I'll be needing stitches
Pairing: Lars Lindstrom x fem!Reader
Summary: Lars accidentally rips his favourite comfort blanket and brings it to the new seamstress in town to fix it.
Wordcount: 6.1k
Warnings/tags: Porn with plot, smut, friends to lovers, jealous!Lars, riding, penis in vaginq sex, praise kink, hair pulling, creampie, unsafe Sex, first time, dirty talk, subby!Lars, crying, english is not my first language, not proof-read
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Lars carried his baby blue blanket to the tailoring shop as if it was a person dying in his arms.
He had accidentally snagged his beloved blanket on a nail today, the hardened rust ripping a few stitches, and the more he moved it, the more the yarn untangled itself, the delicate wave pattern coming undone.
Lars had cried like it was the end of the world until Karin recommended him this new tailoring shop in town, and that she had heard the owner was a very lovely and kind lady. He practically flew into his car, speeding down the road to find the cozy store tucked away in a quiet corner of the small wisconsin town, snow piling up on the roof.
Luckily, the lights were on, and the sign on the door read 'open'. This was his last hope.
The little bell above your shop door chimed, a cheerful sound that always made you look up from whatever you were working on with a smile. And how could you not? After years and years of dreaming and saving up, you were finally able to call this little nook your own shop.
So as a person stepped inside, you felt that familiar flutter of excitement. A customer. Your customer!
It was a tall, soft looking man, draped in a plush winter jacket and clutching something to his chest like it was a wounded animal. He was handsome, cute even. He had a fine-boned, round face and a dusting of chestnut brown sat atop of his head, his mustache matching the colour of his hair. His eyes were wide, pale blue, darting around the shop as if he expected a trap to swallow him up.
"Welcome in!" you said, setting down your scissors as you cut pieces from some burgundy fabric "What can I help you with today, sir?"
He shuffled forward to the register, his broad shoulders hunched. "I- uh, I need to get something fixed" his voice was soft, almost a whisper, and he held out the bundle in his arms. It was a blanket, baby blue, knitted out of thin and delicate yarn and clearly throughouly loved, but equally treasured to make sure it remained in tact.
You gently took it from him, noticing how he pulled back his hand before your fingers could touch his. You let the fabric slip between your fingers with a soft frown before you found a tear, the stitches jagged and ripped.
The man in front of you wrung with his hands as you assessed the damage. "I'll pay whatever you want, just...just repair it. Please" he practically begged you. You softly smiled at him, this clearly was no ordinary scarf. "Sounds like this is very important to you, if you want to get it fixed so badly" you said, your head tilting to encourage him to satisfy your curiosity.
His mouth stretced into a vertical line and he blinked harshly, two times, before he took a breath to answer "My mom made it for me...before I was born" he muttered, and you were about to say 'aww', when he continued, wiping any joyous expression off your face "She died when I was born, so..." he smiled gently, as if this wasn't a devestating fate at all.
You looked back down at the blanket in your hands. You could see the careful, even stitches of a woman who had poured all her love into every row. A mother knitting for a child she would never hold. It almost made you tear up, but you swallowed that down. "I can fix this" you said softly "It's a simple pattern and stitching, I'll make it barely noticeable. Give me about two days."
He lit up at your statement "Thank you" he breathed, as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He patted down his thick jacket for his wallet "How much?"
You leaned forward and pressed your hand against his clothed forearm, and while he flinched for a second, the pressure of it was oddly...comforting? How were you doing that? "Let's see how it turns out first." You smiled with a little wink, and he seemed to relax a fraction.
Two days later he returned as if those 48 hours had him greatly distressed, like waiting for a sick loved one to come out of a complicated surgery. You seemingly had awaited him as well, smilling widely when his adorable, awkward nature filled your shop. "Ah! Mr. Lindstrom was it, right?" you pointed at him to which he nodded timidly. You had actually remembered his name days ago when he told you. He felt warm inside, but he blamed it on the heat from the lit fireplace in your store.
