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kpoptrashlord-007 · 3 years

Text

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]

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55 notes · View notes

itstheoneshot · 3 years

Note

Let's make YOU choose! 322 with the boy you first think about when you read the sentence 😉

Oi, you’re really out here trying to get me cancelled lmao. As if my meigeni ass could think of literally anyone else when it comes to fingers. Who awoke my hand kink back in 2012? None other than this man. Wu Yifan.

Your fists are clenched, nails dug so hard into the bedsheets that you would not be surprised if you tear holes in them. Your partner hovers over you, holding you still with one hand, while the other fucks you perfectly. Two long, slender fingers are more than enough, when they are the size of his, any more and it just hurts, but he knows that, and he never pushes you past your limit.

You bury your face in his neck, gently biting at the flesh while he finger-fucks you, soundless moans escape you, cries of his name as he works you perfectly, as he always does. You struggle to think straight, mind cloudy as you try to keep it together, begging him to allow your release.

“You take my fingers so well, don’t you?” Yifan teases, moving back so that he can admire you.

You let go of the sheets and move your hands to grip at his broad shoulders instead, throwing your head back into the pillows as you work up the energy to speak.

“S-sir, please,” You whine, “Please, please let me cum.”

Yifan leans in to kiss you, nipping at your bottom lip to force his way in with his tongue. You feel yourself clenching to his fingers, and you know that even if he does not want you to, you are not going to be able to stop yourself.

He knows this too, nodding into the kiss to tell you to let yourself go. With a final cry of his name, your body shakes as he works you through your high. You are a mess for him, because of him, euphoric, so in love.

As your peak descends, you loosen your grip on Yifan’s shoulders and take your hands to cup his cheeks. You kiss him softly as you catch your breath, chest heaving, whining loudly as he pulls his fingers out of you.

“I love you,” You murmur, “I love you so much.”

He grins at you, the beautiful gummy grin that had you head over heels from the moment that you met him, and you smile back, forever grateful to be with him.

“I love you too,” He replies, “Always you.”

———

400 followers special! ~ rules here!

#ask #400 followers special #Kris wu #wu Yifan #cpop #Kris wu x reader #wu Yifan x reader #Kris wu smut #Kris wu fanfic #wu Yifan smut #wu Yifan fanfic #Yifan #Yifan smut #Yifan fanfic

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kpop-dungeon · 3 years

Text

Fifty Shades Of Wu. (Sadist!Yifan x You)

Warning(s): Water boarding, degradation, Sadist!Yifan, anal, hair pulling, choking, blind folding, bondage. My content isn't for everyone so read at your own risk, please.

"Okay, ready?" Master's deep and stern voice rang in her ears from behind as he finished cuffing her, tugging at them to check their security as his free hand caressed one of Y/n's nude shoulders comfortingly. "See if you can snap your fingers." Butterflies filled her stomach as she felt Yifan caress her sides lovingly, waiting for her response.

"Y- Yes, Master. I c- can." Was what she meekly responded with, snapping them to assure him as she faced the bathtub full of chilly water that the girl couldn't see due to being rather firmly blindfolded. "Once is to go on, twice is to slow down, thrice or more is to stop." The man proudly smirked down at his good little slave moulded into his own perfect little playdoll.

"Good slave." Praising her one last time, he helped her lower down onto her knees, one of his huge hands naturally finding their way to her throat as the other one rested on one of her ass cheeks. "Now…" Inching his perfect lips closer to her ear, Yifan spoke. "For the last time, sure you want this?" Y/n was a rather sensitive sub with not much experience with masochism or hard bondage, and Yifan was a cautious hard Dom. "Don't overdo yourself or push your limits too much in order to please your Master. He is proud of you as you are."

A shaky breath left the girl as she could feel her cunt drip and pulsate in knees already, thighs trembling. "I- I really want to, Master. I really, really do." Biting her lip at the sensation of his lips grazing against her ear, Y/n gulped the tiny bile in her throat. "I can always call my safe word out, right? We can always stop."

The man nodded, moving away and letting go of her completely. "That we can." Biting his lip, Yifan finally allowed himself to just take in the sight before him for a few moments, feeling his arousal tighten the specific patch of his pants. "Hmmm, little slave. You look so perfect for your owner. Just like the good little play toy you are, hm?"

Y/n's breath hitched in her throat as she felt the tip of his erect cock against her crack when Yifan freed it, back arching in response as her ass tried to feel it more, making a chuckle escape the man.

"So desperate for cock, aren't we?"

The girl suppressed the high pitched giggle that was threatening to escape, knowing now wasn't the time for such behavior. "Y- Yes si-" before the girl could finish, Yifan forced her head towards the tub and in the water, causing a defensive high pitched squeak to escape her as she coughed, trying to take it but her body soon started to slowly struggle, trying to fight against the restraints while her neck desperately tried to lift her head back up.

