it looks a little empty

Finding Love in a Coffee Shop

Imagine: meeting Tom in a coffee shop while visiting London and sparks fly You were visiting London for the first time ever. It was more beautiful than you could have imagined. It was a typical cold day in London and you were in desperate need of a warm chocolatey drink. You were walking the streets, when a cute little coffee shop caught your eye. It looked empty but you knew from experience that some of the best things come in small unexpected problems.   You walked in and were surrounded by warmth and the decadent smells of chocolate and coffee. You scanned the menu, written in chalk, and decided on a medium cup of hot chocolate with caramel and chocolate drizzle. You paid and was handed your drink. You turned with your eyes downcast and bumped into a warm solid body. Your breath left in an ‘oof’ and a hiss as some of your hot drink splashed over onto  your hand. “Oh. I am sorry darling, I didn’t mean to bump into you. Are you okay?”, a worried, familiar and deep British voice asked. “Umm it’s fine. Yes I’m okay but I spilt some of my drink on my hand.” “Shit. Here let’s go sit over here and let me look, it’s the least I could do after almost running you over and burning you.” You felt a hand gently grasp your uninjured hand and sparks shoot up your hand were it met with the stranger’s. You gasped and you could just barely hear the stranger’s sharp intake of breath. You looked up and were shocked to see none other than Tom Hiddleston. Your face got red as he gently pushed you into a nearby booth. He squatted and took your injured hand is his lightly as if it were porcelain, still sending shocks through you. He inspected it. “How much does it hurt? It doesn’t look to bad. I really am sorry. I guess I need to watch where I’m going more often,huh?” “It doesn’t hurt much. I’m fine really. The question is are you ok?”   He chuckled. “I bump into you and you ask if I’m ok? I guess what they say about some Americans was wrong; some of you guys are hospitable and not rude. But yes I a  ok thank you for asking. Now, may I know what you were drinking so I can replace the one spilt?”   “Oh no. It’s fine only a little spilled out. Thank you though.” Tom, knowing you’d stay stubborn, left to go order. Your shoulders slumped as saddness filled your being. It confused you, you only knew of  Tom not him personally, yet you felt connected to him in a way you’ve never felt for anyone especially of the opposite sex.   You turned to face the table and opened the book you brought with you. You heard the chair across from you being pulled out and looked up. Your eyes widened as you saw Tom sitting across from you. His eyes brightened as he smiled. “So what book are you reading?”   You blushed as you lifted your book up for him to see the title. The title was Macbeth. Tom’s eye widened in surprise. “You’re reading that?” “Yes! I happen to like Shakespeare. His writing is wonderful and so intricate and unique.”, you say defensively. Tom held his hands up in surrender. “Oh no I wasn’t judging. I find it amazing that you like his work. I myself enjoy Shakespeare. Oh and let me see your hand please?” You apologized for snapping at him and extended your hand to him. He gently set a bag of ice on your hand. “That should help with your minor burn.”   You both then jumped into a conversation about anything and everything. A few hours passed before Tom’s phone rang. “Excuse me for a minute.”, He walked away to take his call. When he came back he had a slight disappointed look. “It seems I have a photo shoot to go to. I must leave but I would really like to talk to you more. May I have your number so I can reach you?” You sat in shock, the Tom Hiddleston was asking for your number! You have it to him. Before he left, he bent and grabbed your hand before placing a kiss to the back of your hand. The place his lips touched, burned pleasantly long after he had left, unknowingly taking your heart with him.   A few days passed and you started to think that maybe you had made up the whole encounter or that he just wasn’t interested in you, why would he? You were just a person, unknown by others. You weren’t famous. But no sooner had you thought that when he called you asking to take you to dinner.   Late that night, he was picking you up taking you to a nice place for dinner that wasn’t too expensive or fancy, thankfully. He could tell you weren’t the type to go to fancy restaurants, that you preferred small hardly known places. You talked even more over dinner and fell deeper in love. After dinner, he took you to the London Eye. Once you reached the top it stopped for a few minutes.   Tom turned to you as your compartment stopped. “I don’t know what it is about you (Y/N), but I have fallen in love with you in our short time together. I’ve never met any other soul like you. Would you do me the honor of becoming my significant other?” Tears pooled in your eyes. You would be going back to America where you had no family and a boring cubicle job. But yo were afraid of telling him you were leaving.   “I-I would love to but you see I’m leaving tomorrow for America.” His face dropped. He then desperately grasped your hands in his big ones. “Is there someone else you have back in America?”, he asked his heart breaking.   “No. I actually have no-one. And there is no significant other. I’ve never even dated.” “Then please, please stay here.”   “I’d love to but I’d have no where to go.”   “I know we’ve barely known each for only a few days, but you can move in with me. I can’t let you go because I feel that if I do I’ll be losing the greatest thing to ever have walked into a my life. Please stay here with me, let me get to know all your quirks, likes and dislikes.”   You smiled and nodded happily. “I’d like that too, very much so.”     He smiled and wrapped his arms around you, bringing you closer to him. He gently cupped your cheeks. He leaned close to you pressing his nose to yours. “May I kiss you?”, he asked quietly. You blushed and nodded.   He leaned forward and gently brushed his lips against yours. Electricity flowed between you two. He lightly pressed his lips to yours giving you light kisses. Wanting to truly feel his lips on yours and to know his taste, you clasped his face in your small hands and pressed his lips hard against yours. He gently opened your mouth with his as your lips moved in perfect tandem with one another.   One of Tom’s hands moved from your face to your hair, clasping a handful. He gently ran the tip of his tongue against your bottom lip asking for entrance. You hestitantly opened your mouth to his invasion. He slipped his tongue in to meet yours. He wrapped his arms around your waist as yours stayed in his hair as you two continued to kiss passionately.   Lost in each other’s touch and taste, you hadn’t realized the compartment had began moving again until you pulled apart to breathe. “That was the best first kiss I think in history. You’re an amazing kisser. I’ve kinda always wondered what it would be like to kiss you.”   “Oh so you’re one of those fangirls.”, he said jokingly.   You playfully smacked his arm. Your compartment reached the ground and you two stepped off. Tom walked you to the hotel you’re staying at so you could get your luggage and then you two headed to his lovely flat.

Originally posted by tomhiddleston-gifs

chill666trash  asked:

Pls draw a lizard with double Ds working ward for the money she earns. Fishnets for bonus points

her job is being a lizard and standing on two D batteries and business is good 

she tried on the fishnets but there were none in her size and they kept getting stuck on her spines, despite her lack of flashy clothing (or any clothing at all) she remains the best paid performer at her club


May’s calendar looks a little empty right now, but not for long! It’s a busy busy month, filled with 18th birthday parties, Prom festivities, graduation plans, college stuff, not to mention horrific AP testing… God give me strength. // I gave in and got the bando sticker book on sale and my life has never been the same.

Now Playing:

Want You Back- HAIM

mafia BTS reaction to their s/o running away from them

ilook-soperfectstandinghere14 schrieb an btsmafiablog: 

Hey hey! I think I’ve already sent a request but not sure if you’ve got it! So could I kinda re-request it? It’s like when you run away from them and they find you again or how they meet the reader who is like aware of them in the mafia but not involved in any mafia business (that makes no sense sorry)! Thank you xx            

i didn’t really get the part of the mafia but without being involved part haha, but i hope you like it! ♡

Jin: He’d be so worried as soon as he found out you ran away, he’d have his men scour all the nearer cities for you, driving around himself in a rush to find you. So when he did find you, he’d probably pull you close before staring into your eyes with hurt and guilt in his face, telling you to “Never ever do that again.”

Originally posted by princesseok

Hoseok: Starting from the moment he came home to a 3am empty apartment, he wouldn’t rest until he went to all of the places you could’ve been hiding in, eventually finding you at the abandoned gas station the two of you had found when your car broke down in the middle of the highway. He’d practically choke you by hugging you so so hard, have a breakdown as he saw the tears in your eyes and apologise over and over for not telling you what kind of business he was in.

Originally posted by jimint-condition

Namjoon: He’d notice you were gone as he woke up in the middle of the night, the side of the bed you’d usually sleep one cold and empty, immediately get up to go look for you. Little did he know you’d find out about his gang affiliation sooner or later and he wanted to tell you about it, but as he found you crying in the suburbs he knew he had messed up, big time. Guilt’d explode in his chest and express itself through a single tear running down his face before he embraced you and buried his head in your neck.

Originally posted by cuddly-snake

Yoongi: The anger, hurt, guilt and pain would be reflected in the mess he’d left his office in as he pushed tables and chairs over, frustration being his accompanist as he rushed to his car, driving to where he knew he’d find you. He’d push you against the nearest wall, brush your tears away before breaking down and telling you “I thought I’d lost you.”, apologising to you over and over that he didn’t tell you earlier.

Originally posted by nvmyg

Jimin: There was no way to hide his pain and guilt as he found you after searching for days, he’d weakly walk to you, whispering “I’m sorry.”. He’d be so relieved when you told him you’d forgive him and carefully wrap his arms around you, pecking you all over the face, all the way while promising himself that from now on, he’d tell you everything.

