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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

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Pretty Petals 25

Warnings: this fic will include dark content including rape/noncon, kidnapping, violence, sexual acts (fingering, oral, anal, dp), coercion, bondage, and more tags to be added as the series progresses. PREPARE YOUR PANTIES, HOES.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You go on a self-improvement retreat, but not all is as it seems.

Girls and Flower Name List HERE!

Characters: Ransom Drysdale, Lloyd Hansen, Lee Bodecker, Curtis Everett, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Loki, Andy Barber, Hela, and multiple OFCs

Note: I am like in dread of work so here it is lolll

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all like birds love to appear everytime you are near. Take care. 💖

Zinnia’s screams haunt your prison. That’s what it is. Not a cabin. Not a house. Not even a fortress. No, you are all trapped here.

Her first night there is shrill and horrifying and endless. Not just for her but all of you. The rare night spent alone but only knowing that she suffers for it. None of you are so foolish to think these men would show pity for her inexperience.

You hear Azalea through the wall, sobbing. A few times, you find yourself awash in a flow of grief. Swollen eyes succumb to drowsiness and you wade through the night in painful sleep, waking now and again to the throbbing ache behind your brow.

The last time you rouse, you’re not alone. The weight in the bed next to your grumbles and shoves you back down as you try to sit up. Ransom rolls over as you lay flat on your back. He tweaks your nipple through the thin layer of your camisole and pats your chest.

“Good girl, Lily,” he closes his eyes and is just as quickly snoring again.

Is it starting all over again? Back to the basics. You and Ransom. You hate to admit it even in your head but his return is almost comforting. You know what to expect when it’s just the two of you.

You don’t sleep again. You can’t. You just lay staring up at the ceiling, watching the morning slowly spread across the plaster. It’s a startling calm that undermines your reality starkly. A reminder that this tiny corner of the world is forgotten and hopeless in a vast world that keeps turning.

You shift onto your side and hide your face in the pillow. You keep your back to Ransom as you rattle with suppressed sobs. It would be so much easier if you could just stop thinking.

You sniffle and try to tamp down your tears. You miss your apartment. After how long of cursing that cramped box, of wanting to be anywhere else, you would kill just to see your ratty couch again. Just to sleep on your lumpy futon or stare into your scant fridge.

Freedom isn’t what you thought it was. Freedom is waking up to an alarm every day and going to a job you hate so you can make a few dimes of your own. Freedom is parsing out that measly check in a desperate struggle to survive. Freedom is that sliver of choice you get in doing so. It’s surviving, all the same, but on your own terms. Not on theirs.

You want to give up, so badly. You should. It only hurts to fight but you won’t. You can’t. Dahlia is right. You can still have that freedom, in that you can choose your end.

You wipe clean your face and sigh. You glance over at Ransom and carefully fold back the blanket from over you. You sit up, jostling as little as you can as you shimmy out of your camisole and panties.

You ease yourself back on your elbow and turn onto your side. Your reach beneath the crumple edge of the duvet and feel around blindly. You wrap your fingers around his dick. He’s soft but not for long as you stroke him slowly, fondling his limpness until he’s hard and groaning.

“Lily pad…” Ransom breathes and pets your temple, “what–”

You hush him as you drag your hand up his stomach. You plant your palm on his chest and lift yourself up. You shove the blanket away from his body and hook your leg over him. You reach beneath yourself and angle his tip along your cunt. You straddle him, inching onto him as you let out a hum.

He’s stunned by his awakening. In that moment, you have power. You have something you can use. You sink to your limit and moan, twitching around him as your nails dig into his firm muscle. His hands crawl up and down your sides as he admires your body.

He shudders and lets out shallow breaths as you rock. You feel the tension knot in his stomach as you trail down. You sense the vulnerability in that moment. You see yourself smashing his jaw in with your fist or bringing your hands to his throat and squeezing until he’s gagging.

You resist that fatal urge and buck fast, the noise of your bodies clapping in the early morning hue. The bed shakes as you huff out your effort, closing your eyes as you cling to the vision of your liberation. The fantasy of violence driving you onward.

