#lance tucker x curvy!reader

[strawberrybisou]

okay but I need lance and Bucky irl 😜🤭

crystal clear and smudgy

pairing: personal trainer!lance tucker x curvy!reader / just a little tiny hint of bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. kinda established undefined relationship. no explicit smut but sexual content. talks of working out. just a little tiny hint of bucky x reader. steve rogers has a blink and you’ll miss it appearance. mentions of oral. some shades of degradation at the beginning. cursing. bits of fluff. mention of reader having a degradation and a praise kink. little ooc lance bc he’s way sweeter and a lot more bearable here than he is in the bronze 💀 not edited simply bc i didn’t want to edit it - apologies for any mistakes. if something needs to be tagged pls lmk!

words: 4k

notes: not expecting much interaction for this one but if you do so happen to give it a read, i’d love to know what you think! personally - i really loved writing this one ☺️ as always, reblogs and comments are more than welcome and so appreciated. thank you for reading! 🩵

“Let’s go, princess, one more set,” he orders, standing over you as you lay on the ground, collapsed and completely warn out by the last twelve reps. At this angle you could just lift your leg and hit him right where it hurts.

And he’d deserve it, too.

You’re distracted from the thoughts of kicking your own personal menace by the feeling of him kicking you. Right in your side. Not anywhere near close enough to hurt, but just enough to piss you off.

“Don’t fucking kick me,” you swat at him, “jackass.”

“You just gonna lay there and take it?” he challenges, walking further up your body so he’s standing over your chest now.

By the smirk that curves his lips, you can tell he’s about to say something else as your already hot body heats further under his burning gaze. He knows what he’s doing and you want to hate him for it.

He lifts a foot, holding eye contact with you as he brings it to your chest, pressing down with just enough of his weight to ensure that you can feel it as your mouth goes dry and your head goes empty.

“We both know how well you can take it,” he taunts, stepping just a little harder as your hands fly up to his shoe and push on his foot a bit as a stilted gasp - a gasp and not a moan - leaves you.

A moment later the chime sounds at the entrance of the gym, signaling the arrival of another. Lance’s smirk taunts you a second longer, that glimmer of mischief still twinkling in his eye before he steps over you.

Your eyes follow him as he leaves the weight room to greet whoever it is at the front desk. It’s a Wednesday so you know he isn’t coaching any gymnastic classes, and he stopped taking other clients on Wednesdays after the second time you found yourselves being…interrupted by an early arrival.

Wednesdays were now exclusively reserved for you.

You know how it sounds in your head, but you also know it’s really for no other reason than him wanting to get his dick wet without interruption.

At least that’s how it started, anyway.

After the second time you were almost caught, you refused his advances at the next session. You weren’t risking it. Lance, however, couldn’t have cared less if someone had walked in on you on your knees in front of him, his dick down your throat while you sucked him off. In fact, you’re almost certain he probably would’ve liked it. When he realized you were serious, he rolled his eyes and went to the front entrance, making a show of locking the door as you watched on. He got out his phone and texted his next client that he had to cancel before he came back over to you and shoved his phone in your face.

“There, happy now?” He asked before he tossed it next to you on the bench you were sitting on.

You just looked up at him and couldn’t get a word out before he was dragging you to the locker rooms. Happy maybe wasn’t the word you would have used, but surely satisfied. Especially after the way he fucked you in front of the big mirror across the room. Forcing you to look at yourself, to watch the way he used you, how he made you feel so good and so full of him, his lips pressed against your ear as he spoke the filthiest degradations, with sprinkles of praises when you squeezed his cock just right or made a certain sound that had him groaning deeply and squeezing your soft hips even tighter. And definitely after he fucked you again in the showers. It was slower that time; steamy and yet still rough, and god, just as fucking hot.

You went home with him that night.

And begrudgingly, every other Wednesday night since.

It’s become routine. You meet here, have your training session, and after that forty-five minute mark, it inevitably devolves into you two fucking around before Lance reminds you how much more comfortable his bed is compared to whichever surface you’ve found yourself being pressed against that night.

You assumed tonight would be like any other but as you hear Lance talking, and what sounds like two other men speaking in return, you get the feeling you’re wrong.

You briefly contemplate getting that one last set in before you shoot up, eyes wide at the realization of whose voice it is you’re hearing out there. No way, you think. Shouldn’t he have his own private gym at Stark Towers?

You get to your knees and crawl over to the window of the weight room, peaking your head just up enough to be able to see who it is out there.

You fucking knew it!

Of all the gyms in this city, he had to find his way to this one.

You can’t see his face, but you’d recognize that arm and that voice anywhere. Steve Rogers stands by him, gym duffle hooked over his shoulder as Lance says something you can’t quite hear about punching bags. You sink back down to the floor before any of the three men can spot you.

You don’t know why you feel so embarrassed but there’s a very strong urge threatening to take over you and see you bolting out the back door before anyone can say a word.

…That’s a lie, actually.

You do know why you’re so embarrassed. It’s not only the decision you made but the very real implications of what that decision means…

Because really, who in their right fucking mind would ever turn down a date with the Bucky Barnes?

No one! Never you.

And yet…you did.

You’ve been trying to avoid thinking about what feelings prompted your almost immediate no from the second the rebuff left your lips.

You’re single. You have every right to go out with anyone you so please. And yet, night after night, there’s only one man who runs through your every thought.

The same man who so shamelessly flirts back with any woman in his vicinity - and makes sure you see it every damn time. You always wonder if he can see the ire you try to hide burning in your gaze. If that’s what causes his smug smirk to spread when he spots you. That glimmer of mirth in his bright blue eyes. Ughhh.

The same man who sends you completely unsolicited selfies, thirst traps, and nudes nearly every damn day. If his texts weren’t so damn incessant, personalized, detailed and pointed, you’d almost wonder who else he sends those pictures to.

The same man who calls you whenever he’s bored. At first you thought he just wanted to hear the sound of his own voice, but lately you’ve been wondering if he just wants to hear yours.

The same man whose bed you’ve found yourself sleeping in nearly every damn night the past two weeks. The nights that have put to rest your wonder of who else he gets in his bed beside you.

The same man who -

Is standing right in front of you.

Your wide eyes blink up as you feel eyes on you. Three pairs.

You clear your throat and push yourself up to stand. Lance looks like he’s about to say something but Bucky’s voice cuts his off before he can get a word out. He says your name as a question and has not only yours, but Lance and Steve’s attention as well.

One of their brows furrowed a bit more significantly than the other.

You smile at him and titter nervously, “Hey, Bucky.”

“Hi,” he smiles back. “Steve, this is,” he gestures, providing him your name in introduction. “PR…Relations?” He says, trying to remember your job title again.

“Something like that, yeah,” you laugh.

“So I’ve heard. Nice to finally meet you,” Steve extends his hand to yours in a polite shake, a friendly smile of his own on his face.

“You too,” you say as you shake hands.

Lance says nothing as he crosses his arms over his chest, and you can feel his gaze heavy on you.

“So,” Bucky says as he takes a step closer to you while Steve turns to Lance expectantly. With a bit of what you might be reading into as reluctance, Lance finally peels his eyes off you and Bucky and starts toward the boxing area near the back of the large weight room. “It’s over here,” he leads him.

You’re now standing alone with Bucky, and yet you can feel Lance’s eyes on you still. You think you like it…

Maybe he’s getting a taste of his own medicine. Unlike him, though, you don’t plan on leading anyone on just to see if he’ll care. If that is, in fact, what he has been doing to see if he can get a response from you.

