#darkficsyouneveraskedfor

You shift the cue stick to your other hand before reaching out to shake his, quietly offering your name in return. His black t-shirt clings tightly to a broad, muscular frame, the fabric stretching across his thick chest. His left arm catches your eye, its material sleek and metallic, glinting with black and gold in the light. You catch yourself staring.

“That’s cute, by the way.” Bucky points to the crocheted Santa hat adorning your head. Everyone in your office was strongly encouraged to wear something festive to the holiday party.

You tear your eyes away from his prosthetic arm and manage to uncomfortably giggle, “Oh, uh, thanks.” You fiddle with the drooping pom-pom of the hat.

“You ever played before?” he asks.

“No... But how hard can it be?”

“Oh?” Bucky grins, amused. “Alright then; show me what you’ve got.”

You scoff, step up to the table, and lean in to take your shot. Carefully, you line up the cue, then jab it forward… only to graze the edge of the cue ball, sending it rolling away barely an inch.

Behind you, Bucky chuckles.

You feel your face heating up. Clearing your throat, you shift your stance and try again, more determined… but the cue slips in your grip, scraping the felt, and missing the ball entirely.

Bucky chuckles again. “Are you left-handed?”

You straighten, flustered. “No?”

He smiles, patient but clearly enjoying himself. “Then you’re holding it wrong. Left hand guides the cue. Right hand shoots.”

“Oh…”

“Here, like this,” Bucky says as he takes the cue from you. “Left hand on the table.”

He pushes at your shoulder until you bend over.

You let out an unsure, “Uh…” but he ignores it and grabs your left hand, places your palm onto the table, and adjusts your fingers and wrist.

He slides the cue between your index and middle fingers, then wraps your index around the stick. “Gently, don’t grip it too hard. This is a closed bridge, offers more stability.”

Before you can react, he takes your right hand and wraps it around the end of the stick. “Use this hand to shoot,” he says.

“You wanna get down low,” he continues as he presses down on your lower back. “Get eye level with the ball so you can get a good sightline.”

“Um, Bucky-”

“Hold it steady,” he says as he places his prosthetic hand over yours on the table, “and zero in on your target.” He leans over you and presses his torso against your back; his hips dig into your ass.

“H-hey!” you incredulously protest.

“And then you shoot.” Bucky grabs your right hand and forces you to strike the cue ball.

A sharp crack echoes through the room as the white ball flies forward, slamming into the rack. A cascade of sharp clacks follows as the rest of the balls scatter across the table.

He straightens when you aim to elbow him, and your arm just awkwardly swings in the air.

“And there you have it, doll,” he casually continues. “A bit of practice and you’ll be beating all your pals at this. Pick either stripes or solids and knock them all in, then go for the 8-ball last. If you fuck up and get the 8-ball in before you get your colors, you automatically lose.”

“Uh, r-right… yeah, thanks,” you mutter, your voice catching as you take a step back. You hug the pool cue closer, resting its tip on the floor. Your shoulders draw inwards as he follows you and takes a step forward.

“Starting without us, huh?” one of your coworkers, a fresh-faced intern, remarks as he sidles up to you. He wears a Krampus-themed ugly Christmas sweater.

“Oh, no,” you answer, voice still a bit strained at your earlier discomfort. You quickly step around him to place him between you and Bucky. “I was just practicing.”

Your coworker instinctively turns with your movements to keep you in his view.

“Well,” he quips, none the wiser, “you should really go grab some food before it’s all gone. I swear, these people, it’s like they’ve never eaten anything in their entire lives, the way they’re inhaling those mozzarella sticks.”

“S-sure, Chase,” you stammer, glancing past him to where Bucky is already walking away, heading back to his group of equally muscular friends. A tall man with short blond hair crosses his massive arms and grins at Bucky, while another man with dark skin claps him on the shoulder and lets out a loud guffaw.

You turn and walk towards the food as your coworkers reset the pool table. You find that you've lost your appetite, but try to eat a little something anyway. After all, you had to pay $50 for this. Your bosses are so cheap; they couldn’t even cover the cost of this holiday event. Not only did you have to fork over the cash, but the whole thing was strongly implied to be mandatory. You couldn’t really decline unless you wanted to earn a reputation for lacking the holiday spirit and not being a team player. You’re also pretty sure it doesn’t really cost $50 per person, and that someone is pocketing the change.

You scowl as you crack open a can of soda and take a sip. You glance up to see Bucky staring at you, the corner of his lips turned into a smirk. You quickly snap your head back to the food and randomly fill your plate with a few items.