Too soon, you know it. Wait, watch, calculate. Don’t strike too soon. Not alone.

“Lily,” Ransom frames your hips as he pulls you down harder and harder, “fuck, what are you–”

“Shhh,” you smother his mouth and fuck him harder, leaning over him as you flick your lashes open, “I missed you.”

He watches you as you hover over him. You poke your fingers between his lips and delve into his mouth. He bites on your knuckles as you keep your hips tilting. He babbles around them as he quakes beneath you. Almost there.

“You going to cum inside me,” you hold back your disgust at the words, “hmm, I want you too–”

He gurgles and his eyes roll back as he spasms. You feel the heat burst inside of you and push yourself up. You lean back and ride out his climax. You stop only as he’s breathless and prone. Then. You could do it then. You could hurt him. You could murder him.

You sit paralysed, horrified at what you’ve done and what you think of doing. They made you a monster too. They’ve filled you with a rage that will never leave you. You will never escape the fractures they’ve rented into you. You can never fix yourself but you don’t care about that. You only want to break them.

💐

The morning brightens through the curtains, rousing Ransom as he sits up with an effort not to disturb you. His caution is uncharacteristic and confounding. You’re already awake but you don’t let him know. You just watch his back as he rubs his eyes and combs his fingers back through his hair.

He yawns and stands, his naked ass greeting you unceremoniously. You squeeze your eyes shut and listen to him move around the room. A low growl in his throat but no words. He dresses in silence and to your surprise, does not try to touch you. He leaves you confounded, hidden beneath your eyelids as you try to figure out what ploy is at hand.

You stay buried in dread, waiting. For his return. For some disturbance from outside; for screams, for thumps, for the eruption of chaos that comes every day. It doesn’t come. You only hear the deliberate movement of bodies trying not to be heard.

You get up and near the door. You grasp the handle and turn it, slowly, easing it around until the mechanism stops. You’re locked in. Fuck. It’s not a surprise but you want to know what’s going on out there.

You lean against the door, cupping your ear with your hand as you try to hear. Who is it? How many? What are they up to? It’s just a shuffle that you can’t make sense of, capped by the final and jarring snap of the front door. You can tell which it is by the weight of it, by the subtle creak of wood beneath several pairs of feet.

You retreat back to bed and sit, thinking. Ransom’s scent lingers along with the dread. They must be plotting something new. Another chase, another game, another humiliation. There’s a new girl so that means you all must suffer. That’s how it works. Their fun is your punishment.

You go into the bathroom and crank on the tub. It’s a small relief amidst the oppression of this place. You ease into the water and recline against the porcelain. There is no sense in letting them taint what little time you’re afforded to yourself. Those tiny moments when you can try to retrieve your sanity.

You think of the night before. You feel weak as the heat of the water seeps into you but there remains that sliver of anger, fueled by the memory of Dahlia’s words. Of the fury laced in her voice. You can’t do this for yourself but when you think of the other girls, you find it hard to admit defeat.

You don’t emerge until the water is cold. You pull the stopper and go through the usual. The routine that’s become second nature. To keep yourself moisturised and pretty for these tormentors. It brings a sardonic chuckle to your throat. You do it nonetheless, there is something soothing in the simple tasks.

You put on a white dress; a simple short baby doll. You go to the window and look out at the back deck, the pool sparkling in the morning light. Leaves sway above reflecting in the water and birds flit from branch to branch.

The soft click of the lock beneath your door handle jolts you. You turn to face the door as it opens and you repress a tide of fury as Hela smiles at you. She’s back in a flowing caftan, patterned with geometrical bands and edged with a crochet scallop. She looks ridiculous.

“Breakfast is served, Lily Flower,” she declares, “won’t you come join us?”

You don’t say a word. You come forward but she doesn’t move from your path. She watches you with a placid smile.

“Lily, do you forget all I’ve taught you already?” She challenges.

“No, Gaia, I am coming,” you assure her flatly. “I remember… I remember it all.”

She looks down at you and her lips curl further. She hums into a laugh, “you are still my favourite. I always knew you were the prettiest of my flowers.”