“You workout here often?” Bucky asks.

“Uhm, not really, no,” you laugh lightly. “I prefer home to here but Lance is my trainer,” you nod in his direction, “we have a weekly session.”

“Oh, nice. We’ve heard good things about this place, wanted to come check it out. It usually closes early on Wednesdays, right? We had to call and set this up.”

“Yeah, it’s normally closed around six,” you say, “lucky you guys’ll have a private session.”

“You do private sessions?”

“Hm?”

“Is that why you’re here, I mean? Private session?”

“Oh,” you can feel your skin burning, “uh, yeah. Mhm,” you nod, crossing your arms over your chest.

His lips tilt up at you and you can’t not return the smile as a little silence grows between you.

“Look, before I ask again, I want you to know that I can take no for an answer, I swear,” he says sincerely, looking into your eyes, “but uh, have you given any more thought to getting dinner?”

You take a stilted breath, your brows raising the slightest bit before you blink. You wet your lips before you force yourself to speak.

“I uhm,” you turn for half a second to glance back at Lance, finding his eyes still set on you before you return Bucky’s gaze once more, “I’m seeing somebody, actually. I kinda have been…I’m sorry, I should’ve told you that the first time. I just, uh, I. I wasn’t sure what we were- are,” you shake your head, feeling a bit flustered, “it’s a little complicated, uhm,” you let out a breathy laugh.

“No, please,” he shakes his head, “don’t be sorry. I get it. Complicated.” He rubs the back of his neck, his bicep bulging with the movement of his raised arm and the hem of his shirt lifting just a bit. Gooooooood.

You’ve said no to this god of a man twice now. Hell. You must really be in deep.

“Well, if complicated ever changes, you know how to reach me,” he offers with a light smile. You nod and give a soft one of your own.

Before Bucky has the chance to walk away, Lance is at your side, startling you a bit as you look over to him.

“You finished your last set?” He asks as Bucky looks between the two of you.

“Uh huh,” you nod. He knows you’re lying as he narrows his eyes at you but doesn’t call you out on it- for now at least.

“I gotta stay a little later tonight,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his keys. You watch as he takes his house key off the ring before he holds it out to you. “I’ll be home in an hour or two,” he says nonchalantly as you stare at the key dumbly for a long second before you finally reach to take it.

“Okay,” you murmur almost so quietly you barely hear yourself.

Bucky huffs a smirk to himself in realization before he speaks, “Well, it was good running into you. Have a good night. ‘M sure I’ll see you around again.”

“Yeah, you, too,” you breathe another smile of your own as Bucky passes, touching your arm briefly before making his way over to his friend.

You force yourself to then turn and face Lance completely, your wonder evident in your eyes at his actions. “You want me to-“

“Yeah,” he cuts you off. “You’re gonna end up there anyway, thought I’d save you the back and forth from your place to mine.”

Your eyes narrow at his attitude. You’re used to his cocky self assurance and the way every word seems to be laced with a taunt, but this isn’t that. He seems…you aren’t sure. But definitely off.

“I’m gonna end up there anyway?” You question, defiance and annoyance both nipping at you at once.

“Yes.” He readily supplies, taking a step closer to you, invading your space in a way you don’t normally mind when you’re alone.

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because that’s what this is.”

Oh god, you think. Maybe he heard you say you were seeing someone. Maybe he knew you were referring to him and maybe he doesn’t want you thinking this is anything more than sex. You’re not seeing someone. It’s not complicated. If you ignore the calls and texts and mid day and late night and early morning rendezvous and the cuddles and showers and pet names without malice or sarcasm reserved for only you, then yeah.

Yeah.

It’s just sex.

It’s not like either of you have ever said it’s anything else, you remind yourself.

You swallow down your embarrassment as your eyes flick toward your shoes. You spot your water and think to grab it and go. You don’t really have anything else to say. Just a lot to think about.

You don’t have time to do anything, though, before Lance’s hands come to hold your jaw, tilting your face up and forcing you to meet his eyes. They’re dark, his usual glint of taunting playfulness now gone. In its place is something much more heated, more serious. If you didn’t know better you might even say possessive…

“Because you’re mine,” he adds, voice deeper and lower as he takes another step to you. His eyes flash from your own to your lips and it’s not another second before he crashes his into yours, kissing you hard. His hands hold your head as he keeps you near him while you can do nothing but kiss him back. It’s not too long but still borderline desperate. You two don’t really kiss all too often and never this intently unless he has you stuffed full of him - and never have you kissed at all in front of anyone before.

Part of you knows he’s probably just putting on a show, wanting to prove something to who he perceives to be competition, and part of you doesn’t care. But a smaller part of you thinks maybe, just maybe, it’s not so much to prove something to Bucky - but to prove something to you.

You pull away after a second, but staying close enough to still breathe him in. You’re dazed and he knows it as that cocksure smirk spreads across his lips again after he looks into your shining eyes.

“Hydrate,” he tells you, letting you go. “I’ll stretch you out when I get home,” he winks, earning a gawked face from you as he starts to walk backwards over to the boxing side of the room. God, you pray they didn’t hear him say that. You chance a glance their way and see them already caught up in a sparring match, paying you and Lance no mind.

You see his slight annoyance at your preoccupation with what they might have heard and it makes you realize that this very random run in with Bucky might have changed the course of…whatever it is this situation has been. Is?

You have certainly never seen this side of Lance before. You again wonder what it means for him because you know well how he is.

This isn’t the time or place to figure it out, though. You give him another look and nod. “I’ll see you…then, then.”

You grab your water and go for your bag on the bench beside you, tossing the key he gave you in there and grabbing your own set to hold. You give him one more fleeting look before heading for the door, it’s like you’re trying to read his mind with every glance and you are getting absolutely nothing.

-

It’s not far from the gym to his place and you’re there within fifteen minutes. It’s a little weird unlocking his door and walking into the empty home, but you’ve been here frequently enough to not feel entirely out of place.

You refill your now empty bottle with the water from his water cooler and drink some more as you set your bag down on the couch.

You don’t know how you should wait for him, or what he’s expecting, but you’re sweaty and he’s not currently here on top of you distracting you from that fact, so you decide on a shower.

You head to his bathroom and strip down before grabbing your towel - wait no, not your towel. It’s just the towel you tend to use when you shower here. You grab it from the shelf with the other folded towels and drape it over the towel bar near the shower. You start the water and let it run for a bit while it warms before you step in.

You grab your loofah - that you only keep there for emergencies - and wash with your body wash. Again, emergencies. Once you’re clean and refreshed, you let yourself enjoy the warmth of the water gently beating down on you. And you let your mind wander.

‘Because you’re mine.’

Lance’s voice runs through your mind and sends a feeling through your body like no other. He’s never said that before. So definitely. So serious. And that kiss…

You take a deep breath and try to relax some more.

The more you think, the harder it is to deny.

God, you really are here all the damn time. And going over your daily routine you realize just how much Lance fits into it. You don’t know how you didn’t see it sooner, maybe you didn’t want to, but the truth is starting to creep up on you. This isn’t just sex.

But ah, can you really say that? All you two do when you’re around each other is fuck. You don’t think there’s been a single day you’ve spent with him that you didn’t do something sexual. So maybe…maybe you’re wrong.

Maybe it’s more of a friends with benefits type thing? You’re certainly past the point of just being fuck buddies.

But friends doesn’t feel entirely right either.

You know now, and truthfully you probably knew after getting asked out by Bucky the first time, that this is more than any of that.

You feel things for him. Things that aren’t just sexual attraction or kinship.