You sit alone at one of the booths, surrounded by your coworkers’ jackets and bags, and quietly eat your food as your coworkers begin to play. After you manage to chew on a few mozzarella sticks and a couple of buffalo wings, Chase comes over to drag you to a different pool table to start a new game with you.

“Come on,” Chase grins, “let’s see if your practice paid off.”

Your practice did not pay off. With Bucky’s pointers, you’re able to at least hit the balls, but none of them go into the pocket. Luckily, Chase isn’t faring any better. Unfortunately, that means the game is going nowhere, with the balls ricocheting in every direction, but not a single one is sinking.

A coworker from the other table lets out a loud whoop as the clack of a ball indicates a win. You glance over as the winner fist-bumps the air a few times, grunting with each bump, and ending his display with another loud whoop.

Chase sighs as he eyes the scattered balls on your table and steps next to you. He casually drapes an elbow over your shoulder closest to him and states, “Well. We suck.”

You snort and nod in agreement.

“How about we move on to foosball?” Chase suggests.

“Okay,” you answer, voice sounding a bit tired and irritated because you would much rather call it a day and go home, but no one else is leaving yet, so you can’t be the first to sneak out. You continue, “But, uh, let me use the bathroom first.”

“Sure,” Chase grins as he slips his arm off of you.

You walk away, following the sign pointing toward the restrooms, and step into a dim, unsettling hallway with two doors. Golden tinsel garland drapes in sagging U-shapes along the walls, shimmering faintly in the low light. With the crowd now far behind you, the Christmas music from the overhead speakers swells, suddenly louder and strangely hollow in the empty corridor. The last door on the right bears a worn plastic sign of a woman’s figure nailed to the wood. The sound of Darlene Love singing, “Tell me, I've gotta know, where do lonely hearts go? Because nobody oughta be all alone on Christmas…” echoes as you push the door open and step inside.

You squint at the chaotic scene as the door falls shut behind you, the lively music outside fading into a dull murmur. The walls are completely covered in graffiti with layer upon layer of scribbles, tags, and crude drawings. You're not sure if it’s supposed to be some kind of edgy aesthetic or just the result of customers with their pens and Sharpies. Either way, it looks like a mess, and you’re leaning towards the latter.

There are five stalls, and one is already occupied. You skip the next one, not wanting to sit right beside somebody, and head for the stall against the back wall. Gingerly pushing the door open with your index finger, you brace yourself for something gross. To your relief, the toilet is pretty clean, and there’s plenty of toilet paper.

You place a couple of layers of paper on the toilet seat, pull your pencil skirt up and panties down, and finally sit. You sigh as you “release,” your eyes lazily scanning the scribbles covering the walls.

“You still taste like regret,” one accuses from a corner.

“I can’t wash you off my hands,” whispers another, the words looping and rushed.

“You keep running, but you always end up here,” scrawls across the tile in jagged and uneven letters.

Your bored expression slowly shifts to concern as the scribbles start to grow increasingly unhinged and chaotic.

“You belong to me, even if I have to take it.”

“It’s not wrong if you liked it.”

“You’re so sexy when you’re afraid to leave.”

A chill snakes up your spine as your brows pinch. The corner of your lips turns downward before parting in horror, and your fingers tighten against the toilet paper in your hands.

“You said stop, I heard stay.”

“For a good time, scream no.”

BANG.

You suddenly gasp and jump when a door outside is shoved open with enough force to slam against the wall. You huff and quickly wipe as you hear your stall neighbor flush the toilet and step out. You stand, pull your panties up, adjust your skirt, and then flush. Just as you’re about to step out yourself, you hear your stall neighbor squawk indignantly, “Hey, this is the ladies’ room!”

You hear a male voice snarl, “Fuck off,” followed by a shrill shriek of the woman and the chaotic scrambling of footsteps as the door bursts open and then slammed shut with a violent crack. A muffled “oof!” echoes as the woman hits the opposite wall outside. You can hear him flip the lock.

Heart hammering, you fumble the stall lock back into place and retreat until your calves press against the toilet. Eyes wide, you freeze and stare at the door as the heavy thud of his boots begins to move across the tiles. He starts whistling a cheerful tune, a song that sounds like “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.” You shift back instinctively, pressing yourself deeper into the stall until you’re wedged between the toilet and the wall.

The whistling stops. His footsteps pause right outside your door, and then you hear three soft knocks. You gulp, pressing yourself tighter into the corner, and praying that your silence convinces him the stall is empty.