"Aw, what is it?" Yifan taunted right in the girl's ear from behind after pulling her back up by her neck, grazing his tip up and down her crack using his other hand. "Not so strong and experimental anymore, already, huh? Can't even take the first dunk, huh?!" Gripping her hair instead, the man pulled at her hair more, earning a cry out of the girl.

"N- No, Master! No! I can take it, sir! I promise! I promise, please! Please drown me and use me all you please!" That was enough for the man to smirk proudly and push her face down the water again with more force, spitting on the girl's pucker and teasing the tight rim of muscles with his cock tip, grunting and biting his lip due to how good it felt.

"That's a good fuck pet" pulling her back out, Yifan allowed her to breathe, loving how ragged her breathing pattern was. All under his control. Y/n couldn't even breathe without his permission. The thought more than satisfied him. "Look at you. Nothing but a blind, limbless little drowned rat. Spreading it's ass like the pathetic little fuck slut that it is."

His words made her pussy clench around the empty air as her core's pulsating slowly transformed into a dull ache, asshole stretching to accommodate the dominant's thick and erect tip, another wad of spit landing on his shaft as he wrapped his fist around her hair, snorting due to how her body was shivering.

"Ready?"

"Yes si- AAAAHHHHHH!" The girl's mouth fell open and back arched when Yifan pushed his cock rough and fast up her ass in one powerful thrust, dunking her head in the chilly water at the same time at the same time. Y/n struggled to take it, unable to see as she tried to breathe calmly in order to get used to his thick and hard shaft but choking on the water instead, feeling her tied up arms panic as her legs started kicking.

"Look at this worthless little fuck sleeve struggling" landing a slap on the slave's ass, Yifan pulled his hips back before ramming them back in, feeling her soft walls and grunting at how they choked his cock, grabbing her back up by the throat and holding her there in place as she panted like some animal, trying to catch her breath. "What? Chickening out already, my filthy little rat, hm? Was that all you could take, hm, you pathetic little dumb fuck pet?"

Shaking her head and blinking her covered eyes, Y/n felt herself drip even more, almost whining out due to how needy she was but knew better than to be selfish. She was nothing but a slave that deserved only what the Master decided to give her. Nothing else. "N- No, Mas-ter… M- More… p- please… A- All you want…" Her hips rolled along Yifan's thrusts, loving the difficulty she was having in breathing as he firmly held her neck, shoulders rising and falling a bit slower now.

"Good." Pushing her pretty and red face back in the water, Yifan landed harsher spanks on her ass now, making her whine into the water, loving how the skin burnt. The man knew how to treat her right and she loved it. All of it.

But her pussy. It was so desperate for more. Something. Anything.

Using the hand that wasn't choking and drowning her, Yifan further pushed her head further down in the water and feeling his hips tighten and edge closer to an orgasm when she pathetically started to fight back after a while, one of her legs repeatedly tapping against the ground before he pulled her back up, thrusting at a rapid powerful pace which caused the sound of skin slapping against skin to echo in the lush bathroom of the businessman.

"Keep behaving like this and you may earn yourself an award, my pretty little rat." His words were promising and deep in her ear as her now expanded hole started to stretch even more when Yifan started to push his balls in through the tight ring of flesh as well, the hard tip tickling her deep and high.

#kris wu #kris wu smut #yifan #wu yifan #yifan smut #wu yifan smut #kris x you #kris x reader #yifan x you #yifan x reader #kris wu x you #kris wu x reader #exo smut #exo x you #exo x reader #kris wu scenarios #kris wu imagines

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bobbyseyesmile · 5 years

Text

till we meet again - part 3

Rated [M] for a bit smut at the end.

His eyes were tired and burned whenever he rubbed them to stay awake. City lights passed the car, what was the time? A quick glance on the phone display, but he forgot it a few seconds later again. His flight was long and exhausting- more than ten hours of to many phone calls and a lot of mails to read and response to.

Finally, he was in Seoul. Finally, and after weeks of being separated, he would hold his moonshine again- he just couldn’t wait till he saw her. She didn’t respond to his latest text message but that was okay. She was never a big fan of texting, also she could have already been asleep- after all, it was late. What was the time again?

“You can stop here.” He told the taxi driver and the man nodded in silent. Looking at the huge building he suddenly missed her old apartment. It was small and cozy, there was never enough space in the drawers and only one person at the time could be in the kitchen.

But he understood why she had to move. Of course, he did. She told him everything- the memories she had made with another man there, the fights, the love, the struggles. He met her at her darkest time in life, she was vulnerable and insecure. Questioning the motives of each person who were nice to her, who wanted to help her.

He understood. But now, a year later, she was strong and independent. He knew that she didn’t need him to be happy, she could that be for herself, but she wanted him in her life and for that, he was very grateful.

The keys in his hands slipped and landed near a puddle. A relived sigh escaped him and he bend down to pick it up when a small something caught his eye. Usually he wouldn’t touch a stranger’s cigarette end, but this one was special. It wasn’t just any brand, this one held a lot of information’s and those information’s made him uneasy.