You don’t find yourself wondering what your friends are doing at random times of the day, smiling to yourself at the prospect of seeing them soon, no… Only with him.

You don’t find yourself craving the warmth or hold of your friends when you crawl into bed at night… Just him.

You don’t get butterflies when your friend’s contacts show up on your phone with a new message or a call… Only with him.

You don’t feel the way about your friends that you do about him.

You love your friends, yeah. But it’s not the way you-

You stop yourself before you can finish the thought.

You turn off the water and grab the towel off the bar outside the shower door.

You wrap yourself up and dry off best you can before walking out to his bedroom.

Realizing you might want to commit to a real relationship with someone and declaring that you might possibly be in love with them are two very different things. And you’re still not sure you’re ready to do the former, let alone the latter.

Do you really need to do this? To address it at all? You don’t think so. No. You don’t think you will.

So what if it is just sex? It’s been working for you both so far. You can’t deny you have feelings deeper than that for him, but you really don’t want to talk about it tonight. Maybe ever, you think petulantly.

Here’s the facts:

One, you think you really like Lance. Like, like like.

Two, you know you don’t want to get involved with anyone else - including, just as a reminder, Bucky fucking Barnes. Which again, is insane to admit.

And three, label or not, you can’t argue with him. He was right.

You’re his.

You sigh and resign yourself to the bubble of discontent sitting deep in your stomach. You’re so over it.

You think about grabbing something from his kitchen to eat but decide you really don’t have an appetite for anything. You forgo clothes, sure you’ll be rid of anything you put on when Lance gets home anyway, and get into his bed.

The second your head hits the pillow, exhaustion hits you full force. You’re beat. You try to fight it for a few minutes but eventually lose out and fall asleep in the blink of an eye. Lance’ll wake you up when he gets home.

-

It’s a tickle along your side that rouses you lightly. Your eyes open so slightly, still thick with sleep as you notice the darkenedness of the room. You’re groggy but you feel his featherlight touch again, ghosting from around your bottom, over your bare hip, and trailing up your side. You know it’s him. You’ll work through your sleep in a second, you tell yourself.

You wonder if he knows you woke up; he’s being so quiet. And he’s keeping his touch so soft. He’s laying beside you as you’re turned into him, laying on your side. You still don’t have the energy to move, still half asleep.

You make a little noise as his touch tickles up your side again and you shift into him further. You’re surprised as he shushes you and pulls you in closer. You can feel him looking down at you in the near blackened room as your face is now in his chest.

You let out a soft, sleepy moan as he gently fondles your tit in his hand, squeezing lightly, just feeling you as his thumb brushes over your peaking nipple. Your brows furrow as you turn into him to be closer and another delicate sound slips past your lips. You’re hushed again as he rescinds his touch, dragging his hand back down your body once more.

You rest a hand on his chest as you relax further into him. His hand finds its place on your thick thigh, moving your leg to rest across him.

He’s bare under the sheets, you feel him. He’s half hard and you’re expecting him to slip inside you any moment.

“Been thinking about you all damn day. Driving me fuckin’ crazy,” he seems to grouse to himself as he whispers aloud, pulling you closer yet. His skin seems a little damp and you can smell his soap. He must’ve showered.

You almost force yourself to open your eyes but you’re stopped by the feeling of Lance’s lips pressing softly against your temple as he hugs you into him. He always claims it’s you who searches him out in the middle of the night to cuddle into him, but clearly he plays a part in the way you always seem to wake up tangled in one another, too.

“Lance,” you murmur sleepily, unable to open your eyes if you’d wanted to.

“Shhh,” he hushes. “Don’t talk, just sleep.”

You don’t argue, you just turn more into him; content to do just that.

But you’re even more surprised when not very long after you both settle, you feel his breathing even out as he falls completely asleep with you in his arms.

No sex.

Hmm.

This, whatever it is…

It’s complicated.

Clearly.

But clearly, it’s not that complicated.

[hellomissmabel]

Good at worshipping

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Lance Tucker x plus size!reader

Warnings: This is Lance Tucker we’re talking about so his male member is mentioned A LOT. Also, partial nudity, sexual language and plenty of innuendo, but nothing explicitly NSFW (please do let me know if anything has to be added!). The word “a**hole” is also featured A LOT. So proceed with caution!

Word count: 3.364

Summary: Lance Tucker is fresh out of winning a gold medal at the Olympics in Toronto and wants to celebrate his victory with a tattoo on a very special place. Y/N draws tattoo designs for Body Cult, a new tattoo shop in Toronto, and immediately catches Lance’s eye. But will she be just as enamored with the athlete as he is with her, a plus size girl?

A/N: I’ve posted a masterlist with all upcoming plus size!reader fics. I keep getting new ideas, so this masterlist will be updated as the ideas come and go. There will always be an announcement post. If you want on the tag list, please comment on the announcement post of send me an ask!

This one I wrote for myself. I got a taste of what it’s like to have a Lance anon before the asks stopped. And what can I say? I’m a sucker for Lance Tucker. Hoping to get another Lance anon for my birthday, though.

All plus size fics can be found here

It’s a relatively new establishment, embedded between a vegetarian lunch parlour on its right and a vintage clothing store on the left. The façade stands out with its white accents over the original stone background, the words “Body Cult” handwritten on the windows in swirly silver paint. Inside the establishment, the tattoo artist is busy working on a young, curvy woman. I’m smitten even before I realise I’ve been staring for a bit too long to be appropriate. But Lance Tucker doesn’t care about appropriate, that woman’s curves are a fucking sin. Emphasis on fucking.

Completely relaxed she is perched on the seat, not a sign of pain distorting her elegant features. Her shirt covers her bare chest as the tattoo artist finishes up on the refined flower design on her ribcage, alongside the curve of her breast. Her baby blue bra is slung casually over the artist’s shoulder and they are chuckling about a joke he’s just made. I watch her intently, my eyes never leaving the contours of her full-figured body, the small rim of her matching baby blue panties peering from her low-slung jeans a feast to my greedy eyes.

“I’ll be with ya in five, pal,” the tattoo artist smiles at me as he tells her to stop laughing or he’ll mess up the design. Afterwards, he politely asks if she can lift up her shirt just a little bit so he can check the final result. Her gaze crosses mine briefly after I catch a glimpse of her breast and I feel myself getting hard as I imagine what’s underneath that shirt.

“Okay, Y/N, I think I’m done.” He clasps his hands and nods, admiring his work. “Think about what I said about colouring it in.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she replies nonchalantly, giving him a cheeky thumbs up, “Don’t worry, Frankie. I’ll make myself an appointment.”

Clicking his tongue and wetting his lips, he shakes his head at her. “I don’t have to tell you to moisturise often. You know the drill.”

She bites her lip to hold in her laughter. “Got it all under control, Frankie. This might be my first tattoo but I’m not a newbie to the trade.”

“Lemme just put a bandage on it and you’re good to go. Don’t worry about coming in tomorrow, I’m giving you the rest of the week off to heal.”

Spinning around after the artist gives her bra back, she lets the shirt glide off her chest to put it back on. My eyes are glued to her back, her skin so soft it makes me wonder if other body parts will be just as soft. As she’s changing, the guy comes up to where I’m standing behind the counter and leaning against the wall, snapping me out of my trance.

“What can I do for you, my man?,” he smiles at me and I take a better look at him. There’s ink all over his body, his left arm a tattoo sleeve dedicated to his favourite Marvel heroes, his right one is an ode to pin-up girls. He’s got half-long black hair that barely covers up the Chinese characters on his neck and hippie rings decorating each and every finger.