Originally posted by daffodiltae

Taehyung: Just as Yoongi, he’d probably destroy something in his frustration, shouting at everyone to tell him where you were. He wouldn’t calm down until he found you; once he tracked your phone he thought of an apology on his way to your location, jumping out of the car to throw his arms around you. The pain would be visible in both your and his eyes so he’d lean his forehead against yours, entertwining hands with you as he told you he loved you.

Originally posted by bang-sayang

Jungkook: He’d probably shout at the guy who had told him you were missing, search for you for hours. He’d be down and depressed when he identified someone hugging themselves at the beach as you, walk up behind you and press your back against his body. When you didn’t push him away, he’d kiss you on the top of your head. “I would have told you, but I didn’t want you to be scared of me. I couldn’t risk losing you.” he’d say, then just stand there watching the reflection of the night sky in the waves.

Originally posted by ky-ngsoo

- admin cini

Something Else (NSFW)

#Challenge of Raven. @bloodstained-porcelain-doll

Pairing: Sam x Reader
Characters: Alpha!Sam Winchester, Omega!Reader
Warnings: ABO dynamics, dirty talk, smut, shameless smut, knotting sex, breeding kink, straight PWP. I’m using @kittenofdoomage ABO rules here. @bloodstained-porcelain-doll beta’ed this.
Prompt: “I love hearing your voice when you sing, but baby, right now Daddy needs you to use your mouth for something else…”

Originally posted by itsokaysammy

“Nasty, naughty boy” was playing so loud on your headphones that you wouldn’t be able to hear a shot if someone used a gun by your side, but who cared? You were alone in the bunker, Dean had left with Castiel when you reached pre-heat and Sam was on a supply run. So, you could dance and sing without anyone interrupting you. You danced slowly, singing loudly and not even caring if someone walked in on you.

You felt Sam’s scent seconds before he pressed himself against you. Your legs weakened instantly when you realised how hard he was and how strong he smelled. His rut had hit earlier than expected.

Your headphones were pulled out and tossed on the table a few inches from Sam’s hands, and he put his face in the crook of your neck.

“I love hearing your voice when you sing, but baby, right now Daddy needs you to use your mouth for something else…”

Keep reading

The Girl Next Door [Tom Holland Smut]

Request: “ #695 for tom holland 😛 [[know you’re busy but i feel u, take your time]] “ [anonnymous] 

Words: 1.7+k

Rating: Explicit

Trigger warings: Smut, cheesy romcom story lmao

Summary: You just wanted to take a shower and relax in bed after a rough day.

A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble but I made it into a full imagine to fulfill the thirst of my sweet sinful followers that have been requesting Tom Holland. Y’all give me life. I hope you like this. Also I wanted it to be short but whoops. 

As soon as you walked into your apartment you slipped out of your shoes and started peeling off your clothes. You knew your room mate wouldn’t be home at that time and you couldn’t care less if your creepy neighbor was staring at you through the window. Not today. You were too tired to think about it. Too sweaty to stay on this hideous polo shirt that was the bookstore uniform. All you needed right now was a nice shower and lay in your bed reading one of those erotica books your sister gave you because not even your brain were working right to read anything with depth. You needed to relax.  

Keep reading

Insecurities ~ pt. 2

[A/N: This is part two to a prompt fill I did on Thursday or Friday of last week. This time everyone’s more in character than ooc. I hope you enjoy it! Part three coming towards the end of the week, probably.]

Part I 

Part II

Lance made sure he did it in the middle of the night. He didn’t want to risk anyone finding him and attempting to convince him to stay. They were close to finding Matt, that means, they were close to finding the real Blue Paladin. At least, that’s what Lance told himself. He wasn’t sure if Matt was indeed the real Blue Paladin, but he had a bad feeling he was. He didn’t know if it was because of his insecurities, or if it was something else. He left a note, short and straight to the point.

I’m replaceable. -L


Lance didn’t think he needed to add anything else to the note.

Lance had packed a small duffle bag of the very few things he owned in space, including rocks he had found from various planets. He didn’t know what he was going to do once he left Voltron, but he thought he could maybe go home. If he wasn’t needed in Voltron, then he wasn’t needed for anything else in space, was he? He didn’t think so. He took one of the pods, like one that Allura and Keith had taken when they both thought that Galra was tracking Voltron through them.

Lance climbed into the pod, and quietly drove it out of the Castle of Lions. He looked back once, but after he turned around, he knew there was no going back. He wanted to take Blue with him, but he felt it was unfair that just because he wasn’t going to be in Voltron, that they shouldn’t be able to form Voltron. There were many people who needed Voltron to save their lives. He knew there was a possibility of him being wrong – of him being the true Blue Paladin, but his doubts and Keith’s words made him think otherwise, and he supposed only time would tell before someone came looking for him – if they came looking for him.

Lance threw his small bag of belongings into the pod, before hopping in himself. He wondered what would happen if he returned to Earth – what would Iverson do? What had the Garrison told his family when he left? That he was just a run away? Or that he had died? He started the pod, and left the Castle of Lions behind him, wondering if he would be missed. Hopefully.

The next morning, Keith woke up slowly. He wondered if Lance would talk to him today. Allow him to apologize. It wouldn’t make what he said right, but it would show that he regretted them. He knew no matter what he did, he had ruined Lance’s progress yesterday, he just hoped that he could make it in time to help bring him back up to where he was before Keith had exploded on him. So, Keith walked back to Lance’s room – before mostly anyone else was awake. He knocked a few times, then he banged on the door hard. No answer. “Lance,” he called, worry filling his body. Was he okay? He forcibly opened the door, and looked at the neatly made bed, at how empty of the little trinkets that Lance had collected on their journey. His eyes were drawn to a note that lay on the bed. He picked it up, his eyes widening. “Shiro! Pidge! Hunk! Allura! Coran!” He yelled, running out of the room. “Meeting right now!” he shouted as he headed towards the bridge.

One by one the others walked into the room, looking confused. Hunk was the first to speak, “Why didn’t you call Lance?”

“He’s probably sleeping in again,” Pidge commented, “I know he hadn’t been feeling yesterday,” that sentence caused a sharp pain to pierce his heart. Lance hadn’t been slacking off. Of course, he knew that, it was different knowing it though, then hearing someone else confirm it.

“Because he’s what this is about,” Keith took a deep breath, “He’s missing.”

“He’s what? Is Blue missing? Is he okay? Was he kidnapped,” Shiro fired off the questions one after another, only stopping because Keith had held up a piece of paper with a few words on it. “Replaceable? Who gave him that idea?”

Keith dropped his head in shame, “I think it was me,” he said quietly, causing everyone to stare at him in surprise. Keith and Lance had been getting along amazingly the last few weeks – maybe even months – there had been no fights, and they’d been spending more time together. “I was training yesterday, and I hadn’t noticed that he didn’t feel well… He came into the training deck asking if we could hang out, but you know how I get when I train. I get into it, and I don’t want to stop, and then I notice how some of you don’t train as hard as I do – which is difficult anyway – and I snapped at him… I may or may not have said I didn’t know if he could handle being the Blue Paladin.”

There was a moment of silence, before there was a lot of yelling and anger – especially from, well, everyone seemed to be very angry at him for telling Lance that. “I know, I know,” Keith yelled over everyone, “I messed up, but I need to find him. Coran? Can you see if there are any pods missing? Allura, see if Blue is gone as well. Pidge, if either of them pop up as gone, can you try to locate him? Everyone else can search the castle to see if he’s hiding somewhere.”

Allura, Coran, and Pidge nodded in agreement to their assigned tasks, then everyone dispersed and set about the castle to search for the missing Paladin of Voltron. After a half an hour, everyone made their way back to Coran and Allura to see if they had made any progress. They had. One of the pods was missing, but the tracker had been shut down so they couldn’t find the location of said pod yet. Pidge was already working on the problem, of course, so now it was more of a waiting game to see if they could find Lance.

Part III 

It's been a while since I've done one of these!

I just unfollowed a bunch of inactive blogs and my dash is looking a little more empty than I like… Could you like or reblog this if you post about any of the following and are an active blog (as in you post more than once a week, preferably every day)? I would love to follow you!

  • Witchcraft
  • Spells and Potions
  • Paganism and Mythology
  • Irish Polytheism
  • Green Witchcraft
  • Herbalism
  • Nature
  • Animals
  • Veganism
  • Energy Work 
  • Spirit Work
  • Knitting and Crochet
  • Crystals
  • Tea
  • LGBTQIA+ Witch or Pagan
  • Elder Futhark
  • Sigil Magick

Thanks loves! 💖💖💖

~ starting a bullet journal ~

What is a bullet journal?

usually I describe a bullet journal to someone as a planner that you make completely on your own from a blank notebook. It can be a combination of a planner, to-do lists, sketchbooks, journal/diary, and so much more. Bullet journals can really be anything you want them to be. 

