hard calves

pynch smut ;)

@egglorru requested:

Pynch - While at college Adam makes Ronan a dirty video, using those fingers Ronan loves so much to work himself open in full view. It’s half to tide Ronan over till he’s able to come home for a weekend and half to train Ronan that his phone is really not so bad

So, here you go :) ♥

Since it’s nsfw, find it under the cut or here on ao3. 

Prompt me TRC stuff! :) 

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tell me if you guys want some from Free! and KNB

HINATA’S LEG MUSCLES ARE HARD, BOTH HIS CALVES AND THIGHS. For this ball of sunshine to jump high enough to jump over Lev’s head, he must have some really impressive leg muscles.

Kageyama’s hair is really soft and so is Asahi. No one can convince me otherwise that everyone in the team ran their fingers through their hair at least once.

Tanaka has steady hands. Good for sewing because he needs to know how to because the last time he asked his sister to sew something for him ended in a disaster.

Daichi is A WALKING hEATER. Try hugging him on a particularly cold day and you’d rather die than let go.

Yamaguchi’s skin is really smooth (except his hands). aND HIS CHEEKS ARE SQUISHY. I WILL NAME HIM SQUISHY anD HE WILL BE MY SQUISHY.

TSUKKI IS REALLY TICKLISH. Not on a particular spot but it changes everytime, as if his body has a mood that it wants his tickle spot on his nape and it’s a total nightmare that Hinata and Noya always guesses right where his next tickle spot is haha.

Yachi is too huggable and IT SHOULD BE ILLEGAL. Everyone really wants to hug this walking ray of sunshine but was to scared to scare her but Hinata was the only one who was able to hug her (it was spontaneous to, right after a particularly difficult match then he hugged her in excitement *whispers* kiss herrr)

NOYA IS REALLY FLEXIBLE. Holy crap then he scared the living daylights off of the team when he landed on a split after a jump toss attempt, (except for tanaka who was laughing his guts out yelling “NICE TOSS!”)


Suga’s voice is so comforting it can lull anyone to sleep. Don’t lie to me if you haven’t thought about this.


Lev isn’t particularly strong. He’s a beanpole and can’t carry anyone to save his life, save for kenma, who is a literal cat and weights like one too. I’m also pretty sure that yaku is way stronger than Lev.

Kuroo and Bokuto are proud of their biceps. CAN ANYONE IMAGINE THOSE NERDS TAKING PICTURE AFTER PICTURE OF THEMSELVES FLEXING WITH THEIR SLEEVES ROLLED UP. (and it won’t matter which camera, once, they even used kenma’s phone and changed his wallpaper to the picture of them flexing)

Akaashi is a light sleeper and it takes him almost an hour to fall asleep. He hates it when Bokuto and Kuroo are in the room because of all the noise they make SAVE HIM

Kenma is so used to pulling all nighters for his games that he doesn’t get eyebags from lack of sleep. I’m jealous… that’s about it

Ushiwaka’s spikes are so strong that the ball bounced from the other wall and back to him… right to his face. The whole court went silent save for Tendou’s laughter.

dreaming-intherain  asked:

no. 50 for SuperCat from that Writing Prompts 2.0 thing. thank you! happy writing =]

Supercat + 50 “I’m starting an idiot jar. Any time you do or say anything idiotic, you have to put at least a dollar in it—more depending on how stupid the thing that you said or did was.” 

“I’m starting an idiot jar. Any time you do or say anything idiotic, you have to put at least a dollar in it- more depending on how stupid the thing you said or did was.” Cat pushed the empty jar across Kara’s desk. It was strange being on opposite sides of the desk than usual, but Kara was beginning to get used to it the more Cat visited her in her own office. “I’ve got a similar arrangement with Carter, but his is for swearing.” 

“I’m not doing that. You pay Carter’s allowance; it makes sense that he’d lose it for breaking rules. You do not pay- oh.” Kara stopped, momentarily losing her argument as Cat started to grin. “It’s not the same thing. I’m not giving you money.” 

“Then stop doing stupid things. Like almost getting yourself killed this morning. That’s worth at least a twenty.” Cat leaned back in her chair, throwing her feet up on the desk, shoes having been abandoned the minute she’d entered Kara’s office. She toed at the jar, pushing it into Kara’s lap. The label Cat had put on it facing up, “Kara’s Idiot Jar”

“I don’t have a twenty.” Kara sat the jar back up on the desk and ripped the label off of it, tossing it in the trash. “Just take it out of my paycheck next week.” 

