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itstheoneshot · 3 years

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Tutor

request

Summary: You'd do absolutely anything to make sure you don't fail English class... anything.

Word Count: 2.7k

Pairing: Kris Wu x Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Unprotected Sex.

You lift your gaze as your name is called out in front of the class by your teacher, you know exactly where this is going, but you're still not prepared for the harshness of her words.

"You failed, again. How long is it going to take you to learn English?" She asks.

You can barely understand her, she talks so fast you can hardly keep up. Having to take English as a second language is exhausting, you would do anything to get out of this class, but unfortunately you're not able to if you want to get your degree.

"I'm sorry, professor." You mumble, stuttering over the few words in English that you're actually confident in.

You feel a blush run to your cheeks, you're flustered after being told off, embarrassed that now the whole class is aware that you're failing.

"Why can't you be more like Yifan? He scored 100% on this test." Your teacher asks, her tone exasperated as she points across the room to the other student.

You look over at Yifan, as he stares back at you. He seems uncomfortable too, to have been used as the example of how you should have performed, he grimaces as your teacher continues her spiel.

"I wasn't lucky enough to get to live in Canada, professor." You say, sarcasm drenching your words.

Yifan laughs at this, but with a pointed look from your teacher, he quietens, though you can still hear him snickering. You wipe the smile off your face, as you know that your teacher didn't find what you said funny at all.

"You need to do better, or you'll be repeating next year. This is your final warning." She says.

You nod, though you don't reply, just wanting to sink into your seat and disappear. You stare down at your notebook in front of you, analysing the work, not understanding a single fucking word of it. You quietly sit through the rest of the class, furiously copying down notes from the whiteboard, though you truly only can read not even half of it.

"This essay is worth 50% of your grade. You all need to do well to pass." Your teacher says.

Class is soon dismissed, and you gather your books together to leave. You keep your head down as you walk out of the room, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone, too embarrassed about today. All you want to do is go home, as you make your way down the hall, in the direction of the exit.

You make it all the way to your car before you realise you have been followed, you turn on your heel to come face to face with your classmate, your friend, Wu Yifan, you're not super close, but you still know each other well.

"You walked so fast." Yifan complains.

You laugh at this, making a pointed look at his too-long legs, he is always the fastest walker, out of everyone you know, so surely keeping up with you wouldn't really have been a problem.

"I have to go home to study." You reply.

"That's why I wanted to speak to you." He says.

"Why?" You ask.

You try not to overthink, though from the hit your self-esteem took today, you fear the worst, you fear that Yifan is going to make you feel bad for failing. He is so much better at English than you, hell, he's better than you at every class you're in.

"I was wondering whether you'd like me to help you?" He asks.

"Like... tutoring?" You ask him.

Yifan nods eagerly, almost making you laugh at how excited he is at the idea. You raise a brow at him, you feel like there has to be some kind of catch here. Though you don't question it for long, you desperately need to pass this class, and after not understanding the essay question at all, and knowing that it is worth so much of your marks, you'll take any help you can get.

"Okay, thank you." You say.

Yifan smiles at you, shaking his head.

"No need to thank me, I want you to graduate too." He replies.

You nod solemnly, not holding onto hope, you feel so fucking stupid, you just wish you could do better, be better.

"Do you want to come to my place to study?" Yifan asks.

"I'll follow behind you." You say, gesturing to your car.

Yifan reaches out to you, grazing your cheek gently with his fingertips before turning to walk to his car. You shake off the shivers that his touch gave you, before stepping into your own car, and following him as he drives in the direction of his house. You've been there before, Yifan often holds parties, but you've never been there alone.

———

You pull up out the front, just as Yifan gets out of his car. He jogs down the driveway to meet you, he takes your books out of your hands, and rests his arm over your shoulder to guide you inside. It is cold out, and you appreciate the warmth, leaning into him as you walk through the front door.

"You live alone?" You ask him.

The only time you've ever been here, you've been intoxicated. You had assumed, like the other college kids in the area, that he either lived with his mother, or lived with friends. Though the house is empty, and from what you can see, there are no other signs of life, so little possessions, barely enough to sustain just one person.

"I do. My mother stays with me sometimes, when she has time off work, but otherwise, it's just me." He replies.

"Isn't that lonely?" You ask.

"It's not so bad. I'm used to it, I like the privacy." He says.

You notice Yifan's arm still around you, and feel a blush run to your cheeks as he does too, before letting you go.

"I'm sorry." He mumbles.

You struggle to reply, unsure of what to say, you know that Yifan meant nothing by having his arm over your shoulder, but the skinship has you confused, feeling strange, and overwhelmed. You feel tiny next to him, as he leads you over to the dining table, placing your books down on it, and then pulling out a chair for you to sit in.

"Thank you." You say.

Yifan sits next to you, and you flip though your book to the page your essay question is written on. To you it just looks like jumbled letters, your handwriting is not neat, English is so complex to you, compared to your native Mandarin. You feel exasperated, prepared to bawl your eyes out at any moment.

"It's too hard." You complain.

You gasp, as Yifan reaches over to tuck your hair behind your ear. He turns your cheek to face him, and gives you a reassuring smile.

"English only." He says.

"Okay..." You sigh.

Yifan begins to explain to you the concept of the essay, and as he continues, you find yourself zoning in and out, constantly asking him to repeat himself, as every second word feels like complete gibberish. Every minute gets harder, you feel your train of thought slipping, but you need to do this fucking essay.

"I can't do this." You say, your English is slow.

"Yes, you can, you are so much better than you think. You just need more practice." He encourages you.

You shake your head, unable to form the words in English to portray how badly you feel that you are doing. You've barely written a paragraph, and you feel like Yifan has written every second word for you. His hand rests on yours, holding the pen, and you feel that stupid blush run to your cheeks again.

"I'm just so fucking stupid." You whine.

You let your pen go, dropping it on the table, and lean your head back, staring up at the ceiling. You feel as if there is no way you can get this work done in time, you feel anxiety begin to course through your veins, only being grounded by the man next to you, who is absentmindedly holding your hand still.

"You're shaking..." He whispers.

You don't respond, as it takes you a moment to understand the English words, though when you do, you sit up straight again, and turn to face Yifan.

"Should we take a break?" He asks.

"Please." You reply.

"We still have to speak English, though." He says.

You sigh again, trying to think of the right words to say, but at this point your head is so cloudy you can't even think straight. Yifan's hand is still holding yours, and you can't help the way that it makes you feel. Giddy, confused, overwhelmed, you're not really sure what you're feeling anymore.

"Can you write my essay for me?" You ask.

"I can't do that, you have the ability to do it yourself." Yifan laughs, shaking his head, "But I can definitely help you learn."

"How?" You ask him.

"Come, just walk with me." He says, standing up.

He pulls you to stand with him, and leads you around his house. He points to different things, photos, furniture, rooms, asking you to name them all. You find this surprisingly easy, though he guides you for some things, but you find yourself growing suspicious as his grip on your hand gets tighter, and as you realise there is only one room that you haven't been in yet.

"Your bedroom." You say.

"Good girl." He replies, his tone lower than before.

You stare at him for only a moment, before he surprises you, leaning in to press his lips to yours. At first you are unsure how to respond, but as he moves his hands to your waist, you find yourself complying. He's tall, handsome, and apparently into you? You never would have guessed it, but of course your self-esteem is so low you had assumed that nobody would be into you.

"Is this okay?" He asks.

You stare up at him with wide eyes, as you find your anxiety melting away. The breaths between kisses are too long, you don't want to think about your essay anymore, you just want... him.

"It, umm, it is more than okay." You reply, struggling to find the English words but getting there again.

Yifan hums in response, kissing you again, this time with more force. You hold tight to him, as he effortlessly lifts you off the ground, and you wrap your legs around his waist. He grips tight to your ass as he carries you over to the bed.

"I can help you write your essay." He says between kisses, laying you down, hovering over your body.

"But why?" You ask, confused and intrigued by the change of pace.

Yifan doesn't respond, instead tracing his fingers down your front, finding position at the hem of your shirt to pull it up over your head. Your breasts are spilling out over the top of your bra, and Yifan takes a hand to your chest, palming the flesh, sighing in content and want.

"Fuck, you're so fucking pretty." He purrs.

He stops for a moment to tear his own t-shirt off, shit, you've never seen him shirtless before. Broad-shouldered, defined muscles, god damn he is breathtaking. You forget what you're even here for, the essay means nothing now you are underneath the hottest man you know.

Clothes are stripped off, one by one, until you are both naked, Yifan has his cock in his hand, stroking himself while kissing you, teasing your clit with the head, staring deep into your eyes.

"What's the English word for this?" He asks with a smirk.

"Your cock." You reply, rolling your eyes at him, still wanting to teach you English even now.

"Clever girl..." He starts, "And what would you like me to do with it?"

You're almost ashamed to know the words you are about to say, sure, you might be failing English at school, hence even being here with Yifan in the first place, but these words you know.

"Fuck me, Yifan." You breathe.

"Good girl." He says.

He takes his hand away from his cock, and to your core instead. He warms you up slowly, from one, to two, to three fingers. You can barely contain yourself, your back is arched as he prepares you for him, and shit, you really are going to need preparation.

"Are you ready?" He asks.

"Yes." You reply.

Yifan slowly teases your entrance, and then inch by inch, pushes through to bottom out inside you. You hiss through the initial painful stretch, as Yifan slowly pulls out, only to thrust back in again. You hook a leg over his hip, begging him deeper inside you.

"Look at you, baby, you're so strong, taking all of me." He praises.

"Feels... so good." You moan.

Yifan leans back so he can admire you as he fucks you, you're overwhelmed as each thrust hits you in just the right spot. As Yifan comes closer to kiss you again, you dig your fingernails into his back, dragging them down the skin, leaving red marks in their wake.

