those pants are red

drawing uniform designs on a boring late afternoon because i cant stop myself thinking about an after WWI AU.

this fandom is so “AUable” it is amazing !

edit: i redrew it ‘cause this post was like 3 years old and so was the art >:’)

The Third Rule

Based on the one word prompt “Party” sent in by @bailci (ty!!). Happy Valentine’s Day (especially to my fellow single people spending today with fictional people instead of real ones. you rock). You’re all wonderful and I love you all so much <3

Summary: When Nico reluctantly goes to a Valentine’s Day party with Hazel, she sets three rules for him to follow if he wants for her to agree to take him home after an hour. The first two are easy enough, but the third one poses a bit more of a problem, due to the fact that Nico really isn’t sure how the whole flirting thing is done.

Word Count: 2735

Read on ao3

“Alright, I have three rules,” Hazel announced as she parked the car.

Nico rolled his eyes. “I thought you promised tonight would be fun.”

“These are fun rules.”

“There’s no such thing.”

She leaned over to punch his shoulder, perhaps a bit harder than necessary. “Hush. Now, rule number one is that you have to actually try to enjoy yourself, okay? You’re not allowed to give up before you’ve started. Again, we can leave after an hour if you really don’t want to be here anymore but you have to try. Got it?”

Nico nodded resignedly.

“Good. Rule number two: Limit the alcohol.”

Nico raised his eyebrows. “And by that you mean no alcohol?”

Hazel sighed, biting her lip. “No, and if this doesn’t show you how desperate I am for you to have fun then I don’t know what will. But yeah, someone’ll have brought a keg or something and I’ve made the questionable decision to let you have some.”

“You know, last time I checked, I was the older one.”

She punched him again. “Yeah, but I’m the wiser one.”

He scoffed but let her continue.

“Right, so you’re close enough to twenty-one that I’m willing to turn a blind eye to you having a little to drink, but there’s no way you’re getting anywhere past tipsy, understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled at that.

“Alright, then. Rule number three, and this is an important one, Nico: I swear to God, if a cute boy starts flirting with you, you are absolutely required to flirt back.”

Nico frowned, pulling his jacket tighter around himself.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, you’re lucky I’m going easy on you.”

“Easy?” Nico asked, incredulously.

“Yes, if I were a little bit meaner then I’d require that you be the one to initiate the flirting.”

Nico just shook his head. “Fine, whatever.”

Hazel grinned, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Good! Let’s go!”

Keep reading

An Embarrassing Trip

                      An embarassing trip to the doctor                                                                                                                                                                                

1

  The nurse glances down at the clipboard, then at you, then back at the clipboard and smirks.

“Wow, so yeah, we definitely need to do a weigh in, you CERTAINLY aren’t 158 anymore.”  

Your face gets hot. In your rush to make the appointment  you grabbed a too-small shirt and now suffer the stares of waiting patients. Your muffin top balloons over the top of your tight pants. You squeeze your wide bottom into the chair and feel the wooden arm rests  press your fat love handles. You must look a sight with your soft hog belly filling your lap, laced beautifully  with light stretch marks, and your deep, obvious belly button. An older woman sitting next to you pats your plump forearm,

“It’s good to see you’re doing something about it, dearie, it doesn’t look like those pants could hold you in much longer.”

You flush red, she continues, “I just don’t know about your generation, you’re  all getting so FAT. Believe me, I know, I’ve got a big fat pig for a granddaughter and she just won’t lose weight no matter how I remind her boys don’t like fatties. Now mind you, she’s not as big as you, thank god, but she will be if−”

The nurse interrupts and calls your name. You wriggle your fat-packed hips out of the chair and make your way across the silent waiting room. Your blubbery thighs rub loudly. She leads you  down a long hallway.

“Ok, miss, here you are, we’ve got you scheduled for a weigh in, and an appointment with the dietician. Do yourself a favor and listen to her before Barnum and Bailey put you on speed dial,” She pokes your soft, dimpled tummy and laughs.

The room is cool and white, an examination table sits in the center. There is a treadmill, a scale and a full length mirror. Good god, you think, getting even more aroused. A cute, energetic nurse comes in moments later and picks up your chart.