I’m about to speak up when she comes up next to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “See ya, Frankie.” She pecks his cheek and chuckles as he turns red. “Say hi to your brother Archie for me.”

Turning her attention to me, she giggles softly. “Don’t let Frankie here talk you into getting a piercing, too, kay?”

Swaying her hips lusciously and with a sassy grin she leaves the shop, not even bothering to wait for my answer. Frankie coughs and repeats his initial question. “Who was that?,” I ask him instead, placing my hands on my hips as I look back at her form disappearing into the morning.

“That’s Y/N,” he smirks at me knowingly, “She’s a stunner, hm? Really sweet girl, very shy even though you wouldn’t say so. My brother Archie has been trying to hook up with her for a long time now but I think she swore off bad boys for good.”

A cocky grin tugs my lips upwards, maybe I can change her mind. “She works here?”

“Yeah, all you can see here is drawn by her hand,” he says as he points towards all the artwork and different tattoo designs on display. There are numerous drawings hanging on these walls, each and every one of them unique and absolutely breath-taking.

“She dropped out of college in New York and winded up here in Toronto. Saw her doodling at Starbucks and sat down in the same booth. We got talking and I offered her a job. She picked up art school not long after that and only got better.”

“Does she do tattoos?,” I inquire with obvious interest, my eyes crinkling in mischief. “No offense, Frankie, but if she’s really as talented as you make her out to be, then I want her to do it, not you.”

“Nah, ‘s fine,” he exhales with a laugh. “But I’m sorry to disappoint you, man. She only does check-ups and some touching up,” he answers matter-of-factly and I’m a little disappointed. It would’ve been quite the experience to have my tattoo inked on my skin by such a delicious woman, even though I’d probably bend her over the seat first to get rid of all the sexual tension.

“So tell me,” Frankie continues, taking a pen in hand, “What kind of tattoo did you have in mind?”

It’s been a couple weeks since I’ve had the tattoo done by Frankie. I’m very pleased with the result and I’ve taken good care of it so there really isn’t any need to go back to the shop for a check-up. But I just haven’t been able to get Y/N off my mind and it’s driving me to the brink of insanity. Most nights I pick up a young and flexible athlete like I’m used to, but it just doesn’t do the trick anymore. I have no trouble getting it up, on the contrary, I always get it up as soon as she crosses my mind. Even in the middle of training I have to excuse myself to take care of my boner in the men’s room.

So I called up Frankie and asked him if it’s possible to get my tattoo checked out, very much aware that this is Y/N’s job. He knows I probably won’t need any touching up but doesn’t say anything about it and just gives me an appointment. This Friday, eight p.m. and I’ll be the last customer before closing. Can’t fucking wait.

I strut into the shop at five to eight, oozing confidence as I flash her my signature toothy grin. Maybe I add a little more swagger for her benefit, anything to get her to swoon. Sitting with her legs crossed on the chair and playing around on her smartphone, she secures her glasses in her hair as soon as she hears me come in.

“Hello, sweetheart.” She purses her lips in amusement, chuckling softly. “Name’s Lance, Lance Tucker. I’ve got an appointment at eight.”

“Yeah, Frankie told me you were coming in again. You left quite the impression.” Her eyes scan me from head to toe and I laugh lightly at her words. I don’t think she knows what she’s in for and it only arouses me more. “You can take a seat. Let’s have a look and find out why Frankie is so impressed.”

“So Frankie scribbled down something that remotely resembles lower body,” she mumbles to herself as she adjusts her glasses and closes the curtain behind her. “So I assume that means your leg or thigh…”

“I don’t mind if the curtain’s open, Lance Tucker ain’t shy,” I chuckle teasingly and she blushes a little, clearing her throat.

“So if you’d like to take off your pants, that would be great,” she smiles kindly as she gets her toolkit ready.

I grin to myself as I push down my jeans and boxers next, standing with my back straight, waiting till she turns around. With a neutral expression, she faces me again. Yet as soon as her eyes venture lower and take in the sight before her, she drops whatever she’s holding, her face falling in complete shock.

“Fuck,” she mutters under her breath, her eyes widening at my cock and how it proudly strokes my stomach. “Fuck. My. Life. That’s one big…” She gulps and locks eyes with me. “Tattoo?,” she feebly adds, swallowing thickly.

Scratching the back of my head, I feign innocence. “Thanks, Y/N. If you want, you can take a closer look.”

Y/N slowly registers my offer, her eyes going back and forth between my penis and my face. “No, I’m fine here,” she whispers quietly, followed by a string of profanities. “Just feeling the urge to kill Frankie.”  

After she’s processed the initial surprise, her mind levels out again and a look of disgust clouds her eyes. “You had a gold medal tattooed around your dick?,” she questions, scolding and judging me. “That’s a very stupid idea.”

“I won Olympic gold, darling,” I respond smugly to the attitude she’s giving me. “As an athlete, my body is my temple,” I gesture towards my cock but she’s determined to keep her eyes from wandering there. “And as you can see, I can do some good worshipping.”

“Uhu, right,” she puffs out in a long breath. “Wanna hear my thoughts?”

Picking up the items from the floor and putting them back on the tray, she stands back up and walks towards me. “You don’t need any touching-up. You don’t need me to check if it healed properly.” Pressing her pointer finger to my chest, she gives me a dirty look. “You came here for me, didn’t ya?”

“What if I did?,” I shoot back arrogantly, feeling the blood rush towards my cock as an immediate reaction to her proximity. “Got a problem with that?”

“I’ve heard of you before. The name didn’t really ring a bell at first, but now I know who you are, Lance ‘the fucker’ Tucker,” she huffs, raising a challenging eyebrow. “Your name is mud on the streets. Your reputation proceeds you.”

She says my name with obvious dismay, yet her eyes remain fixed on how my chest rises and falls with every laboured breath. Her words might cut through bone and marrow, but I know she knows she’s the reason for my change in breathing. I know she knows she’s the reason for my hard-on.

“Please put your clothes back on, Lance. You’re wasting your time he,” she continues coldly, averting her eyes instantly after she’s uttered those words. “Your tattoo is fine.” Y/N starts to walk away from me, ready to vanish behind the curtain. “It seems you’ve got a little situation going on downstairs.”

Before she’s out of my reach, my hand grabs her wrist as I close the distance with long, determined strides. Lance Tucker doesn’t beg. Ever. But my voice does sound slightly distressed, mildly desperate as I plead with her. "I'm sorry, Y/N. Please, we got off on the wrong foot. Let us start over.”

“I’m not some wet pussy you can use up and then put aside when another skinny bitch comes along,” she snaps at me, getting angry at my forwardness and boldness.

“Does that mean I turn you on?,” I kink a suggestive eyebrow at her. But I regret it straightaway as she pulls her hand free from my grip.

“Go. Now.” She rushes away from me before I can spot the blush that adorns her rosy cheeks. Throwing my clothes back on as fast as humanly possible, I follow right after her.

“Y/N, I’m really sorry. I’m an asshole, I know.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she scoffs at me. “Just go, Lance,” Y/N pleads with hard eyes yet her tone softens when she sees my shoulders slump. “Find someone else to play games with. I’m not interested.”

“Y/N, I’m not playing any game with you.” I wanna argue with her and even though she’s obviously conflicted about her own feelings, she continues to put her foot down.

My voice breaks just a little as I ask her how much I owe her. Refusing to accept any money from me and waving me off, averting her eyes and body from me, I leave a twenty dollar bill in the tip jar. Yet as soon as I step outside the shop, I realise I’m an even bigger asshole if I let her slip away so easily.

