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imma-hallyucination · 3 months

Text

take it

female reader x non-idol!seulgi (feat. lackey!bang chan x reader)

2558

18+. MDNI.

Additional Warning From The Author. This is very explicitly noncon. A lot of potentially triggering words, phrases and emotions are graphically depicted. If the warnings are triggering to you, please do not read this fic. I do not condone or approve of the actions depicted in this fic in any way, shape or form.

dead dove: do not eat—rape/noncon; pwp; gangbang; drugging; smut—dom!seulgi and bang chan; rough sex (face and pussy slapping, choking, scratching, hair-pulling); humiliation, objectification (toy, doll, etc.), degradation (whore, r@peslut, etc.), acting “like a child” used as an insult; vaginal fingering; oral (f. receiving); face-sitting, scissoring, missionary; semi-public sex, drugged sex, unprotected P-in-V sex; watersports (piss kink), mommy/daddy kink, voyeurism, exhibitionism, bondage (reader is tied and gagged for most of the encounter); snuff porn (reader is being filmed, it’s implied the video is posted online)

“baby, fuck your life / and I know you want it, baby / you know I want you / don’t underestimate the things that I could do„

Completed 14.02.2024 (dd/mm/yyyy)

Masterlist. Navigation. AO3.

You blink your eyes open, fighting to gather yourself in spite of your foggy vision and the setting sun shining into your face. Your jaw hurts from having a sweat towel stuffed in your mouth for god knows how long, and you groan around it at the heavy pounding in the back of your skull.

You wriggle where you lay, attempting to sit up or roll over—anything��but your hands are tied behind your back with what you think is rope, the skin around your wrists itchy and raw. It makes you whine, arching off the ground before realizing with a slow start that your back is bare.

You crane your neck and let out a confused noise when you realize you’re naked, something nature emphasizes by blowing the wind against your bare pussy. You shiver, and your nipples perk from the cold.

Your eyes struggle to focus and your head hurts—your skin tingles all over and the grass against your bare ass makes your skin itch. How did you... Did you come here alone? You can’t remember. You can’t—

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

The hair on your arms raise as you roll your eyes almost to the back of your head, locking eyes with a pretty woman around your age. Your brain is fuzzy and you can’t put a name to her, but you know you know her and she makes your body spasm with the need to run.

“Look at you,” she tsks from where she sits crouched above you, brown hair rolling over her shoulders in waves. Your eyes catch on the studded band on her upper arm, and it leads your eyes over the loose black boob-tube covering her chest. Your eyes glide over the exposed skin of her sides and stomach all the way down to the frilly black skirt hiked over her knees, gawking at the sight of her black lace panties. “So weak,” she tuts. “So vulnerable.”

She stands up and walks next to you. You turn your head, swallowing nervously at the sight of her Doc Martins. She turns to look over her shoulder at a man in all black (has he always been there?), his dark blue jeans ripped at the knees and tucked neatly into a black pair of combat boots, fluffy black hoodie enveloping his broad frame. A black mask covers his face, and he has a handheld camera pointed right at you. “You getting this?” the lady asks him.

His voice is deep and accented when he replies, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” the woman says. And suddenly you remember her name is Seulgi. Your head pounds like a jackhammer is being held to your skull as flashes of a bar enter your mind, closely followed by more flashes of a pretty girl. Lots of shots. Getting sick in the the bathroom. Seulgi taking you to her place. Blurry, out of order flashes of having your clothes forcefully removed by a man you don’t know, and of pills being put into your mouth and forced down with water.

Dread settles in as you recall these memories—what are you doing here? What does Seulgi want to do with you? She steps forward and your head spins with panic. You feel fuzzy and light, and even though you want to move away, your limbs are heavy and tied and you’re itching all over.

“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” Seulgi taunts, crouching next to you. “Aren’t you ashamed to have gotten yourself into this situation?” She runs her fingers down your side, over your hips. You shiver, squeezing your legs and whimpering into the towel.

Seulgi chuckles darkly, her eyes sparkling as she looks you over. The man with the camera walks around you, trying to keep your face in frame as Seulgi reaches up to palm your tits, her slender fingers wrapping around the flesh and squeezing. You whine in the back of your throat, trying to push yourself away; confusingly, your back arches off the grass and into her hand.

“A rapeslut, aren’t you, darling? Arching into mommy’s hand like that.” She smiles sadistically, pinching your nipple painfully hard. “Need mommy to touch you?” Her hand travels from your chest to the inside of your thigh, teasing so close to your entrance your thighs spasm with the desire to get…away?