"Just give me a second!" you called out to him and he made himself comfortable on one of the plush chairs that surrounded the fireplace, watching you count through various letters before finding the letter 'L' on top of your shelf.
You climbed up, sorted through a few finished orders and custom pieces until you found his, the one labeled with 'Lindstrom', and retrieved it with a giddy smile. You didn't want to admit it, but you probably had never worked as diligently and careful as you had done for this piece. You just wanted to make it perfect.
He jumped up from his seat, brushing back his hair and dusting off his jacket as if this was a special event. You giggled softly at his antics. He was very intriguing, you had to admit.
You then handed him the repaired scarf. The tear was invisible unless you knew where to look, the yarn you had chosen a perfect colour match to the original one.
He held it up, craddling it in his big hands, his fingers tracing the spot, and his eyes went watery. Your heart clenched in your chest, fearing he didn't like it and you just ruined the precious memory of his mother. "You...don't like it?" you whispered and his head shot up, his round, teary eyes searching yours "Oh, no it's- it's perfect. Looks very good" he nodded with a jerk of his head, clearly not being great in showing his gratitude and excitement visually. But you didn't mind, you knew it meant a lot when he said it like that.
He went to wrap it around his neck like a scarf. It was a very cute way to still use and honor the blanket, even though he couldn't be swaddled up tighly in it anymore.
His hand dipped into his pockets then, reaching for his wallet "How much-" he started, but you held up your hand and shook your head. "It's on the house. I couldn't take money for something that is so dear to you, especially since it was a gift from your mom. I'm not going to make you pay for it now"
Lars just stared at you then, his soft pink lips slightly ajar, something shifting in his expression. A kind of awe, or maybe gratitude so deep it looked like pain, you weren't sure "You don't have to-" he said, shaking his head in disbelieve, but you just smiled at him. "I want to." you assured him, smoothing out the blanket over his chest "Really."
He swallowed, his cheeks glowing red under the dim light of your shop. He could barely feel your touch through the many layers of clothing he wore, but it made something in his chest flutter nonetheless "Thank you." he breathed, his ears starting to match the colour of his face.
As much as you would have liked, you were sure this wouldn't get deeper than that. He would leave, and you'd never see him again. Maybe a few glimpses around town, but that would be it.
And at first you thought you were right. A week passed with no sign of him. You tried not to let it affect your mood- he had just been another customer! And yet, you felt like there was more to him, and you wanted to see him again. No, you didn't just want to see him, you wanted to get to know him better.
Then one afternoon, he appeared again, holding the puffy jacket he wore last time under his arm. Timidly, he showed you a ripped seam under the arm.
"I was...uhm, chopping wood and moved a bit too much" he explained, blinking harshly. You laughed, and it surprised him into a half smile "You chop wood?" you asked then and he nodded, all shy and sweet. God, he looked very cute today, very cuddly with the many layers he wore. "Yeah, I'm pretty good at it" he said proudly, softly puffing out his chest as you took the jacket from him to assess the damage. "I bet you are" you smiled, counting how many stitches had ripped open.
He blinked, nodding at you, his heart beating faster in his chest for a reason he couldn't name. "You should watch me some time" he suggested, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his sleeve.
You looked up from the jacket in your hand to find him standing there all nervous, and it made something flutter in the lower parts of your stomach "I'd love to. But first, I gotta fix this jacket so you can really get back to it" you winked, opening a drawer to fish out a needle "It's an easy fix. Come, make yourself comfortable" you gestured to your cozy sofa next to the fireplace "It'll take ten minutes."
He just nodded and settled on your little couch, tensed, as if he wasn't supposed to be there, while you threaded a needle with matching yarn.
While Lars was busy admiring your simple shop and the fabrics rolled up on high shelves, you were able to take a better look at him. He was wearing a nice sweater, a shirt peeking out at the collar. It was a bit worn, lumpy at the shoulders, but he looked soft and warm and somehow out of place in his own skin. You almost wanted to coo.
"Do you have someone in your family who knits, then?" you asked while you worked, vaguely gesturing to his clothes.