Rushing back into the store with a resolute stance, Y/N’s surprise quickly shifts into a furious fit. “Look, Tucker,” she snarls my last name with harsh contempt, but I break her off before she can start shouting at me again.

“I swear I’m being real here with you, Y/N,” I promise her sincerely, taking a step closer yet she instantly takes a step back, still very wary of my intentions. “You’re all I’ve been thinking about.”

“You think it’s funny, hm?,” she throws at me, obviously seething. “You think dating a plus size girl is funny? You shower them with attention, make them feel good about themselves, tell them you love ‘em… only to crush their spirit when you run off with a size two! Yeah, I know your type.”

I manage to get closer as she spits those words at me, too caught up in her fury to notice I’m winning space. We’re almost chest to chest when she realises I’m too close for comfort, attempting to push me away hard.

“I think I made myself very clear.” Another push to my chest, but I stand my ground. “You think it’s funny, don’t you?” Y/N pushes me again but her resistance is in vain. “I know your type, Tucker.” She turns towards hitting my chest with clenched fists, looking me straight in the eye as she speaks. “Because I used to date an asshole like you back in New York.”

“Hey, hey, Y/N,” I shush her as I take her fists into the palm of my hands, holding a firm grip on them so she doesn’t resist me any longer. “I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise. I might be an asshole but I don’t lie. I’m not lying, Y/N.” This seems to calm her down a bit and I wait until she regains her composure before smiling down at her and releasing her hands.

She drops her hands to her side, eying me curiously. “You mean that? You really mean that?”

“You’re way too good for me anyway,” I assure her softly. “A goddess like you deserves to be worshipped all day long.”

“And you’re good at worshipping, right?,” she chuckles as my comment prompts a little smile from her plump lips, painted a delicate pink. Her cheeks are stained with a lovely blush and I gingerly cup her face with both hands, gently making her look back at me.

“Damn right I am. I might be bad at love but I’m good at worshipping,” I grin playfully, my thumbs smoothing over the apples of her cheeks. “Come on, baby, let me take you out, hm?”

Uncertainty is written in her Y/E/C eyes and she bites her bottom lip in thought. “What do you say, Y/N? don’t leave me hanging here, love,” I laugh nervously, her silence playing with my nerves, turning me anxious in anticipation of a ‘no’.

“Just one date and I promise I won’t let you down. Scouts honour.”

Little by little, she leans more and more into my touch. “You probably were never in the scouts but okay,” she gives in eventually, nodding softly. “I’ve already seen your dick,” Y/N chuckles as she places her hands on mine and lowers them.

I take a chance and entwine our fingers, pulling her flush against my chest. “And what about my dick, young lady?”

Standing on her tiptoes, her lips ghost over mine. She’s both teasing and testing me, making sure I’m a man of my word. I can’t wait to kiss her, but know that if I act to fast, I might lose my only shot with her. “And I don’t think you’ll disappoint me,” she grins with a cocky smile, leaving me longing after those lush lips as she steps backwards to grab her purse.

My fingertips follow the outlines of her tattoo, my featherlight touches leaving goose bumps on her skin. She had it coloured in a couple days ago and the result is breath-taking, Frankie really outdid himself this time. Y/N is still asleep, the covers barely reaching above the curvature of her plump ass and my hands slide down her spine to squeeze the soft flesh. It makes her giggle, the girly sound always like music to my ears.

“It’s so beautiful. You’re so beautiful,” I comment on my girlfriend and her tattoo, kissing the crown of her hair.

Slowly opening her eyes, she chuckles at my look of admiration. Lifting up the covers to look at my dick, she hums cheekily in appreciation. “Not too bad either.”

“Oh you little…,” I growl playfully at her as I launch myself on top of her before she even has the time to roll onto her back. Peppering her face with butterfly kisses, she squeals as my fingertips tickle her sides.

“Stop it, Lance!,” she shrieks with a high-pitched voice, squirming underneath me and begging for mercy. “Truce! Please, Lance, let’s make a deal!”

This peaks my interest and I momentarily stop my attack, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips and smirking. “A deal, hm?”

“Yes, a deal,” she confirms through strained laughter, tears falling down her flushes cheeks. “If you promise to never tickle me again, I’ll do anything you want.”

“That sounds like a win-win to me,” I smirk at Y/N, humming as I think it over. Trying to decide what would be the best approach, I roll off her and tuck Y/N into my side, her hands spread over my chest and following the hard lines of my torso. “What about matching tattoos?”

Her fingertips hesitate once I’ve uttered my proposition, stopping right below my collarbone. “Okay,” she replies as her lips find my sweet spot and she sucks tenderly on the sensitive skin.

“Okay?” I look down at the woman in my arms, her stunning full-figured body a perfect match between my sheets. “Okay,” I moan slowly as she languidly nibs at my neck. “I’ll give Frankie a call after breakfast.”

“Oh no, mister.” She bites down a little more and a strangled whimper leaves my lips against my own volition. “I wanna do your tattoo. Frankie can still do mine, but I wanna do yours. I insist.”

“Sure thing, baby,” I relent instantly, her tender touch keeping me under her thumb.

With a devilish grin, she chuckles darkly. “Can I also decide where, babe?”

My eyes fall shut as her right hand dips underneath the covers, blindly tracing my tattoo downwards. “O-of course, baby,” I gulp softly, melting like butter in her hands when she discovers my morning wood.

Laughing lightly, she removes her hand and straddles my legs. I open my eyes again to take in the perfection of her body, how her curves adorn her body in the most sensual way. Resting my hands on her hips as she runs hers through my short brown locks, I tell her I love her.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you, I love you, I love you.” I repeat it over and over again and she smiles, laughs, chuckles and snorts. “I’m an asshole, I know. But I’m your asshole. I’m your asshole, babe.”

“You’re an asshole that’s good at worshipping.”

“I’m an asshole that’s good at worshipping,” I mimic her words, stealing a kiss from her lips. “And I love you.”

“I love you, too, Lance,” she replies in an instant, not a sign of hesitation to be found when she leans down to capture my lips in a lazy kiss, her lips moving sync with mine.

Sequel: the whole package

Tagging: @avengerofyourheart @a-little-hell-to-raise @marvelingatthewonder @mrshopkirk @hardcorehippos @knittingknerdy @winterboobaer @italwaysendsinafightt @viollettes @hymnofthevalkyrie @feelmyroarrrr @justareader @austinamelio @volklana @4theluvofall @themcuhasruinedme @theoneandonlysaucymo @caplanbuckybarnes @nenyakj @amrita31199 @emilyevanston @minervaem @howlingbarnes @buchananbarnestrash @youandb @you-and-bucky @fvckingsteverogers @thatawkwardtinyperson @that-sokovian-bastard @abovethesmokestacks @marvelrevival @marvel-fanfiction @justanotherbuckydevotee @barnes-heaven @heartmade-writingbucky @buckyywiththegoodhair @captnbarnesrogers @mellifluous-melodramas @its-not-a-phase-hux @melconnor2007 @ivvitm1109 @toofuckinfabulous @ailynalonso15 @hollycornish @delicatecapnerd @camigt1999 @learisa @curlyexpat @palaiasaurus64 @fanndas-snow-goddess @crisssivonne @yourenotrogers @tomhollandzs @supernaturaldean67 @beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep @aletheladyinred @beyondbarnes @xbergiex @reniescarlett @promarvelfangirl @capbuckybuchanan @lovemarvelousfics @riskybarnes @yknott81 @rrwilson66 @pegasusdragontiger @mizzzpink @salty-holographic-stickers @sammyissassy @sebstanchrisevanchickforever19 @kudosia @bellejeunefillesansmerci @lumelgy @southernbellestatues 