Yifan moans into your mouth, enamoured by the way you clench around him every time he hits your sweet spot. You lean up to kiss him, and he slips his hands under you, before rolling onto his back, pulling you on top of him. You sit up, with his cock still deep inside you, and Yifan helps you as you ride him.

Grinding down every time you lower yourself, you feel each second that you're closer to release. Yifan can sense it, with the way you can barely make a sound.

"Tell me what you want." He says.

"I want—” You start, without releasing you had dropped back into your native tongue.

"In English." He orders.

You try and focus, though you can barely remember a single word in Mandarin, let alone English. You need Yifan to guide you, just like he is guiding you on his cock, you need more.

"I want to... I don't know the word." You say.

Yifan pulls you down to kiss him, and begins to thrust in from under you. You begin to unravel, each second feels like a hundred years, as you try to resist, but you can't keep it in anymore.

"Cum, baby. Cum for me." He says.

With the new word in your vocabulary, though definitely not one you can use in your essay, you finally feel your orgasm come to peak. Yifan holds your legs still, stopping their shaking as he fucks you through your high, though just as you begin to be able to think straight again, as you descend from your peak, Yifan pulls out just in time to release all over his stomach. You roll onto your side next to him as he strokes himself, and you take a hand to his cock too, to help him finish.

"Shit, that was... amazing." You sigh.

"You were amazing." He says.

"No! What I am, is going to fail my assignment." You reply.

Yifan kisses you again, before standing up and wiping his stomach clean with his t-shirt. You watch him pull his underwear and tracksuit pants back on, though he remains shirtless.

"I'll write your essay. You just have to pretend you understand it." Yifan says.

You stare at him in shock, while you get yourself dressed. He watches you intently, biting his lip as he waits for you to respond.

"What do you get out of this?" You ask.

Yifan smirks at you, as he takes your hand to lead you back out to the dining table.

"Round two later, and more, if you'd like." He says.

You look down at your notebook, and then back at the handsome man who has you totally fucked out right now. Sure, you need to pass school, so you'll take any opportunity you can, but you wouldn't say no to him anyway, not after how good he made you feel.

"Deal."

#kris wu #kris wu fanfic #kris wu smut #wu Yifan #wu Yifan smut #wu Yifan fanfic #kpop fanfic #cpop fanfic #kpop smut #cpop smut #ask request #exo fanfic #exo ot12 fanfic #exo smut #exo ot12 smut

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bangchanshehe · 3 years

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I am proud to announce that lately I have been working very hard on this oneshot project in collaboration with many other amazing writers called "The Undead". Twelve of us have chosen an OT12 Exo member and have written a oneshot with the theme of Zombie Apocalypse, with deferent genres and universes. If you are interested in a good read I would highly recommend checking out some of the posted stories!

https://biaswreckingfics.tumblr.com/post/655711926305882112/the-undead-masterlist-an-exo-collab

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manitarenia · 5 years

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This beautiful man had his birthday yesterday, and I am in the mood of sharing my favorite Yifan fanfiction works.

Let’s talk Mafia Aus - @baekhyuns-abs “Sweet Dreams” is soooooo good. Kris character in this one is so powerfull and irresistible, that I can’t really blame Y/N for falling for him from the very first second ( same, girl, same) . As for the second part, “Picturesque”, I literally have no words. Just read it.

@optimizche ‘s currently writes “My Answer”, a Junmyeon/Reader/Wu Yifan fic, and I was hooked on the story from the first chapter. A fair warning though : you will find it extremely difficult to choose between those two lads!

If you are looking for a demonAU, you should definately check out @marshmallow-phd ‘s “My soul to keep” series. I don’t remember if it was this fic , or her wolfAU series, “Memories Past” - another installation in the Untamed Universe - that made me fall in love with Kris, but it certainly was one of these two!

I can leave out of this list @gamerwoo ‘s “Star Crossed” wolfAU - I am currently reading it and so far I am loving it!

I would love to hear your recommendations~!

#kris wu #yifan #wu yifan #exo #kris wu fanfic #kris wu fanfic rec #yifan fanfic #yifan fanfic rec #exo fanfic #exo fanfic rec #kpop #cpop

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imeightout · 7 years

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LOVELY | WU YIFAN + (OT12)

“I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you” - falling in love at a coffee shop by landon pigg

pairing: wu yifan x reader (+ tao, luhan & exo)

summary: meeting at a coffee shop was just fate pulling you together

special thanks to @mintsugarkihyun for helping me

It was a bright Saturday morning as you sat at the table with your laptop in front of you, a cup of coffee sitting beside you that had already run cold. You were too engrossed in preparing for your lesson plans that you had completely forgotten where you were.

The coffee shop was lively and the barista’s were hard at work trying to cater to everyone’s coffee fixes. Kris had his sunglasses over his eyes as he stood in line, his line of sight falling on you as you typed away at your computer for preparation of the upcoming school season.

He didn’t notice the small smile on his face until it was his turn in line.

After ordering his usual he stepped off to the side, concentrating on reading the emails on his phone. He glanced over at you at the exact moment you looked up from the bright screen.

Being polite you smiled and went back to reading what was on your laptop, he took a moment to collect himself and as he grabbed the coffee cup he made the decision to take a chance.

He didn’t know what he was thinking, the last time he had even spoken to a woman that he had an interest in was back before Ella was born.

He took a moment to process what he was doing before he got your attention. “Mind if I sit here?” He questioned and you stopped what you were doing to look at him.

“Oh, sure.” The look on your face said it all as he sat down across from you. “Seems like you’re busy hope you don’t mind me sitting here.” You shook your head quickly as a light blush crept onto your cheeks.

“I don’t mind, I’m Y/n by the way.” You smiled sweetly as he returned his politeness. “Kris. What are you working on?” He asked curiously.

“I’m starting my new job as a kindergarten teacher on Monday, I just want to make sure I have everything in order.” You looked down at your watch and then grabbed your stuff quickly. “Sorry I forgot I have to go and meet someone, it was nice meeting you Kris.”

The last memory he had of you was you smiling over your shoulder while walking out of the coffee shop.

Monday rolled around quickly and you were excited to start your first day of classes. You had spent so much time at school preparing for when you finally became a teacher.

You smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles in your bright yellow dress and checked the time on your phone before the bell rang signaling the beginning of class.

One by one you greeted your students at the door with a bright smile on your face, helping them put their backpacks in their cubbies and showing them to their spot at the tables.

“Hi, are you Miss L/n?” You looked up to see a tall guy with glasses, holding the hand of an adorable little girl. “Yes, I am.” You responded cheerfully. “This is Ella.” You nodded and smiled down at Ella who looked at you shyly.

“It’s nice to meet you Ella, I’m Miss L/n.” She giggled before letting go of the man’s hand, walking into the classroom cautiously.

“Are you her father?” You questioned. “Me? No, her dad had work this morning so I offered to take her to school. You could say I’m her uncle. The name is Suho.” He extended his hand out to you for you to shake.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’ll make sure she has a good first day.” He smiled and waved to Ella from the doorway before turning back to you. “I don’t doubt it.” He said before nodding his head as a goodbye.

“I’m telling you, she was gorgeous!” Suho said to Lay who was sitting across from him at the table. “Who was?” Kris asked as he walked up to the table and sat down next to Suho.

“Ella’s kindergarten teacher.” Suho said with a smirk. “Seriously man? That’s my daughter’s teacher, don’t do anything stupid.” Kris said with a roll of his eyes. Lay burst into laughter as he glanced over Kris.

“How’s the company running?” He asked knowing full well Kris was doing his very best. “Same as usual, busy.” Kris said with a bitter laugh. “Any news on that girl from the coffee shop?” Zitao said as he took the seat next to Lay.

“Glad you could finally join us.” Suho mumbled. “I haven’t seen her since Saturday, I’m starting to think it’s pointless.” Kris admitted with a shrug of his shoulders.

“It’s fine, I’ll get over it.” He said confidently, masking what he was really thinking which was that he couldn’t quite get you off his mind.

The day progressively got busier for poor Kris who just wanted to make it home before eight o’clock this time. He wasn’t able to send Ella off to school which bothered him a lot but he had to forget about it and get to working to be able to provide for the love of his life, his daughter.

He sometimes regretted going into a career that kept him from home often, it was one of the many things he regretted.

When his cell phone rang with Tao’s number flashing on the screen he panicked a bit. “What’s wrong? Is Lanfen okay?” Tao groaned on the other end and sighed. “What if I was calling to tell you aliens kidnapped me?” Kris let out a sigh and out of annoyance stayed silent.

“What is it?”

Tao took a deep breath before continuing. “I can’t pick up Lanfen from school today, I got caught up with some stuff here at the shoot.”

Kris hung up and looked at the time, he had about thirty minutes to get down to the school on time. He quickly grabbed the jacket that matched his suit and cancelled the rest of his day at the office.

The parking lot was pretty much empty when Kris arrived and he cursed underneath his breath as he made his way inside.

He walked towards Ella’s classroom and he walked in with a guilty expression on his face. “Lanfen?” The little girl looked up from her drawing and ran over to her father in an instance.

You looked up as well and were caught off guard when you recognized the man standing in front of you.

“Oh, hi.” You said awkwardly as Kris picked up Ella. “What a small world, are you Miss L/n?” You nodded with a nervous laugh and grabbed the drawing from the table.

“I’m sorry I was late, her uncle was suppose to pick her up but he had something come up and it took me forever to get over here..” He looked back over at you to see you smile. “It’s alright, things happen. At least you’re here now, besides Ella got to draw some more.”

Kris let Ella down so she could grab her backpack, you bent down to Ella’s height and handed her the drawing. “I’ll see you tomorrow okay?” Ella nodded and grabbed the picture with her tiny hands. “Thanks Miss L/n! I’m glad you’re my teacher.” She said with a toothy grin.