"Uh, yeah, I had. My grandma knitted most of my sweaters. She died years ago though..." he told you, yet again like it was the most normal thing in the world, throwing you a tight lipped smile, while you could only watch in pity. He twisted his hands in his lap. "I like sweaters. They're cozy." he muttered, trying to lighten the mood.
You nodded at Lars, pulling your string tight before looping it back through the fabric "I can see that. They suit you." You smiled gently as he blushed at your compliment.
"I do custom work, you know." you shrugged, biting your lips in concentration. It was a good look on you, and Lars couldn't avert his eyes. "I could make you one that fits perfectly. Not that the oversized look isn't cute but I thought, maybe, you'd like a sweater that isn't all stretched and loose" you muttered, and you couldn't believe you just called him cute like that. God, you surely just scared him off!
His eyes grew wide "Really?"You turned from your work to look back at him, only to find him already watching you "Really. I'd give you a discount, since you're such a nice customer."
He blushed, the beautiful colour creeping up his neck. "That's- I don't know what to say." he admitted, munching on his bottom lip while trying to hide a bashful smile from you. You tied a quick knot as you finished stitching up the hole in the jacket, cutting off the excess yarn. "Say yes, and I'll take your measurements."
Lars was hesistant, mostly because he didn't want to flinch when your touch would ultimatively burn him and make you feel bad about it, but how could he say no when you looked at him like that?
He nodded gently and you got to work. The measuring was as delicate as you could make it. You had come to the conclusion yourself that he might not like to be touched by basically strangers, or maybe he didn't like to be touched at all. Either way was fine. You still had to make him take off the sweater, keeping him in only a very light pink long sleeve, so you could take measures as accurately as possible without making him even more uncomfortable than he already was.
You used your most flexible and soft tape, so he barely felt it over his clothes, and you made sure not to touch him more than necessary, though you noticed how he tensed when your fingers brushed his chest, his waist or his arms, even though you were extra careful. He held his breath when you measured his shoulders. Not because of pain, but because your fleeting touches left a weird but pleasent tingling sensation.
"There" you said proudly, after walking back and forth between Lars and a table to write down his measurements "I'll try to have it ready in about two weeks" you informed him and two weeks later, he returned on time for the sweater.
You had chosen a rich, warm brown wool, soft as a cloud, and knit it with slightly dropped shoulders and a generous fit that would hug his midsection without clinging too much. When he pulled it on over his head, the fabric settled against him like it was made for him- well, because it was, but seeing it fit him like this really made it clear. He looked down at himself in awe, running his large hands over the sleeves, the chest and the hem, tracing the pattern you had made with darker wool.
"That's a nice sweater" he nodded to you with a smile, his whole face scrunching up when he did it. Oh he looked so cuddly and warm, it made your heart ache in your chest, and all you wanted was to sink into his arms because it looked like the most cozy place in the universe "I'm glad you like it."
He wore it everywhere. He wouldn't take it off for days on end, he slept in it just to smell the scent of your shop, and he wouldn’t leave the house if he had to wash the garment. It became his comfort sweater, much like his little blanket was a great comfort to him. The combination of wearing both was unmatched. After Karin told him, very nicely, that he might want to look for other sweaters to wear, as the town surely thought he wasn't washing his clothes, he decided to have you make more.
But Lars being Lars, he purposefully ripped or cut some of his older clothes so you could fix them, claiming he had snagged them somewhere or that Gus' cat got them, a cat which Gus didn't have, but you didn’t have to know about that, just so he didn't directly have to tell you he wanted another sweater.
It quickly became obvious he searched for excuses to see you, waiting for you to suggest another handmade sweater of yours for him. He would feel less of a burden if you got the idea of making a second sweater for him instead of him specifically asking for one. You were surely busy, with you being the only seamstress in town.
Oh, he could never be a burden
So soon you made him another, and another. He quickly became a regular, sometimes just dropping by to say hello, to sit on your couch and watch you work while you talked about anything and nothing. It was mostly just you two, and you enjoyed the company greatly, rather than listening to the radio all day just so you wouldn't feel all alone. You learned a lot about each other, you about his family and what he did for work- him about where you were from and how long you've been sewing.
