i've been looking forward to a law request! thank u, anon, i hope you like it!! :3

THE LIGHT THAT SEARS

{ lawrence oleander x gn! reader }

word count: 2.1k

warnings/tags: NSFW, psychological, yandere(ish), stalking, jealousy/obsession, kidnapping, brief marijuana use, cutting, blood, waterboarding to drowning, reader death.

Under the cloak of night, Lawrence prowled the periphery of your existence. You emerged as a rare exception to his cynical worldview; a delicate exception that flickered like a flame in the darkness. As the night clerk at the local gas station, your presence was an enigma, haloed by the soft, ethereal glow of fluorescent lights— a figure both intoxicating and infuriating to him.

You began to recognize the patterns of his visits, the late hours when he would appear almost like a shadow from the night. Soon enough, you learned his usual purchases; mainly simple, pre-packaged meals, which he grabbed almost mechanically from the same aisle each visit.

With a practiced ease, you attempted small talk, your light and inviting voice contrasting sharply with his curt responses. Lawrence hardly ever met your gaze, his eyes flicking away to the brightly lit shelves or the grimy floor tiles, as if the sight of you was both necessary and unbearable.

Despite this, you persisted, peeling back layers of his solitude with each word. He felt seen, truly seen. Not just observed but understood, in a way that both unnerved and intrigued him. You seemed to look right through his shell, peering into the depths of his turbulent soul.

Each night, as you smiled and handed him his change, he sensed your awareness of his trembling hands, as if each coin and bill burned into his fingertips. It was almost painful how you looked at him with so much pity and concern.

This perception of vulnerability made Lawrence feel exposed yet inexplicably drawn to you. His nightly visits to the gas station became less about necessity and more about this complex dance between observation and interaction. He began to linger, fabricating reasons to stay by browsing aimlessly through the aisles or waiting for the slowest coffee machine pour.

Eventually, his fascination led him beyond the confines of the gas station, tracking your movements like a silent guardian. He found himself waiting in the shadows, watching as you ended your shifts, and noting the way you carefully scanned the parking lot before stepping into the early morning air.

But everything changed one fateful night when he watched you interact with another customer— a casual exchange that shattered his distorted illusion of exclusivity. Lawrence stood, a silent spectator lined up behind this stranger, who elicited a laugh from you with an ease that made his blood boil. Your eyes sparkled with the same light you often gifted him, yet here it was, shared freely with someone else. Each giggle, each easy smile you bestowed upon the interloper, drove a spike of disgust and jealousy through his already frayed nerves. His hands trembled and his eyes ignited with a fervent fury as he watched you, his delicate flower, fluttering towards another.

When it was finally his turn to cash out, the usual gentle cadence of your voice grated against his heightened sensitivity. He responded not with the muted gratitude of before but with a cold silence, tossing the cash onto the counter with a force that made the coins scatter. Avoiding your puzzled look, he stormed out of the gas station, the chime of the door ringing mockingly behind him.

The night outside had turned chilly, the breeze that swept through the parking lot carrying an ominous whisper. Lawrence sat in his car, his hands gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled force. Each breath was a ragged intake, his thoughts racing as he waited, the tick of the clock on the dashboard echoing in the cramped space like a countdown.

Your shift ended as it always did, with the fluorescent lights shutting off one by one, casting shadows that crept along the ground toward him. You stepped out, oblivious to the dangerous undercurrent that now pulsed through the air. As you made your way across the parking lot, the sound of your footsteps were muffled against the asphalt, but to Lawrence, they were deafening.

He exited his vehicle, driven by a twisted mixture of betrayal and anger. His approach was silent, a predator’s gait, all traces of the awkward, stuttering recluse gone. Just as you reached your car, he was upon you, a hand clamping down over your mouth to stifle your screams. His other arm snaked around your waist, dragging you back towards his car. The world blurred into a chaotic swirl as you struggled, but his grip was unyielding. In a swift motion, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small, damp cloth, and pressed it against your nose and mouth. Your struggles weakened, your limbs grew heavy, and soon, darkness engulfed you as you slipped into unconsciousness.