“I’m glad you’re my student.” You replied as you patted the top of her head. “It was nice to see you.” You stood back up and turned your attention to Kris.

“Yeah, it was.”

“What?!” Both Alice and Minseok exclaimed as we gathered in the kitchen of Alice’s apartment.

“Coffee shop is a dad to one of your students?” Alice questioned looking at you in disbelief. “What a small world.”

Minseok shook his head and grabbed the beer that was sitting on the table. “Well you can’t date him now.” You snapped your head in Minseok’s direction and stared.��“I never said anything about dating him.” You defended.

“Yeah but even if you had it still wouldn’t matter, what would people say?” Alice nudged Minseok before giving him a look. “Don’t listen to him, it happens all the time.” Minseok looked over at her and sat up in his chair. “And how could you possibly know that? You’re a doctor not a teacher.”

You listened as the two argued until you stood up and grabbed your bag. “I’m going home, I’ll see you guys later, remember dinner on Friday.” You pointed at the two of them who nodded.

Alice watched as you left and turned to Minseok. “Why would you say that?” He turned to his friend of ten years and rolled his eyes. “Say what?” She grabbed the can of beer from him and smacked his arm.

“Go home.”

Meanwhile Kris was sitting on his daughter’s bed in the process of reading her a story in the hopes she would fall asleep.

“Daddy, do you like Miss L/n?” Kris didn’t know how to answer but he nodded and looked down at her. “Yeah, do you?” He asked intrigued by how she’d answer.

“Yeah, I like her, she’s the best teacher ever!” She giggled and Kris kissed the top of her head. “Lanfen, I’m sorry I was late picking you up today.” The little girl looked up at her dad and smiled.

“It’s okay baba.” She said as Kris tucked her into bed and kissed her forehead.

“Night, princess.”

#exo #exo reactions #exo scenarios #exo fanfic #exo fic #exo au #kris wu #wu yifan #exo kris #kris wu fanfic #wu yifan fanfic

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kpoptrashlord-007 · 3 years

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Extended Stay;; WYF [pt.1]

Check out Part Two here~

Word Count;; 10.4k total, 5.2k for pt.1

Genre;; Zombie AU [Horror], Mafia AU [Violence], Smut

Pairing;; Kris Wu x Fem!Reader

Summary;;

There comes a point in every relationship where things start to get serious. For you and Kris, that point comes in the form of a weekend getaway at a paradise resort. While you have your doubts about the many secrets he holds, there's a part of you that wants the relationship to thrive, to grow into something greater. All great things, however, must be strong enough to withstand a storm and the quickest way to learn of a person's true character is under unfathomable odds. Luckily for you, an island gone dark promises many hardships.

Collab Info;;

The Undead - an EXO12 Collab hosted by @biaswreckingfics ♡

Check out the Masterlist for more great EXO Zombie AU fics!

Warnings;;

Zombies!! + Mafia AU so

Graphic depictions of violence, gore, horror in general, guns Explicit Language!! Explicit Smut!! Thigh riding and fingering, daddy kink

My Networks;; @supermwritersnet

My Masterlist

The jet touches down in Banoi minutes before 6pm, much earlier than scheduled. Despite night fast approaching, the sun is still high and bright in the crystal blue sky. Nary a cloud taints the endless canvas - there aren't even birds floating on the gentle sea breeze.

Stretching your legs without fear of touching the seat in front of you or even coming anywhere near it, a yawn escapes your lips. Travelling by private jet is a level of luxury you never thought you'd experience and yet here you are, as impressed as you are bored.

You tear your gaze from the small glass panel and its view of the Royal Palms Resort. It was a long flight and you want nothing more than to disembark this extravagant tin can and take a gulp of fresh island air, to feel sand beneath your toes as the warm ocean kisses your feet.

The stewardess approaches you. She is smiling. Of course she is - that smile hasn't dropped for the entirety of the flight. You wish it were contagious but it's a weak facade, incapable of eliciting anything close to a spark of emotion within you, and you have a sneaking suspicion that it's all for show. Anxiety twitches her upper lip and her hands shake as she hands you a menu. It's the same menu you've seen a hundred times over the course of the flight.

You've started to hate it.

Just a little.

"Would you care for any refreshments before you leave, ma'am?"

"God, no"—you wave her off—"I'll just have a scotch when we get to the bar."

"Of course, ma'am."

She scurries toward the back just as Yifan comes through the very curtain she's trying to disappear behind. They come close to a collision but he sidesteps her. Towering over her much smaller frame with a look that screams murder, it doesn't surprise you when she quivers. You, too, felt the same way the first time you met him.

On the surface, Yifan is like ice.

It becomes noisy fast; the stewardess is apologising nonstop, the pilot announces you're clear to leave, the bodyguards are shuffling to and fro and you're sighing in relief. There's a hiss as the doors open and a quiet howl rolls in on the breeze. Outside is otherwise silent.

This realisation sends a shiver down your spine.

You can't help but wonder if Yifan somehow managed to buy the island for the weekend. If it were an option, you think he would have. Extravagance is part of his lifestyle, after all, and he likes to display his wealth, flaunt his power, showcase his trophies.

Stretching as you stand, you glance toward the exit. No one else is moving to leave yet, hung up on small details and menial tasks. Even the guards have yet to reach the door, stopping periodically to 'assess the situation'. They're just a bunch of lumbering fools. If a threat appeared, they would only serve as cannon fodder for their boss's escape.

Yifan is calculating. Not cold, but calculating.

He's the type of man that can find a purpose for anyone and everything. Even the worthless can be made useful. You don't find this to be a problem, not really. If anything you can appreciate his quick thinking and impartial approach to problems.

Your issue lies in that you don't know how he views you. Sure, he flew you out to some luxury beach resort in the middle of the ocean for some R&R, but that doesn't mean much. Material things have no real value - they can be replaced, spent, tossed. No matter how much he loves his possessions and his collections, they are not what's important to him.

What is important to him, however, is a mystery to you.

Yifan is a man of many secrets.

Hot on the trail of the security detail, your pace is erratic and sluggish until you finally reach the exit. Even within the shade of the men in front of you, the air is warmer here. Light pours in around them, basking them in an orange glow. There's an urge growing inside you just to push them out of your way, to shove them head first onto the tarmac down below. It's unbecoming of you but you can't shake it loose.

"All clear, boss."

"Thank you for your hard work."

Yifan's smooth voice rumbles deep in his chest as he speaks and you know they've annoyed him. For a brief second you think he might indulge you and help eject them but you know better. Nevertheless, it brings a smile to your lips just imagining how the whole thing might go down. He's much too meticulous to ever give in to baser desires, however.

"Sure thing, boss."

When they don't move, exasperation taints his tone. "Why don't you check the perimeter of the plane?"

"On it, boss."

They descend the airstairs one step at a time, surveying the area all the while. The runway is clear of… everything. There are no other vehicles, aircraft or otherwise. No one is even here to greet you. While you've never travelled in such luxury before, you assumed the service would be better than a commercial flight. Where are the staff members and their welcoming gifts? Who was meant to tell you where to go from here?

Slipping on a pair of shades, Yifan gives the jet one last glance before his Louis Vuitton shoes patter down the stairs. Dirt spirals in the air close to the hangar the jet will soon crawl inside. Despite the tropical palms and the endless beachfront, the concrete is dusty. It leaves a smudge on his pristine black suit.

Warm, moist air tickles the back of your neck and you jump, hand flying up to rub the exhalation off your skin. The stewardess is next to you, eyes wide as she looks out over the island. Mesmerised by the sparkling ocean, she doesn't notice your reaction, your discomfort. Her lips fall open and she inches forward.

"It sure is beautiful here."

"Yeah," you say, stepping aside to give her a better view. "It's paradise, apparently."

"That's an understatement."

"I'm hitting the bar the moment we get inside. How about you?"

At this she takes a step backward, smoothing out her stereotypical attendant outfit and clearing her throat with a slight bow of the head. "I'm here to work. I'll be waiting here until you're ready to leave."

"On the plane?"

"Yes."

"For two whole days?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"What do you mean?"

Sparing a cautionary look at Yifan, you inch closer. "Won't you, like, die? There's only peanuts and wine on this thing and it'll be turned off, won't it?"

"The plane has generators that will be connected to a power source inside the hangar for the duration of your trip and we have a supply of food, water, and other essentials, both for the crew's comfort and for emergencies."

"Is that your flight license training talking?" you tease.

She lights up at the mere mention of it, her eyes twinkling. About halfway through the flight you grew bored of listening to Yifan's business calls and sought out a new companion. It didn't take long before she had opened up to you about her lifelong dream of becoming a pilot. When you're passionate about something, it's hard not to express your love for it.

"Everyone knows that basic crap." It's the actual pilot that speaks, having left his cabin to grab a travel-sized bottle of vodka. "But don't you worry, little lady. Us small folks will manage while you two live it up."

There's animosity in his tone that you equal in your own slapback. "I'm surprised you still have your license, alky."

He is disgusting, both perverse and repulsive. This sentiment is shared between both you and the stewardess. When you take a step away from the man, she follows. He grins, licking his lips while looking you up and down. His eyes linger on your curves and you once more are filled with the desire to lash out.

But you don't.

"Babe, come on," Yifan calls, his steps rattling against the metal stairs as he starts to come back up.

"Well"—you clear your throat before smiling at the attendant and mirroring her own exaggerated expression of enthusiasm—"that's boring. I would simply not stay if I were you."

"Duly noted." The pilot hiccups. He already reeks of alcohol and his cheeks are tinted pink. Reaching for another bottle, he downs the first and drops it onto the ground.

"Not you. If anyone has to stay on the plane, shouldn't it be y-"

"What are you doing? Do you need something?" Yifan asks from behind you. He wraps his arm around your waist. Tilting your chin up, his eyes scour your face, searching for any sign of unease. Between the island's eerie silence and the pilot's obvious alcoholism, you're filled with worry but you hide it well. It's meant to be a vacation and you don't want to dwell on those not worthy of your time.