Conversation flowed fairily easy with Lars, something you hadn't expected, but when he was comfortable enough, he could be quite the chatterer.
He became the highlight of your day. He'd bringt drinks and snacks to your shop after work, knowing you often forgot to take breaks and eat when you were hands deep in a project, especially when you had procastinated it for a while and it had to be finished in a few days. In those times, he always made sure to pull you out of it for a moment, have you take a breather to clear your head before you continued.
One day he even let you take pictures of him modelling your early spring collection, his face visible from his mustache down and ending at his thighs to showcase the longsleeves, hoodies, jacket and sweaters you made for your storefront window. It was perfect, and you could have kissed him right there, even though he would argue he looked silly or you should have hired a professional. Which was bullshit, you liked it like this, having him in your shop even though he wasn't there, and while he wouldn't admit it- Lars felt honored and...proud that you wanted him out of all people to model for you.
Everything was going well, your relationship, whatever this was, blooming between you like the flowers in early spring breaking through the thick snow blankets.
Then Mark came in.
He often did, he was one of your regulars as well, just usually not when Lars was there.
Mark was a very successful lawyer. He was tall and clean shaven, his hair slicked back to perfection, pearly white veneers glinting when he'd smile, and his lean but toned body clad in expensive and hand tailored suits- which is the reason why he was here. He needed a new one for a case abroad, pinstriped and fitted at the waist with shoulder paddings.
He always tipped well and complimented your work, and you liked him well enough as a customer. Back then, he was in your class in high school, the guy who had every girl wrapped around his finger. Well, except for you. When he noticed that, he desperately tried to make you change your mind, even though you were sure he didn't even want you that way, like at all. He just wanted to reassure himself that no woman was able to withstand his charm.
Maybe he was still bitter about the fact that he never managed to get you into bed with him, which was why he still sought you out, even in this small wisconsin town. But how could you care if you made about 2500$ plus a fat tip whenever he visited?
Lars came from your office in the back where he had managed your emails like he did at work, just one of the ways he tried to make up for all the cheap or free of charge clothes you had made him the past months.
So when he saw you kneeling in front of a random mans crotch, pinning his trouser hem, he turned into a statue. His jaw was tight as he watched you. He knew the things you had to do for your job, but seeing this guy all arrogant and smug while practically shoving his crotch into your face made him feel sick to the stomach.
Marks gaze landed on a dumbfounded Lars then, his carved brows furrowing "Didn't know you had a little helper around here" he nearly growled, staring Lars down as if he was his sworn enemy.
You jumped softly, standing up straight again, your cheeks flushed that Lars had found you in such a compromising position. "Mark" you said, clearing your throat "This is Lars. He helps me out sometimes" you explained, then gestured over to Mark, looking at Lars with a forced smile "Lars, this is Mark. He is a lawyer and often comes to me for custom suits"
Mark extended a hand. "What a pleasure to meet you...Lars" he smirked, his voice carrying a hint of disgust as he said Lars' name.
Lars puffed out his chest, squaring his shoulders and his chin held high. He reached forward to shake Marks hand with a strength that made the lawyer flinch in surpise. The touch burned Lars more than usual, probably matching the anger brewing in his chest, but he held Marks intense gaze as if trying to assert dominance and impress you, even if it meant pain.
Your mouth was agape at Lars' behavior, especially knowing how agonizing touch could be for him. Yet he shook hands with Mark, as if he was jealous. No, Lars wasn't jealous, was he? Sometimes stirred in your gut, your thighs pressing together.
Mark cleared his throat, his ego clearly bruised as he wiped his hands on his dress shirt. "You know, you could use a suit, buddy. A sweater isn't exactly...classy" Mark chuckled, eyeing Lars up and down, to which Lars faux confident facade finally broke. He blinked harshly and brushed past you to get his jacket. "Lars-" you started and reached for him, but he had already put on his jacket, not throwing you another glance in fear to see your disappointment of him tucking his tail between his legs.