What are the pros and cons to bullet journaling? 

~ Pros: You can include anything you want/need with a customizable layout. It allows your creativity to come out, you’re not committed to a certain style, everything you need is in one place, and it’s just so much fun! Plus, the community is great. Seriously though, I just love how every bullet journal is unique and it’s whatever YOU make it! 
~ Cons: Bullet journaling is very time consuming, but if you’re like me who likes to relax by writing/drawing, this will definitely be great for you. It can be a little difficult to plan ahead since you can’t just flip to that week like a normal planner, but with a future log spread this will be easier. On off-weeks where i don’t have too much going on, my spreads can look a little empty and boring, but i just find ways to fill my pages, with doodles or stickers or whatever i want. 

What supplies do i need?

~ For starting a bullet journal, seriously all you need is a blank notebook and a pen. Although, people usually use many different supplies. these include: markers, washi tape, highlighters, stickers, rulers, erasers, pencils, post-its, colored pencils, even paint!
~ When choosing your notebook these are some of the communities favorites: Moleskine, Leuchtturm 1917, Rhodia, and Muji notebooks. at first I had a little extra money to spend so I got myself a moleskine which I loved, but i got tired of the squared notebook quick and got myself a $5 no-brand notebook from an A.C. Moore which I absolutely love! You don’t have to spend $20+ on a notebook for your bullet journal. Have an unused notebook sitting around the house? Use it! 
~ Notebooks come in squared, dotted grid, lined, or blank paper. Many people prefer the dotted grids, but any of these will work! this is personal preference :)
~ To see a list of my favorite stationery, click here.

What should my first few pages be?

Almost everyone I see starts off with their key. The key is composed of different symbols to use throughout your bullet journal for tasks, completed tasks, migrated tasks, appointments, notes, etc. My key is down below: 

~ Usually what’s next is the index. This is where you write down what page your spreads/lists are. I’m really bad at keeping up with numbering all of my pages and I usually don’t stick to my index, but as my bullet journal keeps filling up that index would definitely come in handy. 
~ For my bullet journal, what’s next is future planning so I can easily refer to this spread. I list every month and leave space for important dates and events. This is great for when I make an appointment or something is going on that’s months away and I have to save the date. 
~ For me those are my beginning pages, what’s next is my monthly and weekly spreads! My monthly is always first followed by my highlights spread for the month (basically another monthly but instead I write down a highlight/what i did for the day with an occasional doodle). Following my monthly spread I just do my weekly spreads for the month. My bullet journal is very simple, I don’t keep a habit tracker because I simply did not keep up with it. Instead I have a water tracker for the week (this is hard enough for me to keep up with)! I have a couple of “lists” or “fun spreads” but not too many. I mainly use my bullet journal as my planner. 

Now that i have the basics set up, what are some spreads i can include?

~ Of course you have your basic monthly, weekly, or even daily spreads, but with the fun of a bullet journal there is so much more to it!! 
~ I have made a master post of a ton of bullet journal pages, to see that click here

Other tips?

~ Just search the instagram and tumblr tags for bullet journaling, you will gain so many ideas and inspiration! Have fun now that you started your bullet journal (or are going to, don’t wait another day you won’t regret it)!
~ Don’t let all the pictures of “perfect bullet journals” discourage you. Bullet journals are unique, you don’t need the neatest handwriting or the most expensive supplies, as long as it works for you and you love it then it is a perfect bullet journal! :)

Have fun woo!! & please, message me if you have ANY questions ♡ 

Tater likes to send Kent flowers, by which I mean floral arrangements.  Enormous, stupendous, heavy works of floral artistry that obscure the face of the deliveryperson, so Kent answers the door to what looks like an ambulatory bouquet of freesias and gladioluses. No occasion is too small.  Birthdays; saints’ days; funny holidays; the end of a roadie for the Aces.

Now there’s a table in his front hallway that looks a little empty when there aren’t flowers sitting on it.  Empty vases have started to accumulate in his liquor cabinet. It’s ridiculous, and Kent kind of loves it to death.

Fred Weasley - Mother’s Day

Fred Weasley was incapable of acting and it drove him crazy. He had to watch how his brother and sister graduated in Hogwarts and could not congratulate them. He had to watch how his twin brother continued to operate their business, the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, without him. He had to watch how everyone who he loves is getting older, falling in love, get married and became a parent. He was so proud of his nephews and nieces, and considered them the loveliest things he had ever seen. Having Harry Potter and Hermione Granger in his family was weird at first for him, even he liked them and thought about them like family members, but not actual family. But in the other hand, he was really proud, so it was easy to get used to them. Even if he was not in the family anymore. 

Because it was only watching, what he could do. He could not be a real part of his family, of the lives of whom he loves. He could not be with them indeed, he just watched them how they lived their lives without him; even he was there but no one could see him. Afterlife gave him a chance to watch his family, because at the first weeks it seemed like a good idea. But it wasn’t, as Fred Weasley had to realize. He thought he will miss them so much, and it was true; he missed everything about his siblings especially his twin brother. The old pranks and creations they made; how they teased Ron and Ginny about their crush on Harry and Hermione. He was smiling when this came up in his mind. He secretly knew many years ago that George likes Angelia Johnson, but kept it to himself. And as always, he was right this time too. He hasn’t kept back his tears when Angelina gave birth to hers and George’s first children and his twin brother named the little guy Fred. He didn’t have doubts, it is the best thing that ever happened to him. And the worst, at the same time.

Not because the name, because what it meant. The fact George named his son after him remembered Fred that George never truly got over his death. And it was heartbreaking. After realizing this he had to admit that nobody managed to get over him. He felt himself like a bad memory that nobody wants to have, because it makes them depressed. He didn’t want to be the reason of people’s sadness. Fred Weasley’s regard his fate as makes everyone laugh. There was something in their smiles, they were so pure and real. He loved to raise a laugh even from the saddest person. It was like his mission. 

But after he died, the moments when someone was thinking about him with a smile were less and less. Even someone did, it usually ended up in crying and he couldn’t comfort that person; the only thing what he could do just watch how they wiped their tears and slowly calmed down. One day, when he saw his mother crying at night, he couldn’t stand it anymore. He hated to make them cry, it was the worst. Every teardrop screamed at and remembered Fred Weasley about how sad people are because of him. And it was enough. He had to do something. He needed to learn how to get contact with living people and for this, he asked for his old professor, Remus Lupin’s help who was glad to teach Fred. Lupin managed to learn how to communicate with living world as he wanted to keep in touch with his son, Teddy. It was not a common thing of course and not sensational, just little things like wraps him at night with Nymphadora or feeds Teddy’s owl when he forgot about it. 

So Fred Weasley started to learn how to get contact with people whom he loves. They started with simple things and after two months, Fred managed to move objects. And he chose the best day to learn that. His house looked as like when he was there the last time. 

It was little empty without his siblings, but they often visited Arthur and Molly with their children who loved their grandparents. It was not a surprise, they always wanted grandchildren and having a bigger family. They were so happy and Fred was glad for that. He found his parents at the table, having breakfast. At least, food was on the desk but they didn’t eat. His mother was crying and his father comforted her. “He used to make breakfast for me on this day… It was so lovely, I miss him so much.” Molly said and Arthur hugged her and whispered in her ear: “Me too Molly, me too.” 

Fred grabbed a pen and a parchment he found on the working desk and put it in front of his parents. He gathered all of his strength and slowly started to write when he felt like he can manage it. It was harder than he thought, the pen almost fell from his hand. But he wanted to tell them how he felt and what he wanted as a last wish. 

When Arthur and Molly saw the parchment that flew onto the table and the pen that was hover over it, they couldn’t believe their eyes. And when the pen started to write itself, they almost had heartbreak. Nobody was in the Burrow except them and none of them hexed the pen. But it was moving, actually writing something. So they watched what it is going to be. 

A minute later, when the pen fell down onto the table, the Weasley parents were as happy as they never were a long time ago. They were so happy when their children get married, when one of their grandchildren was born, but this moment was different. 

Molly quickly wiped his eyes as a tear showed and Arthur smiled at her wife happily. It was the only thing what they had to do: smile and be happy. If this is what their son wants from them, they will do it, without any question or hesitating. Because they knew what their six children wanted, they only had to ask them. But they couldn’t do it with the one who wasn’t with them, whom they couldn’t talk, whom they couldn’t hug and kiss. 

Arthur and Molly Weasley smiled at the small parchment that was in front of them. They were truly happy, as their son, Fred Weasley wanted them to be.

“Where’s the happiness that surrounded this bloody family? 

 If you love me, please smile instead of crying, I’m still here with you. 

ps: tell Georgie his son has the best name ever. 

Oh, and I wish you the happiest Mother’s day ever, mom. I love you so much. – Fred” 

Yellow: Part 4

Previous Parts

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Summary: Sam Winchester is fresh out of rehab after overdosing and scaring his family half to death. High school isn’t the best place to recover, but there’s something about the new girl that gets him through the day.