“Hi, I’m Clara, I’m going to take your weight and pulse, the doctor will be in shortly. Please strip down to your underwear and bra.”  

You struggle out of your tight jeans, face reddening.  You begin to sweat lightly. Your love handles and belly wobble  and bounce and jiggle embarassingly as you tug your meaty hips free. The nurse smiles as you struggle and puff and puff.  She checks your chart again and raises her eyebrows.

“Oh dear, no wonder those pants are so tight,” she moves closer as you stand in your tight panties and bra, your uncooperative jeans stuck halfway down your hips, your overfed gut bulging and jutting well past your bloated tits. Your excess fat squeezes out around your too-small bra straps. She presses her palm into your soft piggy pot and gives it a hard jiggle. Your hips and back fat  wiggle wildly. Your nipples stiffen. Your thighs begin to get hot.

“Look at all this blubber, you naughty little piggy,” she laughs loud, “Look at how you jiggle!”  You feel your chest and throat constrict, your double chin wobbles slightly.  She slides her thumb deep into your belly button and clutchs your soft  underbelly with her fingers. She lifts, tugs, bounces your fat-bloated pot. She   slaps it and watches it wobble.  "Look at all this pork ,you overstuffed hog, you’ve been a VERY greedy piggy since we last saw you, haven’t you?“

You feel yourself about to come.

” Yes.“

She giggles.

"I bet it feels good to admit that, fatty.  Now lets get that wideload of yours  on the scale.”

You waddle onto the scale, your distended gut leading the way. She  takes your weight and notes it on the chart then  directs you to sit on the examination table. The door opens and a young man pokes his head in, “ Hi Clara, sorry to interrupt, but the doc is delayed, I’m going to send Denise in when she finishes up next door. Should be in a minute or two.”

She turns to you as the man leaves, “Denise is the dietician, you’ll like her.”         

2

  A few minutes later the door opens. As Clara leaves,  a fit, lovely woman with a pile of black hair  enters. She smiles and extends her hand, “Hi, I’m Denise.” Her hand is warm and dry and soothing.

“Let’s have a look at your chart…Oh my,my, my,  it looks like you’ve gained quite a bit of weight this year…hmmm… well, no matter, it  happens sometimes. Please stand and turn around, we’re going to measure your body fat.” You heft yourself off the table and turn your back to her. Papers ruffle, metal scrapes. She grabs a generous roll of fat under you armpit and tugs firmly, your nipples pucker, your clit hardens. The cold, steel calipers pinch  and release. You hear the pen scratch across your chart. “Hmm that was a thick one,” Denise says, “I bet it represents quite a few midnight snacks, eh fat girl?” She laughs. Your breath catches in your throat, goosebumps run up your inner thighs and arms.  You feel so exposed. She grabs a huge handful of love-handle meat  and leans near your  ear, “I don’t know if the calipers can measure this one, you greedy blimp.” She lifts and squeezes and  tugs and shakes  your  blubber-packed flank.  She rolls the fat in her hand, then wobbles it. The caliper spring creaks as Denise tries to open it wide enough. A sharp pain  shoots up your side as she forces your bulging fat into the calipers.

“Ouch,” you say.

“Jesus, I’ve never seen such fat love handles, I guess I’ll just write ‘huge, fat PIG’ in the space they have  here for the measurement.” She laughs.

You begin to pant. She comes close again and grabs both bloated handles. The calipers clatter to the floor.  She begins to knead and mush the soft fat. She slides her hands around to the front of your belly and begins grabbing handful after handful. She slides a finger in your deep navel and lifts and teases your fat. Her manicured hand  slides down the front of your panties, she pinches your fattened pubic mound. She squeezes the fattened area around your clit and starts to get you off with the extra pudge. You moan deeply.  She whispers in your ear, “ Reach under my skirt, you fat f*cking HOG, I’ve got a beautiful, hard cock strapped on that’s perfect for a soft, lazy tub like you.”  

You reach under her skirt and grab the hard cock. You clit tightens almost painfully, swelling, swelling.