Tag list for all plus size stories: @suz-123 @kiwi71281 @whatisaheroanyway @ilovebeingjoyful @veronicalei @meganlane84 @thescarsweleave @isaxhorror @pleasantdreamqueen @kudosia @georgiadean37 @revlismoriarty @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @evyiione @salamander-falls @taylorjacksonandtheolympians @jughead-wuz-here @jasmineladjevardi @sonofadeanwinchester @3dsaunt @marvel-at-bucky @nothin-after-79 @sexy-sea-basss @shesmade0fcandy @breezy1415 @wtfisalltherandoms @mrs-dr-strange @disneymarina

Good at worshipping tag list: @rubynationwins @acunningstargazer @imsecretlyromanburki @kanupps06 @chameerah @marvel-trash07 @imsupernaturalbaby @littlemessyjessi @bethy-sue @jesspfly @sebbystanlover-vk @stefswonderland @luvmesumsherlock @wolverinegirl14 @toniinhere @gimmeblackwidow @myboyfriendgiriboy

@superfandomqueen @phiauniverse sorry but tumblr won’t let me tag you!

[nickfowlerrr]

💌 I am wondering about your thoughts on Lance Tucker 👀👀

i hate him so much but also i'm entirely obsessed with him and i love him.

he is so awful but so hot and god just the idea of him!! i mean can you imagine him degrading you and just being so fucking mean while he has his way and takes you any way he pleases???

and he no doubt has a praise kink, so he'll force you to be vocal, too. he wants to hear how good he makes you feel, and he wants to hear you cry out how much you love being used by him.

and he just gets cockier and cockier each time your walls involuntarily squeeze his throbbing length impossibly tighter as he fucks you from behind, his big hands gripping your waist, grabbing at your doughy hips and belly as he gropes you feverishly, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust as your ass slaps against his hips, the room filled with the wet sounds of your fucking, his growls and taunts, your broken moans and mutterings of indescribable pleasure as he calls you a disgusting, pathetic whore for letting him fuck you, again and again. for begging for his big dick to fill up your tight little hole, for wanting him to cum inside you because you're so fucking desperate for every bit of him you can get.

and he fucking loves it when you agree, because you know as well as he does exactly what you are. what you are for him. because you're not just a slut, you're his slut. and as you collapse on his bed, thoroughly worn and leaking him, he smirks as you glare at him when he slaps your ass. you can play off you hate him all you want, but he sees the way you shoot daggers into him and any woman he so shamelessly flirts with near you, he feels you, on nights like these, when you're in bed with him and you think he's asleep. he feels you crawl closer to him, feels when you rest your head on his chest, feels when you snuggle into him.

he lets you think he doesn't, but he does.

and look, he's not one for commitment. he doesn't do all that lovey dovey stuff. but maybe there's something to be said about just how much he enjoys nights like these...and the way he's almost excited to pretend to be sleeping next to you, waiting for you to find him and wrap him in the warmth only you can provide him.

and maybe there's something to be said about the lack of other women he's brought home these past few months, not that you needed to know who he spends his time with, but still, he finds himself wanting to brag about it to you. just so you know how lucky you should feel to be the only one in his bed, no other reason, of course.

and he knows come morning, odds are you'll be gone by the time he wakes up. or, like the past few mornings, maybe you'll stay just a little longer, maybe have some breakfast. but he isn't concerned either way. because he knows, just as well as you do, that you'll be back tonight. and like every other night for the past week straight, you'll be in his bed.

right where he wants you.

right where you want to be.

right where you belong.

[nickfowlerrr]

crystal clear and smudgy

pairing: personal trainer!lance tucker x curvy!reader / just a little tiny hint of bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. kinda established undefined relationship. no explicit smut but sexual content. talks of working out. just a little tiny hint of bucky x reader. steve rogers has a blink and you’ll miss it appearance. mentions of oral. some shades of degradation at the beginning. cursing. bits of fluff. mention of reader having a degradation and a praise kink. little ooc lance bc he’s way sweeter and a lot more bearable here than he is in the bronze 💀 not edited simply bc i didn’t want to edit it - apologies for any mistakes. if something needs to be tagged pls lmk!

words: 4k

notes: not expecting much interaction for this one but if you do so happen to give it a read, i’d love to know what you think! personally - i really loved writing this one ☺️ as always, reblogs and comments are more than welcome and so appreciated. thank you for reading! 🩵

“Let’s go, princess, one more set,” he orders, standing over you as you lay on the ground, collapsed and completely warn out by the last twelve reps. At this angle you could just lift your leg and hit him right where it hurts.

And he’d deserve it, too.

You’re distracted from the thoughts of kicking your own personal menace by the feeling of him kicking you. Right in your side. Not anywhere near close enough to hurt, but just enough to piss you off.

“Don’t fucking kick me,” you swat at him, “jackass.”

“You just gonna lay there and take it?” he challenges, walking further up your body so he’s standing over your chest now.

By the smirk that curves his lips, you can tell he’s about to say something else as your already hot body heats further under his burning gaze. He knows what he’s doing and you want to hate him for it.

He lifts a foot, holding eye contact with you as he brings it to your chest, pressing down with just enough of his weight to ensure that you can feel it as your mouth goes dry and your head goes empty.

“We both know how well you can take it,” he taunts, stepping just a little harder as your hands fly up to his shoe and push on his foot a bit as a stilted gasp - a gasp and not a moan - leaves you.

A moment later the chime sounds at the entrance of the gym, signaling the arrival of another. Lance’s smirk taunts you a second longer, that glimmer of mischief still twinkling in his eye before he steps over you.

Your eyes follow him as he leaves the weight room to greet whoever it is at the front desk. It’s a Wednesday so you know he isn’t coaching any gymnastic classes, and he stopped taking other clients on Wednesdays after the second time you found yourselves being…interrupted by an early arrival.

Wednesdays were now exclusively reserved for you.

You know how it sounds in your head, but you also know it’s really for no other reason than him wanting to get his dick wet without interruption.

At least that’s how it started, anyway.

After the second time you were almost caught, you refused his advances at the next session. You weren’t risking it. Lance, however, couldn’t have cared less if someone had walked in on you on your knees in front of him, his dick down your throat while you sucked him off. In fact, you’re almost certain he probably would’ve liked it. When he realized you were serious, he rolled his eyes and went to the front entrance, making a show of locking the door as you watched on. He got out his phone and texted his next client that he had to cancel before he came back over to you and shoved his phone in your face.

“There, happy now?” He asked before he tossed it next to you on the bench you were sitting on.

You just looked up at him and couldn’t get a word out before he was dragging you to the locker rooms. Happy maybe wasn’t the word you would have used, but surely satisfied. Especially after the way he fucked you in front of the big mirror across the room. Forcing you to look at yourself, to watch the way he used you, how he made you feel so good and so full of him, his lips pressed against your ear as he spoke the filthiest degradations, with sprinkles of praises when you squeezed his cock just right or made a certain sound that had him groaning deeply and squeezing your soft hips even tighter. And definitely after he fucked you again in the showers. It was slower that time; steamy and yet still rough, and god, just as fucking hot.

You went home with him that night.

And begrudgingly, every other Wednesday night since.