You try not to show your distaste. She is condescending. You see it now. Those nights you sat at your computer in those nonsense seminars, she was conditioning you, all of you.

She leans in and you fight not to recoil. She tilts your chin up with her long fingers and kisses your lips. You let her and she parts with a sultry breath.

“So sweet,” she whispers and gives a final stroke to your cheek.

She spins, her caftan fluttering and leads you through to the dining room. You take your seat among the several other girls already arranged around the long table. Azalea stares dead ahead, Zinnia’s head hangs low behind her hands, and Violet traces her fingertips over the table as if drawing a picture.

The others are brought in, one by one; Dahlia claims the seat beside you, Marigold emerges with her black hair in tangles, wearing the same outfit as days ago, Daisy enters without expression or reaction, and Rose looks around with an almost cloudy look in her eyes.

Hela floats in and out. She sets a dish of fruit before each of you, along with a cup of greek yogurt, and some yellowish tea with a pungent smell. You all just sit without reaction, glancing at each other in uncertainty.

“Please, dig in, girls, we have a day planned for all of us. We will take yoga on the deck. You recall our first days. And we will have some trust building activities. This is about rejuvenation. As the season comes to an end, we must all welcome new beginnings–”

“What?” Dahlia growls.

Azalea pops her head up, “is it… fall?”

Violet glances out the sliding doors, “the night comes earlier…”

There’s a lull as you all realise it’s been so long since your arrival. So long that you hadn’t noticed the changes all around you. You can smell it in the air, the slow transition is coming, you see it in the sky.

You exhale and peek over at Dahlia. She looks back at you from the corner of her eye as she picks up the bamboo spoon and examines it. A new safeguard. Can’t do much damage with that. She scoops up the yogurt as the other girls languish in their dissonance.

“I can’t believe we’ve come this far,” Dahlia declares.

You grab your spoon and mirror her, the other girls doing the same, going around the table until you’re all choking down the flavourless yogurt in a silent accord. You will play along. The season is not the only change coming.

💐

A day passes, then two. With no hint of the men. It’s strange but ominous. Almost as if knowing the men are around is comforting. Then at least, you know what to expect.

You have another morning yoga session, on your color-coded mats, by the pool. Each of you follow Hela’s direction; making the moves, taking each breath long and low. After, you laze around the pool in a communal daze.

You’re unnerved by the languidity that’s settled over the house. It echoes those early days when this was only a retreat, when it was fun, when it felt like summer camp. When you still wore your own name.

There’s something coming. There has to be.

Dahlia lays beneath a pair of square sunglasses, as black as her string bikini. Her muscles shine with sweat as the sun kisses her skin. You see the strength corded around her petite frame.

Hela looms not far away, on one of the longers as she has Violet sit near her. They speak in hushed tones. Each of you has your turn, beckoned to ingratiate yourself to the mighty Gaia. You roll over and put your chin in your hand.

Your eyes settle on Zinnia. She sits alone, heading hanging, hugging her knees. You can’t imagine how alone she must feel. The rest of you came here together, you went through each step with a sense of camaraderie, but she was introduced to you all as another set of abusers. Your guilt bubbles over and you stand, leaving Dahlia by herself.

You near Zinnia, almost shyly, and stop before her. She doesn’t look up, she only cowers in your shadow.

“Can I sit?” You ask.

She doesn’t answer, just shrugs. You lower yourself across from her and cross your legs. You don’t know what to say, you just felt like you had to come over.

“I’m Lily.”

She sniffs and picks her thumbnail. You take a breath and glance over. Hela watches you. You don’t doubt she’ll be curious but what else are you supposed to do? You’re all just sitting around, waiting.

“I know I can’t apologise because what happened happened. I’d hate all of us too. I could point out that we’re just the same but that won’t change how you feel. I’m not trying to absolve myself. I’m just trying to say you’re not alone so… if you ever need anything, I can do my best and I can speak for the rest that they will too.”

She blinks at the ground then slowly raises her head. She meets your eye and you wince. Her cheek ticks and her eyes gleam.