He was here. At her apartment.

“Unbelievable…” he whispered to himself and pulled the phone out of the pocket. “Hello, it’s me. I need your services again… Yes… that’s right… Thank you and oh, bring Hector this time. Bye.” For a second he asked himself if he overreacted but then anger reminded him why he did it again. Enough was enough after all.

The apartment was still and dark, he was sure that he would find her in bed. Surprisingly wasn’t the white cat with her, she ran towards him and started to purr as he caressed the soft fur. “Hey bud.”

The interest of the animal was short and as fast as it showed up it also disappeared in the darkness again, softly purring on its way.

When he entered the bedroom, and saw her lying in his shirt, his heart jumped and for a while he just stood and watched her softly breathing. She was the most beautiful creature he ever saw, filled with graciousness and patience. A heart who managed to love again. A body that healed itself even though the scars would never completely vanish.

A soft whimper when his lips kissed her stomach, hands stroking along her sides, quiet moans filling the air.

“K-Kris?” she asked and he his fingers carefully put a few strands aside of her sweaty face.

“Hēi.“ He whispered back and she gave him a small smile.

“Wǒ hěn gāoxìng jiàndào nǐ. * “ she responded with her first learned phrase in his language which made his heart even more jump. (*I’m glad to see you)

“I missed you a lot, Baobei.”

“I missed you too, Kris.” She rubbed her eyes and sat up to kiss him.

He felt her passion and love towards him in her kiss. In that moment it was all she needed- His warmth and assurance that he would protect her. And damn it if he had to fight a whole company for her- he would do it.

“Lay down.” He ordered and then moved towards her, meanwhile throbbing, core. He didn’t hesitate to taste her, he missed her too much to tease both of them right now.

Her breath sounded choked when his hot tongue extensively licked on the soft flesh. He nibbled on it, the tip of his tongue circled around her entrance slowly asking for permission when her hips pushed against his lips.

“K-Kris…” she whimpered as a long slender finger entered her, circling slowly, searching for her magic spot.

“Shh.” He calmed her, pressing his lips against the clit, softly sucking before he increased the speed, adding a second finger.

Her body perked up, fingers clawing in his black hair, begging for more. He fulfilled her wish and his finger finally found the spot, gently pressing against it when she suddenly cried out of lust.

“Can my baby take three fingers?” he asked and she paused for a short second.

“You’re being careful, right?”

“Always.” He promised seriously and she saw the deep meaning in his eyes. He would never hurt her.

She felt the new feeling when the third finger gently stretched her entrance, slowly sliding inside, letting her adjust to it. A quiet moan than another one, louder this time, welcoming the sensation of being fully stretched.

“Faster, please…” she commanded and began to whine when he started to work his magic, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. Her body tensed up, back bending, fingers clenching to the sheets, mouth wide open when she exhaled one last loud cry before her juices gushed over his fingers making her come in pure bliss and desire.

One last lick of his tongue, calming her shivering core before he softly kissed the inside of her legs. Savoring every moment and centimeter of her skin.

“Goodnight my love.”

He got a small nod in response before she drifted to sleep.

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exxxoblr · 7 years

Text

all we do

wu yifan x reader

wc - 1.6k // rated M for sexual themes.

author - admin C

companion playlist here

request things here

Taking a sip of your drink, your eyes scanned the bar carefully as you felt the comforting burn of vodka slide down your throat. Your nails tapped the surface of the counter slowly as you finished your drink, setting a few bills down before turning to lean against the bar, facing the VIP section of the club. Hazy smoke swirled about, filling your lungs with sweetened air as you lazily made your way to the edge of the dance floor.

Reuniting with your friends, you clasped your hands with one of them, moving your hips to the beat and losing yourself. The song was hypnotic as you felt a drop of sweat run down your neck. You couldn’t help your eyes from wandering back to the VIP section, the smoke heaviest there. Beautiful girls and men alike strut in and out of the small rooms within the roped-off area, undoubtably where celebrities would be.

You went to the club that night with a specific goal: to hook up with someone. You had been single for a while after breaking it off with your long-term boyfriend, deciding it was about time for you to have some fun. Picking out the most sultry dress you owned, rimming your eyes with dark eyeliner and styling your hair to effortless perfection, you looked both mysterious and stunning. Several guys stopped to talk to you, but none of them met your high standards.

Even though you weren’t looking for anything serious, you needed someone who pulled you in, someone magnetic. You knew what you wanted, not accepting anything less. You also knew that the man you were looking for would probably be in that elusive VIP section. Inching your way closer to the ropes, you accepted another drink from your friend, sighing as it quenched your thirst. Feeling so deliciously free, dancing without inhibition, you closed your eyes. Grinning, your friends danced with you, playfully grabbing your hips and hyping you up, thrilled that you were out again and having a good time. Opening your eyes, your eyes caught on a booth beyond the ropes.