"Yifan, tell her she doesn't have to stay on the plane."

"I don't care what she does. All I care about is you. So do you want to stay here until I find someone to grab the luggage?"

"Has no one arrived to greet us yet?"

You aren't one to get scared easily but something feels wrong about this whole thing. While you yourself didn't understand how someone in construction could afford such a lavish lifestyle, it didn't change the fact that Yifan had cash to blow. If you were running the resort, you'd prioritise high-spenders. Money talks, after all.

He hums, releasing his hold on you in order to lean out of the jet. "Not yet. We did arrive ahead of schedule though."

"I guess…"

Doubt gnaws at you. It may not be an official airport but surely they would know when a plane arrives. If not by sensors, by sheer visual - a jet is hard to miss.

"I'll be right back, okay?"

"No!" The concern embedded in his words is overshadowed by your adamant exclamation. "I'll go with you."

He opens his mouth to argue but closes it just as fast and you know he just doesn't want an additional issue to deal with before the current one is handled. "Alright, let's go."

There's a crunch underfoot as you disembark. Granules of sand and dirt grind under your shoes. You're glad you chose one of your more casual outfits. When Yifan had told you about this little weekend getaway, you hadn't realised the magnitude of it. Dressed in a hoodie and sweats, you had assumed a long flight in coach awaited you. That assumption bumped up to a long flight in first class when Yifan picked you up in his Porsche while decked out in designer from head to toe.

At least your few sets of designer clothes (mostly gifts from Yifan) are safe in your suitcase. A few more smudges on your tattered sneakers wouldn't hurt and you'd rather your heels be spared the harsh island breeze. Even now salt is accumulating on your face like a second layer of skin. You can taste it whenever you lick your lips. They're dry but not yet as dry as the wind ruffling through your hair.

Trailing behind your steady boyfriend of eight months, you struggle to keep pace with his large, determined strides. After a few minutes, your obvious panting seems to catch his attention and he takes pity on you. He halts, back turned to the sun and casting a shadow you soon stand within. Without saying anything, he gestures toward a back entrance to what looks like the main building and nudges you forward.

Once you're in charge of the pace, the trip is a lot easier. On occasion you point to some of the other buildings, admiring the sleek and modern design. In the distance is a set of "traditional" huts with their own pools and docks. When you point them out, he just nods and tells you that he rented one.

"I thought you said we'd be in the main building?"

"We will be. I didn't know which you'd prefer so I rented both. We can spend a day in each. The staff already confirmed they'd be willing to accomodate."

You scoff. "Seems a bit redundant. Did you also buy the island for the weekend? This place is dead."

"No, but it is kind of nice. Maybe next time."

"Not even you can afford that. There's no way your business is going that well. When I googled it, no new projects came up. Unless you're doing secret, private projects but then you'd have to be doing so many to get any seri-"

"Look." He cuts you off, yanking you backward into his chest. With a huff, you look at your feet and the surrounding area but see nothing. You look ahead, puzzled, only to find more nothing. His arm tightens around your stomach as he inches you backward, putting his body ahead of yours. "The door is open."

While this back door is technically an entrance, it remains locked and secured at all times, requiring an escort and their key card hence why a team is meant to have met you upon landing. There's a doorbell and screen to summon assistance in cases like your own where a guest is locked out. The door is closed just like it should be and even from here you can see the angry red 'no access' warning on the door's fob system. Confusion furrows your brow.

"The employee door, babe."

Following his line of sight, you have to squint to see what he is talking about. Several feet down and almost hidden behind bushes is a second door. It isn't as high-tech or welcoming as the main back door but it is ajar.

"Should we check it out?" You ask, starting to shift your direction.

"Curiosity killed the cat," he chides, realigning your trajectory.

You pout but allow him to lead. Once you reach the back door, he presses the button and you both wait. Shade envelopes you, providing a reprieve from the overactive sun. According to your phone it's nearing 6:30pm. Even so, summer is in full effect and you doubt night will fall for another two hours.

Sweat dampens your forehead. Your hair sticks to your neck. Moisture is welling between your breasts. Trickling down the curve of your spine, you can feel the salty liquid. It's uncomfortable, disgusting. Your trip to the bar will have to be delayed - a long soak, whether in a tub or shower, is your new priority.

Yifan had started to tap his foot after the first minute. By the third, he was pacing. At the exact five minute mark, he starts to push the button every other second. His knuckles rap against the door. When that fails, he yanks on the door and presses on the electronic screen. It indents wherever he touches but it doesn't utilise smart technology, remaining dark and useless.

"I'm not fuc-" He stops, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "I'm not waiting until seven. They should realise we're here."

Your lips twist with mischief as you rock back and forth on the balls of your feet, eyes shifting toward the employee door. "Well there is another way inside."

The wind starts to pick up. Sand swirls within the sudden gust, cutting off the path back to the jet in a miniature tornado of dust. It wouldn't be hard to get through it but you didn't want to deal with the plethora of particles that would taint your hair and clothes and you know Yifan wouldn't either. With a resigned sigh, he nods.

"I guess. Easier than going to the front."

"They shouldn't have left it open if they didn't want people using it," you say, a sing-song lilt in your tone, excited at the prospect of breaking the rules.

"They should've sent someone to greet us," he grumbles while waving the two guards over. They jog through the dust, desperate not to cough and choke on it. Your disgusted frown is replicated on Yifan's face. By the time they arrive, they're not faring well, sputtering while they ask what he needs.

"I want one of you to grab our carry-ons and bring it up to our room. The other is to stay with the plane. Make sure it gets into that hangar."

They salute him and your frown deepens. With an overenthusiastic 'yes, boss!', they take off back toward the jet. Without waiting for them to reach it, Yifan turns his back on them and starts to walk toward the open door. Intrigue bubbles within you. There is something mysterious about seeing a side not meant for the general public's eyes. Would it be just as majestic or was the grandeur just for show, a front to cover a dark underbelly?

"Keep up babe, I don't want you getting lost in there."

"Okay!" you say, skipping up behind him and grabbing the back of his suit jacket. Leaning out toward the side of his protective figure, you count each step until you reach the door.

An ominous vibe rolls outward from the darkness within. Not a single light is on. In fact, there's so little light inside that you cannot make out the shape of the interior room. Is it a hall? A locker room? A break area? There aren't any sounds emanating from within that offer any clues.

All there is is darkness.

"Maybe we shouldn't go in there."

"But you were so eager a second ago." He glances at you, a smirk playing on his lips. "Are you scared, princess?"

"Shut up. We should just go to the front."

"Don't worry. Daddy will protect you."

You stare at him in disbelief before groaning at the self-appointed title. "I'll manage on my own, thanks."

Pushing him aside and opening the creaking door just wide enough to shine light inside, you hold back a gag at the putrid stench that rushes out. It's pungent and rotten, like roadkill that has marinated in the sun for a few too many days.

"Oh my God, what is that?"

Sunlight touches the edge of a counter and its metallic, shiny sink. The darkness is much too thick. Like a blanket, it stops any further illumination beyond its veil. Squinting, you take a step inside, both intrigued and nauseated by the overwhelming odour.

"Smells like something died in here," Yifan supplements and you nod, taking another step, nearing the impenetrable curtain of darkness. "Be careful."

Using the hood of your sweater as leverage, he pulls you back into the small circle of light. Gulping, you look back at him. He quirks his brow but is otherwise stoic, cracking his neck before pulling out a face mask from his pocket. After handing it to you, he takes a tentative step beyond the light.

"Wear that. It'll help with the smell. Could you turn your flashlight on?"

It takes you a minute to realise he means the one on your phone. You fumble for it, your pockets somehow much deeper than you remember them being. It's cold to the touch, contrasting your clammy hands. Once you have it free of your sweats, you turn the light on and gasp. The room, now bright under the battery-sucking beam, displays a disturbing sight.

"My God," you whisper, squirming under Yifan's arm until it rests atop your shoulders. "Did they close down or something?"

Remnants of meals litter the sinks and stoves of the kitchen area you've walked into. Cutting boards filled with moldy vegetables and bloody, maggot-infested chunks of steak line the counter tops. Cutlery is strewn across the floor. Bottles of oil lay broken on the ground; their shards reflect your torch's light. Near them are dark puddles where the liquid has congregated.

And inside those thick, gooey puddles are what you can only imagine was once considered meat.

"Without cancelling our reservation first?"

Snapping out of your reverie, you shake off the unease crawling across your skin in the form of bumps and raised hair. "Have you checked your voicemail lately? Or is that just an excuse you give when you don't want to grab milk on your way over?"

He huffs, a tinge of amusement underlying the overall indifference of his demeanour. "They haven't called. Let's just find someone or maybe a flyer or notice. People don't just up and disappear mid-meal prep. There has to be an explanation."

"Yeah, let's."

It's a mistake to go in any further. This you know. Deep in the recesses of your racing mind, you know that something is wrong. You can't stop yourself from clinging to Yifan, handing him your phone so you can instead hold his jacket in both hands. Sinister silence echoes around you, devouring your footfalls and your shallow breathing until the only sound left is the unnatural lack thereof.

Yifan doesn't act affected. His breathing is steady, comforting even. He moves at a snail's pace, giving you ample time to look around and explore the deep, pitch-black crevices in the corners of the room. When you stop, he shines the light toward the direction you're staring in. It slows the process down but it's soothing to know that nothing is lurking, waiting to pounce.

By the time you reach the next door, your legs are shaking. While you don't consider yourself a coward, the unknown hosts an array of possibilities. Fear grips your heart and you have to fight back the urge to upheave the in-flight meal you had a few hours prior. The arm around your shoulder tightens, reassuring you before Yifan pulls the handle.

