moveys - lawrence oleander x reader
tags/cw: nsfw smut, high sex, canon typical violence mention, this takes place after the “you saw the river” ending, afab reader, smoking weed, lawrence is crazy and reader is into it a little too much, maybe ooc?? this is the first fic i wrote for lawrence a while ago when i first got into the fandom so i apologize
once again there may be some editing mistakes i edited this with a 100 degree fever so erm
recommended listening: the album “moveys” by slow pulp is what i was listening to while writing this :)
It was a lazy evening in the apartment, sunset streaking through the plants and falling on you two as you lay side by side, arms around your waist and face in your hair. Roses sunk into his vision as he breathed you in. He felt your stomach rise and fall with every breath. It calmed him to know something tangible, alive was here that needed him other than his plants. You were still asleep.
He glanced at the clock. 5 pm in Alberta. The bustle of the rush hour traffic outside and the yelling of his neighbors never used to bother him, as he always rose with the moon anyway, but now it did bother him. He glanced down at you asleep beside him and noticed your nose twitch. He held his hands against your ears, your hair tickling him. He’d sit there as long as he could so you wouldn’t be woken up.
He couldn’t really figure out how long he stayed like that for. The clock said 6:30 when you began to stir, but he couldn’t have been watching you that long, right? That was a long time. But time slowed down when it came to you.
Bleary eyed, you let out a content sigh and rubbed your cheek against his hand, still holding your ears. You blinked a few times, yawned and stretched, and met his eyes with a sleepy smile.
“Hi, Lawrence.” He could see the tired shine in your eyes.
“Did the sounds wake you up?” He asked, pulling his hands away. You rolled over and took his wrists, pulling him back into you. He’d never get used to this, he recalled thinking.
You shook your head. “Slept for a while, though.” You yawned as you sat up. He leaned his head against your shoulder. You remembered thinking how terrified you were when you first met. You squished his cheeks, watching the redness spread across his face.
“Not that long,” he responded, pulling away but keeping an arm around you. “You were asleep when I got home at 7.”
You gritted your teeth. “12 hours of sleep? Shit, you could’ve woken me.” You leaned into him, feeling him tense and then relaxed against you.
“You were long gone.” He rested his chin in your hair. The two of you watched the rest of the sun dip down over the cityline.
Wordlessly, he detached himself from you and began to make his rounds for his plants. You propped yourself up on your arm and watched him. Occasionally he’d pluck a leaf off and roll it between his fingers, watching it with fascination. It was calming, a nice routine to fall into. You’d watch his back, flushing at the way the muscles moved underneath the skin. For someone who ate nothing but fast food and gas station sandwiches, he was surprisingly in decent shape. It didn’t help that he hardly ever wore a shirt at home.
You never talked about sex. Never brought it up. To your surprise, he was a gentleman. He’d turn around when you got changed and gave you space if you needed. Save for the first week of their meeting, he never hurt you again. He never asked for anything, never made a move, nothing. After a while, he let you lock the door to the bathroom. Not that you even needed to at that point. It was strange to feel safe like this with a dude that literally kidnapped you outside of a bar. But that was just how he was.
You watched him for a while, missing his warmth. When he was done he sat back down beside you. You wrapped her arms around his waist, feeling the familiar initial tensing and then relaxing. You rested your face in his back. The sickly sweet scent of rot and earth filled your nose.
He wrapped an arm behind himself and rubbed your head. It was nice for him to not feel so alone all the time. Company, when it was company that understood him, was better than he thought.
He reached onto the couchside table and grabbed his grinder. You watched him pack a bowl and light it, blowing the smoke out the window. He offered it to you. You gladly took it.
“Y’know, I never really smoked much before I met you.” You said, wistful eyes watching the moon as she began to make her peak over the cityline.
“Yeah?” Out of the corner of your eye she could see him watching you. He always seemed to be watching you.
“Mhm.” You hummed, handing it back to him. He puffed the smoke out the window, watching it dissolve into the cold Canada night air.
