The Bear (Anders Lassen x F! Reader)
Request from @wunder-blunder: I'm (VERY) interested in Anders Lassen (The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare) x female reader, I really enjoyed your fic Living for Later (a part 2 for that would be awesome)! So, if you're still interested/reading, my idea is that the group (Anders, Gus, etc.) go to a bar after they get out of confinement at the end of the movie, and that's where Anders and the female reader meet. The female reader (very understandably) can't stop staring at Anders so he walks over to ask why she's staring. The female reader will say how she's just shocked that anyone would let a bear into a bar (Anders is the bear), flirty banter happens and eventually leads to much more explicit things.
Pairing: Anders Lassen x Female Reader
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, minors do not interact. 18 + ONLY. Oral M & F receiving, language, thigh riding, p in v, happy ending.
Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare Masterlist
"Taste that, Gentlemen," Gus holds up his pint, "the taste of freedom." They click their glasses together, beer sloshing over the side and landing on the bar top before they tip back the pints.
"Damn, I don't think anything could taste better," Freddy sighs, looking at his glass like a lover.
Anders smiles to himself, "I can think of something." His eyes scan across the room, his back casually leaning against the bar.
"Naughty boy, Lassen," Apple laughs, taking another sip and glancing around at the lack of women in the pub. "But it doesn't look like you're going to have much luck around here."
"Would you like another?" Anders turns slowly, his heartbeat quickening when he sees you there behind the bar, the other bartender giving you a smile and a pat on the back as he heads out. "Jesus," you whistle, "I didn't know we let bears in here."
"What?" Anders sits straighter looking around for the threat.
You giggle, "I meant you," you point at him, "you look like a fuckin' bear. What did you do to get a body like that? Bench press cars?"
His cheeks turn pink and he coughs, adjusting his glasses, "I-well I."
"Steamin' Jesus," Apple chuckles, "she's got you tongue-tied Lassen!"
You give the one called Lassen a playful wink before pouring him another pint and placing it before him. "This one's on the house, didn't mean to embarrass ya in front of your friends."
"It's no trouble," he turns and speaks at his friends between clenched teeth, "they seem to have lost their manners in prison."
"Prison?" you stand straighter looking between the patrons, "you lot just got out of prison?" They nod sheepishly, "what the hell for?"
"That's classified," the one with the dark black facial hair and curls speaks up. "But we were found innocent and released today."
"So you're not raging murderous psychopaths?" you ask, refilling their glasses and wiping down the bar from the previous spill.
"Only when it comes to Nazis," you look at the Bear and feel a smile pull at your lips.
"Well, that's just fine then."
The rest of the night passes quickly, you make conversation with the other patrons, fix drinks, and try not the spend the entire time drooling over the beast of a man seated at your ber. While all of those things go well, the latter is hard to accomplish. It probably isn't helpful that you can feel his eyes follow you around the room.
And when your eyes meet, it's fucking electric. He's so big, he barely fits on the chair, his shirt sleeves rolled up leave little to the imagination and it makes your seriously want to know if he's that big, everywhere.
"Last call, gents," you ring the bell, seeing a handful of regulars come up for a final pint or to settle their bill.
You move about the room, starting the closing tasks for the evening, tossing goodbyes over your shoulder until the chime of the door is silenced. But when you look up your breath catches at seeing one lone patron remaining.
"We're closed," your voice comes out breathy, and you clear your throat. He's silent, watching you like he has all night, and you feel your assessment of him as a bear was accurate. He's an animal alright, and he's hungry.
"Do you want me to leave?" he asks, crossing his arms across him onto the bar top, and resting his chin on his hands. "Say the word, and I will go."
The words slip out before you can process, "No," he smiles, "I don't want you to leave."
He nods, before straightening, "what do we need to do to go?"
"Oh," you quickly lift your hands, shaking your head, "no, you just sit there, I can finish by myself."
He stands and your eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. Fuck, he is a giant, towering over you. You didn't get to grasp how tall he was when he sat at the bar all evening and your panties drench just thinking of how big he is. The thought from earlier comes back with a vengeance and you gulp, your eyes traveling down his body.