Compared to the Hell you just passed through, the overabundance of light you are greeted with is a welcome sight. It floods the wide, open-mouthed hallway. To your left and quite far down is the reception area where you should have entered from. It's a large room that swings around and connects to the front entrance of the resort. To your right are a few more doors, an elevator, and a set of double-doors with a tacky sign that reads, 'Beach Entrance'. Next to the door closest to the powered down metal box is an emergency red plaque with the words 'Stair Access' in bold font and 'Basement Access' in a much smaller size.

Pocketing your phone, Yifan tilts his head toward the main desk. "Shall we?"

"Can't wait."

You manage a single step before you stop dead in your tracks. There's some sort of thudding sound coming from one of the storage rooms. After a brief pause you look at Yifan but he just shakes his head, brushing it off. He takes off down the hall, dragging you with him, but your attention remains on the doors to the right. Every few seconds the sound repeats, as if someone is walking into a door or hitting their head against the wall.

Then you see it.

"Yifan!" You hiss, slipping away from him. "Look!"

He groans, both impatient and growing tired. "What?"

"There's something in that room."

"Good. That means it isn't abandoned. Let's hit up the front desk and get our key cards."

"No, there's something wrong with them. They aren't moving right… like they're… I don't know, on a loop or something."

Humouring you (but not without first sighing, impatience chipping away at his manners), he watches the doors. His gaze lingers here and there, checking under a new threshold after a few repetitions of the grating sound. Synchronised with the noise is a shadow. It follows the same pattern. When the thud occurs, the shadow moves close to the door. Then it steps away.

"See it?"

"It's a resort. Can't blame 'em for drinking early."

"That should be me," you mutter, your scotch craving returning in full force, increasing tenfold alongside your nerves.

"Lush."

"What?"

He shrugs off the venom in your question. "Drunkard."

"I barely even drin-"

A metallic clang quiets you. It resonates, bouncing from wall to wall within the stairwell. When the sound settles in the bowels of the hotel, you walk forward. After several long seconds of waiting for the sound to continue like the one behind the door had, Yifan steps in front of you, shielding you behind his lanky frame.

"I'll lead."

You throw your hands up in mock resignation. Despite the small distance, it takes a lifetime to reach the stairwell. Paranoia claws at your gut. Every few feet you look behind you. Keeping your back to the endless hall and the atrium it houses is a tactical disadvantage. Given the absolute lack of life within the hotel's walls, you would hear someone approach… but you can't shake the feeling that it wouldn't be enough, that a single second's notice could be the difference between escape and certain death.

Somewhere deep in the back of your mind you hope the stairwell is locked.

You've never been very lucky though.

Yifan's slender fingers wrap around the handle, pushing it open just enough to peer inside. Your own view is blocked. Seconds pass by while he just stares. There's a growl from high above. It rolls down the stairs in pursuit of the sudden influx of fresh air. The door creaks open further. You shiver.

"What's happening?"

"There's something a few floors up."

"Do you think it's a staff member or guest?"

"An animal."

"Is it hurt?"

He pauses before he answers, weighing his options. "No."

"Liar."

"Stay behind me. It sounds big."

"How big?"

He shrugs before ushering you into the pitch black stairwell. When he hears you patting yourself down, he returns your phone and you're quick to turn the torch on. First you flash it onto him, bathing him in artificial light. It's comforting. His visage, as smooth and suave as ever, offers a sort of normalcy in an otherwise odd situation. Then you check the lower floor.

You see nothing.

So you check the upper levels.

An endless spire towers overhead.

"How many floors does this place have?"

"A lot."

The trek upward starts strong but soon your pace slackens, forcing Yifan to follow suit. Once more an uncomfortable layer of sweat accumulates in the well of your back. After the fourth floor an odour starts to waft around you. You're self-conscious about it, going as far as sniffing your hoodie. By the sixth you're both scrunching your noses, revulsion twisting your features. A gag clutches at your throat and you dry heave.

"Fuck, that's awful."

"It's the same as the kitchen." He coughs, trying to eject the acrid scent from his mouth. "Wear the mask again."

It's when you're fumbling through your pockets for the thin patch of fabric that you hear it: an ear-splitting scream. While you're no expert, the dainty, high pitch resembles that of a child. Shivers tear down your spine. Your mind is telling you to run, to protect, and yet you're frozen to the spot.

Yifan is quicker to respond, climbing the remaining stairs between the sixth and seventh floors in a few leaps. Upon reaching the door, however, he doesn't enter. Instead he presses his ear to it and listens.

With your heart beating a million miles an hour and damn near thudding out of your chest, you raise your flashlight off his cautious stature and toward the guttural moaning floating down to you from much higher in the spire.

You're transfixed.

Squinting against the straining dark for a single glimpse of what could make such a noise, your breath catches in your throat. It seems almost surreal, no, it's absurd really. Impossible. Your eyes must be playing tricks on you. That's all it was. That's all it could be. An illusion or a hallucination brought on by dehydration.

And yet the way it hangs above you seems so real.

And the way its eyes watch you seem so life-like.

"Babe." You scream in shock at his unexpected shout. Whipping around to face Yifan, you place your hand on your chest all while panting. His eyes shine under the light's influence and he looks up into the darkness before cautiously asking if you're alright.

"Yeah, I just-"

Another scream, this time not your own but rather the child's.

"Come on," Yifan commands, dismissing the panic in your voice as nothing more than childish, like one's fear of boogeyman.

In your state of trepidation, you didn't realise the door was propped open. Yifan holds it ajar with his foot while beckoning you, urging you back to his side. Strangled sobs pour through the empty space, no longer hindered by the solid metal barrier.

Within a few short steps you're peering through the gap. There's luggage sprawled across the floor and just beyond a mountain of suitcases is a child. All you can see is their leg; it's red. Scarlet blood paints their skin in a dark hue and stains the carpet around them.

"Oh God," you murmur, falling into step behind Yifan as he runs toward the child.

"Hey, are you okay?"

He kicks a luggage cart out of his way. It rattles down the hall and with it gone, he stands over the child. You hear her soft sobs before you can get a good look at her as his long limbs pull her to her feet. Scooping the small girl into his arms, Yifan cradles her against his chest.

Her pink outfit is tarnished with grime. When she pulls her head away from the comfort of his shoulder, her cheeks are stained by a layer of dirt. The tears that rush free from an endless faucet leave a visible trail in their wake.

"What happened to you? Did someone hurt you?" Yifan asks, intent to pry a response out of the trembling girl.

No matter how he phrases his questions, she doesn't budge. All she does is stare at you. No, beyond you. It's as if she's looking right through you. With her glassy, unwavering blue eyes, she watches the other end of the hall.

In your rush to check on the girl, neither you nor Kris had checked the other side.

Your neck creaks as you turn.

The girl's breath staggers.

Yifan checks her for injuries.

Hungry growls waft toward you.

Their lifeless eyes watch you.

"-bitten?"

His voice is like a tether.

You don't dare to look away from what lurks down the hall.

"They're dead."

"What?"

Yifan's attention pulls away from the girl, looking toward the small crowd forming a hundred feet away. Most are in summer wear ranging from bikinis and boardshorts to sarongs and flowery t-shirts. Much like the girl, their bodies are covered in varying contaminants with the most notable being blood. The darkest spots are accompanied by open wounds. Their skin is torn and serrated, often oozing thick clots. Where the flesh is loose and hanging by the thread is a glimmer of white.

Right down to the bone, they've been-

Bitten.

Just like the weeping girl in Yifan's arms.

Except she isn't crying anymore.

She's dead silent.

[Part Two]

– ♡ – If you enjoyed this, please consider liking, commenting, reblogging, and/or following! Thank you!

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cold-eyes-ice-dive · 3 years

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If yall wondered where my Sugar daddy Y*fan posts went, I deleted them because I do not support rapists and I think he deserves to go straight to hell for what he did

#to think i wrote a three part fanfic for that monster #i am ashamed i ever stanned him #kris wu

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xblakebloom · 3 years

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Grávida? Eu?

Capa e banner para Spirit. Pedido para SM Town Project.

Abra para ver com qualidade.

#capa #capista #capa para fanfic #blakebloomdesigns #capa de fanfic #capa para spirit #capa para social spirit #kpop #capa de fic #capa divertida #capa clean #capa colorida #victoria song #kris wu #wu yifan #kris #fx #exo

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exoxobsession · 3 years

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Spring Days || Chapter 6

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Childhood FriendsAU!, Friends to LoversAU!

Warnings: None!

Pairing: Kai x Ji-Eun (OC)

Word count: 1.1K

Summary: Friends become strangers, trust is gone, he betrays their friendship, she moves on. What if they meet again? Will they become friends or stay as strangers with memories?

A/N: They’ll Make up soon, I promise! (And Chae-young is made up, she's not Rosé)

Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

“And another win!” you exclaimed as you stuck your tongue out at Luhan. “How? How do you keep winning?” Minseok questions. Shrugging, you get up, “Who’s next?” you ask as you hold out your controller. “Me!” Baekhyun jumps and takes the controller out of your hand and sits next to Luhan.

You’ve had fun staying here, even if it was just 5 days. The boys have warmed up to you, and you to them. But you’ve still avoided Jongin. Yes, you thanked him for the day after the storm; because you were grateful to him.

You were even on the verge of forgiving him, but you just kept your mouth shut. If he wanted to explain himself, he already would’ve, but he didn’t and you would not beg him for it either. The ringing of your phone cut your thoughts off.

“Hey, Mom,” you said as you walked out of the room to the front porch.

“Hi dear, we’ve got the news.” News?

“What news?”

“One- We’re back by this afternoon, and two- you’ll know soon enough.” she hushed.

“Okay..? What’s Dad, up to?” you asked.

“Nothing much. What are you doing? The guys are fine, right?-” A beeping sound made you take it away from your ear.