“I remember you,” she murmurs, “in the meetings. We were in the same breakout group.”

Your lips part and you gape at her. She is familiar. Oh, god. She’s just another dupe.

“Corrine,” you remember and she nods, her tears flowing out. “It’s a beautiful name but you can’t use it here.”

She gulps and wipes her cheeks, “I know. He told me—” she turns her head away, “he taught me my name.”

You shake your head and aver your eyes in turn. You don’t know what to do or say. She puts her legs down and leans forward, touching your arm gently, “I’m not mad at any of you. I’m scared.”

“We all are,” you assure her, “and you do need to be mad. At them. The men.”

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months

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Pretty Petals 24

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You go on a self-improvement retreat, but not all is as it seems.

Girls and Flower Name List HERE!

Characters: Ransom Drysdale, Lloyd Hansen, Lee Bodecker, Curtis Everett, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Loki, Andy Barber, Hela, and multiple OFCs

Note: Have some fun with this.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all like birds love to appear everytime you are near. Take care. 💖

A steady plucking tickles in your core. Your sleep grows shallower as you feel the void cracking, a sliver of light tinging your sight. Your lashes flick open as the coil winds tighter and tighter. A loud, sloppy lapping fills the morning din, chasing away the last of your drowsiness.

You gasp as you realise what’s happening. What’s being done to you. The prickly graze of hair against your folds and the swirling, persistent flutter on your clit. You lift your head dizzily and find Lloyd between your legs, his hair askew as he keeps a hand on your hip.

He seals his lips around your tender bud and you fall back, moaning at the deep twist of his attention. You’re still raw and overwrought from the night before. His fingers glide along your entrance, teasing you as he prods and slips through the sheen of your delight.

You groan as he dips his fingers inside. Your legs bend and tension knots in your muscles. Your arch you back, leaning into the pleasure. It’s better than the alternative. Resistance will only bring pain.

His mouth parts from your cunt and he breathes damply against you, “you’re a dirty slut, huh? Couldn’t even bother to wake up before you came all over my face,” he tilts his head up and licks his lip emphatically, “isn’t that right, Lily Anne?”

He shoves his fingers in as deep as they’ll go. You whimper as your head lolls and you grasp the pillows tight.

“Say it,” he growls.

“Yes, I’m a dirty slut.”

“Don’t I fucking know it,” he rams his finger in and out, thrusting his hand so it slams against you painfully. He watches himself fuck you, “look at you taking me? Clinging like you want more…”

He rips his hand away and scratches your thigh. He pushes himself up and sucks clean his gooey fingers. You shudder as you watch him helplessly, splayed before him. He moves up to kneel between your legs and grabs your ass, hauling you closer.

He angles his tip down, one hand groping your ass as he lines up with your cunt. He thrusts into you in a single motion. You gurgle as your head sinks down into the pillow. He hooks his arms under your legs and pulls them up, his eyes fixated on the crux of your bodies.

He slides back, lingering with just his tip inside before slamming back in. He falls into a wild rut. Your hips ache from the force of it, your flesh raw and throbbing as he hammers at you without relent. You grit your teeth and whine, squeezing shut your eyes as you try to withstand the onslaught.

“That’s it, Lily Anne,” he bends your legs higher as he snakes a hand up to frame your throat, “no one fucks you like me, do they?”

💐

You drift between waking horror and unconscious oblivion. When at last you’re alone, you stay as you are, wary of his imminent return. You don’t know how long it’s been since he left or even if he truly has.

You let yourself ease into your reality. It never truly leaves you. Not anymore. This is your new normal. You’re just a plaything. Regardless of who uses you, you are a toy, not a person.

You summon the strength to get out of the bed. It’s stained with the stench of your sweat and his. You sit on the edge before you get your legs steady enough to stand. You reach down and put your hand to your cunt, taking ginger steps across the room. You lean on the bathroom door and peek within. Empty.

You relieve yourself, letting out some of the dull pressure inside. You get up and nearly trip. You hurt all over. The last… however long ,has been a painful blur. It’s all just a mess since the poker game. You lean on the counter and stare at your haunted reflection.