Two gorgeous girls sat on either side of a man scrolling through his phone in a bored manner. The one on his right fiddled with the collar of his jacket, the one on the left ran her fingers through his messily styled hair. Halting your movements to get a better look at him, you bit your lip as you appreciated his style, his pierced ears and disinterested expression. You were admiring the shape of his lips before your eyes flickered to his, already watching you. A shock of electricity went through you as he stared at you, eyes moving slowly down your body before coming back up to lock eyes with you once more. A smile grew on his face in a predatory way, standing. The girls beside him frowned briefly before getting up to move onto someone else as he walked away.

Watching him intently, he spoke in the bouncer’s ear, moving past him and towards the bar. Looking down in disappointment, you began to sway to the beat once again. You were confident you would find someone that night, but that man you locked eyes with was spellbinding; his intense gaze burned into your mind. You couldn’t help yourself as you looked back for him, nearly losing your footing when you saw him walking onto the dance floor.

Realization dawning on you, you blinked a few times as he weaved through the crowd, heading in your direction. You tried to act natural, moving your hips in time with the music and closing your eyes once more. Feeling your friend elbow you in the ribs, your eyes snapped open, landing on the man in front of you. Height intimidating, he towered over you in a powerful way.

“Here,” was the first thing he said to you, offering you a drink. Raising an eyebrow at him, he flashed a breathtaking smile before taking a sip, proving that it wasn’t drugged. You accepted it, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“Thanks,” you replied, bringing the glass to your lips and smirking as his eyes were glued to the action.

“Kris,” he offered his name, smiling a little when you did, not quite willing to give up your own name yet.

You began dancing again, not minding that your friends had gone elsewhere in the club. Knowing exactly what you were doing, you slid your hands down your body as you moved. Grinning as you felt your own hands being replaced by his broad palms, you sighed as he began to dance with you.

His breath fanned across your neck as you moved as one, hands gripping your hips possessively. You weren’t exactly sure how many songs you danced to with him, your hand reaching back to tangle in his hair, turning your face a little to see him.

“Want to sit down?” He murmured in your ear. Excitement sparking within you as you followed his eyesight to the VIP section, you nodded. Kris took your hand, leading you to the bouncer he had spoken to what seemed like hours ago. The bouncer let you both in without a second glance.

His hand strong in yours, you smiled politely at the handful of people that said hello to him like he was of great importance. Piecing things together, you realized Kris was probably someone of a high status, which would make sense as to why he was in the VIP section of the club. Never one to freak out over celebrities— they were people too— you were attracted to his magnetism. Everything about the man exuded confidence, something that drew you to him like a moth to a flame. He was exactly what you were looking for.

Kris led you to one of those rooms, opening the door and stepping aside for you to enter. Trying not to gape at the expensive looking room, your eyes slid from the low leather seating to the small mini bar stocked with high-end liquor. The club was dim, but this room was a shade darker as the light came from a moody blue chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

“I never got your name,” you heard him speak up. Turning, you pressed your thighs together as he leaned against the door, arms crossed. Switching on your confidence, you walked towards him.

“I’m not sure that you’ve earned that privilege yet,” you answered, gazing up at his dark eyes as you slid a hand up his side. Something sparking in his eyes, he grabbed your wrist and flipped you, caging you between the door and himself. Smirking as you watched him flick the lock on the door, the silence in the room was filled with the faint sound of the music on the dance floor.

“Let’s see what I can do to earn it, then,” Kris shot back.

Roughly grabbing your jaw, he captured your lips. Letting out a noise of surprise, you kissed him back, already addicted to the taste of liquor on his lips. His other hand moved down your body, gripping your backside harshly as you bit down on his lower lip. You took no prisoners; doing everything in your power to fight for dominance.

You opened up for him, his tongue gliding over yours. A thread of dominance was left in you as you pulled him closer with a hand on his neck, the other shoving his jacket down his arms. He grinned against your lips, his hands disappearing from you as he pulled the jacket from his body. Any power struggle you had left in you melted away as he lifted you, your legs wrapping around him as he moved to sit on the low couch.

Stars collided as he marked your neck, the blue lighting casting a celestial glow on the two of you. Your fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt, letting it hang open as he kissed his way across your collarbones.

“Off,” he muttered, pulling at the material of your dress. He leaned back on the couch, watching you as you shrunk a little under his intensity. Swallowing your pride, you lifted the dress up and over your head, getting comfortable on his lap once more. Grazing your hand down his neck, you dove back in for another kiss.

His hands were cold on your feverish skin, sliding up the expanse of your back.

“Very pretty,” he commented, eyes fixed on your bra, the black lace hugging your body graciously. You hummed in response, kissing the corner of his mouth and guiding his hands to touch you. Chuckling, he kissed a particularly sensitive area of your throat, making you involuntarily roll your hips against him. Hissing, he pressed his forehead against yours, demanding eye contact as his hand moved to the hem of your panties.