Tags: AU: High School, punk!sam, Dean is only one year older than Sam, Mary is alive, horribly awkward teenagers with big ole crushes on each other, Castiel is Sam’s therapist, FLUFF, SERIOUSLY THEY’RE SO BAD AT FLIRTING, cute bro-ment, honestly these two are so awkward, FINALLY: A KISS

Trigger Warnings: past drug abuse/overdose, past drug addiction, self-harm mention, depression, bullying mention

Words: 3085

A/N: Finally, the Sam installment to my Punk AU collection. *Sam is more depressed than scary/angry*. This got a little longer than I thought it would, but yay! I really am so happy that you guys are loving this as much as I am, and I LOVE all the messages I’ve gotten. It really motivates me to write more, so thank you! :)

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Iwaoi Week 2017 Day 1: College

2 3 4 5 6 7

Oikawa pops his gum, flipping to the next page in his textbook. He’s transcended boredom, at this point. His part-time job at the campus IT center is dead at the best of times, but late at night on a Saturday? Forget it. Most of the college population is too drunk right now to work their cell phone, let alone a computer or a tablet, so he’s left to try and cram in the last bits of what might be on his computer science exam Tuesday and keep his feeble grip on his sanity.

His coffee’s draining too fast - walking back to the staff room to make another pot seems like far too much work - and the time is ticking away far too slowly. He taps his foot against the leg of his chair, humming impatiently.

He starts closing his eyes, head tipping towards his textbook, it’d be so easy to sleep right now -

He catches himself right before smashing his face into his desk, rubbing an eye with his hand.

Music? Music. That’ll keep him awake, he figures, rolling his chair over to his computer and navigating to YouTube. He doesn’t bother with headphones - it’s quiet enough that he doesn’t think he’ll need them. He picks one of his favourite songs, a hip hop track with a nice steady beat, and leans back to listen to it.

It’s melodic, hypnotizing. He finds himself almost drifting again, before a slammed door jerks him up and out of his haze.

Oikawa rolls back to the front desk, looking up to find a frantic-looking student staring back at him. He’d probably be cute, if his hair weren’t a mess, his shirt wrinkled and glasses askew on his face.

Alright, alright, he’s still cute. Whatever! Oikawa’s got a thing for glasses, sue him!

“Can I help you?” Oikawa asks, sitting up a little straighter. The student looking back at him looks confused, tilting his head to the side.

“Uh, I need IT,” he says, voice low and hoarse, sounding tired. He steps a little closer and Oikawa can see some sort of uniform peeking out from under his sweatshirt. Cute and an athlete. Check and check.

“That’s me,” Oikawa confirms, throwing him a smile. “Oikawa Tooru, student IT worker. And you are…?”

He gets a confused look in response, and a hesitant, “Uh, Iwaizumi Hajime…” He looks down to where Oikawa’s name tag should be, only now it’s tucked beneath his sweater that he put on when he started to get too cold. The heater’s still out, and it gets cold fast. Oikawa reaches a hand up his sweater to unclip his name tag from his shirt and securely fasten it to his sweater, now proudly proclaiming, Student IT Worker: Oikawa Tooru with a hand-drawn peace sign next to it.

“Right, well, Iwaizumi. What might be the problem?” Oikawa asks, standing up so that he can get a better look at whatever Iwaizumi’s brought him.

Iwaizumi seems to remember why he’s here, grimacing and looking down at the bag slung over his shoulder. “It’s my laptop… I can’t seem to get it to work.” He reaches into his bag and pulls it out, placing it down on the desk in front of Oikawa. “It was working fine, and I was working on my paper but then it just cut out and totally froze up.” He looks annoyed, and understandably so - looks like he shelled out way more than he should have for a fancy laptop that he only needs for a word processor. Typical.

Oikawa smirks, the corners of his lips tugging up into a smile. He can’t help himself. “Have you tried turning it off and then back on again?”

Iwaizumi looks up at him, expression morphing quickly from surprise to frustration, looking a lot like he’s about to explode. “Are you fucking kidding me-”

Oikawa laughs and opens the laptop, “Yes, yes, Iwa-chan! Don’t worry, I’ll see what I can do.”

His fingers move across the keyboard elegantly, and Iwaizumi can do nothing but lean on the counter and watch as Oikawa works. He checks all the cords, plugging it in. Iwaizumi peeks around the desk, but Oikawa’s working on some black screen with numbers and symbols flashing across it that looks suspiciously like a scene from The Matrix, so he doesn’t look again.

Iwaizumi taps his fingers on his desk, closing his eyes and listening to the music that Oikawa hasn’t bothered to stop. “This is a good song,” he says, not looking, fingers tapping the beat out against the counter.

“Hm?” Oikawa looks up, and then over at his computer. “Oh, yeah. I love pretty much everything they put out. I saw them live last fall.”

Iwaizumi drops his hands down on the desk. “Are you serious?! I tried so hard to get some tickets but they were sold out in under an hour!”

Oikawa chuckles, looking up and grinning. “Yeah, a friend of mine worked at the venue. He snuck me in last minute.”

“You’re damn lucky,” Iwaizumi tuts, shaking his head. He lets Oikawa return to working, choosing to hum softly to the music playing.

Oikawa feels no need to hurry.

Twenty minutes pass before Iwaizumi lets out a loud sigh. “It’s dead, isn’t it? I’m going to have to restart that fifteen-page paper?”

Oikawa hums, and Iwaizumi feels the existential dread building. The paper is due Monday. He is not going to finish it on time-

“I recovered your files, Iwa-chan. You should really back everything up online. You know the school e-mail signs you up for a Google Drive, right? Work there and you won’t have to worry about losing anything even if your computer dies.” Oikawa looks up to face Iwaizumi, who looks like the biggest weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

“Are you serious? Oikawa, you’re amazing, thank you-” He pauses then, processing. “Wait, what did you just call me?”

Oikawa smirks. “Iwa-chan,” he repeats, beckoning him closer. “I backed it up to this USB. Your laptop is working right now, but it looks like a hardware error, so it might act up again.” He pulls the USB from the laptop, dropping it in Iwaizumi’s outstretched hand.

Iwaizumi sighs in relief, apparently letting the nickname go. For now. “Thank you so, so much Oikawa. What do I owe you for this?”

“This?” Oikawa shakes his head, “It’s free, the only thing you pay for here are repairs.”

“No, seriously, you saved me here. At least let me take you out for coffee or something.” Iwaizumi smiles a little, looking over at Oikawa’s empty cup. “I wanna hear more about that concert anyway.”

Oikawa leans back in his chair, lifting up his wrist to check his watch. “I’m off in fifteen minutes.” 

Iwaizumi tucks the laptop back into his bag, fastening it closed. “I can wait.”

Yoongi Scenario: The Chaser.

Request: THE COMEBACK IS AMAZING!!! can i request a bodyguard!yoongi & heiress!y/n? but y/n is like the rebel like she doesnt want to do anything with the company. she just wants to travel the world and explore but when her father died she doesnt have any choice but to handle the company since shes the only child and her mother asks yoongi to watch her every move bc she tends to run away and there are people who wants her dead. please make y/n a badass like she can kick ass and shoot guns ^^ thank you!

Bodyguard AU.

Genre: Romance / Drama.

Rushed steps where heard through the lone hallway, your house was way too big, not like the loft you had in mind for yourself in the future, in New York or maybe even in Morocco. You tried to walk as fast as possible but the man coming behind you was just as fast, you rolled your eyes thinking that this was completely unnecessary as you were in a completely closed building, that said building was owned by your family and that it had top notch security everywhere.

-You don’t have to follow me everywhere, you know?-

-I do- your bodyguard, the ever know it all, smug ass man that didn’t let anything slip answered back, you had let him know when he started to work for your family that he should treat you comfortably and he had taken your word.

-Don’t you have enough with the pleasure of following me my entire trip around Santorini? You must also follow me at my own house-

-That’s right- he answered seriously but as you turned to glare you could see the little smirk forming on his lips.

-Let’s get this over with- you sighed fighting the need to smirk too realizing he wasn’t going away from you no matter what.

You had just arrived from Greece, a trip you had barely planned, as it was usually your style, but that had left you with the wanderlust latent on your skin, you couldn’t wait to go to your next destination, what things you could discover, the food you’d taste. It was something that you did for yourself as you took advantage of the fact that you could actually do it without any problem. Or almost any problem. The only two things your parents asked of you were to not leave your studies and to always be safe, and that included taking a bodyguard everywhere. 

Yoongi was your most recent bodyguard, others had come and gone but Yoongi was different, starting from how blatant he was about certain things or how dedicated he turned in others. You looked at him from the corner of your eyes as he was now walking beside you. He was barely taller than you, a bit thin for a bodyguard, but you had seen the things he could do and you knew he was more than capable. He was also rude and merciless as he had beaten you in a hand to hand combat not minding you were a girl and also the person he had to take care of. Scoffing you looked ahead not wanting to keep looking at that face, but he noticed and chuckled making you turn to glare at him, again.

