Sammy Bryant giving you a sobriety test. Wobbling on your cute little heels giggling while he’s got his thumbs hooked into his belt telling you to walk a straight line. Crowding you up against the hood of his car and laying your tummy flat on the hood while he’s pushing your tight little mini over your ass, “You know how dangerous it is to be walking around like this at this time of night? Cute little fuck me heels on, makin’ officers like me check in on you,” he’s got his thick fingers rubbing through your slick folds, pink panties pushed to the side. Hearing the clink of his belt coming off over your panty little mewls, “Want you to recite the alphabet backwards. Don’t stop either, or we’re gonna start all over again, you got that?” and your nodding eagerly, feeling the blunt head of his cock breach your folds, squealing when a rough hand meets your backside, “Not hearing you, sugar. Fucked little head knows how it starts, don’t you?” you’re whining, hands clutching his thick thighs as they slap against the backs of your ass, finger tips dragging along the hood of his car with a quick nod, “That’s it, smart girl. Now get on with it before I cum all in this pretty cunt.”
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love it when whumpee is high as a kite on painkillers. their brain-to-mouth filter becomes non-existent.
caretaker is by their side, taking care of them as they babble and giggle and cry. caretaker tries not to let the things whumpee says get to them. a more honest idea of what happened to them is horrifying and heart-wrenching.
"oh, this doesn't hurt—" a little giggle, "Before, I had to stay still and. there were, veryyy big needles, and it would make me cry. but then I'd get hurt. more."
"blankets? for me? why? but I won't die if I'm not warm!"
"no, no, let me stay on the floor! please don't hurt me, please, I'll be good, don't tell—" choking on whumper's name, "—please. I'll do anything."
"hey, do you think I'm broken?"
"c'n sl'p?" mumbling drowsily, "y'u c'n thr'w me o'ts'd aft'r!"
caretaker has to endeavour to make their voice gentle and unassuming, their responses soothing. they can't let their anger or their sadness show. they can't.
RAFE CAMERON talking about you to his buddies. neck deep in alcohol, slurred speech, claiming, “she’s a bombshell, guys, seriously.” while his hands form your figure in air like clay, giving his piece of shit friends a clear picture of an hourglass body. their cheers and obvious interest only riles him up, talking big with growing enthusiasm, “and i hit that shit every night, man!” rewarded with pats on the back and congratulatory daps. it’s the kind of locker-room-talk that only gets worse. shots keep getting poured, depraved guys with girlfriends who won’t put out gather around rafe fiending for dirty details: do you squirt; do you let him sleep around; is butt stuff on the table? anything they can think up, they’re hounding the prince of kildare for. and rafe, eager for a chance to prove himself, leaves nothing to the imagination.
Thinking..... you're at a bar and he keeps whispering disgusting things in your ear and you keep trying to wriggle away but he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pushes drink after drink into your hands :/// so when he toys with the thin strap of your top you no longer try to bat his hand away, you just lean closer to him, hand on his thigh and giggling when his hand slips under your top to squeeze your tit... you'll die of embarrassment tomorrow when he reminds you how you let him grope you in front of 15 people, but right now you let him guide you outside so you can blow him in the car <3
If you came to these boys with an intoxication kink, you’d be done for.
First of all, they’d be responsible, boundaries and rules would be set and consent would be well established.
BUT THEN.
You’ve been at the bar all night, watching the crowd, mingling a bit, all the while working up a buzz.
After close, the guys come to you, checking on you, giving you more drinks, maybe encouraging you to drink something a little stronger, maybe encouraging you to drink a little quicker.
It’s not long before you’re wasted, laying on your back naked on the bar, Eddie fucking you, your head tilted to give Volt the drunkest, hottest blowjob of his life.
They pause every now and then to make you take another sip, and then go back to ruining you.
They’d make sure you don’t remember what happened the next day, but it’s okay. The soreness all over your body and the bruises and bite marks are all the reminder you need.
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thinking about yan bruce who has been relentlessly pursuing you and “accidentally” bumps into you at a black tie fundraiser that he knew for a fact that you were going to attend. he gets you drunk at the gala so he can kiss you stupid and eat you out in the back of his car before driving you home passed out in the passenger seat
From the moment you saw him, you knew you had to have him. The most eligible bachelor in the whole town, yet he had turned down proposal after proposal, becoming a handsome enigma to those who knew him.