You awoke to an unfamiliar coldness, the hard porcelain surface of a bathtub pressing uncomfortably against your back. Your wrists and ankles were bound with duct tape, immobilizing you in a vulnerable sprawl. Another strip sealed your mouth, muffling your disoriented murmurs. The bathroom around you was dimly lit, casting elongated shadows across the walls where ivy and ferns crept over the tiles. A pervasive, sickly sweet scent filled the air, suffocating your senses.

As your eyes adjusted, you noticed Lawrence sitting on the edge of the tub, his silhouette blurred against the dim light. A joint dangled from his trembling fingers, the smoke curling into the stale air as he took a deep, slow drag. Exhaling a cloud of smoke, his expression remained unreadable, veiled in a mix of shadow and haze. His eyes, half-lidded and unfocused, seemed to drift away momentarily before snapping back to meet yours with an intensity that pinned you in place.

The moment hung heavy between the crackling of the ember and the distant dripping of a leaky faucet. As the smoke floated lazily in the air, it seemed to bridge the gap between Lawrence's disjointed musings and the harsh reality of your predicament.

"I thought you understood," he whispered, a chilling calmness underpinning his words. "I thought you were different." He took another drag, the ember briefly illuminating his hollowed features with an eerie red light.

"But you’re just like them, aren’t you? A beautiful façade," His voice cracked slightly, betraying a hint of the turmoil swirling inside him.

The accusation struck a strange chord, mixing fear with confusion. You could only listen, the adhesive tape cruelly sealing any response. Lawrence's presence loomed larger as he shifted his weight, the porcelain creaking under him.

"Even then, I can't let you go— can't forget you," he muttered, more to himself than to you as he stubbed out the joint. He turned his gaze fully onto you and confessed, "I can’t allow you to float away to anyone else. You saw me... really saw me, unlike everyone else."

Slowly, almost cautiously, Lawrence moved closer, positioning himself to straddle you in the tub. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating. He pulled a small knife from his pocket, the blade glinting in the light. His fingers, though cold, felt like they burned into you as he began to slice through your shirt, and spread the fabric open to expose your skin underneath.

The blade descended again, gliding from your sternum to your navel with terrifying precision. You felt the sting of the blade, a cold line of fear that drew a shallow, sharp path across your skin. Lawrence’s breath was heavy, each exhale shuddering against the charged silence of the room. He leaned closer, torment and fascination dancing across his features.

A flush crept across his cheeks as he watched the red line appear on your skin. His hands, unsteady yet deliberate, touched the blood that welled from the cut, tracing it across your skin with a perverse reverence. His touch was careful, as if tending to a withering flower.

"I need you to understand this connection," Lawrence murmured, his fingers painted with your blood. "No one else can see what I see, feel what I feel for you. You’re not like them— you can't be."

His eyes, usually so shifty and evasive, now held yours with an intensity that felt like chains, binding you to his will. Amidst the flora and the sweet scent of decay, the room around you seemed to close in, setting the stage for his macabre confession. The tape stifled your cries, muffling the sound to a desperate whimper as you watched the crimson seep from your body.

Lawrence set the knife down with a clink against the porcelain, his hands now free to frame your face, forcing you to maintain eye contact. "When I saw you talking to him, laughing, it hurt. It burned, like nothing I’ve felt before." He continued, tracing the contours of your features.

Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling over despite your attempts to hold them back. As he noticed your tears, his expression shifted, a mix of satisfaction and sorrow mingling in his gaze.

"I need you to understand the pain," He said as his fingers tightened against your cheeks, the pressure increasing painfully.

Your cries, stifled under the adhesive, became more desperate, a silent plea that seemed lost on him. But then, without a word, Lawrence reached over and turned on the tap. Cold water poured from the faucet as he forced your head back, positioning your face under the stream. The cold water splashed against your skin, entering your nostrils and flooding your senses with an icy shock. Your body convulsed involuntarily as water cascaded over your head, drowning out your pleas with the relentless rush of liquid oblivion.

Lawrence watched intently, his eyes never leaving your face as you gasped and sputtered, the water punishing every attempt to draw breath. His expression was unreadable, perhaps a mix of curiosity and a desperate need to share his own suffocating experiences of jealousy and betrayal.

