summary: Lars needs reassurance that he’s masculine enough.
warnings: mentions of touch aversion, struggles with masculinity and I guess a teeny bit angsty…
note: Lars my angel I’d give you the world
Lars had always had this feeling deep inside of him.
That he wasn’t man enough.
That he wasn’t the man you needed.
It crept through his bones like a virus and gnawed at his every nerve, some days the worry of his weak masculinity filled his every waking moment with a pit in his stomach and a ball of anxiety in his throat.
You’d been together for about a year, and it was pure bliss. Lars was gentle, kind, always listened and remembered and respected you no matter what. He wasn’t loud, or rowdy, or ignorant, he practically worshipped the ground you walked on - you knew he was your absolute dream man.
But Lars still had that feeling.
That worry.
It didn’t help that he couldn’t handle much skin-to-skin contact. You’d made it to the point in your relationship where hand holding or a fully-clothed cuddle was okay, but anything past that was too painful for him to handle. The burning sensation which spread through his body like wildfire, sending his body into panic.
You began to notice it, his worry, when one morning you woke up to Lars gazing into his mirror with an unsure smile.
His hair perfect combed as usual. His pants pressed and shoes shined, but he was missing his sweater.
Every single day he’d wear a new sweater, your favourite being the beige one with little reindeers on it. Lars would slip it on over his dress shirt and look at you with joy as you told him, ‘that’s a nice sweater.’
But where was his nice sweater?
You’d asked him about it, and all he’d said was that he wanted a change. That sweaters were too soft for him.
Too soft? For a gentle giant like Lars?
You weren’t having it.
He’d replaced it with a suit, one which made him look perfect as always, but something still seemed off. The waistcoat was tight across his torso, something he always tried to avoid due to sensory issues, and the blazer was stiff and well-tailored, far different from his usual soft, breathable sweaters.
You finally addressed his worry when Gus spoke to you about something Lars had asked him earlier in the day - how did he know he was a man?
You felt as if your heart could genuinely ache out of your chest. Your sweet boy had been thinking this? Gus told you that Lars had always felt different, and it would benefit him if you could reassure him of his manliness.
And by god did you.
It started with comments in passing, a quick ‘my handsome man’ or asking him to help you around the house with heavy lifting or handy work.
Sure, it was stereotypical, but he needed it.
One January evening, one where the frost creeps through your skin and settles deep inside of your bones, Lars was outside chopping wood.
It was a common occurrence, but recently he had been doing it far more often, and in far less layers.
His blazer had been strewn aside, hanging from a branch on a nearby tree, and his dress shirt sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, revealing his muscular forearms and shivering hands.
Slamming the axe into the stump, Lars pushed his sleeves up further, extenuating his biceps. He threw a look of approval in your direction before picking up the axe once more and continuing to chop, breathy grunts breaking the atmosphere.
He was showing off.
“Lars, Angel?” Wrapping your dressing gown around yourself to shield from the chill, you stepped outside.
“Hm?” Putting down the axe and walking over to you with open arms, Lars masks a shiver with his usual warm smile, the one which melts your heart every time.
“It’s cold, don’t you think you should come inside?” You place a warm hand on his biceps, juxtaposed to the icy material of his shirt.
“No, I’m okay.” He smiles at you, gaze full of love.
“I’m worried about you y’know.” You adjust his waist coat.
Lars shrugs, pulling you into a rare but welcomed hug as an idea pops into your brain.
As his arms envelop you, your hands run over the plane of muscles on his back before travelling to his biceps and shoulders, tense from the hard work of swinging the axe.
“You’re so strong, Lars.” Smiling wide, you look up at him with doe eyes. “I love your muscles. My big strong man.”
His eyes practically light up.
“You do?”
“You bet it, baby.” Taking his hand, you gently guide him inside.
“Don’t want you getting ill now do we? How about you go and put on a nice jumper and we can snuggle down in bed, yeah?”