“We’re fine, I’ll call you later.” you hung up.

“Hey Chae!” you exclaimed.

“Oh. I’m coming.” you grabbed your car keys and set off. Stopping at the café, you got off and went in. You saw Yeona and Chae-young sitting at the far back. You sat down hurriedly, knowing something had happened from the look on their faces.

“She doesn’t look good, the doctors said-” that’s when her voice cracked, “-she doesn’t her much time, she’s going to leave me as everyone else does.” She broke down. “Calm down, she’ll be fine, hm?” you tried soothing her down. “What about we… we go watch a movie? Or we can go get ice cream?” Yeona said trying to cheer her up, “What about we do both?” you added, which made a small smile appear on her face. Joining your hands, you headed out of the café, “Shotgun!” Yeona exclaimed as you made your way to the driver seat.

After choosing the movie, you sat down in your seat and checked your phone, your eyes widening at the number of texts and calls. “I’m fine” you texted to everyone.

The movie ended at about 3:30; you parted ways with Yeona, and you decided that Chae-young would stay with you and your family for a while. Driving up to your house, not the guys’, you both went in. Your parents greeted you both with a hug and after explaining her situation, your parents agreed to let her stay.

You went up to your room, noticing your window and something you never noticed before. Looking out your left side window, you saw someone else’s from Junmyeon’s house. You opened the glass, poking your head until you realized it was just a leap away. Deciding to deal with it later, you went to Chae-Young, knocking on her door softly as you opened it.

“I’m just heading next door. Wanted to see if you wanted to tag along?” you asked to which she replied with a shake of her head. She was always an introvert because she was guarding herself against others. “Come on, you need to interact! Please~” you whined to which she gave in to, she always did.

You opened the door letting yourself and her into the house, “That’s not manners Ji-Eun!” she whisper-scolded you while just tsked at her. “I’m home!” you announced. “Finally! Where were you all day?” Luhan questioned. “Told you I was with my friends,” you said distractedly as you searched for Jongin. When he saw you, he visibly relaxed as you made eye contact.

Why you searched for, you did not know. “Who’s she?” Kris asked as Baekhyun eyed her up and down. “I’m Chae-Young.” she squeaked, and you were pretty sure no one heard that. “Chae-Young.” You repeated with your loud voice.

You started the game where you left off, once again beating all the guys. But you noticed that Chae-young was still awkward with them. But Baekhyun kept staring at her, which was weird. You both left after a while. “They’re quite a handful, aren’t they?” you sighed. “Jongin then?” she asked as she sat down at the dinner table, which made you freeze. “What about him?” you feigned innocence.

“I may be inexperienced in this area, but I know when something is going on. I’ve been your friend for so long, and I realized when you and he weren’t even speaking.” she stared at you, while you just sat blank. “There’s nothing to talk about,” you said coldly. Your mother came in, not letting the other girl speak. “Girls, can you help me with dinner? Your dad invited the next-door guys as a thank you for tolerating you,” she said, looking at you while finishing her last sentence. “I was the one who had to tolerate them!” you stood up crossing your hands but still helped her, nonetheless.

Cooking and gossiping were the best. You and your mom were cooking while Chae-young sat on the counter. These moments made you feel at home, even with Chae-young. Only if she was. This made you think of another home you felt. “I’ll be back,” you said absentmindedly as you suddenly remembered about the window connecting to another.

Rushing up the stairs and to your room, you looked over at the open window. Leaning against the windowsill, you stretched your arm forward to lightly tap on it. You frowned when you didn’t get an answer, this time you tried a bit more loudly. When you were about to do it a third time, the window opened, revealing Jongin. “It’s you.” he grinned. “Yeah,” you said, and it was barely audible. “I thought it was a bird or something,” he said looking down and avoided your eyes. “I think you can get in easier this way, not that big of a jump,” he said as he examined the distance. “It’s fine, I’ll just go,” you whispered (not sure why you whispered) and backed away.

Jongin just sighed. He hoped he could tell you, he really did, he wanted you back. Disappointed, he leaned on his window. You went down to a complete table that was filled with food. “Ji-Eun, remember the phone call from this afternoon?” your mom approached you carefully. “Yeah, what about it mom?” you asked tearing your eyes away from the delicious food.

“Dear, we hope you take this professionally, okay?” your father said from behind you. This confused you. They looked scared, but what was even worse was that Chae-young looked scared too. “What is it?” you gulped. “Well, the Kims, Junmyeon’s parents’ company want to form an alliance.” Did you hear that right? An alliance. Does it mean what you think it does? “A marriage between you two, you and Junmyeon.”

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arshanji · 3 years

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#capa clean #capa de spirit #capa de fanfic #kris wu #Suho #Exo #Edit #capa romântica

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kpoptrashlord-007 · 3 years

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Extended Stay;; WYF [pt.2]

Check out Part One here~

Word Count;; 10.4k total, 5.2k for pt.2

Genre;; Zombie AU [Horror], Mafia AU [Violence], Smut

Pairing;; Kris Wu x Fem!Reader

Summary;;

Collab Info;;

The Undead - an EXO12 Collab hosted by @biaswreckingfics ♡

Check out the Masterlist for more great EXO Zombie AU fics!

Warnings;;

Zombies!! + Mafia AU so

Graphic depictions of violence, gore, horror in general, guns Explicit Language!! Explicit Smut!! Thigh riding and fingering, daddy kink

My Networks;; @supermwritersnet

Main Masterlist || EXO Masterlist

When you turn to him, she's watching you. No, not you. She's watching the way your muscles slide beneath your skin, the way your sweat marinates you in a seasoning of salt. Saliva gathers in the corners of her mouth. Her jaw falls open as she reaches for you. As if a sudden sickness overcame her, the healthy hue of her skin turns pallid and wretched.

You watch as the final ember in her eyes dies.

All you can do is gasp in abject horror as she bares her teeth.

Her nails claw at Yifan's suit.

Snarls ring out loud and clear.

There's a thunder of footsteps.

His neck is exposed to her.

You choke on the words you want to scream.

God, fuck, Yifan, she's dead too. They're all dead and you will be too. She's going to bite you and you'll be d-

"What the fuck," he snaps, his fingers wrapping around the girl's throat. Her mouth is mere inches from his face, teeth clattering and chomping. There's something feral in her eyes. Even as Yifan holds her at bay, she insists, pushing against his hand and scratching his clothes. "You little bit-"

Deep down you've always known that Yifan isn't the man he pretends to be. He has secrets. Everyone does. Sure, the skeletons in most people's closets are mundane and petty, but everyone has them. It's because of his secrets that sometimes your jealous side thinks the worst, thinks that you're just one of many, that you're just a plaything to him. Watching him now, though, the pieces of the puzzle fall into place.

Yifan is a made man.

The girl slams into the wall like a ragdoll. She slinks to the floor with nary a spark in her eyes. You think perhaps that may be it, that she hit her head hard enough to pass out, so you redirect your focus to the stampede rushing toward you. Your heart thuds up and into your throat, constricting your air. There's more than there were before and they all have that wild, hungry look etched into their rotting faces.

From your peripheral you see her twitch. The girl - she's moving. Her head lolls around as she scrambles back to her feet. She doesn't sound human any longer. None of them do. With an unnatural crack of her neck, her arms reach toward you, her fingers bending in a multitude of degrees.

Her starved roar is cut short by a resounding bang.

Blackened blood erupts from the newly formed crater in her skull. Once more her body slumps to the floor but this time it's definite; she's dead. Again. Yet somehow she seems less dead than she had seconds prior. Now she seems innocent and youthful, an unfortunate victim of something unspeakable.

Without missing a beat, Yifan grabs your arm and starts to drag you away from her… and them. Their footfalls make the ground shudder. You can't see where the crowd ends. Amongst their endless numbers are tourists, children, and staff alike.

And they all have their eyes on you.

Yifan never shows them his back. His legs move faster than yours do and you stumble alongside him. With the gun in one hand and your bruising arm in the other, he's unable to check the doors you're passing. There's an explosion of light with each shot. Every few seconds he fires a bullet into the oncoming horde.

Bullseye.

He aims between the eyes and he never misses.

A rush of excitement floods your system.

This is a new side of him.

His grip tightens around your bicep.

"Hey!" He's using his stern voice. It anchors you back to the shitstorm raging around you. Tearing your gaze away from the approaching carnage, you tune into what he's been trying to tell you since the girl's second death. "Get to the stairwell."

"But the-"

"The other one."

He nods behind you, toward the end of the hallway. The hotel is large; of course there's more than one stairwell. Peeling free of his hold, you wince. Shades of blue and purple litter your skin. You make a mental note to survive long to give him a piece of your mind about it before sprinting down the hall.

Gunshots continue to ring in your ears at a steady interval until they cease altogether. Thinking he ran out of bullets, you quicken your pace. No matter how fast you run, the sound of the horde is just as loud. They never falter, they never stop.

When you reach the stairwell access, you risk a glance at Yifan. He's much closer than you thought he would be. In his hand is the gun, its clip out and a fresh handful of bullets shining in his palm.

You scoff. He's reloading. Of course he came prepared with bullets to spare. He's a fucking mafioso, after all.

Firing off a few more shots and killing the undead closest to you, he wraps his arm around your waist and yanks you backward, shielding your body as he flings the door open. Checking his corners, he clears the landing before whisking you inside. As soon as the door closes, you're plunged into silence and darkness.

"Should I turn the flash-"

He hushes you with a sharp exhale. "Listen."

The steel door is holding strong against the swarm on the other side. It muffles most of the sound but you can still hear them pressing against it, snarling and hissing, desperate to pursue their escaped meal. Doing your best to ignore it and quell the fear pounding inside your mind, you steady your breath. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, ex-

Much further down you can hear shuffling. Someone is dragging their feet against the concrete. It isn't the only thing you hear, however. There is a raspy groan emanating from the pit far below, as well as a constant drip of liquid and the squelch of moist organs grinding against one another, trying to spill free of their rib cage imprisonment.