“Why’s that?” He shifted so he was facing you, passing the bowl back. You dug around a little to make sure there was still some green in the mess of ashes. You’d begun to feel all floaty, fairy dust in your lungs making you dully sparkle.
“Always had somewhere to be, something to do.” You reached out to grab the grinder, packing another bowl as you flicked the ashes out. “Never had the time, and when I did, I had somewhere to be in an hour.” You smiled at the nostalgia. He tried not to think too much about your life before him.
You could feel his discomfort, tangible through the smoke you shared. You passed back the bowl.
“It’s nice to not have places to be or things to do anymore.” You rested your head against your hand as you gazed out the window. “It’s nice to live at my leisure.”
“You were dealing with a lot before.” He acknowledged. He didn’t like to hear about it, but you’d let things slip sometimes before he could unhear it. Shitty boyfriend, boring part time job, your classes at university keeping you chained to your car and your campus. It didn’t sound like much of a life. Not that his life was, but he hoped you were happier here. He tried his best to provide.
“Yeah.” You crossed your legs and watched him blow smoke out the window again, watching the way it dissipated into the cold. “A lot.”
You two fell into a lulled silence, broken only by the flick of the lighter and the deep inhales of the bowl. Eventually, you realized you’d smoked way too much. The room felt fluffy and your face felt puffy. Your eyes were red and your mouth was dry. He passed the bowl back to you, but you shook your head.
“Too much,” you said softly. He just nodded and returned to facing the window to finish off the bowl. But the highness in your brain didn’t let you know when to stop, so you continued babbling, even though you knew he didn’t like to hear it. “There are some things I miss.”
He didn’t answer, which usually you’d take as a sign to stop. Not tonight. “I miss my parents, and family. I miss my car. She was a nice little car. I worked hard for her.” You watched the ceiling fan move lazily, the black paint chipping. He’d made a quip about how the landlord would add that to his deposit too when you first noticed it. “I miss my friends. I had good friends. I ever tell you about them? They’d make late class nights so worth it.” You smiled at the memories. “Y’know what I really miss, though?”
“I don’t want to hear it.” He answered sternly, this time facing you. You saw the terrifying glint in his blue eyes that you saw that first night with him.
“Dick.”
He almost coughed into the bowl. “What?”
You sat up and started laughing, the nice high laugh that made everything feel giggly and like it was in slow motion. He loved the way you laughed- you had enough laughter for the both of them. You’d double over and cover your face in your hands, and the only way he could tell you were still laughing was an occasional wheeze and the reliable shaking of your back.
“Dude, I miss dick! Like, so bad!” You laughed more in spite of yourself, gripping the back of the couch. “Holy shit! I’m smoking weed with this guy that kidnapped me and all I can think about is ‘woah, I miss sex’. What kind of degenerate am I?” You laid back against the couch again, closing your eyes with a satisfied grin. He was silent. He’d assumed you’d had… experience, despite never talking about it. You were beautiful and kind and easy to get along with. He’d pretty much known you’d had guys at your feet. He just scared everyone off. He had no experience whatsoever, besides a pawn shop laptop from 2005 and his own hand. This was the first time sex had ever been brought up with you. It was like a taboo, at least for him- don’t speak about it. Don’t say a word. If you get weirded out, you’ll leave. It had gotten to a point where you stayed out of want, not need. The door was unlocked. You could leave whenever. You’d chosen not to. He didn’t want to fuck that up.
But he found himself staring at you in a different light now. You looked damn cute in his shirt, sliding off your shoulder, and he never noticed the way his boxers hugged your curves and came to a stop right before your thighs started due to how much of her there was there. You two studied each other for a moment before you continued speaking.
“You always look so good, like, all the time.” The ceiling fan kept spinning. “I love blondes and I love long hair and your tattoos are like, really cool. I don’t know how you’re so muscular with what you eat. I love the way you feel and your voice makes me crazy. Fuck, dude.” You began laughing again. “Law?”
“Yes?” He stared at you like a deer in headlights. He may have taken you, but you held his heart and soul hostage in your hands.