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OK @ginnyspitch,Because I started it,I tried to pull through.

“You see something you like mami?” Livan flashed her that cocky grin of his, as he increased the speed on the treadmill.

He gestured at his pecs and abs, exposed for all to see. She learned quickly that Livan wasn’t a fan of wearing clothes, and at any given moment the whole locker room was subjected to his rock hard abs, athletic calves, or impossibly toned ass.

“I don’t blame you, lots of girls can’t resist,” his eyes darted in her direction drinking in her reaction, because she also learned he got off on flustering people. “Some guys can’t either.” He winked.

She shook her head at him, and hurled a paperball at his head. It bounced off the bill of his snap back and hit the floor.

“You sure you’re a pitcher, chica?” He teased. That time she got the smirk with the Duarte dimple. His special.

“Shut up!” She finished the water in her bottle as she sidled up to him and draped herself across the front of the treadmill. She eyed him for a long moment, until his piercing dark eyes bored into her and he raised a brow in question.

“What are you doing on Thursday?” She hoped he didn’t hear the hesitancy in her voice, but he picked up on more than most people gave him credit for.

“Why?” He slowed down to a walking pace on the treadmill and stared at her until she squirmed.

She didn’t know why she was so embarrassed. One thing about Livan was he took to her no problem, and always seemed to be willing to do whatever she asked of him no questions asked. They clicked instantly…had a bond, she couldn’t quite describe. They were fast friends, and for some reason, she was the only one on the team he actually let in.

“It’s Thanksgiving…and,” she exhaled, put on her ‘conquer the world’ face and stared him down. “I’m going to have a Thanksgiving dinner. A Friendsgiving. And your ass better come.”

He looked down at her, amused. “I don’t get why you guys celebrate the last meal before a genocide.”
She furrowed her brow, unable to dispute him. “I like food.”

He shrugged. “Me too, mami. I hope your ass can cook.”
She snapped her towel on his ass. “Just for that, you’re gonna be my sous chef.”

He chuckled. “Whatever you say, Bonita.”
“That’s what I thought, papi.” She called over her shoulder as she left.


She didn’t expect Livan to come to her suite at the buttcrack of dawn, but she forgot he stayed down the road from her. Hours later she found herself staring at a burnt small turkey, soupy sweet potato pie, and a host of other bordering on disastrous dishes.

She was sweaty, cranky , and starving. She was pretty sure she broke a mixer. There had also been a fire. Just one. A small one. Barely anything to sniff at, really. None of her dishes came out quite like she had planned, but Livan’s did. That dimpled bastard just casually whipped up ropa vieja and a side of fried plantains like it was nothing. But no worries, it wasn’t nearly as good as his abuela’s.

“I’m not sure if any of this tastes any good,” she huffed, blowing a strand of hair out of her eye.

“Not true,” Livan assured her. He was sitting on the counter with a plate of cranberry sauce in his hand, kicking his feet like a toddler. “Thisshh ish good,” he managed around a mouthful of maroon gelatin.
“It came out of a can, Duarte.”

“But you sliced it really well,” he tried to keep a straight face, but his lips twitched.

She glared at him and was about to give him a piece of her mind , but there was a knock on the door.
“Get that, ” she ordered him as she swatted at his leg prompting him to hop off the counter. “I’ll try to salvage some of this.”

The frown she made must have been pathetic or adorable, because he tussled her hair and muttered something in Spanish on his way to opening the door.

“Duarte,” Mike nodded in greeting.

“Cap,” Livan replied.

“Now that you boys got that outta the way.” She rolled her eyes at theit macho rivalry they still hadn’t let go of. Then she groaned when she realized she left the bag of organs inside the charred bird.

“Things are going about as well as I expected,” Mike scrunched his nose up at the soupy mashed potatoes.

“Things might have gone better if you came when I asked you to, Old Man. At least Duarte was here to help.”

“Help what? Put out the fire?” He grinned when she winced at his astute comment, and he distracted himself using a fork to steal a bite of the ropa vieja.

“This is actually good.”

“Duarte made it,” she responded sweetly, inwardly snickering at Mike’s grunt as he dropped the fork on the counter. “Here that papi? Mikey likes it.”