With a bravada you didn't know you could muster, you tiptoe to the guardrail and peer down. Miraculously the bottom floor is well-lit. The door must be open. It provides just enough light to illuminate the bottom segment of the tower. To your dismay, the entirety of the first floor landing is swarming with the undead.

"There are more on the lower levels," you whisper, backing away from the railing.

"How many?"

"Too many."

"How many people were in this shithole?"

You roll your eyes. "What are we going to do?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"Keep your voice down."

"Yifan," you whisper-shout, poking him in the chest. "Figure something out!"

His reflexes are much faster than your own. Grabbing your wrist, he twists your body into his own, your back flush against his chest. Warm air caresses your ear as he rests his face near yours, his words a whisper only for you to hear. "I told you to stay quiet."

"Yifan," you whine, pushing back against his chest.

He doesn't answer. Instead the hand that once held your wrist trails upward along your arm. The other is running circles on your stomach, travelling a bit lower with each repetition. By the time his fingers crawl under your waistband, he's littering your neck in teasing kisses in an attempt to distract you.

You shudder. There's a fire building in your gut. His touch is addictive and your mind falls into a haze of longing. It isn't until one of the undead several floors below roars and the crowd floods out of the small square space that you snap back to reality. Yifan's hands don't waver, intent to feel every inch of your skin.

"They're hunting," you whisper. He hums in acknowledgement before nibbling on your ear. Biting back a moan, you yank his hand out of your panties. "Now isn't the time, Yifan!"

"Why not? They left."

"There are literally hundreds of them right outside this door! They might-" His teeth sink into your shoulder and you hiss, pushing him back a step with all your strength. "Asshole! They might break through!"

The door rattles on its hinges as if to empathise your point. It creaks and bends under the pressure of the endless force behind it. Yet it holds strong. There's a soft rustle in front of you and you can imagine Yifan shrugging, maybe even rolling his eyes. Your clenched fist hits him square in the chest. He doesn't react.

"Besides, we have a lot to talk about, don't we?"

"Come on, baby, let's live a little."

"I think I want to live a little too much to do something that stupid. If you're not going to take this seriously, I'll leave without you."

"Where?" Yifan snorts but when your feet clank against the metal stairs, he sighs. "Babe. Wait for me. Don't run off."

"Oh don't worry, I have no intention of straying far from you and your goddamn gun!"

He's hot on your heels. Even though he's larger than you in many aspects, he's quieter, almost indiscernible aside from his aura. It hangs around him wherever he goes - intense, powerful, authoritative. Palpable, you can feel it shrouding you.

When you reach the fifth floor landing you stop. There's a bit more light here. The closer you get to the bottom, the more that filters through. You can also hear a gentle lapping, like waves hitting the side of a pool. Peering over the edge, you recognise that the shards of refracted light beaming into the harsh darkness are the sun's fast-fading rays bouncing off an uncalm surface.

"Is that a pool?" Craning your neck to get a better view, you huff when Yifan leans further over the edge than you can manage. He's all limbs. "There was no pool when we came in."

"There was. It was through the door on the right. The whole bottom floor beneath the right wing is an indoor beach."

"An indoor beach… at a beach resort?"

He shrugs. "We can't go all the way down. We need to get back to the center stairwell or we'll get lost and swarmed."

He pushes off the railing. Giving him space, you shift to the side so he can listen to the fifth floor through its large, foreboding door. After just a few seconds he sighs, shaking his head while using his hand to slice an imaginary line along his neck. It's dark but you understand the intent all the same: death.

This time you tiptoe down the stairs. While you're louder than Yifan, you're still much quieter than you had been before. Aside from the occasional splashing from the pool, the stairwell remains silent. There's no signs of movement, living or otherwise.

When the fourth floor is also a bust, you consider going back up. Too much further down and you'll have trouble if a horde appears. If they strongarm their way through a door, you won't be able to go down without running into the mass of corpses awaiting their next meal on the ground level. Yifan, however, insists on trying the third floor.

"It's better to keep moving towards the bottom than making our way back up. That's horror movie 101."

"But if we so much as hiccup they're going to be on us in seconds," you whisper into his ear. He's bent over, his head tilted in your direction so you don't need to raise your voice.

"I'll protect you."

"Right. Because Mr. Construction over here just happens to be a marksman. Not weird at all."

He laughs, breathless and airy against your cheek as he straightens his posture. "Just trust me."

Muttering an irritated 'fine', you cross your arms and pout every step of the way down to the third floor landing. You're still sour when he starts to open the door. A bitter frown contorts your lips when Yifan gives you a thumbs up. He opens it further, performing a visual check before grasping your arm and pulling you through. To your surprise, the hallway is empty.

There is, however, plenty of carnage to remind you of the hell you've found yourself ensnared in.

Stepping over travel bags and jumping over puddles of blood, you're dutiful in your pursuit of Yifan's tall frame. His steps are larger than yours and he crosses the distance faster. If your pace decreases too much, he waits for you to catch your breath, scouring the hall with its millions of doors for anything out of place in the meanwhile. Every now and then he closes one of the doors as a preventative measure.

Halfway to the centre stairwell he comes into view - one of the blundering idiots Yifan hired as security. Facing the direction opposite you, he's a few metres away from your destination, just beyond the stairwell entrance. It doesn't take a genius to figure out he's become one of them.

Blood trickles down his back from the gushing wound on his shoulder. Huge gashes paint his skin in a myriad of dark reds. When he stumbles forward, he damn well near tumbles, unsteady due to the massive lacerations severing the tendons in his legs.

You try to skid to a halt but Yifan tightens his grip on your arm and keeps going. All he offers is a quick finger against his lips, urging you to remain quiet. Your heartbeat picks up. If they have any form of heightened senses, you're as good as caught. The stench of exertion and fear clings to you. Sweat leaks down your face as your adrenaline peaks, overwhelming your system with the desire to run.

Unlike you, Yifan is a cool cucumber.

He doesn't bat an eye. This whole situation has had no visual effect on him. In a way you despise him for it. You know you'd be dead without him but there's no tremble in his hand, no sway in his feet. He has nerves of steel. It doesn't surprise you, it just makes you feel weak. Grateful, of course, but so, so small and vulnerable.

Every time the idiot sniffs the air or tilts his head, Yifan's hand hovers over his gun. He's fast on the draw and his brow furrows in concentration, fighting back the urge to go through the motion, to kill. His hand caresses the dark metal like it's an old friend, comfortable and reliable, but he never unholsters it. It's a last resort; if he uses it, more will come.

By some miracle you reach the stairwell with no issue. Even as you open the door and slip inside, he doesn't turn. Just as he was in life, the guards a fucking moron who can't detect or secure shit. Some things never change.

The door clicks closed and you sigh in relief. "We did i-"

"Help… me…"

Knowing you well, Yifan clamps his hand over your mouth before the scream has a chance to escape. With frantic and terrified kicks, you leap backwards from the fingers wrapping around your ankle. In an elegant twirl you could never muster on your own, you're whisked away from the threat and its pathetic sobbing. Yifan's back barricades you against the wall and you hear the soft click of his gun's hammer.

"Sir, it's me," the voice mumbles, raspy and strained. "Your pilot."

"Pilot?"

Both you and Yifan spit out the word, though his tone is much more venomous than yours. Shimmying your phone out from your pocket, you shine the flashlight toward the voice. It is indeed a man that bears some resemblance to the alcoholic you had the displeasure of meeting earlier. Yifan confirms the man's identity with a bitter chuckle.

"Great. Our pilot is as good as dead. So much for getting back to the plane."

"What do we do now?"

"I can get us out of here if you get me back to the plane," he speaks with more enthusiasm now, a glimmer of hope in his glassy eyes. Forcing himself to stand, a foul smell emanates from his body as he limps closer to you both. Your nose scrunches in distaste.

"Back off," Yifan warns, raising the gun.

The pilot throws his hands up in defense before backing up. He calls Yifan an arsehole under his breath. The word echoes in the small space. You're unsure if he's aware of this or if he thinks he's being sly. Either way you sidle out from behind Yifan and start to slink down the stairs. You make it down four steps before the man growls.

With an audible thump, he knocks Yifan back against the wall. Metal clanks against stone as the gun falls. To your relief, it doesn't hit the steel of the stairs; it's still within reach. As you turn to flash some light on the tussle, you're thrown backward. Grimy, moist nails claw at your neck during the whole descent. On the first rotation, your head and back slam against the concrete. On the second, it's your knees and feet.

By the time you're flat on the mid-floor landing, there's a hundred too many pounds crushing your chest. Every inch of you aches from the fall but it's nothing compared to the scorching fire exploding inside your throat. Snapping your eyes open, you see the pilot. He's pinning you down and choking you.

Glancing upward to where Yifan once stood, you pray he'll rescue you. Seconds are worth a lifetime when each could be your last. Speckles of darkness pollute your vision, somehow even darker than what you've been plunged into now that your phone is lost. It's probably shattered given the extent of your tumble.

His hold on you tightens, his fingers digging into your pulse points. Searching for something you can use, anything at all, your nails rake across the ground. There's nothing in reach. You force out a gasp, desperate to suck in some air, and Yifan stirs. His boots slam against the stairs two at a time but he's dizzy, or at least uncertain, and his footfalls are hesitant.

And then it moans.

Your old friend hanging high in the spire moans.

You had been too afraid to acknowledge it then, to admit that it was no hallucination but a very real, very undead monster lurking in the dark.

Yet now it's moans serve not to lure you upward to certain doom; they're a reminder of the inevitable future coursing through the pilot's veins.