"See something you like?" He holds out his arms and turns for you, smirking when he catches your eyes, "are you just going to look, darling?"
"No," you swallow, shaking your head, and moving to stand before him. Tentatively you reach a hand out towards his chest, gasping when he grabs your wrist and pulls you into his orbit. His chest is solid muscle beneath your palm, and you move across his chest towards his arm, tongue coming out to lick your lips.
He groans, and your eyes snap to his, but his arm on your lips, "can I kiss you?" he asks, his hand coming to rest on your chin, his thumb pulling down your bottom lip before you bend your head and take it into your mouth. Tongue swirling around his digit, sucking it between your lips before letting go with a pop.
"Knulla," he mumbles under his breath.
"Kiss me Bear," you command and he wastes not a moment. His arms wrapping around your waist and hoisting you into his arms before your ass lands on the bar top. He nestles his body between your thighs, spreading them far to make room for his large form.
"Tell me you want this," he's so close, and you feel a little drunk having him so close. "Tell me," you pulls you towards the edge of the counter, your soaking through your panties, skirt bunched around him, "that you want me to fuck you. That you'll let me take you home and do everything I've been dreaming to do to you all night."
The sound of your heart beating is so deafening you can guarantee he can hear it. "Yes," you whimper, begging him with your body to put you out of your misery and kiss you.
"Then," he takes a step back, lowering your skirts, "what do we need to do to leave?"
You huff, crossing your arms and withering on the bar top, desperate for any kind of friction. The Bear misses nothing though and quickly steps forward, pulling you off the counter and to your feet. "None of that," he chastises playfully, "the only thing getting you off tonight will be me."
"Hmph," you step out of his arms, crossing your own across your chest. "You won't even kiss me, how do I know it's even worth letting you take me home?"
"I see," he nods, "the little barn needs a taste."
You don't get a chance to ask about the meaning of the word before he has you pinned to the wall, his knee slotted between your skirts and his mouth hot on your own. It's like an inferno, his mouth moving with your own in a complicated waltz only you two knowing the steps. When he lifts his knee, and presses it to your cunt, you gasp, his tongue sliding into your mouth and tangling with your own.
You are lost to everything but him, and when he raises his boot to his toes and rolls his leg up and down you quickly grasp onto his shoulders, his forehead pressed to your own. You close your eyes and rock your hips, being held completely off the ground by his tree trunk of a thigh.
"That's it," he praises, holding onto your hips and helping you move back and forth on his thigh. "Your bear is hungry," he latches his lips onto your neck when your head drops back against the wall. "Hmm," he groans, sucking and leaving bites along your neck, "I want you to cum," he whispers in your ear, sucking your earlobe between his lips. "Then I'm gonna take you home and lick that pretty pussy clean until you make a mess all over my face, again."
The combination of the filth rolling off his tongue and the strong thigh beneath you, working together with his hands on your waist is all too much. You grab him around the neck with one arm and the other hand is on his arm and you pull yourself up and down with a small cry and a whimper of his name as you fall apart beneath his skilled fingers.
Your breath is loud in the silence of the pub and you both still as he slowly lowers you to the ground. The legs you stand on are wobbly and he quickly reaches out an arm to steady you. "Are you alright, my darling?" he asks softly, running a hand over your face, and smiling when you nod. "You were so beautiful," he marvels, "if that's how gorgeous you look cumming on my thigh. You will rival the gods when you cum on my cock."
"Lassen," you whimper his name and he closes his eyes and controls his breathing.
"Please, call me Anders," he begs, slowly opening his eyes and taking a step back, "what do we need to do to finish?"
"Nothing," you shake your head, turning to reach over the bar for your purse, "I'm opening the bar tomorrow at 11, I'll come in early and finish it."
"We should finish it now," he argues gently, holding up a hand to interrupt you, "trust me."
"Why?"
"Because I don't think you're going to make it in tomorrow." You eyes widen and you go to ask the question when he offers the answer, "you'll be lucky to walk tomorrow when I'm through with you."