“Sometimes I want you so badly, I can’t even breathe.” You rolled over onto your stomach and sat up, staring at him, and it’s like you saw through him. All the nastiness, all the disgust, right through every part of him. You saw it and you seemed like you loved it. “Law?” You asked again, getting a little closer. He backed up just a bit.
“Y-Yes?”
“Have you ever…? Y’know.” You shifted onto your knees now, leaning over the couch and staring through him again right to the barest parts.
He shook his head.
You looked shocked. “Like, never?”
He shook his head again. “I’m scary.”
You pouted. “No, you’re not. You’re sweet once someone gets to know you. You’re gentle.” You noticed he kept backing up and gently touched his cheek. “Law?”
He swallowed hard, tensing at the touch. “You keep saying that.”
You moved even closer, nearly on his lap now. “I want you.”
It was the unspoken rule that shattered into a million pieces now. His heart hammered in his chest. Sometimes he’d watch you rise and fall as you slept and wonder what it would be like to be with you like that. But he could never ask. He’d never ask. And he’d never do anything without asking, either, so it just never happened.
“W-What?”
“Is that okay?” You put a hand on his thigh.
He was shaking now as he put a hand on your arm. “Why? Why me?”
You smiled at the ground. “...You’re nice. You’re really nice. You can tell things about me. You really care. You understand me and you treat me like no one else has.” Your blush deepened. “And… you’re beautiful. Like, really beautiful.”
“That’s sad.” He said. You laughed.
“I know. But I don’t care. I want you.” You made another move and this time he let you, pulling you in slightly- only slightly.
“B-But I don’t know things. I don’t know how… I don’t want to hurt..” His voice trailed off as you put your forehead against his.
“That’s okay.” You smiled. Instinctively he brought his fingers up to the scar on your back. “I know it won’t. I trust you.”
He realized with disdain that you shouldn’t. His grip tightened.
“Are you sure?” He asked, looking into your eyes. “I don’t… I don’t know how I’ll be, I don’t know what I can control, I-”
You nodded, shutting him up.
“Please.”
That was all he needed to hear. Like a predator he tackled you against the couch, and for the first time in months the softness was gone and he was back to the guy who grabbed you outside the bar. He was already tugging at your shirt. All the softness you’d gotten used to was gone, replaced by the person he was that first night. The dangerous, borderline psychopath who had you tied to a chair and ripped you open and fingered the wound. The fucking freak who told you on that first night you’d die here as you clawed at his wrists.
And it ashamed you to say it turned you on.
You’d figured it would be intense. You knew that, and you knew him, and at this point you knew what this would look like. You’d bleed, he’d hurt you, but he’d patch you up at the end and lull you to sleep covering your ears because he knew you couldn’t sleep with background noise because he was thoughtful like that. You dug your fingers into his bare back as he nestled himself in between your legs, eliciting a groan in that natural deep voice that sent chills down your spine. You felt him reach down and held your breath for a moment. This was really happening.
He was surprisingly gentle about it as he hooked a finger under your waistband. He tugged it down slightly and watched your expression. Opposite to his touch, his expression was dark and violent, like he was trying to hold himself back from tearing you apart like a wolf on a deer.
Your face heated up again. He didn’t ask as he tore them off your legs so hard you heard a rip. He buried his fingers inside you almost immediately, groaning at the warmth. You were always so warm. It infuriated him. He never wanted this. It was a spur of the moment decision to take her, and he didn’t know why. He didn’t know what to do with her, and now here she was, bring your warmth and your laughter and your rose scent and your stupid fucking warmth taunting him every second of every day. He’d have to fight himself not to pounce on you. Did you know how you tortured him? How badly he ached for you as he watched you sleep, holding himself back with all the strength he had?
Finally, finally, he thought as he nestled his head in the crook of your neck. You gripped his back. He was moaning more than you were, and you were the one with his fingers in you. You were so warm, so wet, so alive and it was hard to believe he used to want you anything but alive.
His other hand wrapped around you and felt up and down your back, the scar tissue still healing. The memories of that night came rushing back. You felt equally as warm and wet as he dug his fingers into the wound.