“Stroke it,” she says, “stroke it, lard ass, nice and slow,” she slaps the side of your belly. You wince, and grunt at the delicious heavy joggle of your fat.

Your panties are soaked, you rub the hard cock, Denise moans, you oink. She grabs your blubbery inner thighs and pinches and drags her nails lightly. You keep your rhythm. Stroke, stroke, stroke.   She leans over, panting,  to an intercom and depresses the 'talk’ lever. “Gretchen darling, would you run next door and grab two dozen   jelly-filled and a gallon of heavy cream.” The intercom buzzes back garbled static. Denise smiles, “She’ll be here in about five minutes. Get on your knees, you overfed porker, and show me how good you are with those plump piggy lips.”  

You kneel down, flushed and puffing with excitement.  She pulls up her leather skirt  and shoves the cock in your mouth. She tugs lightly at one swollen nipple as you begin to suck and oink greedily. “That’s it you big overfed fat hog, suck it. Suck it and oink  like a good fat piggy,” you suck nosily, slurping and oinking and burying the cock in your mouth.

She leans sideways while you suck and grabs a huge handful of your belly fat and lifts and shakes it,  "We’re going to test this gut for capacity when Gretchen gets here to see just how much this overfilled bag of pig fat can hold.“ Her teasing makes you greedier. You slurp loudly, your clit tingles, hard and hot,the quick bobbing of your head causes your back fat and upper arms to quiver noticeably. Denise gasps loudly and starts to come. You come moments later.

You struggle to your feet, hot and sweating. The examination room door opens and a wide, fat blonde woman waddles in . Her belly is massive, you can see the deep outline of her belly button through straining pants as her belly fat shifts around under the tight fabric. She is carrying two large pink cake boxes and a tankard of heavy cream. You can hear the cold cream slosh and see grease soaking through the boxes.  Denise jerks you to your feet and bends you over the examination table. Gretchen smiles at you and sets the boxes near your face, "Oh she looks like a greedy one,” she says to Denise, “ I should have got three boxes of jelly-filled.”

Denise laughs, “Feel that huge gut she’s put on, Gretch.” Gretchen reaches forward and hefts your soft, hanging belly.

“Wow,” she says lightly squeezing and tugging,  " she really stores in around the hips and waist, don’t she.“

Denises laughs again. Gretchen pops the top of the first box and picks up a glazed donut. Dark jelly oozes and drips onto the table. She holds the donut just out of reach and makes you smell it.

Denise pulls up her skirt and yanks down your panties. Your swollen lips stretch apart as she pushes inside you.

"Beg for the donut, you greedy fat ass,” Gretchen says.

“Mmph, please, feed me,  feed me like a fat f*cking pig.  I’m such a fatty…shove it in my piggy snout.”  Gretchen presses the donut into your mouth, jelly squirts into the back of your throat, glazed sugar fills one nostril and smears your cheek. Denise clutches your wide hips in bulging handfuls and thrusts as deep as your fattened ass will allow. You moan through mouthfuls and mouthfuls, through packed cheeks and a craning neck. Gretchen stuffs you like a Christmas goose. Jelly squirts onto the table, your throat packs with more sugar and dough. Your eyes rolls back in your head, your heart pounds. Denise moans as she f*cks you 

“Eat you ***ing blubber pig,  that’s it you overfed ***ing  HOG, fill that fat gut.”

Your head swims; your heavy swelling  gut slaps against your thighs, Gretchen forces you to chug heavy sweet cream, you gut swells, then sags, under the weight of your feeding. She continues to feed you, Denise reaches around your filling bulk and plays with your clits as she fingers you. You feel your ribcage and belly stretch to accommodate your stuffing. You inch closer to orgasm, so  full, oh god, so  stuffed. Gretchen shoves more in.

“That’s it wideload, pack that gut, you think you’re the first one, how do you think I got this?” she yanks down her tight pants and plops her massive white belly on the table, she shoves a donut into her navel then pushes your face in after it.