The two of you make quick work of the closing tasks and after making a quick call to your boss about covering for the next day you both finally leave the pub. The London air is chilly and you pull your threadbare coat tighter around your body, locking the door behind you. A couple passes when you turn and you sigh looking at the womans fine coat and gloves, a girl could dream.
A heavy weight drops across your shoulders, the scent of tobacco and leather heady as you snuggle into the warmth. "Let's get you home," Anders, reaches an arm around you and you turn towards home. If it wasn't for the spend dripping down your thighs, you'd think it was just an evening stroll between a couple. You'd always wish you had a man to meet you after work and walk you home. Someone to make sure you made it home safe.
With Anders arms around you, you could almost pretend. You walked in comfortable silence, the tension from earlier simmering as your pace quickened when your apartment came into view. You took the steps two at a time, and before long you stood before the door.
You shrug off his coat and hand it to him before reaching into your purse for your keys. The room is dark and you move around the room, turning on lamps and hanging up your coat. The deadbolt is deafening and when you turn to look towards the door, your jaw drops.
The whole thing happens in slow motion, his eyes on you the whole time. He’s wearing suspenders and he lowers each side till their hanging at his waist. His hands are slow, methodical, as he unbuttons each button of his shirt. Your own hands mirroring his actions as you slip the buttons of your shirt in time with each of his. He tugs the shirt off and your mouth waters. His chest is a canvas of scars, and for a second he looks unsure as you step forward, hand reaching out to trace the long one across his abdomen.
“How did that happen?” you ask, whispering. He tells you everything, your hand tracing each and every scar before going over them with your lips.
When you’ve finished tracing your tongue across the last scar, a bullet he received two years ago protecting a child does he find his voice. “You’re not disgusted?”
“My handsome Bear,” you cradle his face, “these scars are the canvas of your life. The life you’ve fought so hard to live. I could never be disgusted.”
He lets out a shallow breath before nodding, “Thank you.”
“No,” you hold a finger to his lips, “no thank you are necessary. It is I who should be thanking you.” You trace your hand down his abdomen and reach for his belt, holding his gaze when you begin to open his pants and lower the zipper, dropping to your knees and licking your lips as you work the pants down his legs.
His cock is magnificent, and you are pleased to know he really is that large, everywhere. “Fuck,” you mumble, wondering for a moment how you’ll even manage to get him in your mouth let alone your pussy. He’s silent, watching you and he steps out of his pants, tossing them and his shoes into the corner and standing before you completely naked.
You reach for his cock and give it a tentative stroke, your hand not even encompassing half his size, mouth salivating at the dribble of pre-cum pooling at the end. You stick out your tongue and lick the end of his cock, moaning softly at the salty taste. “Fan, gör det igen älskling,” he moans head dropping back and you feel encouraged by the broken way he just sounded.
Your jaw strains from the stretch but you manage to slide about half of him down your throat before you hit the back. Your panties drip onto the floor, when you pull him back out and in, lubricating the rest so your hands can slide in time with your mouth. You want to touch your pussy so bad, it’s throbbing but his moans of pleasure are enough to get you off. He leans down, putting one of his hands on your head and guiding you deeper, gagging on his cock.
Anders looks down, his mouth dropped open on a moan, watching the saliva drip down your chin and splash like raindrops on your exposed breasts. He wants to lick them, open his mouth wide and suck each gorgeous globe between his lips, teasing your nipple with his tongue. But right now he’s lost to the way you look at him. Tears streaming down your chin as you attempt to take him deeper and deeper with each thrust of his hips, he’s so fucking close and he wants to cum inside your mouth, watch your mouth fill with the white creamy cum and see your throat bob as your swallow down his load.
“I’m gonna cum,” he warns, holding your head still and listening to your gag as he cums down your throat with a loud groan of your name. It’s as beautiful as he thought when he pulls out and watches you gasp, hands on his thighs as you try to catch your breath, his cum all over your lips until you lick them clean with a grin.