The tears come without warning. They pool in your eyes, blurring your vision as they fall down your cheek, dripping down to your ear. You can’t beg, so you cry and vehemently shake your head, whimpering into the cloth stuffed in your mouth like a little girl crying into a stuffed animal.

“Stop crying,” she orders coldly, and the hard smack she delivers to your cheek is shocking enough to momentarily quiet your cries. “Haven’t even started yet and you’re sobbing like a fucking child.”

Despite the clear warning in your voice, the sting in your cheek and the fear that twists at your stomach when you feel one of her fingers slide through your folds makes you cry harder, wriggling to get away from her and failing miserably—your limbs are heavy and your head still hurts. The cameraman is standing over Seulgi’s shoulder at an angle that looks down on you as she moves to stand in between your legs. “You wanna cry?” she asks mockingly, a sadistic, borderline psychopathic smile pulling her face into a horrifically beautiful warning sign. “I’ll give you something to cry about.”

You whip back and forth to the best of your abilities, sounds of distress muted by the cloth muffling your mantra: NO NO NO NO.

“Come around here,” Seulgi orders the cameraman. He walks around and sits next to her, holding the camera in a way that captures the full extent of your nakedness while still keeping Seulgi in frame. She forces your legs apart with her knees, and the cameraman takes a second to move the camera closer to capture how you involuntarily clench at the way the wind blows against you.

You’re still crying, and scream into the cloth when Seulgi drags her finger through your folds, the squelching sound making shame and disgust curl around your throat. She does it once more, this time hard-pressing the pad of her thumb against your clit—it makes your back arch. She laughs. As much as you hate it, you crane your head to see what she’s doing, your head pounding so hard you feel dizzy, your vision blurred by tears that never dry up.

She’s spreading your pussy open for the cameraman, who’s got the camera close to her hand, and you involuntarily throw your head back when she inserts a finger. You try to close your legs, but she shoves them open again with a hard smack to the inside of your thigh. You sob into the cloth even as you shiver when she adds another finger and curls it inside of you, the squelch it emits making you sick to your stomach.

“Fucking pathetic,” Seulgi scoffs, eyes honed in on where her fingers disappear inside you. “Fucking whore. You enjoy getting fucked in the open like this? Enjoy getting raped? Recorded? Fucking rapeslut,” she growls, pressing down hard against your clit. You squirm against the floor and pant hard, flinching hard when her hand comes down hard and fast against your pussy, tears streaming down your cheeks in a never-ending river of frustration at not being able to do anything to save yourself.

“Look at her, Chan,” Seugli sighs, spreading your pussylips for the cameraman—Chan—to zoom in with the camera. “God, people are going to go crazy over this…”

You shake violently, clenching and unclenching without meaning to. Your eyes are pounding, if that’s even possible, the drugs they gave you making you lightheaded even though you’re laying down.

When Seulgi leans away from you, you allow yourself a relieved sob, thinking that maybe, maybe, this was all they wanted—they’d blackmail you into silence, but they’d spare you anything else.

Of course, god isn’t kind enough to grant you that mercy.

Seulgi hoists her skirt up over her hips, spreading her legs so Chan can record the dark spot on her panties as she rubs herself over the material, biting her lip in a way that makes your thighs glisten with arousal. You cry into the cloth, shame stabbing you in the stomach: your body betrays you even now.

Seulgi pulls her panties down, circling her clit a couple of times before scooting closer to you, and you only realize what she’s about to do once she’s straddling you.

You shake your head, whimpering and sobbing and shaking and begging, begging her to please stop, please let me go, even though you doubt she can understand you with your mouth full.

She slaps you again. “Shut up, whore. Take it like a good girl. Don’t disappoint your mommy.”

You cry still, even though it gets drowned out by the unholy, treacherous moan that leaves your lips the second she starts rubbing against you, rolling her hips in a way that makes your eyes roll back.

Your entire body is tense, and you can’t stop crying, but you feel a distantly familiar coil in your stomach as your clits rub together. Seulgi’s hands are painfully tight around your breasts, and then scratch down your breastbone to just above your bellybutton hard enough to make the skin angry and red and burning. Burning as you cum, burning as your cum mingles with hers, as she slowly grinds against you, riding it out.

Your eyes flutter open; tired, red and irritated, only to land on Chan—camera focused on your and Seulgi’s intertwined bodies, one hand palming his crotch.