You dropped your head to the crook of his neck as he had his way with you, entirely at the mercy of his fingers. Thankful for the loud music playing outside, you muffled the sounds you were making by biting his shoulder. You slightly jumped at the sound of fabric tearing, your ruined underwear laying on the floor. Too blissed out to care, you grew pliant in his arms as he moved you to lay under him.

The night carried on just like this. Under the blue cast of the light you were red-hot. Songs blurred together as you grew exhausted from effort. With one final push over the edge and he rolled off of you, sweat glistening on of his chest.

“(Y/N),” you offered, chest still heaving. And with a flash of that blinding grin, you started to wonder if just a hookup was really what you wanted; if you really wanted to give him up after you were already addicted to him.

note from admin C // thank you all for following the playlists, reading, and giving me feedback on these companion scenarios! this was the last one in the series! i am working on several things right now, so don’t worry, there will be plenty of content coming out this week and moving forward. again, thank you so much for reading and supporting my writing so far. feel free to request anything in our ask box! xx

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universitykpop · 7 years

Text

New Rules

Genre: Angst (emotional abuse), Smut, Fluff, Songfic

Members: Kris, Suho

Words: 746

A/N: I’m tired and idk if i like this yet

I've got new rules, I count 'em I've gotta tell them to myself

1. Don’t pick up the phone

His name flashing across the screen makes your heart flutter; a feeling no one else gives you. You’re lucky he calls you. Of all the contacts in his phone, he chose you.

“Hello?” You answer after the second ring.

“Y/N…” Yifan breathes into the receiver, “I miss you.”

There’s a ping of giddiness in your chest.

“I miss you too.”

“I need you.” He whines.

He never whines… unless he’s drunk.

“Should I come over?” You suggest nervously.

“If you want to… I want you to.”

“Give me a few minutes… I love you.” You say, and suddenly, he hangs up.

This habit needs to stop.

2. Don’t let him in.

The knocks on your front door in the early morning are surprising. Seeing the person on the other side is even more surprising.

Yifan is propped against the frame with a small smirk on his lips. You find yourself mesmerized by them as he speaks, talking his way into your apartment, into your heart. Only when he has you pressed against a wall, mouth attached to your neck, do you realize what’s happening… and you strangely don’t want this.

“Yifan.” You sigh, nudging at his chest.

He hums in response.

“Stop. You need to leave.”

“She doesn’t know I’m here.”

“This isn’t fair.” You squirm in his arms.

He leans back with an incredulous look, “Do you know how many girls would kill to be in your position?”

“Then go to one of their apartments.” You blurt out of annoyance.

Yifan rolls his eyes with a scoff and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

Kicking him out has become a chore.

3. Don’t be his friend.

It started with a call. She broke up with him, and he needed a crutch. But it feels more like a rebound. After drinking his sorrows, Yifan is above you on his bed, lips connected. His hand is busy beneath your panties.

“You’re so wet.” He smirks against your skin.

“Please.” You whimper in response.

He knows what you want and begins sliding your intimates down your legs. You impatiently watch as he rolls a condom down his shaft.

In the moment it feels amazing, but in the morning when you wake up, you’re going to feel used.

You need to get over him.

I’ve got new rules, I count ‘em.

1. Don’t pick up the phone

His name flashing across the screen makes Joonmyeon angry. You avert your eyes to your lap; you can’t look at the pained expression on Joonmyeon’s face. He knows your history with Yifan and doesn’t like it one bit.

“Please stop calling this number. Thank you.”

Your eyes fly open to find Joonmyeon ending the call.

“I’m blocking his number. He doesn’t deserve you.”

You feel his hand squeeze yours gently. He leans in to leave a kiss on your cheek.

You could get use to this.

2. Don’t let him in.

The knocks on your front door in the early morning are annoying. Joonmyeon is no longer in a good mood when he sees the person on the other side.

“Who are you?” Yifan questions in disgust.

“I should ask you the same thing.” Joonmyeon folds his arms over his bare chest.

“Where’s Y/N?”

“She doesn’t want to speak to you right now.”

“She’s not in love with you.” Yifan says defensively.

“She’s not in love with you either.” Joonmyeon shuts the door quickly.

“She knows who can make her feel beautiful!” You hear Yifan’s muffled shout.

“If he ever shows up again, I’m kicking his ass.” Joonmyeon cups your cheeks with a grin before kissing your nose.

That was easier.

3. Don’t be his friend.

She came back. Not that you care. You’ve only heard things through friends now. Maybe he can change for her. But you honestly don’t care what happens because right now Joonmyeon is a writhing mess under you, and that is a beautiful sight.

Your hips slowly gyrate down on him. His arms wrap around your waist, and he flips you over. You bring him back into a kiss. Fingers sift through hair and tug. Hot breaths and sighs fill the room. He presses you closer to his body. A moan slips from your lips as he slows down.

“I love you so much.” He says when he pulls back and looks into your eyes, “I’m glad I met you.”

Your heart flutters; a feeling no one else will give you.