“That’s it hog,” Denise yells, “eat right out of her fat belly, we’re going to grow you one like that you lazy porker.” You start to come: the sweet jelly, the warm softness of Gretchen’s belly, your secret desire to be fattened like an absolute PIG, orgasms explode through you: you come, Denise comes, Gretchen comes.

Denise and Gretchen help you back into your tight clothes, it’s hard not to giggle. They only get the lowest button  of your jeans fastened;  you’re just too bloated. They laugh. They help you into your shirt  which won’t stay down past your ribs. Denise tugs it down, you breathe, it rides back up. More laughter. You waddle into the hall feeling like a parade float,too satisfied to care the state they’ve left you in. Your top rides up showing your alarmingly bloated  belly which stretches out before you round and tight; your pants are unbuttoned down to the last button and still the thick fat of your waist squeezes well over the belt line. You lean slightly back as you pilot your tubby piggy pot towards the exit. You’re red-faced and sweating, your eyes glassy from orgasms and sugar and cream.  Your belly sloshes painfully from side to side.

The receptionist and the people in the waiting room gasp collectively as you puff, puffing just before you waddle your soft, overfed bulk into view.  You’ve never felt so full (or so satisfied.) You cradle your belly with one hand, balance yourself against a wall with the other, and, with shallow breaths,  move slowly towards the door. You turn to the receptionist intending to say 'I’ll call to schedule my next appointment,’ but what comes out is “BUUURRRRRAAAWWWPPPP!!!!”  The receptionist turns pale,  waiting patients inhale sharply, you open the exit door and ease slowly into the warm sunshine.  

SHERLOCK:   "What in god’s name is that?“
JOHN:  "I believe it’s called Tumblr.”
SHERLOCK:   “ … ”
JOHN:   " … “
SHERLOCK:   "So those pants… are very…”
JOHN:   “Red.“
SHERLOCK:   "Yes.  Yes.  They are.”
JOHN:   “And that beekeeper uniform… is very…”
SHERLOCK:   “Impractical.”
JOHN:   “Sortof missing the spirit of the thing, Sherlock.”
SHERLOCK:  “ … " 
JOHN:  ” … “
SHERLOCK:  "Ah.”
JOHN:  “So what say we-”
SHERLOCK:  “-go shopping, yes, that, at once. Come along, John.”

.

– art tumblr displayed is that of @reapersun

There's Many Things I Wish I Didn't Do [a Barry Allen AU]

Request: I know your hard on future!Barry rn but I need more E2 Barry. Or your version of E4 Barry because FUCKING YUM BARRY WITH TATS AND GAUGES PLEASE YES

a/n: oh e4barry… he is yum…


Through the dimly lit living room, Barry tugs off his black tight shirt, tossing it on the chair. With a sigh, he rakes his long fingers through the short light brown hair, messing it up. There’s a light on in the bedroom. Frowning, he speeds to the doorway, coming in. “Babygirl, why are you still up?” he asks, unbuttoning his jeans in front of the dresser.

Instead of responding, you let your eyes map out the muscles in his back, doodling your finger on your thigh in a lazy motion. Barry sighs, stripping off his pants, leaving him in those tight firetruck red boxer briefs that drive you mad. They match his gauges perfectly.

As he removes his silver band from his thin ring finger, placing it on the dresser next to yours, your eyes focus on the tattoo just above his hip. It’s your favorite that he has. In beautiful scroll writing font reads: Ellie - 12.6.14. “I wanted to wait for you.” you whisper, watching him walk to the side of the bed. “I missed you.”

Barry frowns, climbing into bed and pulling the blankets over the both of you. Warmth surrounds you and you snuggle up next to your husband, feeling the cool metal of his bellybutton ring on your lower stomach. “I missed you too, sugar.” he muses, pushing some of your hair off your forehead slowly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to put Ellie to bed.” he mumbles, light green eyes darting around your face.

Sighing, you trace his lightning bolt tattoo on his left pec, leaning your forehead against his freckled cheek. “It’s okay.” you say in a hushed voice, curling your hand on his chest. Another sigh bubbles in his throat while he holds your waist close. “I love you.” you hum, running your hand down his arm to his hand.

