*hides.*

Threats & Paybacks (M)

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Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: Mature | Smut | sub!kook

Words: 12k of sin

Synopsis: Jeon Jungkook. Art major in the University of Seoul. Passive-aggressive little shit and gamer extraordinaire. That person, with his baggy pants and ruffled, black hair, was your flatmate and, more or less, his Twitter description. Saying more or less was absolutely necessary. Amidst the kitsch aesthetics of his art twitter account, he would never say something as vulgar as passive-aggressive. Jeon Jungkook? Little shit? Jamais. He perhaps would include his Overwatch rank, or a link to his baby-blue aesthetics blog, but admit he’s annoying? Never.

Jungkook was, for everyone but you, a saint—a very, very attractive saint. 

A/N: I blame @sugajpg for this. She turned me into a monster haha BUT THANK YOU FOR YOUR HELP :‘)

Originally posted by jungkookfortunekookies

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Void

Characters: Johnny, y/n
Word Count: 904
Genre: Angst 

You ran your hands over the empty spot on his side of the bed, the pillow beneath your cheek constantly dampening due to your indecisiveness if to let it all out or just quietly hold it in, as quietly as he had left you the night before.

He thought you were deep in sleep when he suddenly got up in the middle of the night and took the spare luggage out. You wanted to break his delusion, sit up and gather his attention to yourself. But you didn’t, or more like you couldn’t. Something inside you screamed to let him do whatever he’s doing, to not interrupt his little quest. The little light emitted from the dim light bulb helped you trail his movements. He seemed impatient as he moved around, yet in proper accordance.

The man who would forget where he had last placed his wallet before going to the washroom was fully aware of where it was then; a place where you’d keep his socks. You realised that he had grouped three or four pairs of socks arranged together and the wallet placed in between, while three or four of his belts enclosed them together. He picked up the bunch and placed it carefully in the luggage, beneath his clothes. He made sure to grab two pens, a notebook, and his watches.

After cross-checking the contents inside the luggage and closing it very carefully, no haste in his moves as he ensured perfection in his littlest efforts and paid severe attention to minor details, he walked to the shelf that you had brought to your new home with him after marriage. He took out a book, looked over at you as you slowly closed your eyes, and you could hear him sniffing as he made his way toward you. You felt his lips touch your temple and cheek, before a lightweight object replaced his mass. You opened your eyes carefully, to find him staring at the door, before slowly and carefully dragging the luggage across the room. Turning the knob around, he turned around to look at you one last time, his smile screaming melancholy as he audibly whispered a goodbye and left.

You didn’t move an inch, as the harsh reality dawned upon you. The man you dearly loved was gone, and he was gone forever.

You couldn’t bring yourself the zest to read the letter he had left you, but as the sunlight bled through the curtains and stung your eyes; your limbs itself moved to complete what was incumbent upon you. You put your feet down, your whole body jerking at the sudden coldness you felt despite the thermostat working perfectly. You couldn’t touch anything without feeling like it was pricking your body with thorns. You limped your way to the curtains, not being able to ascertain why your knees were giving out. You closed the curtains, leaving no space in between, before sighing pulling them apart again. Your hand flitted up to cover your eyes from the ruthless light, your mind averting itself from his dearth as you recalled how his face would block the sun from disrupting your sleep, before his lips would shower your face with ticklish kisses all over.

You felt tears brim your eyes, as you turned your back to the sun and leaned in on the windowsill, opening your eyes to let the overwhelming pain out. You saw your tears making their way to the floor, before splattering and leaving small droplets around. ‘It looks beautiful!’ you thought, ‘Johnny would’ve loved taking a photo of this…’

You stepped over the beautiful design your tears had themselves formed, and made your way to the letter kept neatly on his pillow. Taking the letter in your hands, you rested your head where his soft hair used to brush, softly sniffing the smell of his shampoo. Taking a deep breath in, you unfolded the letter;

““Dear y/n,
Before you read this and decide to belittle yourself, I want to let you know you’re perfect. You’re an amazing woman, and it is entirely my fault for whatever is to happen forth.
It is my fault I fell in love with another woman, it is my fault that I lied to you about being out for work overnight when I was actually in her arms, it is my fault when I say I fell out of love with you. A part of me will always surrender to you, but the majority has swayed to an extent which is even beyond my own reach.
I’m taking your favourite novel, and leaving my camera behind. Please don’t try to look for me, because from this moment on, I don’t think I’ll ever have the nerve to face you again.
You’ll get the papers in a few days, I will manage everything, even your lawyer.
I wish you happiness, y/n. You’re wonderful, I am the rotten one here. You deserve way, way better than a man like me.
Johnny.””

You rolled to your side of the bed, and laid the letter on his pillow, softly caressing the space which had lost its owner; feeling anger toward the girl who had stolen your man, feeling mad at yourself for not being able to keep him, feeling mad at him for leaving your side forever.

“What am I supposed to do now, little one?” you whispered as you softly touched your abdomen.

Part 2

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f-ck him to death, a vampire diaries fanfic | FanFiction

Because here’s the hilarious punch line; the Original Hybrid can’t be killed with white-oak stakes or infernal spells. Even if they could rope Elijah and the rest of the siblings into helping her weaken him, it still wouldn’t do the trick. The Hybrid can only be killed a witch, a Bennett witch to be precise. While fucking.

Sorry, she doesn’t mean to sound crude, but there’s no other way around it. The twenty-five Grimoires and occult volumes she consulted all broadly define it as the same thing: copulation.

Klaus Mikaelson has to be inside her when she rips his heart out. It’s the only way she can rip his heart out and definitely kill him.

Yes, she has to fuck him to death.