Anders reaches a hand out, pulling you up and quickly disposing of the rest of your clothes. He doesn’t bother with your bra straps, the fabric ripping and tossed in the corner before he’s tossing you over his shoulder and heading for the bedroom. You let out a loud squeal but he silences you when he fondles your ass, giving it a sharp slap.
He tries three doors before he finds the bedroom, and tosses you onto the bed - tits bouncing with the force. “Spread your legs for me, darling,” he drops to his knees and crawls up the bed, nestling himself between your thighs. “Let me see that messy cunt.” He lifts one of your legs and rests it on his shoulder, spreading you wide, and running a thick finger between your folds. “Hmm,” he hums happily, spreading your wetness all over your folds.
Anders leans forward and you reach down, grabbing his hair with one hand, the other quickly reaching behind you for the pillow when he licks at your clit. Almost like a kitten licking a bowl of milk, he hums, the vibrations traveling up your body and you wither, groaning when he lifts his other arm and rests it across your stomach keeping you still.
That’s when everything changes. Gone is the kitten and the bear comes out to play. He devours you, his nose dragging through your slit and he tongue following, playing with your clit like the expert marksman you assume he is.
“Anders,” you try to rock your hips and he lets up with his grip, letting you ride his face.
He pulls up for air, watching mesmerized as your hips lift trying to follow his mouth. You halt when he spits on your pussy, the sound lewd and loud your leg rising as he lifts one of his arms and puts it between you. You arch off the bed on a gasp when he slides two of his thick fingers inside you.
You grasp the arm at your waist in an iron grip, moving your hips up and down. He curls his fingers and you see stars. “Fuck!” He leans down, sucking your clit back into his mouth and moving his tongue back and forth. The slight stubble leaves a delicious burn that aches. “I’m gonna-“ you pant, struggling to get the words out before you feel the pressure build and explode soaking his fingers. He doesn’t lose momentum, riding your high out until you’re pushing his face away.
He crawls up your body and rests his body gently on your own. He rests his head on your chest, like he did on his arms back at the bar, grinning.
“You look quite pleased with yourself,” you run your fingers through his hair, his head tilting to rest more into your hand.
“I am,” he smiles, “to have a beautiful woman fall apart on my tongue is a blissful thing.”
“You must have had many women to have such skill.” The idea leaves a sour feeling in your stomach and your hand falls back to your chest but he quickly moves his head beneath your hand to encourage your touch.
“I haven’t,” his words surprise you and you meet his eyes to see them already upon you. “Been with many women that is. Just two.” You’re unsure if you believe him, but he places a kiss between your breasts and moves up your body to gently kiss your lips. His cock grows hard against your belly with each swipe of his tongue against your own. “I want to see you cum again,” he whispers against your lips.
“Then fuck me-“ the words die on your tongue when he lifts your legs and presses them into your stomach, his cock brushing through your folds.
“As you wish,” he grins, pressing just the head inside you. You gasp, tossing your head back as he works himself deeper and deeper inside you with each thrust of his hips.
“Oh god,” you moan, his thumb working your clit as he finally fits himself all the way inside you.
His chuckle has your eyes snapping open to look at him with a tilt of your head and he gives you a wink, “Not god, darling, just me.”
“You assho-” he rocks his hips, pulling back all the way before slamming back in again. You can’t breathe, each stroke of his enormous cock punching the oxygen from your lungs.
You close your eyes, lost in the sensations he brings out, each snap of his hips fills you deeper and deeper, and you’re sure you can feel him poking out of your stomach. The room is otherwise silent besides your panting breath, incoherent mumblings of his name, and the lewd sounds of his cock pumping into your soaked pussy.
“Look at me,” Anders, nudges his head against your own and you slowly open your eyes. “There you are,” he praises, kissing you deeply, “keep your eyes on me, I want to see you cum.”
“An-Anders,” you hold onto both his arms and look between you, seeing him disappear inside you with each movement of his massive body. The pressure in your belly builds like a volcano bound to explode and he sees it, moving his hips quicker and chasing your release with his own.