He had healed the sick, brought drought-ridden crops back to life, and even advised the emperor, whom everyone had assumed was impotent, how to beget children. There was nothing he couldn't do, yet his reasons for refusing marriage stymied everyone.
He merely said he was a man of certain tastes, and he would know when he found the one.
Of course, this only made you desire him more. Was he saving himself for marriage? Did all his scholarly expertise perhaps not teach him the art of courting a woman? You had so many questions, but you were confident about one thing; not even the most disciplined man could resist the charms of a huli jing.
You planned it all out, carefully concealing your ears and tail using an old spell, and had bathed in honey and the sweetest flower extracts you could find. You'd dotted precious fragrances on your wrists, neck, and behind your ears. Soft silk garments with the prettiest embroidery adorned your body before you set off to his house, a bottle of sweet oasmanthus wine in your satchel. Surely an evening of liquor, mahjong, and coy dialogue would get him to yield to temptation?
You called his name humbly when knocking on his door, using an enticing honeyed tone as you waited for him to answer. "Zayne. Kindly open the door for your guest..." Your voice was melodic and sly, carrying a balance of modesty and provocation.
After a moment, the door is opened, and Zayne appears, carrying a lamp and looking perplexed at the thought of entertaining visitors.
"And who are you?" he asks, raising the lantern higher to get a glimpse of your face. You blink prettily, showing off your long eyelashes and kohl-rimmed eyes, your lips red and plump.
"You might not remember me." You look directly into his eyes, using your magic on his senses. "You healed my brother a few weeks back. I wanted to thank you. May I enter...?" You give him an appealing look, pleased when his eyes seem to daze out of focus, a sign that your charm had taken effect. He steps to the side, and you daintily step over the threshold, settling neatly on one of the floor mats of his living room. You humbly offer the satchel with your head bowed.
"The sweetest osmanthus wine for your wisdom," you murmur with your head bowed. When he hesitates, you look up.
"I'm sorry, my lady. I don't partake in alcohol."
Thrown off, you stare at him. Your plan relied on his intoxication. You try again, laughing demurely to shake away the awkwardness. "I was told you had a sweet tooth. Are you sure you won't try it? It was brewed with the freshest flowers, and fermented with pure sugar."
"I'm afraid not. I understand it's rude to reject a gift outright, so I will accept it, but I cannot drink it." Zayne takes the satchel from you, and the cogs in your brain whir, trying to think of a second plan.
"My mistake." You chuckle again. "Perhaps I should have brought tangyuan, or rose cake."
"Not at all. But it seems I have wasted your efforts in coming here." Zayne moves to his kitchen and returns carrying a tray laden with a small teapot and two cups. "Would you like some tea as compensation? I just brewed it."
Determined not to leave so early, you nod and watch as Zayne neatly fills one of the porcelain cups before handing it to you. Several lanterns hung around his humble quarters, casting long shadows against the walls. The tea is fragrant, and you sniff it appreciatively before bringing the cup to your lips.
Instantly, you knew something was wrong. Your vision blurs, and your body feels hot. The cup shatters on the floor and you double over trying to fight the hot waves that churn inside your stomach. The sensation wears off as soon as it begins, and when you can push yourself off the floor, you're greeted by the sight of Zayne's boots.
"Got you." A triumphant smirk is painted on his face, and you realize, with a jolt of panic, that your hidden ears and nine tails are on full display, the tail flicking back and forth behind you.
"When did you figure it out?" You hiss, glaring at the handsome man towering over you. Somehow, he had slipped you alcohol in the tea, the only thing that could've broken through your concealment. But that didn't explain the strange sensations you felt in your extremities, and the gathering heat between your legs.
"As soon as I saw you at my door." Zayne roughly pulls you up by the collar. "Thought it would be fun to toy with an unwitting bachelor, did you?"
Your ears flatten, realizing the situation offered no escape. Your body was feeling like it was made from cotton, your limbs refusing to work together, and your head felt heavy, while your breasts felt sensitive, your nipples feeling like they were being chafed against the smooth silk of your clothes.