No such luck. You catch a glimpse of metal, black and gold fingers curling over the top of the door, before he pushes against the hindrance and the lock gives with a sharp crack, splintering away from the wood like it’s nothing.

“Hiya, doll.” Bucky grins as the door swings open.

“Buck-” you stutter, “Bucky…you…you shouldn’t be in here…”

He tilts his head, lips pursed in mock consideration, then lets a slow smirk spread across his face.

“Nah… I think I’m right where I belong.”

He steps into the stall, crowding into your space. He kicks the door shut behind him, but it only bounces off the partition, hanging open a few inches. He grabs onto your upper arms and brusquely pulls you away from the wall. You crash against his chest, and he wraps you into a bear hug, crushing you against him.

The air gets squeezed out of your lungs as you wheeze, “Bucky, g-get off me…”

“You’re real cute, ya know that?” Bucky growls, flicking the pom-pom of your hat out of your face. “You in this tight little skirt with your tight little ass.”

He slaps one hand against your ass and grabs a fistful of the cheek.

You grunt as you feel his fingers dig into your flesh. You shove at his chest, but it does nothing to deter him.

“You just kept bending over and showing me the goods. Both the back,” he shakes your ass in his fist, “and the front.” He releases the cheek and then grabs onto the V-neck of your blouse, ripping it down and exposing your bra.

“Did you know you were flashing the entire room your tits when you leaned over?” he snarls. “I bet ya did. You just kept doing it in my direction, making sure I saw ya.”

“It wasn’t-”

“And then swinging your hips as you slowly made your way to the restroom. You wanted me to follow you.”

Bucky shoves his hand under your bra and squeezes one of your breasts. “You’re lookin’ for a good time, aren’t ya?” he snarls.

“No-!” you incredulously yell, but he claps a palm over your mouth and promptly cuts you off.

“Sure, you are,” Bucky confirms for you. “You can’t just go smiling so sweetly and batting your lashes at me and expect me not to do something about it. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

You try to speak, but the hand he holds over your mouth just sounds like gibberish.

“Ah, don’t worry, doll. I’ll give you that good time. I’ll give you everything you want.”

Bucky shoves you against the tiled wall and grinds his hips against yours. You can feel the hard length of him against your pelvis and you whimper against his hand. He pulls at the strap of your bra down until one of your tits falls out. He palms it, pushing it up towards his face as he leans down and takes your nipple into his hot mouth. You squeal and thrash, but he holds you so tightly that all you can do is barely wiggle in his arm.

He moans as he feels you struggle in vain, sucking at the nipple before flicking his tongue up and down at the hardened nub. You jump with every flick as you feel heat pool between your legs at his ministrations. He softly nips your nipple between his teeth and pulls until it slips from him. You squeak and murmur incoherently. He presses his palm harder against your mouth, jolting your head a little, and presses his lips against your ear.

“Shut up,” Bucky demands, his voice deep and unsettlingly calm. The puff of his breath against your ear causes you to tremble. He draws his free hand to your throat and wraps his fingers around your neck gently, but firmly, enough to prove a point but not enough to cut off your breathing.

“I’m gonna take my hand off of your mouth, and you’re not gonna make a sound,” he continues. “You’re gonna be as quiet as a cute little mouse. If you scream, I’ll strangle you until you pass out, you got it?”

After a brief hesitation, you nod.

“Good,” he says as he removes his hand.

You sniffle wetly, take a breath, and whine, “Bucky, I didn’t-”

He suddenly grabs you by your chin, squishing your cheeks until your lips purse.

“I thought I told you to shut up,” he snarls into your face.

“Sorry…” you whisper, tears welling in your eyes.

“Not,” he squeezes your cheeks slightly harder and shakes your head, lightly thumping it against the tile once, “a sound.”

You snap your mouth shut and nod.

He pulls at the cup of your bra until your other tit pops out. He purrs appreciatively as he cups a breast in each hand. The contrasting heat from one and the coldness of metal from the other is striking and you shiver. He circles the nipples with his thumbs, then pinches and rolls them between his fingers. You flinch and bite your lips. Your legs are shaking as they struggle to keep you standing. Your breathing gets heavier as you swallow thickly, clenching your teeth together to keep from making any noise. He leans forward to lick down your neck, and then gives each nipple wet, open-mouthed kisses.

You’re startled when Bucky suddenly pulls the Santa hat off your head and tosses it to the floor.