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kpop-dungeon-dark · 3 years

Text

Fury Of The Dragon. (Dragon!Yifan x You)

•TRIGGER WARNING•

Warning(s): Non-Con, punishment sex, humiliation, degradation, walk of shame, exhibitionism, fear kink, headshave, ultimate ownership, Dragon!Yifan. My content isn’t for everyone so read at your own risk please. You're both legal in this.

Wu Yifan was seething from rage as he sliced the throat of the last peasant bandit through one of his claws that his human hands had morphed into for combat as the rest of his body remained human. Vision filled with red as sweat and blood of all the men he had killed, it was hard for it to locate the girl standing a few steps away, shaking in her now dirty and bloody wedding gown. Sniffing the air to locate her better in the dark jungle, the man wrapped his literal claw around one of her delicate arms, tugging her towards him and placing her on the horse.

He could just fly. But the King had very respectfully and fearfully requested him not to.

And Wu Yifan was a man of discipline, honesty, and his word.

The young lady, Y/n, his bride that had attempted to run away rather childishly in his honest opinion because no one could escape his grasp, trembled and cried, dreading the wedding and what was to come next.

Tales of how he treated traitors were terrifying.

In the span of the next few minutes, the girl's ashamed and scared parents had married her off to the man or… so it disguised itself as. Y/n could swear she had felt something much sharper and thinner against her lips -like a million fangs- when they had kissed. There was no way those were the teeth they could see guarded by his lips.

Something much more inhuman, if not sinister.

The journey to his Estate was the most nerve wracking for her. Having multiple meltdowns, constant crying and a panic attack, or two, she couldn't tell anymore, Y/n felt the carriage stop, causing a long and sharp inhale of air defensively.

But her groom didn't open the door and romantically helped her out before carrying her inside her new house bridal style. It angered Yifan to know that he was actually planning on doing that. The cliche many newly wedded husband's did which was driven by the love he felt for his now bride and wife.

The Grand General wasn't a man of much emotion, if any at all. Same went for the words he spoke. They were always careful and calculated.

Just enough to satisfy the need for communication, would it arise.

Y/n nodded respectfully at the carriage owner who had helped her inside upon the groom's order, placing her luggage besides her and respectfully bowing since she was Wu Yifan's wife. The man who was respected, feared and obeyed more than the King himself.

The one time he let his emotions consume him, and act upon them, this is what happened, huh?

"Did you really think you could get away?" The girl jumped at the ear piercingly deep voice from right beside her, making her search for the owner to see her husband standing a few feet away facing one of the many large windows that the living room walls of the mansion contained. "I could tell you were an innocent little simple girl but… are you really that stupid?"

Yifan's hands were held behind his back as he stared outside the window, form so calm a human would never be able to judge what he was feeling or what was actually coming. Streaks and droplets of blood from earlier stained his face, robes and hands. His tone was taunting and belittling.

Silence followed his words, the only noise being the grandfather clock as Y/n stared at the ground in fear and embarrassment.

Maybe. Just maybe. It wasn't really worth it.

The girl wasn't sure how much longer they stood just like that, Yifan's inhaling and exhaling gradually getting faster as he probably thought about the shame his bride brought him on the first day. To the point where steam started to escape his nose and ears.

It was when the heavy clock hit another hour that Yifan moved, and he moved so fast that Y/n’s slow human brain couldn't even decipher it before he was standing in front of her, causing her to gasp and jump back, looking at him for the very first time today with her pretty eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Ah… There are those pretty eyes~” the deep coo he let out sounded almost ingenuine due to how terrifyingly animalistic his voice had gotten. “Shining so bright and full of innocence… all for me.” A gasp left the girl when Yifan's long -maybe a bit too long- fingers slipped up her half open messy hair and wrapped it around them, tugging her beautiful face closer to his.

"After all these years of my continuous pride and victory, you, a mere human, thought I'd let you stain it and bring me shame?" Tears welled up in her already red eyes as she tried to shake her head only to receive a sharp slap right across her face with her groom's free hand. “Just because I decided you were pretty enough to carry my name and children?”

“N- No-!”

“You really are foolish enough to think I am demanding an answer and want to take it, huh?” The evil grin slipping through his lips allowed her a sight of the deadly fangs that decorated his mouth.

Y/n’s legs shook as she bit her lips and cried in fear. Everyone knew he wasn’t human. But being forced to witness it so up far and close… She didn’t deserve this.

“Bad little wives like you get punished for trying to defame their husbands.” The girl couldn’t tell if Yifan could actually walk that fast and smooth or he was floating in the air a bit above the ground as he dragged her smaller body upstairs and into the grand master bedroom that was decorated with rose petals and candles.

She could have never counted on him for romantic gestures.

"They're punished and taught their pathetic little places as well as put in them" she winced from the sharp way he spat the words at her. "Stand right here and don't you dare fucking move." The terrified bride was too weak and petrified to move anyways, too busy trying to decipher the red-ish orang of his eyes, the sharpness of his pointy canines and hands that were half transformed into claws.