His hazel eyes watch your movements intensely; long fingers locking with yours. “I love you too, doll.” he whispers, removing his cheek from your forehead and pressing his nose to your forehead. A shaky breath escapes his plump lips. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this, baby…” he mutters, tears clouding his vision. “We need the money though… and my job pays really good… and, god, I wanna take you and Ellie on that trip so badly…” Barry croaks out, cradling the back of your head in his palm.

“I know you do.” you nod, “We’re going to get that money before her birthday, Barr.” you soooth, cupping his cheek. “And you are the best daddy ever.” you praise, yawning slightly.

The speedster kisses your lips, squeezing your hand. “Sleep, darling.” he whispers, watching your eyelids flutter shut. How is he going to afford that trip to Disney? Looks like he has to use his powers. It’s for a good cause though. If his princess wants to meet princesses, then he’ll do whatever it takes.

anonymous asked:

so after reading that super rude ask the anon sent you... i found out that you initially found them all ugly. just wondering, what,when and how did jimin solidify his ranking as no 1 in your bias list lmao

In my defense the first MV I saw was N.O and…did anyone make it out of that era looking good? “Everybody say no!” Anyways it was a combination of the styling, the hair (dear god, Namjoon and Yoongi, whyyy), and the fact that they all looked incredibly young that probably made them all seem unattractive to me. Then I saw Boy In Luv where, again, they all looked so young and were dressed in school uniforms which, as an older fan, is just not as attractive as it might be to younger kids. Anyways, to make this shorter, the videos that were out at the time all featured baby fetus Bangtan and terrible styling decisions plus outrageous amounts of eyeliner.

So the first comeback I was around for was Danger. The teaser photos came out and I visibly cringed what with Yoongi’s tear drop tattoo. Oh god…flashbacks. But Hoseok actually looked good and was the first member that caught my eye as far as being attractive. Tae and Jimin’s styling wasn’t awful but they still looked pretty young so I kinda just glazed over them. Namjoon’s pompadour hair was a huge turn off as was Yoongi’s red color and Seokjin’s hair was waaaaay too similar to an abusive ex-bf of mine for me to even look at him.

War of Hormone was probably the first time I actually noticed Tae and Jimin. Those red pants. That lilac hair that faded to the best blonde ever. Jimin’s messy brown hair. 😍 That was when the 95z became my bias and bias wrecker (though poor Jimin was relegated to the wrecker position) for reasons other than their personalities and my love for their friendship.

Fun tidbit: I didn’t have a bias in BTS at all until KCon 2014. When they were introducing themselves and it got to Jimin and he rushed out “I’m Jimin, yeah” I thought “that’s it. This is my bias.” But then Tae showed up at the end all “HI! HOW ARE YOU? GOOD. ME TOO. V!” and waved like a happy little angel of a child I clutched my chest and flip flopped on Jimin immediately. I’ve been disloyal since the beginning lol.

anonymous asked:

i love brendon showing off his gay i mean u knew it from fever no straight man dresses like that or is That close to his best friend but now he's just going all out with the glitter and the leather pants and those red fucking heeled boots. god bless him

he’s really doin that

Don’t ask me why, I just wanted to paint something, and instead of working in old linearts, I ended dooling something New. Also, I like the guys together. I imagine Tendo being Besties with Newt and having a good relationship with Hermann…
Those red pants belongs to Alison, And Newt totally bought those clothes to Hermann, and he pretends he dislike them, but he totally loves them.

primary colour flashy trio

(I may turn thins into a print because i liked it)

Remember those awful red pants?

yeah, these.

 I’m sure many have asked themselves, “Whhhhhyyy??” “Whaaaat??” and incredulous at how Greg, generally not a walking fashion disaster ended up with them. Well, I’d like to draw attention to the time-frame….who was he with? (Hint: he’s on the left….) 

Yeah. This…

Look familiar? Looks like the pink strat wasn’t the only thing he borrowed (literally or…I guess stylistically) from Gary. 

(Let’s play spot-the-wardrobe….didn’t Greg and Bob Fripp share the same shirt in the Crimson days as well?)