“Obviamente, mami,” Duarte’s smug expression and Mike’s glare was enough to make her snort.

“Livan actually came early and helped, unlike some people…”

“Ha, I knew most of what you made would probably be inedible, I’ve watched you burn eggs…eggs! I figured I’d come in and save your ass in the end.”

“You bring a smorgasbord of food I’m not seeing or something?” She crossed her arms, defensive.

“Oh, I can make a mean bird, Rookie. But no, I called dibs on Christmas..no, New Years. I’ll show you my skills then.” He turned a pan of Mac and cheese upside down and marveled at its inability to fall out.
“Yeah, you’re doing what I do on holidays when I don’t feel like spending them alone, which is what you were expected to do from the beginning…”

She raised her brow, waiting for him to finish. Livan went back to eating the plate of cranberry sauce like his life depended on it. She probably should stock up on snacks next time she invites someone over.

“C'mon rookie…s,” he begrudgingly amended, when he realized it would be in poor taste to not acknowledge the cocky Cuban. “Evelyn will have my balls if we’re late.”

“You say that like you’re afraid of her,” she teased him as she grabbed her jacket.

“You say that like you’re not,” he quipped back, giving her his trademark smirk. “He can come along,” he nodded at Livan. “But he’s sitting in the back.”

Livan snorted, looked at Ginny as if to say “do you believe this guy?” and gathered some of his things. Not all of them, she noted. Lawson noticed it too, based on the way he narrowed his eyes. They were such children, both of them.

“And we’re bringing this,” Mike reluctantly grabbed the ropa vieja like it physically pained him to acknowledge that it was good. “And these,” he muttered as he grabbed the plantains too.

Mike darted out the suite without saying anything more, and Livan with his pantheresque swagger, was not far behind. She wondered how she would survive the car ride to the Sanders home with the both of them.


“Estupido pendejo!” Livan shouted at the flat screen, a game console in hand. The Sanders twins giggled, and she swatted Livan’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Evelyn scolded as she set the silverware on the dining room table. “Language, Livan!”

“Lo siento, mamita.”

She snickered, because about ten seconds after meeting her, Evelyn already had some kind of hold on Livan. He actually looked apologetic.

“I knew we were taking one stray in, probably two, but how did we end up hosting three of you?” Blip asked.

“Baker’s fault, not mine,” Mike took a long swig of his beer as he watched the rowdy bunch arguing over a video game in the living room. “And since when have I been a stray?”

“Since when have you not been a stray?” Blip countered. He used his “I Kiss the Cook” apron to open his own beer and took a swig.


“The kids table is bigger than the adult table,” Blip whined. “We’re outnumbered!”

“Oh hush,” Evelyn smacked Blip in the back of the head as she passed him. She headed back into the kitchen to gather the rest of the dishes.

“As long as Livan makes dishes like this, he’s always welcome in my home,” Evelyn grinned as she put both of his dishes on the dining room table.

“I’ll give you whatever you want, mamita,” Livan called out. He took his eyes off the game briefly and winked at Evelyn.

“C'mon, man, that’s my wife,” Blip stated, as if anyone in the room doubted him. “Must you really flirt with everything in a skirt?”

“Not just a skirt,” Livan clarified giving Blip a wink too. “Besides, I’m Cuban.”

She collapsed into Livan, laughing hysterically, and somewhere she heard Evelyn’s giggling, and Mike choking on his beer.

“Wash up for dinner everyone!” Evelyn called out. “No running in the house!” She added when she heard the stampede to the bathroom.

“You were so cheating!” One of the twins had made it his mission to argue with her the entire time back to the table.

“No I didn’t,” she contested as she settled into a seat.

She turned around and saw Livan bringing up the rear, with the other twin slung over his back, piggy- back style.

“Alright hop off now mijo,” he patted the boy on the leg. “We’ll figure out a plan later,” he whispered conspiratorially as the kid nodded covertly.

“How he just gon call my child his son…That’s my son.” Blip grumbled under his breath, much to the amusement of everyone.

“Livan,” Evelyn warned, brow cocked. “Hat.”

“Right, my bad mamita,” he blushed as he took the snap back off and hung it from the back of the chair.

She looked around the table, at all the food, and all of the people who had become her own family, and she smiled.

“I just,” she cleared her throat trying to speak over the lump in her throat. Mike stared at her, eyes as intense as ever, and she knew, he knew…he knew what she was feeling. His eyes were warm and he gave her a brief smile that was just for her.