Y/n almost didn't even notice when he grabbed the scissors and started cutting at her long locks up and down after ripping her veil off, causing her to let out a scream but before she could fight for herself, his hot and rough thick crimson coloured tail slapped at her hands, coiling around her helpless little weak body while squeezing it in place.

"Pathetic little humans like you start from nothing. As they deserve. They earn their rewards and promotion." The tip of his tail was in her mouth and down her throat, choking and gagging her from making any sound, being too thick for the girl to attempt anything as the man took his sweet time shedding her locks. "In case of no rewards and rights, you know they never deserved them in the first place."

Then came the straight razor. The military leader of the Kingdom took his sweet time with holding her small head in his large half hand half claws, tilting and moving her head around however he liked, licking his lips at the skin getting exposed from under the bristles of hair he had left.

"Look at yourself clear and well, THIS is all you are. My personal little slave wife meant to lay under me, take care of my residence while I am gone, stay true and loyal to me as well as carry my children. You're nothing besides that. Nothing at all..." Placing his hand on her now bald skinhead, he roughly tilted it backwards to have her look in the mirror. "... other than what I decide you are." Whispering the last words in her ear, he grinned, looking at her through the mirror, head and face hairless. "And now, you'll redeem yourself to your groom by showing the whole Kingdom just how sorry you are to their beloved Grand General."

"Walk." Y/n felt the cold tip of Yifan's wooden guiding stick tapping her butt as she stood at the beginning of a sort of pathway surrounded by commoners on either sides, leaving a strip in the middle for her to walk on. Her nude body was shivering in the chilly breeze, hands clenched into fists as her face burnt in pure humiliation. "Come on now, we don't have all day!" The Dragon was quick to scold, towering over everyone in around him as he firmly tapped her sitspots now.

The girl let out a strangled cry as she weakly and shakily started walking, tears streaming down her sore and red cheeks that Yifan adored even in their stained and snot smeared form, arms locked behind his back as he followed her, hawk-like eyes watching her every move. God. He sickly loved the tremble in her stature from fear induced by him and him alone.

Only he owned her. Only he could do whatever he pleased with her. She was all his.

"Tell them how sorry you are, my little wife. Be good. Come on, now." The inhuman creature cooed almost, causing a whimper to escape Y/n as the people booed her, mostly due to how afraid they were of Yifan and knew not doing what he pleased really wasn't the way to go. "Such a good little wife I have. Good girl. Just from here and back to our residence. That's all." Some of them even felt bad for the poor girl.

The Grand General behaved and talked like this was the most casual thing in the world.

After a while of parading her around the Kingdom making her apologise to him for running away from Wu Yifan; The Invincible -or so it seemed and he believed- and for thinking she could actually get away, he had guided her back to his estate with the use of his thin but painful strip, crimson coloured streaks decorating her ass, back and rear thighs.

"Such a good girl you've been for your husband… finally." He praised like he hadn't just put her through all that humiliation, caressing the top of her head as the main double doors of the estate were closed behind them, Yifan's rough and hot claws starting to feel and grope her smaller body all over, more blood rushing to his already hard cock.

"You better have learnt from this. Because let me assure you that this is one of your kindest punishments since it's your first day here." He could feel the shiver that ran down her spine from the fear and Yifan felt his tip leak, causing him to spin her around and push her into the wall behind her using his supernatural speed and strength, attacking Y/n's neck with kisses and hickies, caninnes tickling her skin as well as threatening to tear the fragile layer at the same time.

"Fuck… You smell so good… So delicious" the Grand General's hands hurriedly undid the extravagant robes that his body was adorning as his pointy and hot tongue caught a stream of sweat streaming down her cheek after having been released from the skin or her temples. "I just knew you were perfect one when I first laid my eyes on you, my little human."

Y/n could swear his voice had gotten much more animalistic than before, claws back to caressing and feeling her thighs as he lifted her up against the wall and in the air, leaking and swollen red tip stroking her naval. "Mmm… All mine. Only mine." Were the words the Dragon possessively chanted over and over.

Biting on her nipples and sucking at them, leaving hickies on her tits, groping her neck with his claws, prodding and teasing her vaginal opening with his hot tip whilst his tail tortured her asshole, Yifan covered her in bruises of his ownership and saliva. "Hnnng. Now you smell even better" grinning against her lips, he finally kissed her, pushing his tongue in her mouth which went all the way down her throat and instantly made her gag, claws groping her ass cheeks and spreading them open painfully. "You smell like… how do the girls say it?" He wondered evilly, slowly starting to forcefully sink her down his thick and veiny shaft. "Ahhh~" his features got more beast-like for a second before he regained composure, grinning. "Hubby! They say hubby and you will too."

Snickering right in her face, Yifan hungrily kissed Y/n again, licking her lips and tears. "I'd have loved to prepare my wife for me on our first day. Too bad she didn't deserve it and fell down to the rank of a slave from that of my wife." His lips curled into an evil smirk at the way she pouted and whimpered out from his words, crying and pathetically holding onto her husband's shoulders, wincing and huffing for breath.