Nodding in agreement, Lars slips inside with a newfound sense of happiness and self.
In the morning, when you wake up to see Lars in his reindeer jumper with the cosiest smile you’ve seen on him in weeks, you know he’s the one.
Sitting on his lap as he leans back comfortably on the couch, big hand cradling your cheek in his warm palm. His thumb drags against your lips before pressing down, this eyes asking for permission to slide past your teeth.
Your tongue slides out to invite his thumb in, sighing as he presses down on it. You give a weak attempt to swallow as saliva begins to pool around it and quickly slides down his palm.
He removes his thumb, watching as your grab his wrist to take his middle and index finger into your mouth. 'Careful' he whispers, hips shifting slightly beneath you, 'Dont hurt yourself.'
You knew what you were getting into when you started dating Lars. Everyone warned you, even Lars himself.
“He's a very…sensitive person,” Karin said once, the first night you had dinner with them.
You had bristled at the time, at the implication that you weren't aware of who Lars loved.
You were very aware. And you loved him despite it.
You've been dating for two months and the most Lars has done is hold your hand. And you truly, sincerely, don't mind. You would be content not touching him for the rest of your life as long as you still had him.
You stay the night sometimes at his place. He was a bit apprehensive but you promised nothing would happen. And it was true. You would just talk into the night with him until he eventually had to go to bed. He was a working man, after all.
However, he lived in a small garage with only one bed. Without even asking, Lars had set up a small cot in the corner that he insisted he would sleep on while you took the bed. You tried to refuse but he was so adamant and the gesture was so sweet.
So you slept on the bed that smelled like him. It was comforting. His bed was nicer than your own. And with all the blankets surrounding you, it's like Lars was surrounding you. You fall asleep like that, surrounded by his scent and his small snores from the corner.
And it stayed like that for a while.
Until one night.
You were trying to sleep, and you were just at the cusp of it, honestly. Then suddenly the bed dipped. You froze. Not out of fear. But confusion.
Why would Lars be crawling into your bed? Slowly, oh so slowly, the covers were dipped back and you felt Lars slide in along your back. He wasn't touching you, his body was kept a couple inches from yours, but you smiled.
You could hear Lars holding his breath. You were so proud of him for this and you didn't want to ruin it so you stayed silent. You kept your eyes closed.
It was quiet for minutes after. You almost thought he was asleep, but there were no snores.
And then, the lightest touch on your back. You had to fight not to move. Fingers splayed across your back, slowly moving down and resting on your hip.
And then his whole body shifted and he was right against you. You could feel his body heat radiating off him and his breaths were right in your ear.
You stayed completely silent, not wanting to risk spooking him. You tried to keep your body relaxed. If you were tense, it would only freak him out, thinking you weren't okay with this.
You were so okay with this.
It felt like hours but eventually, his breaths petered out until you heard those familiar snores.
You sighed, quietly. God, it was better than you dreamed of. It didn't take you long to fall asleep, surrounded by the comforting mass of Lars.
Imagine him staring up at you with tears in his eyes, face buried against your pelvis. His big hands dig into the meat of your thigh as he tries to pull you closer, stopping your squirming as you try to pull away.
His hips rut against nothing, occasionally the seam of his jeans drags against the head of his leaking cock as he kneels before you, making quite a mess the whole time 🤤🤤
Thinking about Lars gaining a little weight and being self conscious about it, not realizing how good he looks. He's already so tall and large, but the bit of pudge lining his stomach and thighs now make you shutter with want. He's so soft and strong as he holds you, warm arms and large hands pressing your body tightly against him, against his growing bulge. He hold you down with this strong arms as he ruts into you pathetically, whining and crying at how desperate he is for your praise and approval.
He wants, no NEEDS, to know he's beautiful and he work and does whatever he needs to do to draw those words from your lips.
Big Lars is so beautiful to me and I need him NEOW