“Put your thumb on top,” you whispered to him. He glared up at you.
“I’ll do what I want.” He was like a whole different person than the Lawrence you’d gotten used to. He was the man he used to be before the trust.
Your eyes softened. “Please?” You pleaded, and he damned you in his head because you knew your little doe eyes could get anything you wanted from him. Even that first night after he dipped his knife into your wrist, you begged oh so politely for him to stop and wrap you up and that’s exactly what he did.
He sighed and let you take his hand and direct it. You put his thumb against your clit and then pulled back, making a beckoning motion with your fingers.
“It feels really nice when you do this,” you said. He pursed his lips and hesitantly tried it. It was something special the way you immediately melted back into his arms, head pulled in close to his chest. If this was all it took to get you to fold underneath him, he’d do it for weeks without stopping.
He found himself thinking as he drank in the sight of your flushed cheeks and pitiful expression. It was unfair others had seen you like this, yet you got to experience this with him for his first time. It irritated him knowing other men had been between these legs. Some sicker part of him wanted to punish you for it, make you bleed, make you really hurt for how he was hurting. You figured that would happen sooner or later. Beneath the gentle exterior, he was fucking crazy and you knew that.
He sunk his teeth deep into your neck, eliciting a whimper from you that turned into a soft yelp. He clamped his free hand over your mouth just like he did when you woke up tied to a chair that first night. He pulled away and watched as blood beaded from the bite mark. He looked up at her and licked his lips of the red. He wanted more. So much more. He kept pumping his fingers in and out, listening to your noises and feeling you squirm underneath him. You couldn’t stop the tears from forming at the corners of your eyes.
“You’re gonna die if you leave here, you know that?” He whispered against your ear. “I could kill you right now and no one would know. This is where you belong now.”
You whimpered. “It’s stay here or die. I know. I made my choice.”
You smiled that stupid fucking smile.
He bit you again and kissed down your stomach, pulling your shirt up over it. He watched the blood smudge against your skin. You put your hand on your neck and made a pained, strangled noise. He couldn’t believe he was in you right now, connected and enveloped in your warmth. There were nights he’d daydream about curling up against your ribcage and holding your heart and feeling it beat in his fist. He’d considered it occasionally, especially in the beginning. But this was nice, too. This was close enough.
He pinned your wrists above your head with his free hand and you watched sweat bead under his bangs. He was breathing heavier than you were. He was so close to you, his soulmate, his one true companion, something keeping him tethered to the world when all he wanted was to return to the River. He was once again moaning more than you were, collapsing against your bleeding neck in gasps and whimpers, feeling deeper and deeper as he tried to get as much of him in you as he could. He wanted to feel every inch, every shift, every soft and warm centimeter of you. This was special- not like the others who’d got to be here. They didn’t appreciate it like he did. They could never. All they wanted was a quick fuck, he was sure of it. They could never know you like he did. He was the only one who could truly know you. You had nothing left to hide from him- not anymore. Not with him being knuckle deep inside you.
That thought was all it took for him to unravel. You felt him let out a last whimper against your neck, stubble tickling you as he collapsed on top of you. You watched the wet spot form on his sweatpants as he continued his attack between your legs, gripping his back. You blinked a few times. There’s no way he came just from fingering you. There was no way.
“L-Law? Did you…?” You whispered against his hair, hand moving up to cradle his head against you. He looked up at you, eyes dead and lips dripping blood. That, and the knowledge that a guy had just come from the mere act of pleasuring you made fireworks erupt in your stomach and white filled your vision. You tilted your head back and arched as he held you close, not letting you get more than an inch away from him. He felt you pulse against his fingers, the new sensation rejuvenating him and breathing life into him. You whimpered and he held you through your high. Even when you’d both finished, he didn’t pull his fingers out or move from on top of you, breathing heavily against your neck.
“You can take them out now,” You said softly against his hair. He shook his head.
“Uh-uh. I want to stay here forever.” His breath tickled your jawline. You blushed. Nobody had ever been like this before, appreciated you like this.