“I just want to say, thank you for having me, and I’m just really grateful to spend the holiday with people who mean so much to me.” She nodded, as if physically confirming the sentiment. “Anyway, when do we start eating? I’m starved.”

“When aren’t you Aunt Ginny?” One of the twins said as everyone laughed.

“I think that’s the one I like,” Mike joked, pointing at one of the boys.

“Heyyyy, what about me Uncle Mike?” The other scrunched his face, offended.

“You’re my favorite too,” Mike whispered, just for him.

“I thought I was your favorite Uncle Mike?” She gave him a cheesy grin.

“You’re a pain in my ass, Rookie, that’s what you are,” Mike shot back.

“You sure that’s not just one of your usual ailments, Old Man?”

“Ha, ha” Mike made a face. “Are we gonna eat or not? The food is about to get cold!” He cleared his throat, “Pass me some of that, uh, rope stuff.”

sorkinsgirlfriday  asked:

Word for Castle ficlet: airport

Also for the Anon who requested the same word. 

There’s a stitch forming in her chest, building and aching with every slap of her feet against the tile floor. She’s never been more grateful for the ability to run in high impractical footwear, or for the tactical training that helps with dodging the shuffle-walk of confused tourists and unhurried locals loitering around the terminal. 

Even the badge clipped to her waistband has been instrumental in cutting the lines and avoiding the clogged security of passengers heading to unknown destinations in early November. 

But the badge, her training and whatever natural grace allows Kate to stay upright as she skids around a corner and misses a pair of twenty-somethings pushing a luggage cart and chatting in rapid Italian doesn’t help the fact that she cannot breathe. 

Her lungs burn even when she manages a gasping breath, eyes fixed on the length of the concourse and the far away Gate 12 sign. That’s the one she needs, the one that is now boarding passengers and something like eight minutes from take off. 

She sincerely hopes she hasn’t missed her shot, that the usual little kid attention span will work in her favor. If they’re already on the plane she’s not sure what she’ll do. Lie about official police business, and flash her badge if it comes to that. 

Regardless, she can’t let them get on the plane and Kate pushes herself to a full sprint, running the last hundred feet towards the gate where a handful of stragglers have lined up to present their boarding passes. 


She doesn’t see him so much as the shining beacon that is Alexis’ hair, the girl sandwiched between the darker red of her grandmother and an older man that Kate doesn’t immediately recognize. 

“Beckett, what are you doing here?” 

The voice comes from behind her, shocked and a little amazed. Those are the same emotions that play across the writer’s face when she turns to look at him, a large shopping bag from one of the concourse stores clenched in one hand with his carry on suitcase handle with the other holds a grande coffee. 

“I’m—” the truth catches in her throat, suffocating Kate with all its possibilities. After hustling across mid-afternoon traffic, after beating security and running so hard that her calves are aching in protest she’s frozen with the realization that she doesn’t know what to say. 

So she goes with actions, growling in frustration at both her lack of vocal ability and the adorable crinkle of confusion that her partner is giving her. In two smooth steps she’s crossed the distance between them and grasped his face between her hands, pulling Richard Castle in for a searing, heated kiss. 

In an instant there’s a clatter of plastic and the dull thud of a suitcase, her feet also take a splash of the hot coffee that tumbles from his hands; hands that have now wrapped around her torso and tugged Kate directly against a broad chest. 

He kisses her until she’s dizzy, tongue plundering into her mouth and teeth grazing across her bottom lip. It’s intoxicating and electric, both everything she expected and nothing she’s ever known all at once. 

They’re both blushing furiously when they part, Kate discreetly presses her lips together to savor the sensation of how they are swollen and dark pink from Castle’s efforts. “Don’t go to London,” she breathes, using her thumb to glide across the pad of his bottom lip, “The story isn’t over, for Nikki or for us.” 

auspiciousleader  asked:

Soma, I found a liquor store and I drank it

“Maka?” Soul creaked his bedroom door open and peered out at Maka’s closed one. Moments ago, he jolted up from his nap, feeling backlash waves of elation and a disturbance in his soul. A menacing aura of despair clouded the entire apartment complex and there was only one person whose mood could affect the air itself.