You push away and turn to crank on the faucet. As the steam rises, it beckons you in. You feel him all over you; sweat, cum, spit. You are used up.

You step in and let the hot water sear over you. It’s not entirely cleansing. It can’t be. You stand in it for what could be hours, until it’s tepid, then finally emerge. Pruned and brittle, you make your way back into the bedroom and look in the closet. You pull out a plain dress and slip it over your head.

You go to the window and peek out onto the deck. There’s no one there. The pull is placid and the sky is streaked with clouds. There’s nothing to do but wait for more torment.

The door is unlocked. You don’t open it. You’re not stupid. You sit in the chair and ignore the tangle of blankets in the bed. Time drags by as you resist the urge to guess what comes next. Will it be Lloyd who walks through that door? Ransom? Maybe someone new.

The uneasy peace is broken at last. You hear shrieking. You stand as your heart flutters and you rush to the door. Your hand rests on the handle. You’re only asking for trouble.

You turn your head and press your ear to the wood. You listen to the uproar that turns to pathetic begging.

“Please. What are you doing? Let me go? I don’t understand–” You don’t recognise the voice. Or maybe they’re so scared, they don’t sound like themselves.

“Shut up,” Bucky’s snarl shakes you, even with a barrier between you.

“Darling,” Hela’s smoky tone permeates the furor, “don’t panic. I know you can be a good girl. We spoke of this. You cannot let your fears get the best of you.”

“Where am I–”

“Did you have to get a mouthy one?”

“Relax, Barnes,” Hela chides, “perhaps she wouldn’t babble if you didn’t loom like some untamed beast.”

“She has a point,” Loki adds.

A sigh then further struggle. Whimpers, whines, the scrape of furniture. You hold your breath, paralysed. There are more voices, footsteps, a flurry of activity that scambles your senses.

You back away as you hear shuffling just outside your door. You stare dumbfounded as Lloyd opens the door, letting it hit the frame with the force of his intrusion. He smirks and claps his hands together.

“Ah, Lily, there you are,” he greets mockingly, “look at you, ready to go. You really are a perfect little petal.”

You gulp and try to see over his shoulder as the sounds of struggle get louder. Other men, other doors, voices all at once, chaos slowly breaking. It reminds you of that first night, when the men first appeared and set your world alight.

“Come on, baby,” he beckons you with a wave of his hand, “be good for daddy and he won’t needa give you a spanking.”

You shudder and wring your hands. You step forward, shoulders low as you brace for an assault. You flinch as he reaches for you, merely taking your hand and guiding you through the door. As you come out, he turns and stands parallel to you, adding you to the line of petals stood along one side of the room.

He steps around and goes to stand beside the men. They are stood throughout the space, around the new piece of furniture and the face you don’t recognise. The woman squirms as she sits naked in the rigid backed chair, bound at her neck, wrists, middle and legs to keep her from doing more than that.

You peer along the row of girls. Azalea is the only one not on her feet. She sits with her head hung, staring at her lap as her arms rest limply against her legs. Dahlia sneers at the scene before her, Rose and Daisy hold hands as they blink away tears, Violet shivers as she stands close to Azalea’s seat, and Marigold sways slightly.

You must not look much better. As you turn and meet the terrified gaze of the girl in the chair, she blanches. It’s not hard to guess why she’s there. She will become one of you. She has a necklace like you and something you lost long ago. She thinks there’s a way to get out.

“Girls,” Hela steps forward, “this is your new petal. Zinnia. Isn’t she gorgeous?”

You’re silent. Every one of you. Violet smothers her sobs as Dahlia hisses in her direction. Your own eyes glisten. There’s an unspoken statement in that moment; you are replaceable.

“So, I want you to welcome here,” Hela gazes over each and every one of her.

You don’t move. Don’t speak. None of you know what’s expected of you.

“Well,” Bucky crosses his arms.

Hela arches a brow and struts along. She stops before you. She smirks.

“Lily, you’ve always been such an exemplary girl,” she preens as he grabs your arm, “go on and welcome Zinnia into the fold.”