It’s become routine. You meet here, have your training session, and after that forty-five minute mark, it inevitably devolves into you two fucking around before Lance reminds you how much more comfortable his bed is compared to whichever surface you’ve found yourself being pressed against that night.

You assumed tonight would be like any other but as you hear Lance talking, and what sounds like two other men speaking in return, you get the feeling you’re wrong.

You briefly contemplate getting that one last set in before you shoot up, eyes wide at the realization of whose voice it is you’re hearing out there. No way, you think. Shouldn’t he have his own private gym at Stark Towers?

You get to your knees and crawl over to the window of the weight room, peaking your head just up enough to be able to see who it is out there.

You fucking knew it!

Of all the gyms in this city, he had to find his way to this one.

You can’t see his face, but you’d recognize that arm and that voice anywhere. Steve Rogers stands by him, gym duffle hooked over his shoulder as Lance says something you can’t quite hear about punching bags. You sink back down to the floor before any of the three men can spot you.

You don’t know why you feel so embarrassed but there’s a very strong urge threatening to take over you and see you bolting out the back door before anyone can say a word.

…That’s a lie, actually.

You do know why you’re so embarrassed. It’s not only the decision you made but the very real implications of what that decision means…

Because really, who in their right fucking mind would ever turn down a date with the Bucky Barnes?

No one! Never you.

And yet…you did.

You’ve been trying to avoid thinking about what feelings prompted your almost immediate no from the second the rebuff left your lips.

You’re single. You have every right to go out with anyone you so please. And yet, night after night, there’s only one man who runs through your every thought.

The same man who so shamelessly flirts back with any woman in his vicinity - and makes sure you see it every damn time. You always wonder if he can see the ire you try to hide burning in your gaze. If that’s what causes his smug smirk to spread when he spots you. That glimmer of mirth in his bright blue eyes. Ughhh.

The same man who sends you completely unsolicited selfies, thirst traps, and nudes nearly every damn day. If his texts weren’t so damn incessant, personalized, detailed and pointed, you’d almost wonder who else he sends those pictures to.

The same man who calls you whenever he’s bored. At first you thought he just wanted to hear the sound of his own voice, but lately you’ve been wondering if he just wants to hear yours.

The same man whose bed you’ve found yourself sleeping in nearly every damn night the past two weeks. The nights that have put to rest your wonder of who else he gets in his bed beside you.

The same man who -

Is standing right in front of you.

Your wide eyes blink up as you feel eyes on you. Three pairs.

You clear your throat and push yourself up to stand. Lance looks like he’s about to say something but Bucky’s voice cuts his off before he can get a word out. He says your name as a question and has not only yours, but Lance and Steve’s attention as well.

One of their brows furrowed a bit more significantly than the other.

You smile at him and titter nervously, “Hey, Bucky.”

“Hi,” he smiles back. “Steve, this is,” he gestures, providing him your name in introduction. “PR…Relations?” He says, trying to remember your job title again.

“Something like that, yeah,” you laugh.

“So I’ve heard. Nice to finally meet you,” Steve extends his hand to yours in a polite shake, a friendly smile of his own on his face.

“You too,” you say as you shake hands.

Lance says nothing as he crosses his arms over his chest, and you can feel his gaze heavy on you.

“So,” Bucky says as he takes a step closer to you while Steve turns to Lance expectantly. With a bit of what you might be reading into as reluctance, Lance finally peels his eyes off you and Bucky and starts toward the boxing area near the back of the large weight room. “It’s over here,” he leads him.

You’re now standing alone with Bucky, and yet you can feel Lance’s eyes on you still. You think you like it…

Maybe he’s getting a taste of his own medicine. Unlike him, though, you don’t plan on leading anyone on just to see if he’ll care. If that is, in fact, what he has been doing to see if he can get a response from you.

“You workout here often?” Bucky asks.

“Uhm, not really, no,” you laugh lightly. “I prefer home to here but Lance is my trainer,” you nod in his direction, “we have a weekly session.”

“Oh, nice. We’ve heard good things about this place, wanted to come check it out. It usually closes early on Wednesdays, right? We had to call and set this up.”

“Yeah, it’s normally closed around six,” you say, “lucky you guys’ll have a private session.”

“You do private sessions?”

“Hm?”

“Is that why you’re here, I mean? Private session?”

“Oh,” you can feel your skin burning, “uh, yeah. Mhm,” you nod, crossing your arms over your chest.

His lips tilt up at you and you can’t not return the smile as a little silence grows between you.

“Look, before I ask again, I want you to know that I can take no for an answer, I swear,” he says sincerely, looking into your eyes, “but uh, have you given any more thought to getting dinner?”

You take a stilted breath, your brows raising the slightest bit before you blink. You wet your lips before you force yourself to speak.

“I uhm,” you turn for half a second to glance back at Lance, finding his eyes still set on you before you return Bucky’s gaze once more, “I’m seeing somebody, actually. I kinda have been…I’m sorry, I should’ve told you that the first time. I just, uh, I. I wasn’t sure what we were- are,” you shake your head, feeling a bit flustered, “it’s a little complicated, uhm,” you let out a breathy laugh.

“No, please,” he shakes his head, “don’t be sorry. I get it. Complicated.” He rubs the back of his neck, his bicep bulging with the movement of his raised arm and the hem of his shirt lifting just a bit. Gooooooood.

You’ve said no to this god of a man twice now. Hell. You must really be in deep.

“Well, if complicated ever changes, you know how to reach me,” he offers with a light smile. You nod and give a soft one of your own.

Before Bucky has the chance to walk away, Lance is at your side, startling you a bit as you look over to him.

“You finished your last set?” He asks as Bucky looks between the two of you.

“Uh huh,” you nod. He knows you’re lying as he narrows his eyes at you but doesn’t call you out on it- for now at least.

“I gotta stay a little later tonight,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his keys. You watch as he takes his house key off the ring before he holds it out to you. “I’ll be home in an hour or two,” he says nonchalantly as you stare at the key dumbly for a long second before you finally reach to take it.

“Okay,” you murmur almost so quietly you barely hear yourself.

Bucky huffs a smirk to himself in realization before he speaks, “Well, it was good running into you. Have a good night. ‘M sure I’ll see you around again.”

“Yeah, you, too,” you breathe another smile of your own as Bucky passes, touching your arm briefly before making his way over to his friend.

You force yourself to then turn and face Lance completely, your wonder evident in your eyes at his actions. “You want me to-“

“Yeah,” he cuts you off. “You’re gonna end up there anyway, thought I’d save you the back and forth from your place to mine.”

Your eyes narrow at his attitude. You’re used to his cocky self assurance and the way every word seems to be laced with a taunt, but this isn’t that. He seems…you aren’t sure. But definitely off.

“I’m gonna end up there anyway?” You question, defiance and annoyance both nipping at you at once.

“Yes.” He readily supplies, taking a step closer to you, invading your space in a way you don’t normally mind when you’re alone.

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because that’s what this is.”

Oh god, you think. Maybe he heard you say you were seeing someone. Maybe he knew you were referring to him and maybe he doesn’t want you thinking this is anything more than sex. You’re not seeing someone. It’s not complicated. If you ignore the calls and texts and mid day and late night and early morning rendezvous and the cuddles and showers and pet names without malice or sarcasm reserved for only you, then yeah.

Yeah.

It’s just sex.

It’s not like either of you have ever said it’s anything else, you remind yourself.

You swallow down your embarrassment as your eyes flick toward your shoes. You spot your water and think to grab it and go. You don’t really have anything else to say. Just a lot to think about.