-Stop it, now let’s see what my parents want so we can go for a ride or something-

You reached the doors where your parents’s room was but something made you halt, there were a lot of people outside, you saw uncles and aunts and a few cousins, there were the security and house personnel, but also a medical team. You widened your eyes and swallowed thinking what that meant, what it obviously was. Someone was ill, and for having this amount of people around it was serious. One of your parents were terribly sick and you didn’t know. 

-You want me to go in first?- Yoongi whispered beside you also staring at all the people gathered in the hallway.

-No, wait for me here- you told him after a few seconds. Yoongi stared at you like waiting for confirmation of your own words and you licked your lips. -Wait for me-

He nodded, walking by your side not letting anyone close to you, even if they were your family, at this moment you were concentrated on what you could find inside that room, you didn’t want to talk to anyone at the moment and Yoongi knew that. He saw you in and planted himself at the door, of course he’d wait for you, he’d do that and much more.

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Her Eyes

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning: PTSD, alcoholism, death of a child, language <— see I do post warnings. 

A/N: Kate Bishop y’all - enough said. 

Summary: A mission left you clinging to alcohol as a coping mechanism and the team wants you to get help. 

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Elijah Mikaelson - Let’s Get Married

Elijah knows you are the love of his life and you know he is yours. So, one day, Elijah asks you to meet him somewhere you both hold close to your heart so you can discuss something. You certainly weren’t expecting him to ask you to marry him.

Elijah x Reader

Request by @omgopalsapphire 

Using the prompt: 23) “Let’s get married.” (from my Prompt List)

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It was in the News

He parks his car in front of the factory gate and lifts his heavy body outside. Standing beside the open door he pulls the slightly slipped waistband over his wide butt again. As usual, he therefore hooks his thumbs in the waistband at the back and lets them slide forward without really expecting to pull it over his mighty, overhanging paunch.

“I really should lose weight,” he thinks.

He still feels the celebration of his fifty-ninth birthday in his bones. Nevertheless, he is more than punctual. He did not want to come too late on this date, to which the chairman of the board of directors had appointed him. He has no idea what exactly the occasion is. Just that it is about financial matters. But if a meeting is scheduled for a Saturday morning, it is certain that not everyone should know immediately what’s going on. As usual, he wears a suit and a tie, and quickly walks the few steps to the porter’s lodge. He bends forward until he is able to speak through the small window.

“Good Morning. My name is Krause. Otto Krause. I have a meeting with the board. ”

The doorkeeper puzzles in his book, then points on a spot with his finger.

“There you are. Otto Krause. One moment please.”

The doorkeeper closes the small window and comes out of his box.

“Well, would you please follow me, Mister Krause.”

The doorkeeper turns around and starts to walk so fast that the fat man has to strain himself to follow. Again and again he has to make one, two jump steps that let his belly bounce.

“Please slow down a little. No one is following us. ”

“I’m sorry, Sir, but I am not allowed to stay away from the gate too long.”

Breathing heavily, the fat man follows the doorkeeper across the factory until they finally enter an almost empty hall. The doorman walks on until he stands in front of one of the last heavy workbenches and turns around.

“Please wait here, I’ll be right back.”

While the doorkeeper leaves the hall, he sits with his hands on the workbench and breathes deeply through. As he breathes quietly again, he looks around. He has not been here since his apprenticeship. It’s been ages since then. After the apprenticeship he studied, then he became a department manager and now he is in the upper management. Since he carried out the restructuring, the company is doing well again; financially anyway. The fact that he had billed his expenses somewhat generously was actually his right. Only the board looked at this a little different.

“No tools, no machines. Almost empty. Maybe it’s about further use of this area. ”

He lifts his heavy onto the workbench.

“Wait and see what happens” he thinks.

A few minutes have passed when he hears footsteps and voices outside the hall. The gate opens and two people are coming towards him. He recognizes the doorman and the head of the personnel department. He immediately stands up and stands in front of the workbench. The two men quickly approach him.

“Good morning!” he calls out to them.

“Morning Mister Krause” the head of HR answers.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Not really. Why do we meet here? A strange place for a board meeting”

The head of HR becomes serious.

“It’s not a meeting.”

Krause looks questioning.

“You may know that some inconsistencies have occurred in your expense statements during the last revision.”

“Yes. But the restructuring was a success. You’ll probably be allowed to celebrate it.”

“Celebrate, yes. But not with money that does not belong to you.”

“Oh, come on. A few hundred Euro. I finally saved millions. ”

“It’s not about the amount, it’s about your behaviour. The chairman will dismiss you without notice for fraud and embezzlement. ”

Krause beckons.

“Slow down. We can talk about everything. ”

“The CEO may report you to the police. I checked the relevant laws. Fraud, embezzlement of company funds and the total amount; the courts are not squeamish in these cases. Three years imprisonment is the normal sentence. Then you are sixty-two and convicted. You will not get a job any more. And retirement? You will definitely not get any payments from the company. And you may also pay damages. ”

The fat man looks down on the ground.

“Is it true that you first denied everything?”


The head of HR shakes his head.

“Mister Krause, I’m sorry to say so, but you’re an idiot.”

“Yes, yes, I know. That is why I am obviously here today. We could balance the sum with my salary. In that case I would work for almost nothing for a month. That should repair the damage.”

“If you are allowed to work here at all, then certainly not to your current references.”

Krause looks down on the floor and breathes a few times. Then he looks up again.

“Where should I work next?”

“That depends on how you behave today.”

Krause’s round face looks questioning.

“I told the chairman that he should think about the case again. After all, you’ve been working here for over 40 years, without any complaints. That’s why I’m authorized to make you an offer. ”


“He renounces the termination of your contract and the report to the ploice if you agree to a physical punishment.”

Krause did obviously not understand.

“Okay. You keep your job and do not have to go to jail if you … ”

“If I what.”

“If you accept a corporal punishment.”

“Corporal punishment?”

“With a cane. You accept a couple of strokes with a cane. This is quite common in other countries as you probably know.”

The fat man gulps and looks at his opponent with a slightly open mouth.

“Come on. A few hits have never harmed anybody and are quickly done. We do not want to hang you at once.”

“Hang me?”

The fat man presses the lips together and twists his head slightly, as if he already feels the noose around his neck. Then he glances at the head of HR.

“No. Never. It’s out of the question.”

“So you’d rather go to prison?”

Krause turns around and starts to walk up and down, calculating the opportunities silently.

“You will not get a single room in prison. I could imagine that thieves, murderers and rapists would love to take care about a huge manager like you.”

The fat man comes back and stands in front of the head of HR.

“How many?”

“I do not know. The CEO just said that you should get yourself hooked up on the workbench and wait for what happens. He would think about time and quantity. Maybe nothing happens, and he just wants to show you that he got you at the balls.”

Krause goes back and forth, shakes his head and chews on the fingernails.

“Think about it. For the first time in prison at your age. They will break you in there. ”

Krause turns around abruptly.

“All right, I agree.”

The head of HR smiles at him.

“Very good.”

Then he steps aside and the porter comes up with a piece of paper, which he places on the workbench.

“Mister Krause, please sign.”

Krause takes the pen in his chubby hand and puts his name on it. The doorkeeper flies over it briefly and faces the fat man.

“Please stand in attention.”

The fat man gazes back and forth between the two men.

“Mister Krause, please,” says the head of HR,

“Remember your army time: heels together, head up, chest out.”

“All right. If that pleases you. ”

He takes a small step away from the workbench. Then he lets his hands sink down at the side of his trousers, straightens himself and stands firm in front of the doorman and the head of HR. The doorman is right in front of him.

“Mister Krause, you have agreed to be physically punished to avoid a denunciation. Please undress now for the execution.”

Krause does not react at first.

“Undress!” The doorman repeats a little more definite.


“You have to undress, Mister Krause,” the doorman says quietly but very clearly.

The fat man looks a bit questioning to the head of HR.

“Please do what you are told to do. Or did you think you will be beaten, dressed in your suit?”

The fat man curses a few times quietly. The corners of his mouth tremble with rage, as he first strips off his shoes and takes off the jacket. His huge round paunch stretches the shirt and hangs over the belt. He looks around briefly. The doorman pushes an old chair toward him and the fat man puts the jacket over the backrest. Furiously, he opens his tie and the top buttons of the shirt. Then he opens the cuffs of his shirt and pulls it without opening it completely and together with the tie over his head. He puts his shirt over the back of the chair and pulls the waistband over his wide butt again. His white undershirt stretched tightly over the belly and his breasts. He looks at the porter, then the head of HR, but none of them shows any reaction.

“Assholes,” he mutters angrily.

He bends his massive upper body backwards and pulls in the belly vigorously to reach the belt, which he then opens with the right hand. He resolutely opens his waistband and fly, drops his trousers and steps out. He does not realize, that the two men look at the garters that prevent the black socks from slipping down the thick lower legs. Like his undershirt, his short, white briefs fit tightly around the massive body, so that his genitals are clearly visible on the front. He has drawn the briefs over his broad butt, but his paunch laps over it. The undershirt has slipped out at the front, so that naked belly fat appears between the shirt and the waistband of the underpants. When he starts to lift his undershirt, the porter stops him.