“Sit on her face,” he breathes, like it takes actual effort to speak.

Seulgi glares at him. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“I’m sorry, madam,” Chan apologizes immediately, though he doesn’t stop playing with himself. “But I think it’d be good. For the video.”

Seulgi rolls her eyes at him even as she stands up, pulling her skirt off and standing over you. “Fucking perv.”

She leans down, and removes the cloth from your lips.

“Please,” you beg hoarsely, crying with your whole chest. Your wrists are raw, and your head hurts—you can barely focus on anything else. Your muscles are so tense they’re starting to cramp. “Please, I just want this to end, please, I—“

Seulgi squeezes your cheeks until your lips turn into a pout, uncaring of the tears staining her palms. “Shut up,” she hisses. “No one likes a talking doll. They’re annoying. You’re a fucking toy. Toys don’t speak.”

You sob again, trying and failing to shake your head. “It won’t end until you make mommy cum again. I don’t care if you get tired, hell, you can suffocate for all I care,” she squeezes your cheeks so hard the skin around her knuckles turns white, “you will make me cum.”

And just like that, she’s letting go of your cheeks to lower herself over your mouth. You try and turn away, but she’s on you, and you can taste her on your tongue.

She grinds down on you, rubbing her cum all over your face. You try and keep your mouth closed, but she grabs your hair and roughly pulls at it, hard enough that you yelp in pain.

“You better start,” she warns, grinding more vigorously against you.

Afraid of what might happen if you don’t comply, you gingerly press your tongue against her, hating yourself when your stomach clenches at the lewd moan that leaves her lips in response.

As you drag and suck and kiss over her pussy, you’re painfully aware of Chan’s camera situated by your shoulder, and you can’t stop yourself from crying at the realization that your face is going to be all over the internet.

You push your tongue in and out of her awkwardly, your jaw hurting as she continues grinding hard against your face, tugging harshly at your hair either because it’s not enough or for her own amusement—you can’t tell—but the cry you let out in response is what tips her over the edge.

She cums, and it’s everywhere. Your cheeks, your nose, dribbling down your chin onto your neck, in your mouth.

You pant as she stands up on shaky legs, your chest heaving, tears mingling with Seulgi’s essence, and then, before you can realize what’s happening, she’s pissing. All over your face, squatting above you as golden liquid mingles with all the other fluids already sticking to your skin. Seulgi groans as she releases, her stomach muscles contracting and relaxing, holding still above you even as her thighs shake; waits until the stream tapers off to stand to her full height.

You gag as the acidic taste mingles with the saltiness of your tears and the sweetness of her cum, as the stench seeps into your skin.

You don’t even have the energy to cry anymore—your throat is scratchy, and the pounding behind your eyes is enough to make your vision blur and dot around the edges. You’re nothing more than a toy—something to be marked; pissed on, fucked, used—a sexdoll meant to take it like a good girl.

“Let me have her, mistress?” Chan asks, and you notice now that he has his dick in his hand—big and veiny and leaking with precum. “Please?” he adds for good measure.

Seulgi, you notice, is sweating, and she gives a dismissive wave over her shoulder, holding a hand out for the camera. Chan gives it to her immediately, not even bothering to push his pants further down than his knees before he’s laying on top of you.

“Please,” you beg, and then choke and cough when he shoves two long fingers down your throat, pressing against the back of your tongue so you gag around them.

“Always liked you better quiet,” he groans against your jaw, rolling his hips against yours.

The tip of his dick snags on your entrance, and it makes your entire body jolt.

“Dirty girl, getting fucked in the open like this,” he says, rubbing against you—maybe that’s all he wants to do, you hope. “So fucking naughty. Fucking slut,” he growls, making you gag around his fingers again before leaning back to align himself to your entrance.

You scream when he shoves himself all the way in, biting down on his fingers. He yells angrily and pulls his fingers out of your mouth to slap you across the face. Your vision swims and you groan, your back scratching against twigs and stones when he pounds into you.

“Fucking bitch,” he growls, wrapping his hand around your throat, applying enough pressure to make your head spin. “Biting daddy’s fingers like that, like an ungrateful whore. Gonna show you.”

You hear squelching beside you and realize dumbly that Seulgi is rubbing herself in time with Chan’s thrusts, your body bouncing with each painful thrust he delivers.

As he nears his release, his grip on your neck gets tighter, and when he cums inside of you, you let the dark embrace of unconsciousness spare you any of what happens next, a single tear dripping down your cheek and into the dewy grass next to your shoulder.

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