With a pressed out "I have to go" he was gone.
You were sure he'd return tomorrow. He always did, right? Your chest felt heavy throughout the whole fitting with Mark, your thoughts drifting back to Lars- so much so you sometimes accidentally pricked Mark with a bobby pin as you secured a hem for later stitching.
Lars didn't come back for two weeks.
You waited until you couldn't anymore, closing down your shop way too early today to drive to his house and check up on him.
The afternoon was gray, threatening snow, and you stood on his porch, if you could even call it that, knocking on the flimsy garage door until your knuckles ached. The curtain twitched at the window next to the door before it creaked open, as if he had watched you while you knocked desperately in hopes you'd leave, before realising you weren't going to give up, so it was only fair to answer the door.
"What do you want?" he asked you through a small crack in the door, his eyes tired and red rimmed.
"I want to talk" you urged "Please"
It took him a few moments, gently sniffling and blinking hard, before he looked down at his feet with a nod and let you push open the door further to let yourself in.
His little garage house was neat but sparse. He had a bed in the corner, a little desk, a small kitchenette and an adjacent room with a toilet and shower. He had the baby blue scarf around his neck as if to comfort himself by smelling it. "You've been avoiding me" you said, crossing your arms over his chest.
Lars huffed "No I haven't", the apples of his cheeks puffing out softly.
You cocked a brow "Lars. I'm not stupid." you pressed on impatiently, your gaze so intense it made Lars feel bare and laid out before you, even though he was wearing so many layers. He suddenly got the strong urge to go outside and chop wood.
He turned away so he wouldn't have to endure your stare "Shouldn’t you be with Mark? He probably needs your help or wants to look at you like you're a work of art and..." and you are one, he wanted to add, but didn't. Instead he shut his eyes tightly as if waiting for a painful blow.
Your eyes grew wide in shock "He looks at me like I'm something he can buy with money! He can fuck off with his stupid suit requests and his money if it means you'll come back to me" you said, your voice cracking.
"You don't really care about me, no one does. You just feel sorry for me, that's all. But I don't want that" it surprised even him that his voice didn't wobble when he said it, and now it hung heavy in the air between you. The words stung. You stepped closer, grabbed his arm and forced him to face you as he tried to put on his winter jacket.
He winced, and you let go, guilt settling in your chest "I care about you, Lars." you said, your voice tender "I care so much it's stupid. I thought I scared you off, but no, you're just jealous and too proud to admit it."
His eyes were wet as he looked at you one last time before stepping to the door, reaching for his navy blue beanie "I'm not jealous." he muttered timidly. "I'm going to chop wood" he breathed out, ready to take his keys and leave.
"You are."
Your stern tone made him stop in his tracks, his back turned to you. "You're jealous of Mark because you think he's got me wrapped around his fingers because he's rich and handsome to most people." you continued, watching him lower his head in shame. You hit the nail right on the head.
"You're jealous because he talks to me easily and isn't afraid to be bold. You think that's what I want, but it isn't" your voice became quieter and quieter the more you talked, until the soft quaking of his shoulders silenced you.
You stepped closer, impossibly slow, inching your hands over his sides and locking together over the front, cuddling him to you from behind. It felt warm, having your arms around him. No pain, just warmth and comfort.
"I don't want him, Lars. I want you. I want shy, sweet, mustache-having and sweater-wearing you." you whispered against his back, the fabric muffling your voice. A pathetic sob escaped him then, and he pressed his palm over his mouth, leaning ever so slightly back against you. "I don't know how to- to..." he muttered, but he choked on his own cries, burying his face in his hands.
"I know, I know, it's okay" you cooed, turning him around in your arms to cup his cheek, featherlight at first, before he leaned into your hand like a cat "We'll figure it out together, I promise" you kissed him then, and he returned the gesture, clumsy and wet, his mustache tickling your upper lip. It was hesitant, but it made both of your hearts soar in your chests.