She stands you before the trembling woman. You blink dumbly. Hela clicks her tongue and snaps her fingers towards Loki. He turns before spinning back and approaching. She takes a shape from him and holds it up to you.

Your eyes fall to the wand. You frown and shake your head. You try to step back but she stops you with a hand on your shoulder. She leans in and lowers her voice.

“Do it or you take the chair next,” she hisses.

You glance over your shoulder. Dahlia scowls and the other girls look at their feet. You don’t have a choice.

You turn back and take the wand. Hela purrs and rubs your shoulder before pulling away and stepping out of your path. She extends her arm towards the petal; Zinnia.

Horror bubbles in your stomach as you come close. You despise that you will be the one to do this. It had once been you. On the table. You don’t look at her face, you can’t.

You click the wand on as you approach her and you get down on your knees. You press the vibrating head to her thin panties and she squeaks. She jerks in the chair, writhing as she tries to pull away. She only adds to the friction.

Soon her grunts turn to breath moans. She begs for you to stop. You know you can’t. You sense the men get closer. You’re sick to your stomach, your vision is bleary with your tears.

“That’s it, Lily, got that special touch, don’t ya?” Lloyd taunts.

“Mm, that’s hot,” Andy growls.

“Fuck, Lily pad, think I’m gonna take you back for the night…” Ransom chuckles.

Zinnia bucks and cries out. You hold the toy against her as she cums. You hear her humiliation and fear. You feel her will break as she stills and puffs out shallowly. You stay as you are, waiting for your next order.

“Good job, Lily,” Hela pets your head before she slips the toy free of your grasp. “Violet,” she spins and her heels click loudly behind her, “come. Your turn.”

You’re ushered to your feet by Lloyd. He guides you back to the line of girls. You’re faint and lost. You still feel the buzz in your fingers. You lock your knees as your tears spill hotly down your cheeks, teeth chattering as you chant, “sorry, sorry, sorry…”

“Lily, cut it out–”

You’re outside your body. You can’t feel your fingers or your arms or anything. Your eyes roll back and the sudden flash turns to pitch black. You’re out before your legs give out, plummeting into the void.

💐

When you come to, you’re against the wall. Your legs are straight in front of you as you slouch against the plaster You hear sniffling and murmuring. You sense the shadows of figures before you open your eyes and you’re strung back into this torturous reality.

Dahlia’s beside you. She touches your arm and scoffs. You look at her. She has a bloody lip and her eye is swollen.

��Welcome back,” she whispers and wipes her lip. “Fucker knocked me out…” she leans in, hiding her voice beneath the noise of Zinnia’s constant whining, “I slapped him across the face with a fucking dildo.” She smiles and shows her bloody teeth. “Shoulda seen it.”

You’re quiet. You swallow and she gently nudges your elbow. She turns straight and peers around. Azalea is folded over in her chair, Violet’s beside her, weeping. Rose is by the chair, her activity blocked by Hela and the men. The rest stand and or tremble with dread and shame.

“Shit, Lil, they’re bringing in new ones,” she barely moves her lips. You lean in to hear her. “We can’t… we gotta stop wasting time.”

You shake your head, “what do we do?”

She sighs. She doesn’t have to say she doesn’t know either. She’s quiet as she watches the backs of the men. Her mouth slants.

“Ransom. He’s pissing off Curtis. You notice?”

You furrow your brow and nod. Ransom’s good at that. He has something about him that is very unlikeable.

“And Curtis isn’t too hard to piss off. So… we just wait until that explodes.”

“And do what? The necklaces, the cameras…”

“One thing at a time,” she glowers, “but we gotta admit one thing, Lil.”

“Yeah?”

“We might not be able to save everyone.”

“And if we can’t save ourselves?” You wonder.

“We gotta try,” she crosses her arms, “and if one of these fuckers beats me to death, maybe that’s the way out.” She squares her jaw and looks at you, “Iris is the lucky one, you know?”

You stare into her eyes grimly. You can’t disagree. Whether you try or not, it seems like the surest way out of here is… that.

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