“That’s enough,” he says, signing the fat man to step closer to him.

“Hands forward.”

Krause reaches out his hands and holds them crosswise. The porter gets them at the wrist and turns them so that the underarms of the fat man are almost in parallel. Well skilled, the porter ties the forearms together with a rope slightly above the wrists.


Krause pulls his hands back, but can not take them down and has to rest his hands on the belly.

“Please sit down on the bench.”

Hesitantly the fat man approaches the workbench and lifts his body on it. It is not easy with his hands tied together and his feet loosing contact to the floor. So he has to move on his wide but from side to side until he sits on the bench, feeling the cold wood through the briefs. He slowly bends backwards until he can not hold himself anymore and tilts on his back. At the same time he angles his legs and stretches his tied hands forward as if he is looking for a stop. Then he begins to jerk his fat body on the bench back and forth, until he is finally outstretched on the bench.

“Do you always wear garters, Mister Krause?”

Krause blushes. Just recently, he had bought a pair but only worn them when the press or television was around. Naked legs were supposed to be not telegenic. He doesn’t know why he put them on this morning. But how should he imagine that he had to expose himself in underwear, socks and garters.

“Also at the weekend?”

Krause lifts his head a little.

“Anything against it?” he barks at the head of HR who lifts his hands excusing.

“No, no. It was just a question. Would you please turn around lie on your belly?”

Cumbersome the fat man turns himself around, groaning quietly. He studs on his elbows and looks at his tormentors. The doorman steps behind him, ties his legs at the ankles and stretches them backwards. Then he walks around and stands in front of his victim.

“Your hands, please.”

The fat man stretches his arms, slipping with his elbows over the plate until he is only lying on his paunch. The doorman pulls his hands to the front, ties them to a rope, so that the fat body lies stretched on the bench. Krause is softly groaning while the porter has once again checks the shackles. He turns to the head of HR.

“I have to go back to the gate. And you?”

“Me too. We are finished here. ”

Krause turns its head.

“And what about me?”

“You have to wait here, Mister Krause.”

He gives the fat man another slap on the back, turns around and follows the porter. Alone in the hall, clothed only in underwear and socks, the fat man rapidly begins to freeze. Cold sweat forms on his fat body, he begins to tremble. Toughly the minutes pass, in which he can do nothing but wait and freeze with fear and cold. With every minute he realizes how his fat body squeezes the air out of him, he begins to groan and gasp for air. Finally, he hears footsteps behind him, coming through the hall toward him and stopping close to him. He tries to turn around, bends the fat body on the workbench to see who is behind him. But he immediately realizes that he will not succeed and so he stretches straight out again.

“There he is, my fat friend. How long is he lying here?”

He recognizes the voice of the chairman.

“Since half past ten, as you requested,”

The second voice is that of the doorman, who stands beside the CEO.

The chairman puts a hand on Krause’s butt, and then slowly walks along, carrying his hand across the back of the fat man. Finally he stands at the front of the bench. Krause tries to lift his head, but can not see the face of his boss. When he wants to let his head sink down again, he feels a hand under his chin. The chairman bends back the head of the fat man until he can look at it.

“And you obviously show remorse when you present yourself that way.”

“Yes,” Krause groans, “I regret all I have done. Really!”

“Oh that’s nice. But you know, fraud is the one thing; but this stubbornness, this criminal energy, right? ”

“Yes” the fat man groans.

“I’m sure you understand if I leave you here to think about your behaviour.”

“Yes, I understand,” he squeezes out hoarsely.

“And let the punishment be done a little later?”

Krause nods frantically, blasting the air. The chairman turns to the porter.

“Let him lie here for one more hour, and then he gets three times five strokes. I think that will be enough. ”

The chairman takes his hand away, and the fat man lets his head sink into his arms. Tears come into his eyes and he hears the two of them leave the hall.

The fat man remains alone in the hall tied on the workbench. Time stretches endlessly as he fights constantly against the increasing shortage of breath and convulsions.

suddenly he again hears someone entering the hall. He finally recognizes a big, powerful man in a gray tunic.

“Hannes? Is that you?”

“Yes, Otto, it is me.”

“Please untie me. Please, please,” the fat man stammers.

The man goes down to his knees and looks directly into Krause’s face.

“Do you remember how we started here?”

“Of course I know that,” the fat man replies angrily.

“I was the last production manager and you were a board member. Then you reorganized the company and now you’re still in the board and I’m a caretaker.”

“I got you a new job.”

“I’m grateful for that.”

“Then please untie me.”

“No way, Otto. We are not that far yet. First I have to give you the strokes that the boss has requested.”

The fat man lifts his head.

“Do you really want to hit me?”

“I have to. The boss ordered that you get three times five strokes before you are allowed get up. ”

“But you can not do that. Please. I will not betray you either. ”

“Oh no. I’m glad I got this job and I do not want to lose it. I only do what I am told. I have nothing against you personally. Really. But job is job, I’m sorry. ”

He walks around the workbench, hooks a pulley into the rope at the ankles, and starts quietly to tension him. The fat man hears the squeaking of the reels.

“What are you doing?” Krause asks in horror.

“I’m really sorry for you, but I have to stretch you before I start. So that you don’t move and stay firmly in that position,” says the caretaker, while slowly stretching the pulley block.

“You got fat within the last years, Otto. Surely 120kg, right?”

Krause does not answer. He groans only softly as the cords continue to tighten. The caretaker stops briefly with his work.

“Come on. How much do you put on the scales. ”

Krause remains silent, only breathes audible.

“I may have a look on your last health check. But this takes of course some time and you will have to lie here. So what is your weight now? 120? 130? ”

“125” squeezes the fat man.

The caretaker turns back to the pulley and stretches his victim. Krause notes how the shackles begin to dig into his ankles. Then he slips a few inches with the belly over the bench and his handcuffs begin to cut into the wrists. The fat  man throws his head back and blows the air out of thick cheeks.

“Please stop! I admit everything! ” he cries with fear in his voice.

“You do not have to admit anything,” he hears the caretaker from behind, “but you should relax. Then stretching is not too painful. ”

Krause breathes a few times frantically, then lets the head sink forward, exhaling deeply. The caretaker pulls the pulley evenly tighter and tighter. The cords are carving into the wrists and ankles of the fat man and stretch his body, until he can’t move any more. A deep moaning comes out of his wide opened mouth before his head sinks down to the workbench and he breathes frantically. The caretaker once again checks the pulley, walks around the workbench, takes an old blackboard from the background and places it in front. From the back of the board he takes out a long cane, which he places lengthwise between his victims arms, so that he has to look at it. He opens his smock and places it at the blackboard. He takes the cane into his right hand and strikes it through the air a few times, creating a whistling sound. Then he turns to the fat man, who is facing him with a painful look.

“Fifteen strikes for a deceiver are actually very little. So let’s start, I want to be ready by noon.”

The caretaker walks slowly to the legs of the fat man who groans on the workbench. He already noticed the garters at the very beginning, but now he can not stand any more. He pushes his index finger under the rubber band and lifts it a few inches.

“How long have you been wearing garters, Otto?”

Krause tries to ignore his tormentor and looks sniffing straight.

“Wasn’t it incredibly embarrassing when you had to drop your pants and stand there in garters?”

“Yes,” Krause grunts.

“That’s good to know. So I leave everything as it is, although I should actually push your socks down. It is already enough naked skin to see for a couple of hits.”

So the caretaker lets the rubber snap and steps back slightly. He places the stick on the naked part between the socks and the rubber band of the garters, and stops when the tip of the cane just reaches out over the tightly lying calves. Slowly he lifts the stick over his head, hesitates a second, and then slams hard. The fat man twitches and holds his breath. The caretaker walks slowly to the blackboard, notes the strike and goes back to the end of the workbench. The fat man tries to look over his shoulder. He sees the caretaker stand beside him and lift his hand with his cane over his head. He hesitates again, giving the next blow to the thighs of the fat man, who groans and throws his head back. Again, the caretaker goes forward and notes the blow, then slowly returns, raises the cane, hesitates and then again hits hard and precisely on the calves of the fat man, who throws his head to the neck and squeezes his mouth not to scream. Slowly, the caretaker goes to the blackboard, notes the blow, and goes back to his last position. He raises the cane, hesitates briefly and then hits the thighs of the fat victim again, who groans briefly and tightens his fat body. While he is still struggling for air, the caretaker goes back to the blackboard to make a note. When he returns he speaks to the fat man.

“I will give you the fifth blow on the calves again; agreed?”

“Please …” Krause groans.

“Fine, your calves are thick enough for three strikes,” the caretaker laughes.

Then he raises his cane again, hesitates and hits hard for the third time on the fat calves, which makes Krause cramp in pain. When the caretaker returned from the blackboard, the fat man still struggles for air. He pets him on the back.