“We- We can go all the way, if you want.” You said. He put his weight on one of his arms as you stared up at his eyes. A glimmer of softness lingered behind the dead blue. His sanity seemed to be returning, for now.
“L-Like, I can- I can go in?” He asked, excitement sparkling his eyes. You nodded.
He slid his fingers out. That was all it took for him to frantically kick off his sweatpants and boxers. You stopped and stared at him for a moment, suddenly getting very self conscious as you pressed your legs together, hiding yourself for a moment. He was stunning. I mean, you knew that already, but he was fucking huge and beautiful and you were soft where he was muscle and suddenly you felt very nervous.
He frowned as he watched you, but he made you sit up and began to lift your shirt over your head completely. You kept your legs crossed and drawn up to your chest, clutching your shirt.
“Why are you hiding?” He asked, studying your nervous expression.
“N-Nervous. You’re gorgeous.”
“You shouldn’t be nervous!” He exclaimed, dropping your shirt. “You’re beautiful!” He seemed personally offended that anyone thought otherwise and made you feel otherwise. He should’ve come along sooner! He could’ve prevented this. He could've always made you feel beautiful. You never should’ve had to doubt that.
You looked up at him, tears still in your eyes. “Really?”
“Yes!” He pushed you down onto your back again, pulling at your shirt once more. “Please? I want to see you.”
You flushed and let him pull it off you. You wrapped your arms around your middle, still pressing legs together, avoiding his gaze. Post nut clarity hit hard and you realized what you were doing. You were sleeping with the dude that kidnapped you, and he was being kinder than anyone had been to you in bed. It was insane and you felt deeply ashamed that you wanted this.
He pawed at your thighs. “Please?”
You nodded. He pulled them apart and stared down at you like a man starved. It took him no time to line himself up at your entrance and your wetness made it so it took no effort to push himself inside. You gripped the couch, arching your back with a moan as he whimpered.
“F-Fuck…” He moaned, staring down at you. Now it was his turn to look through your soul, see everything you hid and feel and see your every crevice inside and out. He didn’t need to physically open you up and steal your heart to feel close to you- turns out, sex was enough.
He began to thrust in and out, propping himself up against you with his arms as he buried his face in your neck. He was once again moaning more than you were. He wanted to stay here forever. Fall asleep inside you like that one Third Eye Blind song. You squirmed and writhed under his grip, the pleasure bordering on pain as he rammed into you repeatedly. You gripped his back, holding him as close as you could. You were so beautiful to him. He wanted this forever, wanted you forever, trapped between him and his couch he found on the side of the street once and now covered in your blood and sweat and a wet spot underneath where he’d fucked you senseless his first time ever. You wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting to keep him in forever. Being connected like this to him felt right- more right than anything you’d ever felt. It was right where you belonged. You were two twin flames searching for each other in every lifetime, fingers brushing as they floated down the river and knowing they needed each other. You felt complete, like you’d finally found the thing you’d been missing forever.
He finished fast. Like, 30 seconds fast. Not the fastest you’d had, but it flattered you instead of upset you. He buried himself deep and didn’t let any spill out. He knew he didn’t have to worry- due to his… condition, there was no chance of kids for him ever. The Oleander line died with him. He breathed heavily into your neck. He realized you were sobbing.
“Can I stay inside?” He asked her, breathless against you.
“P-Please.” You sobbed. “Please stay inside. Please stay with me. Please. Please don’t leave.”
He didn’t know how to show you or tell you he could never even if he wanted to. Whether you liked it or not, you were connected now. You were one. Two bodies, the same soul.
“Never.” He whispered, kissing your jawline. He never kissed you. “I’m here. I’ll be here. Soulmates.” The word escaped him too soon, too fast.
“Soulmates,” you agreed, remembering back to that first night when he told you soulmates weren’t real and it was just a fantasy and fantasies were fake and he “wished he could tell you it would be okay, but it wasn’t”. But it was okay. Lawrence Oleander collapsed on top of you, still inside you, breathless and both of you crying, clinging to each other like you’d lose each other in that river, the last piece of driftwood keeping the other from drowning.