He knocked once with his knuckle and paused. After he counted to 5, he called out, “I know you’re in there Maka, open up,” no answer came from the inside but he knew better. He turned the bronze knob but didn’t push it open. Instead, he gave her time to situate herself before he entered.

She was curled in her pink sheets under her desk, like a ball of cotton candy with a fluffy head of hair. She sniffed once as Soul padded to her bed to sit down, then sniffed once again as he shifted to make himself comfortable. The bed was still warm, even though it was missing the blanket and body.

He patted the pillow next to him and watched the girl rise tentatively. Her covered fingers pulled the blanket over her head like a hood and she crossed the floor while hiding her face. Maka stumbled onto her bed, face planting on the pillow and legs over Soul’s lap. She rubbed the soft fabric with her nose, pressing it closer with her hands and mumbled, “Pon pon. It’s dusty.”

Soul sighed exasperatedly, “You’re supposed to be with BlackStar—”


“—on your usual bro-sis day—”


He shushed her and continued, “There was a bet involved somewhere in this, wasn’t there. So now you’re home early and in this state. That’s all I can figure out, now spill.”

Maka buried her face deeper and started, “-ell ‘e ‘as just—”

He pinched her rock hard calves, earning a yelp, “Can’t hear you.”

She wiggled a little in place and made “Nyan nyan” sounds, pushing herself upright next to him after she was satisfied.


“We were just talking and playing around,” her voice slurred her “a”s and the rest of her vowels, “just playing yah know. Den he said the thing,” no response came, “Yeh that thing. Was like “you aren’t a badass” and I was like “yah I am” and he said “prove it”. So—”

Soul raised his eyebrow, “So?”

“—So I found a liquor store and I drank it,” her face darkened and she pulled the blanket closer, “and I beat him up. He died.”

Soul smirked and rubbed her back soothingly, feeling her relax and leaning against him. These death kids and their slurs.  “Where’s he now.”

“Liz found him and Patty snuck me in through the window. Didn’t wanna use the door. I live a hardcore thug life.”

They fell into a comfortable silence after her choppy tale. Soul pulled up a mental map of the city and connected the details. If the twins were in the story then the death children must have had their brawl in the plaza. It was the perfect day and time for it too, they didn’t have a good stress relieving scuffle in for weeks. There was a liquor store near the café and that was probably when the twins caught Maka and Star, no doubt screaming at each other about their superiority before getting physical.

A warm hand interrupted Soul’s thoughts and he looked down at her, “Nappy.”

Her body completely collapsed, trusting Soul’s hands to guided her down, one of them still on her back and the other at work, pulling the hooded sheet from her head and letting it fall to the side. He straightened her legs behind him and removed her socks one by one, dropping them at the foot of the bed. Soul exhaled deeply and a desire to return to his own interrupted nap.

Before he could rock onto his feet, Maka reached out and pinched his arm, “Payback.”

He shot her a grimace but she wasn’t done yet.

“What would you do if someone said they loved you?” her mouth barely moved but he heard it in his soul.

“I’d ask them why they suddenly wanted to say it.”

Maka tucked both hands under her pillow, “What if they said it was ‘cause they’d loved you for so long, they couldn’t wait anymore.”

Soul swung his legs onto the bed and laid his body around hers, “I’d tell them I’ve loved someone longer than them. Aren’t you supposed to be a happy, violent drunk? What made you a sleepy, brooding one?”

“Straight up gin sucks.”


She pulled an eyelid up, meeting his stare, “Soul? I—”

He interrupted her and pulled her closer, “Not when you’re drunk. Move, I need to get more comfy.” He slid an arm under her neck as she shuffled closer to the wall.

She was the one who fell asleep first, always helpless against his hands whenever they stroked her cheek.

Fic: Making A Home

Here, let’s all drown our sorrows/celebrate our book tour happiness (I am the former, fyi) in hella late 5x20 reaction fic!

Based on Caroline thehouseofthebrave’s prompt: Process of kurt surprising blaine with the work space, ~1000 words, PG.

In retrospect, Blaine should’ve known Kurt was up to something. Kurt wasn’t exactly the stealthiest of planners, especially when he was excited, and he had slipped up once or twice.

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anonymous asked:

Your body is really normal except for a pair of quads, no shoulders muscle no hard abs no popping calves. Literally just quads, and your legs really look sort of out of proportion. Keep it up though, your legs might look proportional at the end💪

😂😂😂😂 it honestly must suck to be as jealous and bitter as you