"Feel it, the burning pain I felt," He whispered, his voice a distant echo lost to the steady cascade of water and the weak thrashing of your body.

As it continued to pour over your face, the line between executioner and confessor blurred. He seemed almost mesmerized by your struggle, as if each gasp and flutter of your eyelids brought him closer to understanding his own tortured emotions.

Finally, he turned off the water, the sudden silence in the room echoing louder than the rushing stream had been. Your breaths came in ragged, desperate gulps, as your lungs screamed for air. Lawrence's gaze remained fixed upon you, his own turmoil reflected in the sheen of sweat upon his brow

"Every time I see you, it’s like I’m drowning," he muttered as his finger followed the trail of water dripping from your chin. His admission lingered in the air, a confession both haunting and revelatory. You searched his eyes for some semblance of remorse or empathy, but found only the reflection of a tormented soul as he gazed over your drenched, trembling form.

"You shine so brightly, it's blinding." His finger paused, hovering above the pulse at your neck, where each heartbeat seemed to echo louder against the stillness. "I can't help but be drawn to your light, even though it scorches me. I never want it to end."

As the water on your skin began to chill, his hand shifted, becoming almost protective as he cupped your cheek. "I want to keep you here, with me, forever," he continued, his voice softer and edged with a strange sadness. "I want your light all to myself."

Without warning, Lawrence reached for the faucet again, turning the knob with a decisive twist. The water surged forth once more, cascading over your face in a relentless torrent. This time, however, there was no restraint in his actions, no hesitation or remorse. His grip on your head tightened, forcing you further under the icy deluge until every gasp for air was silenced by the rush of water filling your lungs.

Your struggles became feeble and your body wracked with convulsions as the cold enveloped you. Through the haze of pain and panic, you caught one last glimpse of Lawrence's face, distorted by the watery veil between you. There was a flicker of something in his eyes— regret, perhaps, or even a twisted form of tenderness as he watched you drown with eerie detachment.

The weight of his gaze bore down on you, unyielding even as your consciousness waned under the suffocating flow. As the coldness of water seeped into your bones, your world dimmed, fading into a silent, dark oblivion.

For a moment, he remained frozen, suspended in the void between remorse and obsession. His trembling hands drew your lifeless body towards his, the coldness of your skin seeping into his own as he gently cradled you against his chest.

"You're still shining," he whispered, his voice barely audible amidst the constant flow of the faucet. "You're still beautiful."

As the water continued its relentless cascade, Lawrence raked his fingers through your wet hair, admiring how the tendrils clung to his skin as though you had become one.

Can you write big brother strade and adult sister reader scenario?

a/n: omg omg YES i can anon!!! ty for the request! i wanted the reader to be the 'perpetrator' in this one, so i hope you like it! <3

THICKER THAN WATER

{ older brother! strade x younger sister! reader }

word count: 980

warnings/tags: INCEST, NON-CON (?), weirdo lil sis reader, somnophilia, implied past sexual/physical abuse, molestation, masturbation, obsession, body worship, heavy romanticization.

In the stillness of the night, your feet chart a path to a room as familiar as the blood that pulses through your veins. As you slip inside, the air hangs heavy with shame and desire. Yet, in the concealing darkness, you seek refuge in the bed of the one who has always been both your sanctuary and your undoing.

Creeping closer, the familiar scent of your brother envelops you—a musky blend of tobacco and petroleum, more intoxicating than the finest perfume. Gently, you climb into bed and slip beneath the covers, the mattress dipping subtly under your weight. He remains undisturbed, the effects of alcohol shielding him from nightmares and memories alike.

Your heart calms as you draw near, drinking in the sight of him, so still and vulnerable under the moon’s soft gaze. It stirs something deep within you, a familiar ache you’ve carried since your first encounter. His jaw, shadowed by stubble, retains the softness of the boy you once knew.

Strade, with his piercing gaze and disarming charm, is a figure of authority in your world. Your devotion to him has never wavered, acting as a steady anchor amidst the chaos of your relationship. You cling to his every word and eagerly obey his every command, driven by an insatiable desire to fulfill each whim and craving. Despite the countless scars that mark your body, you remain willfully blind, captivated by the charisma that masks the sadism lurking beneath his smile.