“You have to relax. Everything is easier to bear then. Believe me. I’m not doing this for the first time. ”

Krause breathes deeply in and out, dropping the head to the forward stretched arms. In doing so, he notes how the caretaker grasps his undershirt and rips it with a hard tug. Krause feels the cold air on his wet, sweaty back.

“Well, let’s go on.”

Again, the caretaker takes his cane, stands beside his fat victim, and looks at Krause huge belly swelling out on both sides.

“You became that fat on my expences, you pig,” he thinks.

He raises the cane over his head, hesitates and then hits hard on the wide back lying in front of him. Krause groans and bends his fat body.

“Five strokes on such a broad hump. That is ridiculous.”,

the caretaker mutters to himself, as he goes to the blackboard to record the blow. When he is standing next to the fat man again, he speaks to him.

“Can you tell me how I should smash your back with just five blows?”

Krause does not answer, groans only softly. Then he hears the whistle of the cane again, and feels the piercing pain as the stick hits his back in the middle. His fat body cramps and he hears a deep scream coming out of his mouth. When he recovers his breath, the caretaker is already standing next to him, pushing his pants back slightly, so that the hips are no longer covered. The fat man is waiting for the next blow. His lips tremble, tears rise into his eyes. The caretaker reaches out and strikes the cane with all his power across Krause’s fat hips. Krause throws his head back, opens his mouth, but only a hoarse rattle comes out of his throat, then his head sags forward. After the caretaker has recorded the blow, he pets the fat man on the tied hands.

“Now it’s time for lunch.”

He puts the cane away, loosens the pulley block, unpacks thermos, bread and newspaper, and sits down next to the fat man, whimpering on the workbench.

After his break, the caretaker stows away his stuff.

“Well, let’s start again.”

He goes back and starts to tension the pulley again. Krause wakes up. He recognizes that he is stretched again, stretched hard at arms and legs until he can’t move anymore.

"Your weight is 125 kilos?”

The fat nods.

“Or perhaps 140?”

He stretches the thickness even more.

“130” Krause groans.


The porter stretches the fat man. The cords creak and dig into the thick arms and leg.

“134!” he presses out.

The doorkeeper fixes the rope and stands next to his victim.

“You were lying, Otto. I have to report this. You know the company standards. But for now I will only finish the actual punishment. So please stay calm. We’ll be ready soon. ”

He fetches his cane, then stands next to his victim and strikes hard on his hump. The fat man groans only briefly without lifting the head. The caretaker notes the blow on the blackboard. When he comes back he speaks to the fat man.

“The last one was a little weak. But I’ll do it now. ”

He stands beside his victim and puts the cane on the fat hips. The fear of the next blow lets Krause tremble uncontrolled and suddenly he senses a warmth between his thighs. He can‘t prevent his bladder from failing and his warm urine to spread beneath him. He feels the wetness between the thighs as it spreads under his belly and let howl with shame. The caretaker looks grinning, as a puddle forms under his victim, which quickly seeps through the wood of the bench and drips to the ground.

“Fear?” He asks, and the fat man nods.

“You have every reason for that.”

Then he reaches out and strikes his cane once more across the fat hips. The fat man cramps and cries out loud. After the caretaker has recorded the blow, he slowly passes his victim until he stands beside his butt. As the caretaker pulls the waist of his underpants, he throws his head.

“No! Please, no,” he calls desperately.

But the caretaker rips the fabric with a hard jerk, so the whole ass is lying naked in front of him.

“It’s only five on the bare ass. You will stand that with such a gorgeous butt. And besides, your briefs are completely wet because you’ve pissed yourself, Otto. ”

The caretaker gently caresses the bulging butt in front of him. Then he lifts the cane over his head, hesitates and hits with all his power. A red line immediately forms on the white skin. The fat cramps together, screaming loudly before his head falls on the arms. Tears run down his cheeks.

The caretaker performs the rest of the sentence without a word. Krause obviously surrenders, and only mutes his massive body when a blow hits him. After every hit, the caretaker goes to the blackboard, notes it, and returns to his whimpering victim. For the last time, he stands beside him, lifts the cane over his head and then pulls him hard over the naked, wide butt. The fat man only twitches briefly, as if he had grown accustomed to the burning pain. The caretaker lets his eyes spread over the fat body and nods contentedly. Fifteen dark red lines stand out on the white skin, distributed between the shoulders and the feet. He goes to the board, notes the blow, and turns to his victim.

“Well, that’s it.”

Krause breathes heavily, struggles for air, while his tormentor walks along him, touching the strokes easily with his hand.

“Please. I can’t stand this any longer,” Krause groans.

“Well, you’ll have to wait a little longer, dear.”

The caretaker slowly goes to the pulley block. As he loosens it, the fat man blows out the air audibly, and his still tied legs. The fat man expects his bonds to be taken off. But the caretaker bends over him, picks up a tensioning chain from the other side of the workbench and places it over his back. Krause notes the cold steel on the skin and tries to turn the head.

“What are you doing there?”

He asks anxiously, noting the chain is tightened over his back, digging itself in his back and pressing his body on the bench. The caretaker removes the rope from the fat man’s wrists, and immediately Krause tries to reach the chain over his back.

“Stop doing that. You can’t do anything.”

The caretaker looks calmly as the fat man in front of him desperately tries to reach the lock of the chain. After only one or two attempts, the Krause surrenders and lets the head sink to the bench.

“Well, then,” says the caretaker.

“Now take your hands on your back.”

“What for?”

The caretaker grasps the cane.

“Just do it.”

The fat man slowly pushes his hands back and tries to cross them on his back. But because of his massive body he can only lay his hands on his hips. He notes how the caretaker pulls a cord under his arms and pushes it up to the elbows. Then the caretaker pulls the rope with all his power. Krause’s upper arms are thrown on the back of the fat man, he groans loudly, distorts his face, bends the upper body backwards. The caretaker knots rope quickly at the elbows, so that the upper body is always slightly bent back even when the fat victim relaxes. In the meantime, the caretaker removes the bonding at Krause’s ankles. As he begins to pull the right foot to the side and ties it to the bench, the fat man begins to stomp and twist his fat body. He knows what is ahead of him and starts to roar.

“No!! Don’t do that! NO!! NO!!”

But the caretaker catches his free leg, with which he kicks in the air and tiesit to the other side of the bank. With his legs slightly apart, the caretaker is now standing next to his victim, and he can see the large, hairy testicles hanging low between the thighs. He reaches into a bucket of grease, which stands under the bench and rubs his hands in a position next to Krause’s face, so that he must see it.

“Your first time, Otto?”

Krause stares at the greasy hands and gulps.

“Then you should relax. Actually, I wanted to fuck you. But I don’t want to make myself unnecessarily dirty. ”

The caretaker walks quietly past his victim until he stands beside his butt. He puts the greasy hand on the cheeks and pushes them slowly into the rear sight, until he can feel the anus of his victim with his finger. Slowly he orbits the sphincter, and strengthens slightly the pressure on the anus of the fat man, who strains, groans and tries to press his anus. The caretaker enjoys, as his victim winds, knowing that there is no chance for him. He turns around a little and puts his forearm between the fat thighs, without reducing the pressure on the sphincter. His finger now points straight at the anus, and with a twisting motion he finally lets it slide inside until his knuckles reach the sphincter. Krause breathes loudly and groaning as he notices how something penetrates his anus and is slowly moved in it. He can’t stop his bent legs from twitching involuntarily as he feels the hand of the housekeeper at his glans.

“Is a small cock required to become a board member?”

Krause does not answer but moans softly. He had never had this feeling of fear and excitement that begins to spread in his guts. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply and evenly. He is confused because he is no longer resisting, but enjoys the pleasant feeling that flows through him when his tormentor’s finger presses against his prostate.

A mixture of shame and pride fills him up when he realizes how his penis becomes hard in the hand of the caretaker. Nevertheless, he is relieved when he feels the grip on his glans vanishes and the finger is pulled out of his anus. He breathes deeply, hoping that this has been the end of his humiliation. The caretaker slowly walks along his fat victim until he stands in front of the blackboard, wiping his hands with a rag.

“You’re already dripping, like a young bride.”

The fat man tries to see what the caretaker does. There is horror in his face as he turns around and slowly greases a wooden pole with a knob on one end.

“No,” he whispers in fear of what is ahead of him.

He senses the fear in the stomach and his cock, which pushes hard against his body.

“Please no”

The caretaker slowly returns. As he pushes his buttocks wide with one hand, Krause begins to groan. The caretaker leads the cane between the butt buttocks, touches the anus of the fat man, who compresses the buttocks again and rears the upper body

“Please, please no,” howls the fat man.

He feels the fear in the stomach down to the testicles.

“You should not fight back, Otto, or it will hurt,” says the caretaker,

Strengthens easily the pressure on the anus of the fat man

“I can not do that,” Krause whispers,

bending the upper body and compressing the buttocks. The caretaker simply waits, holding the stick with light pressure on the anus. Finally, the fat man surrenders powerless. He sinks down slowly, breathing deeply, and relaxing his buttocks.