The kiss deepened, and his hands came up to frame your face, trembling against your cheeks. You felt the warmth of him through the sweater, the slight give of his soft belly against yours as you hugged him closer by the waist. He smelled so good, like wood and freshly cut grass.
"Can we-?" he started as you pulled back for a breather, his voice rough, and you kissed the question right off his lips with a smile "Yes. If you want."
"I do" He breathed the words into your mouth. "I want you. I've wanted you e-ever since you..you made me that sweater" one of which he was wearing in the moment, while he was deeply embarassed of having confessed to you that he had dreamed of this happening after meeting you just a couple of times.
You pulled him over a few steps to his neatly made bed, and gently pushed him to sit on the edge of the mattress.
"I want to see you" you said, and after he nodded timidly, you pulled his sweater and long sleeve shirt over his head. Underneath, he was pale, soft around the middle, with a light dusting of hair across his chest and a trail going from his slight pudgy tummy into his underwear. You licked your lips at the sight. He watched you with wide eyes, his hands fidgeting at his sides.
"You're so pretty" you murmured as you admired the beautiful flush that spread down his chest, and he shook his head, avoiding your eyes "I'm not." he denied your praise, though it certainly made something move in his soft grey pants.
"You are" you said and traced the line of his collarbone, to which he shivered, goosebumps appearing on his arms. And now that you could take a closer look at him, you noticed how defined the muscles in his arms actually were, probably from all the wood chopping he was doing. You wanted to moan as your hands slid over his broad shoulders down his strong arms, but you held yourself back "Now lie back for me, baby"
He did, and you took your time with him. You undressed him slowly, your hands gentle over his thighs and his hips as you pulled his pants away. For every garment you took off him, he was allowed to take one from you as well.
When you pulled his boxers down, his cock sprang free. He was thick and long, heavy against his belly. He was only half hard but already so fucking big, and the sight of it made your mouth water. "Oh Lars" you breathed, your pussy gushing into your already wet panties and you squirmed.
"Is something wrong?" His voice was high, worried that he might have scared you off, that you didn't find him attractive, that you realised how uncomfortable he made you, that you thought-
"No. Nothing's wrong. You're just...big. Really big." you couldn't help but whine when he throbbed, biting your lip and digging your nails into your thigh to stop yourself from touching his slick, pink tip.
He flushed deeply, scooting away from you against the headboard "I don't- I didn't know- is that bad?"
You quickly shook your head to sooth him "No" you said with a smile, and you leaned down to kiss the head of his cock, a wet smack following your lips. He gasped, his hand flying up to cover his face, his hips jerking up against your mouth. "Trust me, it's perfect. I love myself a challenge" you winked, leaning back to take your own undershirt and bra off for him to see you bare. He peeked through his fingers and his breath hitched. "You're so pretty" he echoed, and you laughed softly.
You crawled over his strong legs, your tits jiggling between your arms, hypnotizing the poor man "We're a matched set then." you purred before straddling his hips, shrugged off your panties with his help, while his ears were starting to turn a burning shade of red.
Your wet cunt was now hovering over his shaft, which was fully hard now, the tip rosy and leaking. You took him in your hand, guiding him to your entrance, and the first nudge of that thick head against your folds made you both moan. "Ready?" you asked him breathlessly, sliding the tip back and forth along your wet folds.
He nodded with a cute whimper, his eyes squeezing shut. "I'm scared."
You cooed gently, brushing your thumb over the tender skin under his eyes "You don't have to be scared, I've got you. Just breathe with me, okay?" you lowered yourself an inch at a time. He was so thick that it stretched you, a deep, aching pressure that made your vision blur, bordering on pain, but you pushed through. His hands flew to your hips, gripping you tightly "Oh my god" he whimpered. "S-shit, you're so- I can feel-" he started to gasp between words and you had to put your hands on his face to calm him "Shh. I know. It's okay." you whispered, your voice cracking into a groan as you finally sank all the way down, his balls pressed against your ass, his cock buried as deep inside you as it could go, the tip nudging your cervix. He was trembling, his chest heaving, and when you looked down at his face, his eyes were wet with tears.