You lay your head on his chest, feeling the solid reality of him. His skin warms your cheek, the fine hairs tickle softly, and his heartbeat sends a steady, reassuring rhythm that echoes through your body.

You shift closer, drawn by an irresistible force that pulls you into the orbit of his sleeping form. With tentative fingers, you trace the contours of his torso, exploring the landscape of muscle and skin that you know as well as your own. As your fingers glide over his body, you recall the first brush of his fingertips against your skin; a moment that ignited an obsession within you— a craving no other man could ever satisfy.

Your lips find purchase on his jawline, pressing feather-light kisses against the rough stubble. It's a ritual as familiar as breathing, a silent offering of devotion to the only deity you've ever known. As you brush over the jagged scar marring his skin, he murmurs and stirs slightly. You freeze, your heart caught in your throat, torn between the thrill and fear of being discovered. But he soon settles back into a deep slumber, the moment passing as quickly as it came. You exhale softly, relief quietly mingling with your unchecked desires.

Your hand wanders further, tracing invisible lines across his abdomen until it rests just above the waistband of his boxers. With a breath held in anticipation, your fingers slip under, your palm feeling the heat radiating from him. Your fingers wrap around his shaft, his skin soft and oddly vulnerable in his sleep. As he twitches involuntarily, the intimacy of the moment washes over you like a forbidden wave, swelling with a mixture of guilt and longing. His response is minimal, a low, unconscious groan that might as well have been a sigh carried by the wind. It's enough to spur you forward, your body responding with its own, mirrored arousal.

Simultaneously, your other hand ventures down your body, seeking pleasure in the quiet communion of touch. Your fingers slide between your legs, pushing your panties aside as you press them against your aching clit. The sensation is dizzying, the friction of your fingers sending sparks of desire through your veins.

The symmetry of your actions, one hand on him, the other on yourself, weaves a silent thread of connection that feels both transgressive and transcendent. As you stroke him, you feel his length harden in your grasp. His hips buck gently as his breaths come faster, his chest rising and falling more rapidly. You press your face against his neck, muffling a moan that escapes your lips.

The moonlight filtering through the window bathes the scene in a soft glow, casting long shadows that dance across the walls as if they too are complicit in your silent act.

You move with careful, deliberate motions, governed by the fear of waking him and the overwhelming need to continue. His occasional murmurs punctuate the silence, ambiguous sounds that could be interpreted as protest or pleasure— in the thick veil of night, it's hard to tell, and perhaps you don't want to.

As your exploration deepens, you find yourself caught in the delicate balance between self-gratification and the gratification of him. You bite your lower lip, trying to stifle your whimpers, as the urgent need cum, to let go and surrender to the pleasure, courses through you. Your fingers move faster, instinctively seeking the release that hovers just out of reach.

You pump his cock faster as it twitches violently in your hand, leaking pre-cum onto your skin. It feels hot and impossibly hard, like a living thing writhing in your grasp. With a low, guttural groan, he releases, his muscles clenching. You can feel it in your fingers as he spurts, the warmth and weight of his ejaculate coating your palm. You gasp in response with your face buried in the crook of his neck, your breaths sharp and ragged.

Arching into your fingers, you abandon all pretense of restraint, letting out a long, shuddering moan that breaks the silence of the room.

Suddenly, your world freezes. Just as your climax builds, a vice-like grip encircles your wrist, pulling you from the depths of your indulgence, and shattering the fragile tranquillity of the night. Your eyes snap open, heart pounding as you meet your brother's gaze— no longer clouded by sleep, but piercing and awake.

does mason even kno what eating pussy is </3 🥺

Hey hey!

Could you do a Ren x Fem!reader Nsfw while they were still ‘owned’ by Strade? He can be there too if you want ^^

I just need this 🙏

a/n: yess i love this dynamic so muchh <3 this is probably one of the more wholesome things i've written. hope you enjoy, anon!!