"What have you done to me?" You ask through gritted teeth, and Zayne's lip curls almost mockingly.
"What, has this huli jing never tasted alcohol before?"
"Of course I have!" You spit out, feeling terror grip your throat. "Is it poison? Is that what's causing these other reactions?"
Zayne's dark chuckle sends a chill down your spine. "Don't fret. It's not poision."
He scoops you up and you're moved to another room. Your head swims in a blur of colors and distorted shapes and as you kneel on the floor, you feel your arms being shackled, the clink of metal only intensifying your panic.
Yet at the same time, you feel like you're burning up, hot and cold tingles racing down your spine. The brush of his fingers against your wrists set off fireworks in the pit of your stomach. You fight down a whimper.
"What's wrong with me?" You whisper, and Zayne tips your head up by the chin.
"A strengthened aphrodisiac brew. I didn't know how much was needed for a huli jing, but it looks like it was overdosed."
Your eyes flicker with fury, but you're helpless against your bonds.
"How does it feel when the predator becomes prey?" Zayne walks away to and stops behind you. You still, then yelp as you feel a sharp smack on your rear. Your head swirls from the pain, yet an ember of pleasure breaks through your mind, and it's all you can concentrate on.
"Wasn't this your plan for the evening?" Zayne's deep voice issues behind you, and you squirm as you feel his hand caress the smooth silk covering your bottom. "To discover how I am, sexually? Using your body as an offering?" As the aphrodisiac seeps deeper into your veins, your tails begins to twitch from arousal, and you whimper as Zayne captures all of them in his hand, tugging lightly to arch your ass into a more presentable angle.
You cry out as he strikes you again, yet the pain instantly vanishes into delight, and you feel moisture seeping into your sex as the discomfort passes. Trapped and feeling despicably vulnerable, you put in a last-ditch effort to escape.
"I suppose you think this is a fitting punishment? Do you think angering a spirit is the right way to go?"
Zayne laughs at this and slaps your clothed ass again, the noise echoing off the walls.
"Punishment? Heavens, no. I'm satisfying your wish, huli jing." With a firm grip on your tails, he leans forward, his hot breath tickling your ear. "You'll get the reward of knowing how I am intimately." Noticing your tension, he pushes away hair from your face, sending electricity skittering through your scalp. "Why do you look so upset? Do you not like it when men offer to appease your whimsies?"
You attempt to growl, but it comes out as a mewl as you're spanked again.
"Perhaps you should consider this a lesson."
You feel the full effect of the aphrodisiac grip you, and your mind sinks into a state of submission. There was no arguing with his words. He was indeed fulfilling your desires, but there was a lingering irritation that it was not on your terms. You don't have the strength to fight him off as he pulls off your delicate clothes, the silk wrinkling as it's discarded into a corner.
Zayne runs a hand over your smarting cheeks, admiring the stain that's seeped into them from his abuse.
"You're enjoying this." He states it plainly before he rains his hand down on the delicate flesh, the curves jiggling with each strike. You whine and struggle as much as you can, but the heady spiral of pleasure has you in its jaws, and all you can do is wait, wondering if you'll get more. The tug on your tails is an additional source of discomfort, but it barely mattered now.
When he finally stops, you feel like you've ascended into an unknown realm. Your pussy is dripping wet, eager to know the man who put you in this state.
"I hope this brings you satisfaction, huli jing."
You barely have a second to react before you feel your wet hole suddenly stretch out to capacity. Your nails scrabble against the wooden floor, but there's nothing to ground you as Zayne pushes his thick cock inside your moist canal. Your moans keen, feeling the warmth from the velvety column that fills every inch of your desperate walls. His fingers part your soaked folds, rubbing circles on the sensitive little swollen nub in between, and your body convulses in gratification, your vision disappearing in a flash of white.
It was in the wee hours of the morning that you exited the house disheveled, your makeup smudged, and sweat staining your hastily donned clothes. The effects of the brew had finally worn off, and though your curiosity was sated, you couldn't help but feel like you had been hoodwinked. That man had the mind of a fox himself.