“Well, that’s how it goes”

“Oh God, oh God” Krause groans as he feels the cane beginning to spread the sphincter and slowly penetrates into it. The caretaker observes how the sphincter slowly widens. How often had he visualized this picture in the last few years and often enough he was masturbating at night. He enjoys the way the fat man winds in front of him and winches again and again. From time to time he reduces the pressure and allows the fat man to push the stick out again. He pauses for a moment and then increases the pressure again. Slowly the caretaker leads the pole deeper and deeper into the anus of the fat man groaning on the workbench. Krause feels his anus being stretched further and further, has the feeling as if it would be torn appart. He always tries to beg for mercy, but he only produces gurgling and moaning sounds. He twists his eyes, but no scream leaves his mouth, opened wide in pain and fear. Little by little his anus expands when his tormentor increases the pressure. Then suddenly he realizes how his sphincter relaxes and he breathes more easily. The thickest part of the pole has passed his anus and now slides deeper into it, slowly and without any pressure. Krause one feels the pole in his cock, feels as it pushes against his gut and slides along it. Deeper and deeper, the caretaker pushes the cane. When the fat man feels that the cane comes out of his belly button, he rears the upper body and pokes out a short scream. The caretaker stops briefly, then begins to slowly move the stick back and forth, up and down, watching the reactions of the fat man. His free hand slips into his pocket and starts to masturbate his own cock.

“That’s right, fatso. Fight and struggle,” he thinks.

The fat man in front of him winds, groaning loudly as the cane drifts deep into his bowel. He watches thick drops of sweat appear on the broad back, and in thin streaks run down the bulging belly, on which he rolls back and forwards in pain. Actually, the caretaker wanted to intrude the pole into the fat man in its entire length. Deeper and deeper. Until it gets out of the mouth of this fat asshole. He wanted to impale him. Slowly, very slowly. He should know what happens to him. But he notices that at a certain position of the stick his fat victim groans deeply and moves the wide butt in circles. Without knowing it, he presses the tip of the stick against the prostate of the fat man and forces him to uncontrolled movements.

“That’s even better,” he thinks, as he reaches this point again.

The fat man shrugs his legs and pelvis, grunts deeply and persistently. Then he realizes how the caretaker grasps between his legs and holds his testicles firmly.

“You pig, you miserable pig.”

Krause groans, as the caretaker pulls his testicles back. For a long time the caretaker had imagined this moment. He quickly puts a thin wire loop around the ball sac and tightens it. Actually, he wanted to castrate the fat man during the impalement, like a piglet. Now he pulls the testicles backwards, until the skin of the sack lies tightly around them and fixes them with the wire to the stick. Krause suffers of a piercing pain. He bends his upper body back and screams. The caretaker releases the stick and watches it slowly sliding back into the gut by the contraction of the ball sac of his fat victim. When the end of the cane touches the prostate of the fat man again, he trembles with excitement. The caretaker looks at the shaking fat of his victim, and the long thread of secretion, which hangs down from the uncovered, dark red tip of the now highly sensitive penis. As he slowly pulls out the stick again and he rubs his own hard cock with his other hand. Further and further he stretches the testicles of the fat man, until the piercing pain makes him squeek.

“Another short jerk, and your eggs would be gone, fatso,” he thinks.

He had imagined this moment so often. Only a short jerk and a small turn and the balls would fall down and lie between the legs of this fat pig. But instead, he releases the stick again. Krause feels the stick slide slowly back into his bowel, finally touching his prostate gently and creating this strange feeling of excitement and nervousness that lets his hard penis bounce.

The caretaker opens his pants, pulls out his big, hard cock, and slowly lets his hand slide over its entire length. He pulls the pole back and pulls the ball sac of his victim longer and longer.

“Did you ever imagine to be castrated, Otto?”

The fat man only groans, squeezes the air with a dark red head, grips in the air with hands helplessly. The piercing pain hits him in the belly again. He rears up and shouts with a tilting voice. The caretaker enjoys the sight of the fat man. Sweating and whimpering in fear. He easily touches the now deep red, dripping glans.

“But I do not want to be that cruel. I’ll let you have one shot before your balls fall down.”

He again increases the stress to the testicle.

“And the sooner you come, the sooner you balls are off,” he says just before he releases the pole, which immediately slides back into the gut of the fat man. Krause presses and blows the air with thick cheeks. He gasps for air, sweat runs down his face. When his prostate is touched again, he has to bend his legs as if compelled, and rebounds the upper body. Krause gasps for air, is close to ejaculate. He moans loudly, throws his head back and his hands move helplessly in the air. At the same time, he winds the upper body and struggles with his fixed legs, wiggling back and forth on his belly. His testicles ache, he shrugs, moans and snaps, rolls back and forth on his paunch. Then he tightens the upper body, his whole fat body begins to tremble as he realizes he can’t hold back any longer.

“It’s coming,” he moans softly.

He twists his eyes, saliva runs out of his mouth. He blows, feels how the sperm oozes out, without having an orgasm. Then his head falls forward and he exhausted struggles for air. The caretaker looks closely at how the sperm drips from the bouncing cock of the fat man, gets the still erected penis of the fat man and slowly starts stroking the dark red, moisty glans while he masturbates at the same time. Immediately Krause begins to frantically rumble and prick. He lifts his head, stretches the body once again. He turns his eyes up, groans deeply from the torn mouth. His testicles ache, his hands grip helplessly in the air, his whole body trembles and makes his fat wobble. Suddenly his body tenses. He groans loudly in this forced orgasm, feels how once again sperm is driven out of his penis and at the same time feels something warm on his butt. He can’t see that the caretaker has shot a huge amount of sperm on his butt, which is now slowly running down. His head sinks exhausted, he groans contentedly and pulls the air deep into his massive body.

The caretaker releases his penis and wipes his hands on the thighs of his victim. He closes his pants and after a minute or two he takes the pole again and pulls it back slowly, stretching once again the balls until the fat man’s face twitches with pain.

“Well, Otto. Say "goodbye” to your balls.“

The fat man wants to beg for mercy, but the pain which rushes through his body makes him faint.

The caretaker loosens the wire, the bonding at the elbows and the feet of the fat man, who’s arms and legs drop powerless. He gives him a few minutes before he wakes him up with a few pats on the cheeks. The fat man groans softly in pain and is unable to move. Now the caretaker starts to remove the pole from the anus of his victim and enjoys once again his grunting. Finally, he loosens the chain above the upper body, grabs him by the shoulders and straightens him until he sits on the bench, moaning broadly and painfully. The caretaker pushes a rag on his stomach.

"Clean up that mess, fatso.”

Krause wants to push his right hand under his stomach and between his legs. He has infernal pain. But the caretaker slaps him.

“Hands off.”

Tears stream into Krause’s eyes.

“You really castrated me?”

The caretaker grins at him, whereupon the fat begins to cry unrestrainedly.

“It would have been easy. But I have not done it. ”

The fat man lolls himself from the bench, and naked as he is begins to wipe his sperm and urine, with the caretaker facing and watching him. Finally, he throws Krause’s clothes on the bench.

“Get dressed.”

Slowly the fat man puts his clothes on, and he groans again and again when he touches his wounds or his maltreated testicles. Finally, he buttons the jacket in front of his belly and stands with trembling corners of his mouth in front of the caretaker.

“Come along.”

The fat man follows the caretaker waddling through the plant until they are standing in front of the office of the chairman. The caretaker knocks, opens the door, and knows the thickness to enter. The chairman sits behind his desk and looks up briefly.

“Mister Krause, as you requested, Sir,” says the caretaker

The chairman reaches for a thin booklet, which is lying on his desk, gets up, and stretches out his hand. Krause hesitates.

“Mister Krause, every thing okay? I hope you do not need a doctor now. ”

Krause shakes his head silently.

“Very good. As you accepted, that I had to punish you anyway, that was the better solution, wasn’t it?”

The fat man nods silently.

“And after you’ve supported your punishment so well, I will let the whole matter rest.”

“Thank you,” Krause says voicelessly.

The director offers the file and the fat man takes it slowly.

“This is your new contract. You will be the head of our local office in Tehran. But I want to advise you to follow the local laws. Penalties are publicly executed there. Do you understand me?”

Krause nods.

“All right, then we’ll meet on Monday.”

Krause turns around and leaves the factory slowly, with shuffling steps. His testicles bounce loose in his pants and without underwear he feels strangely naked.

When he falls into the seat of his car, he moans. Trembling he opens the fly and lets his hand hesitantly slip inside. He lets his hand run down his naked belly and finally touches his aching testicles with his fingertips and smiles weakly, tears in his eyes. He had never thought about the pleasure to touch his own balls and find them at the place, where they used to be.

He starts the car.

The music from the radio becomes quieter and the anchorman starts.

“You’ve heard it in the news, but we have to come back to this topic again. Despite of international protests, the regime in Tehran has executed the castration of two men in public. The 49 and 56-year-old managers of an international company had previously been convicted by a jury of embezzlement and bribery … ”