WASH IT ALL AWAY

{ captive! ren hana x captive f! reader }

word count: 1.7k

warnings/tags: NSFW, consensual (:0 !?), mentions of blood/injury, soft and gentle, bathtub sex, kissing, handjob, some scratching/biting, fox penis in vagina.

The night was still, punctuated only by Strade's deep, even breaths as he slept in the adjacent room. His slumber marked a brief reprieve from the day’s cruelty, a precious few hours where shadows gathered and whispered of forbidden things. The dim light seeping through the basement door painted golden streaks across the staircase, a faint illumination that led you to Ren.

Your steps were silent, cautious, as if the very air around you could betray your intent. Ren was there, as you knew he would be, standing at the stairhead, his eyes alert and intense. His presence was a beacon, drawing you closer with the gravity of shared pain and longing.

As you approached, his posture relaxed, a soft smile spreading across his face. "I was so worried," Ren whispered, his voice heavy with relief. "When I heard you, the sounds... I was so scared."

"I made it back to you, Ren. Like I promised," you replied, though your voice trembled.

His eyes warmed with a familiar tenderness as he took your hand, brushing his thumb over your knuckles in a soothing rhythm. "Let's get you cleaned up, okay? A warm bath... we can forget everything else, just for a while," he suggested, his voice a gentle caress promising care and comfort.

As Ren guided you upstairs to his bedroom, the soft click of his claws against the stairs marked your path. Upon entry, your pain and fear momentarily subsided, replaced by a sense of security in his familiar presence. The room was suffused with the scent of him— earthy and lightly floral, mixed with the copper tang of blood that no amount of scrubbing could erase.

"Just relax," he murmured, his voice soothing as he brushed past you, his tail gently swaying. "I'll run the bath."

He disappeared into the adjoining bathroom, and soon the sound of running water mingled with the rustle of movement as he adjusted the taps. Steam slowly began to fill the space, weaving around you both like a gentle caress and blending seamlessly with the room’s lingering scents.

"The bath's ready! Nice and warm," Ren called out softly, invitingly. You both undressed, the layers of your captivity falling away with each piece of fabric that hit the floor. Though the heavy shock-collars remained around your necks they seemed less constricting here, in this temporary sanctuary.

Stepping into the bathroom, the humidity enveloped you, easing the chill of fear that had clung to your bones. Together, you sank into the comforting embrace of the hot water; the bath becoming a secluded haven where peace could exist, if only for a while. As you settled in, the water around you faintly blushed, tinged with red from your fresh wounds.

You sat facing each other, your legs intertwined comfortably. Ren’s tail softened in the water, becoming slick and smooth under your fingers. You reached out, tentatively at first, then with more assurance as you brushed your fingers through his fur, the texture luxurious and mesmerizing. He sighed, a sound of deep contentment escaping him as his tail twitched slightly and his eyes closed in blissful surrender to the moment.

Ren opened his eyes, his gaze meeting yours with a warmth that melted any lingering tension. He smiled gently, reaching for a sponge. "May I?" he whispered softly, seeking your permission to touch, to wash away the physical reminders of the day's ordeal.

You nodded, allowing him to cleanse the wounds and weariness from your body. As the sponge moved in smooth, careful strokes over your skin, the tension within you began to ebb away. Gradually, he set aside the sponge, his fingers replacing it, the transition almost imperceptible. The soft touch of his hands felt more intimate, more healing than the porous material, tracing the contours of your body with a touch both soothing and careful.

The steam hung heavy around you, a veil that seemed to isolate you from the rest of the world. It was just you and Ren, the water lapping gently at your skin, his hands exploring the lines of your body with a reverence that made your breath catch. The kiss came naturally, almost inevitable, as you leaned into him. His lips were soft against yours, urgent yet incredibly tender, conveying emotions too complex to voice.

You deepened the kiss, your fingers weaving into his damp, red hair, gently tugging him closer. As your hands explored, they found the soft base of his ears and squeezed gently, drawing a throaty groan from him. Ren's reaction vibrated against your lips as he touched your back, his nails gently raking along your spine. The water around you seemed to pulse with the rhythm of your beating hearts, waves gently swaying in time with your movements.