It's a brief distraction but one nonetheless and you don't plan on dying like a dog under this madman's grasp. Lurching into a sitting position, you headbutt him. It's enough to throw him off balance. He's well on the track to becoming one of them and his mind is deteriorating fast, but if he wants to play mad, you'll just play madder.

Gripping his hair and ignoring how it tears out in clumps, you trip over him, kneeing him in the stomach during the descent. On legs that scream in defiance, you lift yourself to your feet. He follows, your hold on him shifting to his ears and neck, and he whimpers. It's a pathetic sound. It makes you want to hurl. Instead you stand tall and focus, breathing deep to reinvigorate your tired muscles. Even if you wanted to, you know you can't make quick work of it.

"This is going to hurt," you whisper, a chill settling deep in your spine as you pull his head closer to you. "You should've stayed on the plane."

Like a bow drawn taut, you release the pressure in your arms in one sudden punch. It isn't your typical hit, however. Instead of using your fists, you use the man's face to pummel the wall. Over and over you cock the pistol that is your body before shooting more of his face all over the cold, hard concrete.

Even as your hold on his sloughing skin becomes slippery from the excess blood, you keep going.

"He's dead," Yifan murmurs.

You jolt when he immobilises you. With his arms around your waist, he uses this newfound leverage to levitate you up and away from the bloodbath of your creation. Unfurling your fingers, you relax, allowing your jittery body to calm.

"You did well. He's dead."

In the safety of his embrace, you succumb to the exhaustion pulling you deep into a restless slumber.

It isn't Yifan shaking you or calling your name that awakens you but the cold night air. There are crickets chirping somewhere beyond the jungle's treeline. Upon opening your bleary eyes, you see little orbs of light floating on the soft ocean breeze as it rolls in across the tarmac. One of the lights dive toward you and you flinch.

It's a firefly.

Small, fragile and beautiful.

It rests on your shoulder for a brief moment before taking back off into the sky.

"Babe, are you awake?"

You hum in response, nodding while struggling to keep your heavy eyelids from closing.

"The jet should be in the hangar. Can you walk?"

Humming again, you stand. It takes great effort to stay upright. Your legs are like lead beneath you. Each step is harder than the last and your feet drag, leaving a trail on the sand-covered runway. It would be easier to walk in cement shoes, you think, and it makes you chuckle. Cement shoes. Yifan would surely appreciate the mobster reference.

He scoffs in front of you, looking over his shoulder to observe your condition.

Had you said that out loud? Did he at least find it as amusing as you did?

"You need to rest but it isn't safe out in the open. Push yourself a little more, okay?"

It's a genuine, sincere request so you do it. Despite how your body screams for rest, you hold onto his belt and soldier on. You even look around as you tiptoe behind him, your head in a constant state of swivelling in order to report any undead sightings. A strike of good fortune finds you both entering the hangar without issue. Another lucky break has your jet inside, door open and ready for you both to embark.

Whoever said good things happen in threes, however, is a liar.

The second bodyguard falls face first out of the plane.

His fingers are stumps, worn down to the bone.

Sniffing the air, his rotting eyes snap to you.

"I'll distract it while you get on the plane."

"What? No w-"

The guard croaks before he charges. You pray that nothing else heard it, that nothing else will come. Yifan pushes you aside while kicking the guard square in the stomach. Blood explodes out of his mouth as he stumbles backward, stunned. His attention shifts to Yifan.

"Get on the plane!"

"But-"

"Here." He tosses a set of keys to you: the pilot's, and therefore the plane's. "Now go."

Turning your back on him feels like a betrayal. There's another thud and grunt as Yifan lands a kick on the guard and then the clunking of metal. Squelching permeates your ears and you want to vomit. It's what flesh sounds like as it slides off the bone as if it's shredded beef.

You don't stop to look back.

You have faith in Yifan's abilities - in him.

The steps rattle with each plod of your feet until you're standing in the plane's cabin. Your chest heaves. It burns to breathe. Between exertion and exhaustion, every inhalation is a fight to stay conscious. There's a thundering boom in your ears that won't cease, adrenaline pounding against your skull.

Knowing your senses are impeded, you turn to view the carnage. Worry clenches your heart when you're unable to spot either the guard or Yifan. Resisting the urge to go back and help him, your hand hovers over the stair's lift button. At the first sign of trouble you'll press it.

You'll press it and wait in this flimsy tin can for God knows how long.

Perhaps until you run out of food.

Perhaps even until you die.

There's a scuffle beyond your view and then several hits reminiscent of flesh smashing against stone. You know this noise well now. It's a sound you'll never forget courtesy of the pilot.

Who's going to fly the plane?

Another clang resonates from nearby as metal strikes something hard, not stone but… bone.

Over and over again.

Clang.

Seconds pass in relative silence. No matter the outcome, the fight has come to an end. One will emerge the victor and you'll either die alone or die with Yifan. Operating a plane, after all, requires finesse and training. It's not something you just decide to do on a whim.

It's either by his side or by his hand. Or, you suppose, his teeth. You laugh at the grimness of the situation. This is your reality. It's a joke - a fucking nightmare, sure, but a real fucking cosmic zinger too.

A real ride or die then ride some more kind of couple.

"Babe," Yifan huffs, limping into your view. "I'm opening the bay doors."

Relief surges through you. It's an emotional overload. Sobbing, you fall to your knees, abandoning your post by the button. He's hurt but he's alive and so are you. You're alive. Against the odds, you both survived.

The hangar door shutters open. He doesn't wait for the machinery to finish before jogging onto the plane. Smashing the button after himself, you watch as the stairs retreat back into the plane's side. The hydraulics hiss as they settle. Yifan stands beside you, shoulders slumped and head hung. His once immaculate suit is drenched in blood and sweat.

"You alright?" he asks, aware of your eyes on him.

"Are you bitten?"

"It's not my blood."

"Are you bitten?"

"No, but you shouldn't trust my word on it. I have a penchant for lying, after all."

"Yeah," you scoff. Grabbing his hand, you use him as support to pull yourself up. "You really do. Construction, huh?"

He laughs and the easy nature behind it soothes you, a bright spark erasing the somber atmosphere until you're laughing too. "I was planning on telling you event-"

The pilot's cabin door flings open. In the same breath Yifan draws his gun, aiming it at the young woman standing on the threshold. It takes her a moment to catch onto what is happening. When she does, she screams, throwing her hands up in defense before cowering. It's the flight attendant.

"I'm normal! I'm not one of them!"

After a visual check for wounds, he holsters his gun. "What were you doing in there?"

"What do you think?" you mutter under your breath, ignoring how his hand creeps up to hold the back of your neck, squeezing in warning.

"Hiding. From… from the guard. He went crazy. He's been trying to get in for the past hour." Closing the door slightly, she points at the tarnished metal. The metal is scratched and coloured red from his attempts. "I thought maybe the pilot left the keys…"

She trails off and you gasp, a lightbulb going off in your head. "You can fly the plane!"

"Yes… not that I intended to leave you here! I just assumed-"

"We have the keys. Get us out of here."

Upon hearing Yifan's approval, you toss the keys to her. She trembles as she speaks, anxious to escape the madness infecting the island, "Yes, sir!"

When the plane rumbles to life, you remember how to breathe. You don't think twice about what Yifan is planning as he leads you toward the bathroom. There's a part of you that wants to let loose and forget everything. He pushes you inside, rough and dominant like always. You slide your irreparable hoodie off and toss it into the corner.

When he doesn't enter behind you, you face him, equal parts confused and eager. "Are you coming?"

"Do you need help washing up?" He smirks before gesturing toward the small shower cubicle. "Go on."

"But I need to check you for bite marks."

"Well who am I to say no to a good time?"

"I'm being serious here, Yifan."

"So am I, baby."

His suit jacket is on the ground before he even steps foot inside. Scrambling to keep up with how fast he's peeling his clothes off, you shimmy out your sweats and panties in one fell swoop. The clothes are beyond ruined so he takes a shortcut, popping the buttons of his dress shirt as he tears it off. After his shoes are kicked off and his pants abandoned, he drinks in your body as you continue to undress. There's a myriad of bruises scattered along your skin.

"Look what all that manhandling did to my arm."

Chuckling as his fingers trace the marks, he smirks. It's a signature look of his, one that excites you. When you pull away from him to step inside the shower and turn the water on, he pins you against the wall. With your arms raised overhead, he places gentle kisses along the bruises, avoiding the speckles of blood on your body all while grinding his hips against yours.

You moan in unrestrained need. It entices him. His cock brushes against your throbbing cunt and you buck, chasing his hardening length but he doesn't give you what you want. No, that would be too easy. Instead he continues to tease, holding your wrists in one hand while using the other to grab a bar of soap. Rubbing it along every inch of your skin in painstaking detail, he cleans off all the grime and blood before doing the same to himself. All you can do is watch, unable to touch, unable to help.

Once satisfied, he sighs in relief, tossing his head back and allowing the hot water to drizzle through his hair. You squirm under his hold, whining for attention and shuddering whenever his body so much as touches yours. He peeks at you with one eye.

"Is my baby needy?"

You nod, grinding against his thigh as he rests it between your legs. Starting slow and tentative, your movements are exploratory but when his muscles tense and flex, you gasp. He doesn't bother to move beyond that, forcing you to put in the work all while wearing a cocky grin. Sliding up and down his bare leg, you ride him, yearning for release.

It builds up slowly, starting as small sparks that soon blossom into a raging fire as you fuck his thigh in earnest. When you're close to climax, Yifan lends a hand. Gripping your hips, he pulls you close, sliding your soaked pussy along his leg like it were a water slide. He dips two long fingers deep in your cunt, using his palm to massage your clit until you're clenching around him, screaming his name in absolute ecstasy as you cum.

"How desperate," he scoffs before your high has a chance to subside. "But don't you worry. Daddy's going to fuck you so hard you forget the last few hours ever happened."

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