You don’t have time to do anything, though, before Lance’s hands come to hold your jaw, tilting your face up and forcing you to meet his eyes. They’re dark, his usual glint of taunting playfulness now gone. In its place is something much more heated, more serious. If you didn’t know better you might even say possessive…

“Because you’re mine,” he adds, voice deeper and lower as he takes another step to you. His eyes flash from your own to your lips and it’s not another second before he crashes his into yours, kissing you hard. His hands hold your head as he keeps you near him while you can do nothing but kiss him back. It’s not too long but still borderline desperate. You two don’t really kiss all too often and never this intently unless he has you stuffed full of him - and never have you kissed at all in front of anyone before.

Part of you knows he’s probably just putting on a show, wanting to prove something to who he perceives to be competition, and part of you doesn’t care. But a smaller part of you thinks maybe, just maybe, it’s not so much to prove something to Bucky - but to prove something to you.

You pull away after a second, but staying close enough to still breathe him in. You’re dazed and he knows it as that cocksure smirk spreads across his lips again after he looks into your shining eyes.

“Hydrate,” he tells you, letting you go. “I’ll stretch you out when I get home,” he winks, earning a gawked face from you as he starts to walk backwards over to the boxing side of the room. God, you pray they didn’t hear him say that. You chance a glance their way and see them already caught up in a sparring match, paying you and Lance no mind.

You see his slight annoyance at your preoccupation with what they might have heard and it makes you realize that this very random run in with Bucky might have changed the course of…whatever it is this situation has been. Is?

You have certainly never seen this side of Lance before. You again wonder what it means for him because you know well how he is.

This isn’t the time or place to figure it out, though. You give him another look and nod. “I’ll see you…then, then.”

You grab your water and go for your bag on the bench beside you, tossing the key he gave you in there and grabbing your own set to hold. You give him one more fleeting look before heading for the door, it’s like you’re trying to read his mind with every glance and you are getting absolutely nothing.

-

It’s not far from the gym to his place and you’re there within fifteen minutes. It’s a little weird unlocking his door and walking into the empty home, but you’ve been here frequently enough to not feel entirely out of place.

You refill your now empty bottle with the water from his water cooler and drink some more as you set your bag down on the couch.

You don’t know how you should wait for him, or what he’s expecting, but you’re sweaty and he’s not currently here on top of you distracting you from that fact, so you decide on a shower.

You head to his bathroom and strip down before grabbing your towel - wait no, not your towel. It’s just the towel you tend to use when you shower here. You grab it from the shelf with the other folded towels and drape it over the towel bar near the shower. You start the water and let it run for a bit while it warms before you step in.

You grab your loofah - that you only keep there for emergencies - and wash with your body wash. Again, emergencies. Once you’re clean and refreshed, you let yourself enjoy the warmth of the water gently beating down on you. And you let your mind wander.

‘Because you’re mine.’

Lance’s voice runs through your mind and sends a feeling through your body like no other. He’s never said that before. So definitely. So serious. And that kiss…

You take a deep breath and try to relax some more.

The more you think, the harder it is to deny.

God, you really are here all the damn time. And going over your daily routine you realize just how much Lance fits into it. You don’t know how you didn’t see it sooner, maybe you didn’t want to, but the truth is starting to creep up on you. This isn’t just sex.

But ah, can you really say that? All you two do when you’re around each other is fuck. You don’t think there’s been a single day you’ve spent with him that you didn’t do something sexual. So maybe…maybe you’re wrong.

Maybe it’s more of a friends with benefits type thing? You’re certainly past the point of just being fuck buddies.

But friends doesn’t feel entirely right either.

You know now, and truthfully you probably knew after getting asked out by Bucky the first time, that this is more than any of that.

You feel things for him. Things that aren’t just sexual attraction or kinship.

You don’t find yourself wondering what your friends are doing at random times of the day, smiling to yourself at the prospect of seeing them soon, no… Only with him.

You don’t find yourself craving the warmth or hold of your friends when you crawl into bed at night… Just him.

You don’t get butterflies when your friend’s contacts show up on your phone with a new message or a call… Only with him.

You don’t feel the way about your friends that you do about him.

You love your friends, yeah. But it’s not the way you-

You stop yourself before you can finish the thought.

You turn off the water and grab the towel off the bar outside the shower door.

You wrap yourself up and dry off best you can before walking out to his bedroom.

Realizing you might want to commit to a real relationship with someone and declaring that you might possibly be in love with them are two very different things. And you’re still not sure you’re ready to do the former, let alone the latter.

Do you really need to do this? To address it at all? You don’t think so. No. You don’t think you will.

So what if it is just sex? It’s been working for you both so far. You can’t deny you have feelings deeper than that for him, but you really don’t want to talk about it tonight. Maybe ever, you think petulantly.

Here’s the facts:

One, you think you really like Lance. Like, like like.

Two, you know you don’t want to get involved with anyone else - including, just as a reminder, Bucky fucking Barnes. Which again, is insane to admit.

And three, label or not, you can’t argue with him. He was right.

You’re his.

You sigh and resign yourself to the bubble of discontent sitting deep in your stomach. You’re so over it.

You think about grabbing something from his kitchen to eat but decide you really don’t have an appetite for anything. You forgo clothes, sure you’ll be rid of anything you put on when Lance gets home anyway, and get into his bed.

The second your head hits the pillow, exhaustion hits you full force. You’re beat. You try to fight it for a few minutes but eventually lose out and fall asleep in the blink of an eye. Lance’ll wake you up when he gets home.

-

It’s a tickle along your side that rouses you lightly. Your eyes open so slightly, still thick with sleep as you notice the darkenedness of the room. You’re groggy but you feel his featherlight touch again, ghosting from around your bottom, over your bare hip, and trailing up your side. You know it’s him. You’ll work through your sleep in a second, you tell yourself.

You wonder if he knows you woke up; he’s being so quiet. And he’s keeping his touch so soft. He’s laying beside you as you’re turned into him, laying on your side. You still don’t have the energy to move, still half asleep.

You make a little noise as his touch tickles up your side again and you shift into him further. You’re surprised as he shushes you and pulls you in closer. You can feel him looking down at you in the near blackened room as your face is now in his chest.

You let out a soft, sleepy moan as he gently fondles your tit in his hand, squeezing lightly, just feeling you as his thumb brushes over your peaking nipple. Your brows furrow as you turn into him to be closer and another delicate sound slips past your lips. You’re hushed again as he rescinds his touch, dragging his hand back down your body once more.

You rest a hand on his chest as you relax further into him. His hand finds its place on your thick thigh, moving your leg to rest across him.

He’s bare under the sheets, you feel him. He’s half hard and you’re expecting him to slip inside you any moment.

“Been thinking about you all damn day. Driving me fuckin’ crazy,” he seems to grouse to himself as he whispers aloud, pulling you closer yet. His skin seems a little damp and you can smell his soap. He must’ve showered.

You almost force yourself to open your eyes but you’re stopped by the feeling of Lance’s lips pressing softly against your temple as he hugs you into him. He always claims it’s you who searches him out in the middle of the night to cuddle into him, but clearly he plays a part in the way you always seem to wake up tangled in one another, too.

“Lance,” you murmur sleepily, unable to open your eyes if you’d wanted to.

“Shhh,” he hushes. “Don’t talk, just sleep.”

You don’t argue, you just turn more into him; content to do just that.

But you’re even more surprised when not very long after you both settle, you feel his breathing even out as he falls completely asleep with you in his arms.

No sex.

Hmm.

This, whatever it is…

It’s complicated.

Clearly.

But clearly, it’s not that complicated.