Your hands slid down his front and traced patterns on his furred chest, feeling every beat of his heart, every rise and fall of his breath. Ren responded in kind, his hands sliding down to cup your hips, pulling you closer until you were straddling him, the water swirling around you as you moved together.

His kisses trailed down your jaw, each one light and tantalizing. You threw your head back, allowing him access to the delicate skin of your throat, his lips and teeth gently teasing. His breath, warm against your damp skin, mixed with the steam, creating a heady sensation that made the room spin slightly.

You leaned forward, whispering his name as a silent plea, your movements becoming more deliberate. Ren's hands steadied on your hips, guiding you as you gently ground against him. Your hands ventured further, tracing the course line of fur that led to his cock. His response was immediate; a sharp intake of breath, his back arching slightly, urging you closer.

The bathroom vanished, consumed by the sensations intensified by the warm water caressing your skin. It was just you and Ren, moving together in perfect harmony. His lips found yours once more, your tongues dancing as his hands explored the contours of your body, urging you closer still. You could feel him, hard and ready against your stomach, the water lapping at your skin as he thrust into your grasp.

His fingers dug into your hips, urging you to a faster pace, and you obeyed without hesitation. You could feel every inch of him, the head of his shaft pressing against your palm as you stroked him, the familiar ridges that slid between your fingers slick with water and precum. The sounds of your breath mingled with the soft splashing of the water, creating a rhythm that seemed to echo through your very soul.

He whispered your name, his voice husky with need, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "Please, I need to be inside you," he breathed out, a plea laced with passion, urging you closer to the edge. "Can I?" he asked softly, his voice tender as he sought your consent. The words sounded almost foreign to you now, having grown so accustomed to the harsh commands of Strade's regime. Here, with Ren, every word was a gentle offer, a question soaked in care and respect, forming a stark contrast to your current reality.

You nodded as you managed a response, "Yes, Ren, please." His smile was slow, grateful, and filled with warmth. You hovered above him and he carefully moved forward, uniting you both in a moment as delicate as it was intense.

As his cock slipped inside, Ren's hands gripped your thighs, his nails digging slightly into your skin and drawing a soft moan from you. He leaned forward and his lips found the curve of your neck again. This time, his kisses were punctuated by gentle bites, each leaving behind a tender mark.

The shape of him, with its curious, fox-like tapering, fit perfectly, complementing your own form. Your body moved in sync with his rhythm as you met his thrusts with your own. Each connection sent ripples of pleasure through you, drawing moans that mixed with the steamy air. Your hands clung to his shoulders and your nails dug in slightly as he bucked faster into you.

"I want you to remember this... remember us, when everything else feels like too much," Ren murmured against your skin, his breath hot and his words imbued with a fervour that made your heart swell. His actions were deliberate, marking you in a way that felt reverent— in a way that made you forget the weight of the shackle that sat just a few inches below his lips.

The rhythm you found together was a natural cadence, echoing the soft sound of water lapping at the sides of the tub, the gentle movement resonating in perfect harmony with your joined breaths.

Ren's pace quickened, his movements becoming less controlled, more urgent as he sought release. You could feel the tension building within him, his grip tightening as he neared the brink. His breaths became short, his chest heaving against yours. With a final, deep thrust, he groaned, his body tensing as he reached his climax, filling you with the warmth of his seed.

Panting, he collapsed gently against you, though he remained inside, ensuring the connection wasn't broken. You both sat there, entwined and still, the water in the bath slightly cooler now, but your bodies radiated enough heat to keep the chill at bay.

Ren's arms wrapped around you more fully, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You felt his lips move against your skin in a soft, almost imperceptible kiss. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice laden with emotion. His tail, still submerged, curled around your leg in a gentle embrace.

You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat steady against yours. The steam from the bath enveloped your bodies, creating a serene cocoon that shielded you from the harsh outside world. Each touch, each whisper deepened a connection that felt as vital as the air you breathed.

OMG THIS IS SOOOO GOODAHAHHA

strade in this

I JUST SAW REQUESTS CLOSED IM SO SORRY

don't worry! i'll add your request to my list and start working on it soon :3