Your brows furrowed in concern "Are you crying, baby? Do you want me to stop? Is it too much?" you asked, brushing the fat tears away that rolled over his plump cheeks "N-no it's just...it's too good" he whispered. "It's so good I can't stand it, I- I don't know what to do"
You smiled down st him and then started to move, slow rolls of your hips, and he let out a sound like a wounded animal. You leaned forward to kiss him, and he opened his mouth for you, his tongue shy as you wrapped and curled your own around it, moaning into his mouth, the sweet sounds making him tremble in your arms "You feel so good inside me" you whined against his lips, every thrust punching the air from your lungs "So fucking good."
He hugged you closer, hiding his face in your neck "Really?" he asked, his voice broken, his mustache tickling your sweaty skin. "Really. You fill me up so perfectly. I can feel every inch of you. You're going to make me cum, Lars" you panted into his ear and he sobbed, his hips starting to meet yours, a clumsy, desperate rhythm to make you feel even better and get you to that edge.
You rode him hard, your clit grinding against his pubic bone, the friction building a pressure low in your belly. His moans were high and broken, his hands gripping your waist so hard you'd have bruises by tomorrow.
"I'm gonna c-cum" he gasped, crying into your shoulder "I'm sorry, I can't hold it-" he hiccuped, the strong arms around you trembling as if he could will himself to hold off his orgasm even when your velvet like pussy was dragging over his cock like a dream. "Don't hold it, baby Cum for me. Fill me up." you whispered, the filthiness of it making him mewl, and when your fingers found his hair to pull- he was done for.
He cried out as he came, his body arching off the bed, his cock pulsing wildly inside you. Hot ropes of cum painted your walls, and the feeling of him flooding you, paired with your fingers over your clit, pushed you over the edge too. Your orgasm clenched around him, milking him for all he was worth, and he sobbed through the aftershocks.
You collapsed beside him with shaking legs, sweaty and breathless but more satisfied than you had been in a long time. The same for Lars, as he had usually let out his sexual frustration by chopping wood and more wood, until Karin had to physically force him inside for a break. As he laid there panting, a whole lot of weight just lifted off him, thanks to you.
He turned into your arms, burying his face in your neck, his tears wet on your skin. "I'm sorry" he mumbled, kissing your neck as an apology "I didn't last long."
"That's what the second round is for, maybe tomorrow" you said, brushing your fingers over his bare back, circling the moles there and he laughed wetly.
You laid together together for a while, just basking in the afterglow. He was warm, soft, his heart hammering against your palm as your fingers reached his chest. "I could make you a suit some day" you said idly. "A tweed suit, perhaps. Something with a glen check pattern and a matching vest" you sighed dreamily, imagining all the things you could make him as if he were your own personal mannequin. And you knew he'd look dazzling in everything.
While Lars had no idea what you envisioned through your words alone, he smiled at the idea "I don't want a suit. I want this" He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, pulling you closer "I want to be your Lars in sweaters forever." he whispered, his nose nuzzling with yours.
You giggled at that, threading your hands through his hair "You're my Lars" you whispered back "In or out of sweaters."
He fell asleep in your arms, his mustache tickling your collarbone and with his hand splayed over your belly securily as if to make sure you wouldn't leave. You watched the soft rise and fall of his chest, and you thought about all the sweaters you would knit him, and the suits you would maybe convince him to try on in the future. You tried not to think about his bed being way too small for two people, but you made it work, and fell asleep with him cuddling like you were his favourite pillow.
You never wanted to miss this ever again.
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I was planning to post this yesterday night but i got home from vacation and I was so fucking tired i couldn't have pasted and edited it in tumblr for the life of me😭
@ken-dom @bleerggg I hope it's fine i'm tagging ya'll for my second Lars fic, hoping i did him justice again💔
I have SO MANY ideas for Grace and Lars it's crazy and i don't think i'll be able to write it all before the hype dies down help