Yifan had torn her. Of course he had.

"What? Don't like it?" Raising an eyebrow, the man toyed with one of her nipples as his thrusts sped up, nails softly digging -or as soft as they could- in her hardened nipple. "Don't worry. You will soon. And I promise you'll beg me to fill you with my children everyday." In the blink of an eye, the girl was now being fucked into the mattress of their bed. "As for now, I am going to show you my forgiveness by filling your filthy and fertile little human womb full of my hatchlings as you deserve."

#wu yifan #kris wu #kris wu smut #wu yifan smut #kpop smut #mpop smut #dark fic #non con #exo smut #kris wu x you #kris wu x reader #wu yifan x you #wu yifan x reader #kris wu scenarios #kris wu imagines #dark kpop #dark mpop #yifan x you #yifan x reader

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jaehyunskitten22 · 7 years

Photo

Daddy!Wu Yifan x Fat!Reader // You get body-shamed during class.

#kris wu scenarios #wu yifan scenarios #kris wu texts #wu yifan texts #yifan smut #kris wu #wu yifan

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blueberry-ash · 1 year

Note

EXTREMELY :eyes: about both FangGaoQiaoWang sedoretu and MF x SQY team china fic <3

My godddd, I have left this sitting in my asks for far too long. ;__;

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MF x SQY, Team China fic

Ahhh, yeah, this fic was originally meant for rarepair week (although I’d been wanting to write MF/SQY for a while before that).

The main reason it’s been stuck in WIP limbo for so long is that I wrote it with a different cadence than I usually would (I’m not sure how obvious that is in the snippet I picked, but it feels really glaring when I read the story as a whole). And, yeah, I guess I just get stuck on that whenever I sit down to edit-and-post it. XD

I think I probably also need to rip a fair chunk of the smut out, too, tbh. But it’s mainly the (overall) voice that’s causing me issues.

Snippet:

Song Qiying had slipped the keycard carefully in his pocket. And then… despite him having paid close attention to what he had predicted might happen next… despite him having glanced to where Mo Fan had been resting back upon his elbows by the front desk not a moment earlier… Song Qiying had still come incredibly close to missing the ghosting sensation of Mo Fan stepping quietly past him and pickpocketing the keycard clean away. If Song Qiying had possessed even a fraction of Qiao Yifan’s enthusiasm for PDA, he might have been tempted to catch hold of Mo Fan’s wrist and illustrate just how much he’d enjoyed such a proficient display of skill. As it was, of course… Song Qiying had known that both he and Mo Fan would appreciate the wait.

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FangQiao, Lavender Haze (FangGaoQiaoWang sedoretu stuff)

God, I love this fic. I love it so much that I’ve written, like, uh, three-and-a-half fucking different version of it at this point, and it’s driving me a little more insane each time I open it.

Eventually, I will either pin down a version or else just give in and “two cakes” myself. (The latter is pretty likely, tragically, given there are a few different ways my brain would like to explore the idea of these two couples coming together into a group marriage within this worldbuilding shape.)

Unfortunately, I do also think that this story suffers from me trying to do too many things at once with it, which… I guess I keep trying to avoid contemplating because that way lies me having to write multiple fics within the same ’verse. (Which is something I get weirdly squirrelly about, at least when the ’verse is my own.) On the other hand, of course, refusing to deal with that is, well, how I keep writing different versions and not… y’know… being happy with them.

Anyway, I really enjoy the worldbuilding in this. And, apparently, the fact that they’re doing the dishes for at least half of it. XD

Snippet:

Fang Shiqian sees the moment Qiao Yifan registers his presence. He sees the way Qiao Yifan’s shoulders stiffen, the way Qiao Yifan’s spine straightens as Qiao Yifan… what? Hesitates? Panics? Gathers himself down into whatever version of himself it is that Qiao Yifan thinks he ought to be right now? Look at me, Fang Shiqian thinks, resentment lining his lungs. Look at me without the fucking politeness on. Qiao Yifan has always been so good at polite. So good at feelings, and at knowing when to put them away. It’s one of the reasons Fang Shiqian had even agreed to this whole— this whole thing that they’re doing. This whole thing that they’ve gone and done. Qiao Yifan is a good boy. A good man. Everyone knows that. He’s just… nice, really. He’s just really very nice. Fang Shiqian should have known he’d learn to loathe it.

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#askmeme #ash's fic stuff

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dirtykpopsnaps · 3 years

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Here’s the request for Kris!

#dirty kpop snaps #kpop snaps #dirtysnaps #wu yifan #wu yifan smut #kris wu #kris wu smut #yifan exo #yifan exo smut #exo #exo smut

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seoulforthesoul · 8 years

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suho: last year I lost my dear husband kris, suho: sometimes I can still hear his voice kris, across the room: QUIT TELLING EVERYONE I'M DEAD

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kpoptrashlord-007 · 3 years

Text

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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