“Look,” he says, “it’s cute, but ridiculous. I don’t want that pom-pom bouncing around in my face.”

You press your lips together in a pout as you stare at the hat you crocheted yourself sitting on the dirty floor. Bucky snorts as he grabs your face and forces you to look back at him. He slams his lips against yours and tries to force his tongue into your mouth. He’s only able to lick at your teeth since you keep your jaw firmly clenched. He growls impatiently as he gives the side of your face a little tap. When you still wouldn’t relent, he grabs your chin and squeezes your cheeks until the pain causes you to part your lips. He moans as he slips his tongue in. You can taste a hint of beer and something chocolate peppermint from whatever he drank or ate. At least it’s not unpleasant. He brings his vibranium hand up to place around your neck. He didn’t press down onto your throat, but the warning was there nonetheless. Bite, and there will be consequences.

Bucky sucks your bottom lip and then pulls away. He wrenches you from the wall and turns you around so that you face away from him. He sits down on the toilet seat and pulls you back towards him by your hips. He shoves your pencil skirt up to your waist and roughly yanks your panties down, a small translucent line of your wetness stretches from your skin to the panties. When the fabric gets to your ankles, he pats the side of your ankle to get you to step out of them, and then he pockets your panties. He kicks at your feet until you step your legs further apart, and he purrs as he grabs an ass cheek in each of his hands and spreads them. You involuntarily clench as he inspects you and he chuckles. You gulp as you hear the soft clink of his belt, followed by the metallic zip of his fly and rustling denim

“Come on,” he ordered, pulling you further back with one hand as he strokes his hard cock with the other, smearing his precum over his length. He presses down on your thigh, making you lower yourself onto him, his tip poking at your entrance. There’s a little bit of resistance as he wiggles his cock around your hole. You gasp sharply when the resistance gives way, and his head breaches into you with a wet pop, then a soft squish as the rest of him follows. You bite your lips and scrunch your face as he pushes you all the way down, spearing yourself onto him, sitting fully on his lap. He wraps his arms under your still exposed tits and pulls your back to his chest.

Bucky peers over your shoulder and groans, “Look at you, all split open.”

You glance down and feel a mix of horror and disbelief. Your lower lips are forced wide open and stretched taut around him, the hood of your clit pulled apart by his size, and the little swollen pearl glistens on display.

“Never had a real man’s cock in you before, huh?” he growls into your ear as he gives you a shallow thrust. “Feels good, don’t it? Can feel you leaking onto my balls.”

You shake your head, and he lightly taps your exposed clit with the tip of his fingers, causing you to yelp. You press the back of your head against Bucky’s shoulder and arch when he begins to finger the hardened nub. You start writhing when his other hand plays with your nipples.

“Yeah, you like that,” Bucky states, matter-of-factly. He begins thrusting into you, slow, but hard; his skin claps against yours as the air gets punched out of your lungs with each impact.

Your head lolls on Bucky’s shoulder as you moan breathlessly. He wasn’t wrong when he said it felt good; he knows exactly what to do to set your blood on fire, but like hell you’re going to admit that with words.

He smoothes his hand up from your tit to your neck, and finally up to your mouth. He presses his palm firmly against your lips and you let out a confused sound. You quickly find out why when he lifts you up slightly, and then starts to callously jackhammer into you as he cruelly presses his finger against your clit, rubbing rough and fast circles that have your eyes almost popping out of your skull. You inhale a deep breath through your nose and let out a wail that is muffled against the cold vibranium. Your arms flail as you try to hold onto something, anything. You finally settle on grabbing the back of his neck with one of your hands, and the other grabs the wrist that’s keeping your mouth shut.

“Oh yeah, that’s it, doll,” Bucky grunts, “squeeze my cock.” He’s still looking down your shoulder to watch your tits bounce wildly and to watch his dick, shiny with your arousal, disappear into your sopping cunt.

“You’re tight to begin with,” Bucky continues, slightly out of breath, “but now you’re getting even tighter. You’re gonna come soon, aren’t ya?”

You shake your head as tears spring into your eyes.

“Yeah, you are,” Bucky hisses. “Yeah, you fuckin’ are.”

You shut your eyes as you shake your head again, trying desperately to gain control of your body, but to no avail. Your shrill cry gets stifled as he shoves his hand harder against your mouth, and you feel yourself get thrown over the edge. Your walls clamp down so hard on him that he struggles to keep his pace. He nuzzles into your neck as your legs give out, and you fall into his lap, your body trembling violently against him. He releases his hold over your mouth and you gasp, taking in some much-needed oxygen. He wraps both arms under your tits again as he easily lifts you up and down, using you like a cock sleeve to chase his own high. Your body is weak as you hyperventilate, Bucky forcing you to ride out the rest of your orgasm, with your arms swinging limply at your side.