“Cum for me, darling,” he commands, his accent strong, “cum now.” You obey, arching your chest up into him and letting out a loud moan, squeezing around his cock so tight. “Shit,” he groans, flooding you with his release. It’s hot and thick and you can feel it drip down your thighs, leaving them sticky.
He stays buried deep inside you, his massive arms on either side of your head keeping himself upright so he does not crush you. You want to feel his weight on you, feel him keep you there with his body, never let you go. But eventually, he does, but not before kisses are pressed over every inch of your face. He may be a bear in appearance; a fierce fighter that could tear your limb from limb with little thought. But inside hes nothing but a teddy bear, a lover, someone you could easily get attached too.
“Wheres the bathroom?” he asks, sitting up, his eyes fixed on where he’s left a mess licking his lips. You point to the door in the corner and he reluctantly rises. God, he’s a fucking sight, all hard lines and muscles, and with each step away you want to shout for him to return.
He returns quickly with a clothe, wiping you clean and collapsing back into bed. Tugging you into his arms, sleep quickly finds you, his arm rubbing up and down your back and humming a soft swedish lullaby.
By the time you awaken the clock reads 1 pm and the bed is long cold. No note, no sign he was even there besides the two wet towels hanging in the bathroom. You hate how dissapointed you feel at his absence but the ache between your legs from the six additional orgasms since the night before remind you that even if you wished too you couldn’t have gone again. He had to leave eventually.
The shower works out some of the kinks in your muscles but you still move slowly throughout the flat, trying to muster the strength to go into work that evening. While your boss had been accepting of missing the opening shift at the pub you couldn’t get out of closing tonight.
The pub is loud when you arrive and you smile at the other bartender before jumping into the fray and starting to take orders. The night moves quickly luckily despite your melancholy mood, several of the regulars pick up on it; cracking jokes in the hopes of alleviating some of the sadness.
From behind you notice another seat fill at the bar and go to turn, “What can I get-” the words evaporate on your tongue—a great bear of a man filling the bar stool before you. You look at one another, the pub continuing around you like it didn’t know your world was slowly tilting on its axis.
“You,” he puts his arms on the bar top and smiles at you, “I would like to have you.”
“You did,” you cross your arms over your chest, “you left without a word.”
He lifts a bag from the floor and puts it on top of the counter, “I needed to go grab this.”
He’s piqued your curiosity and knows it, grinning like a schoolboy as you uncross your arms and move closer, to pull the bag down and look inside. The contents are ordinary, clothes and an extra pair of shoes, a shaving kit, several knives, and guns. “I don’t understand,” you glance up at him and catch the quick hint of vulnerability.
He clears his throat, “I went to grab my things. So I could come back home.”
“Home?” you feel a tightness in your throat, “and where might that be?”
“I already told you, darling. You. You, are my home.”
“We hardly know one another,” the first tear slips down your cheek and he stands leaning over the bar to brush it away. “You could be a madman for all I know, a brute, a beast.”
He holds a hand to his chest, mock offense clear on his face, “I am no such thing. I am a lover, not a fighter. You raise a brow at him, pulling out the large hunting knife from his bag and he grins sheepishly, “Okay, I am a bit of a fighter.”
You stare at him, him watching with bated breath for you to decide if he’s worth this effort. But you know you already decided when you turned around and saw him there. “You’re paying half the rent,” he beams, nodding happily, “and doing the washing and dishes. I won’t be a little housewife doing all the work while you sit around and drink.”
“I can cook,” he stands, coming around the bar, the other patrons watching him curiously, looking between the two of you. “I’m very handy around the house,” he wraps his arms around your waist, your hands falling naturally to his chest. “I make the bed, clean up after myself, and will be your own personal guard dog, darling, no one will ever hurt you. I promise.”
He leans down to kiss you but you pull back, watching the little crease between his brows deepen in confusion. “I don’t want a guard dog,” you whisper to his conspiritorily, “I want a bear.”
His laugh is loud and booming before he nods, “yes, my love, I’ll be your bear.” When he finally presses his lips to yours, the bar erupts in cheers, and for the first time in the long time, you’re exactly where you want to be.