You feel his cock start twitching inside of you, signaling the inevitable. You flinch and yelp as you feel the first splash of him coming inside. You immediately panic and press your hand against his knee, struggling to push yourself up and away from him. He grabs you by the shoulder and roughly shoves you back down, your cunt squelching loudly as he jams his release deeper inside you.

“Where do you think you’re going, huh?” Bucky snarls, his lips brushing against your ear and his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine. “Stay the fuck on me.”

He wraps his vibranium hand around your neck, squeezing just enough to silence your protest. You gasp and wheeze as he continues plunging into you. You feel hot ropes of cum stream into you with each thrust and your face pinches into a cringe. With one last grunt, Bucky shoves you down onto his cock, impaling you as deep and as hard as possible. He finally stills, you can feel your comingled fluids leak around his shaft and pool into his lap.

Bucky releases his hand around your neck and wraps his arms over your breasts and around your stomach, pulling you tighter against his chest. You squirm and try again to dislodge his slowly softening and seeping cock out of you, but he wouldn’t allow it.

He nips your earlobe and you recoil. He chuckles, “That was good, doll. Think I’ll take you home for Christmas. You can scream as much as you want there.”

Author's Note: I only played pool a handful of times in my life (and I suck), I just googled what I could and then made up the rest, so if my knowledge of pool is wrong, it’s because I have no idea what I am talking about.

By the way, Chase is Chase Collins from "The Covenant," making a little cameo in this fic!

Thanks so much for reading! I would appreciate some reblogs and comments!

You might have not cared much about your birthday before, but after getting together with Lloyd it became downright insufferable. Dating for 2 years, you could not believe it yourself. He was not your type. His ridiculous hair and that trashy pornstache…it had been embarrassing to introduce him to your friends. Not only his looks but his attitude had upset most of them and they often asked you why you were with him.

You talked about how he was not so bad, he had a good job, he wined and dined you, he wasn’t as possessive as some of your other boyfriends had been. He did his own thing and he let you do yours. All he asked for was that you made time for each other. 

Reality was that he did demand you come to him at the snap of his fingers and that, really, it was the sex that made you come back. You had always been a bit of a prude, but with him he somehow got under your skin. He poked and prodded until you stepped out of your comfort zone and he took you to heights you were not aware of before.

But his personality was off putting and you often found him exhausting. Sure he let you be if he was busy, but when he was free, he took up all your energy and sometimes you were glad his job seemed to be so demanding.

You didn’t celebrate his birthday, he found it unnecessary and didn’t even tell you the date. But yours…he had made special. In his own way. Last year he had taken you to stripper classes and it was not something you thought of and had fond memories of, but he had enjoyed it though. But this year…

“Why would you give me this?” As you held up the silicone for him to see and raised your eyebrows at him, he smirked, a pleased glint in his eyes. 

“So you can have something to fondle when I’m gone.”

You did not know how to reply for a second. 

“It’s a replica. Of my own. Now I know nothing will beat the superiority of the real thing, but judging by the nail marks in my cheeks after I plow you, you’re quite fond of it.”

You felt like melting with embarrassment, You did tend to fondle his butt during sex, but hated when he brought it up. You were eating pie right now, for fuck’s sake! And now you’d lost your appetite.

“This feels more like a present for you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Then I would have yours made, wouldn’t I?” He seemed to think for a minute.”Maybe I should, it sure gets lonely on the road.”

You pulled a face, not wanting to know what he would do with it. “You’re disgusting.”

“Nothing wrong with being a bottom, sweet cheeks.”

You were going to break up with him. You would. This was the worst present you had ever gotten. “You know, Lloyd. I don’t think-”

“That’s for the better, sweetheart, you’re not very good at it.”

The only consolation you had was watching the silicone monstrosity hitting his face as you grabbed your bag and walked out of the room. You had to be kind to yourself at some point in your life, and being with him was a form of self punishment your future therapist would have fun with.

“Don’t leave, baby, you know you won’t be able to stay away for long.” He called after you, not saddened at the least.

“We’ve hit rock bottom, and no,  that wasn't a pun. Bye Lloyd, enjoy your own asshole.”

You walked out with a head held high, but you sure were going to miss that tight tooshy.