#custom made rugby jerseys

[enkas-illusion]

3, 2, 1… Blow The Candle 

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Geto Suguru x f!reader

Rating: NSFW/Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Genre/Theme: Established relationship; non-sorcery au

Content warning: fluff, eventual smut, oral (m.receiving), explicit sexual content, language, angst, sexually frustrated Geto.

Summary: What is the best birthday gift for Suguru, you ask? Riling him up till he reaches his breaking point before surprising him on his birthday with a gift he’ll never forget (aka, you give him the best head he’s ever received).

Author's Note: Hello, I was down bad for Suguru, wanting to give him the glock-glock 9000 and boom, this one-shot was born. I was too lazy to write the entire smut scene but let me know if you’d like a Part 2, I could use the extra motivation T.T 

Thank you for reading! 

~ Eren’s Birdie

Song Dedication: Religion by Lana Del Rey

Geto Suguru wasn't the kind to celebrate his birthdays with much enthusiasm — it's not that he hated them… he just couldn't care less about them. For him, it was just a reminder of another year passing. And although he never said it out loud for fear of sounding too cheesy, he cared more about the time he got to spend with his people.

So this year, you wanted to please your boyfriend in a way that he preferred, giving him a good time that would be hard to forget. You’d both taken leaves from work for tomorrow to get some alone time all day together before going out for dinner with friends.

With just a few hours till midnight, you were making mental notes of everything you had planned for tomorrow, ticking each item off your checklist. Last year, you’d gotten him an electric guitar, based on Satoru’s recommendation – which Suguru loved, of course, but he had joked that you could simply bake him a cake and he’d be the happiest man on earth.

Which was ironic coming from someone who’d constantly bombard you with flowers and presents for relationship milestones and celebrations that were days or even months away. Suguru was all for spoiling his girl but when it came to receiving, his love language was, more often than not, physical touch.

And that’s what you decide you’d do. Your plan was to make tonight extra special. So, while you had materialistic gifts lined up, you had other things in mind to please the birthday boy.

You’d asked a friend to bake a batch of hash brownies, paying extra for good quality stuff, since you knew that’s how Suguru liked it – he was the type to easily distinguish good quality weed from the subpar one. 

You’d also ordered a custom made jersey of his favourite rugby team with his birth date ‘03’ on the back. Since Suguru can sniff out a surprise in an instant, you’d taken extra steps to get it delivered at Satoru’s address instead of yours.

On your way back from work in the evening, you’d received a call from your boyfriend, asking if you could bring take-out since he was too occupied with work to take on dinner duties tonight. You’d agreed, secretly cheering as it would be the perfect opportunity to make a few stops to pick up the brownies from your friend’s and the jersey from Satoru’s place.

When you arrive home to find him seated at the dining table, eyes fixed on the table, you almost fear that he’d gotten back earlier than expected.

“Baby, weren’t you working till late?” you question as you place the food parcel on the table before walking towards him to place a kiss on his temple. He brings his hand up to give you a side hug, not peeling his eyes off the screen.

“I am, I brought the work laptop home since I figured it’d take too long… would rather work here till late than at the office.” 

“Will you be working late into the night?” you ask, feeling a bit disappointed.

“Oh no, I’d be done before midnight hopefully… I know your obsession with wanting to be the first to wish me.” he chuckles. You quickly make an excuse of freshening up to hide your handbag into the cupboard, before returning to the living room again for dinner.

When you’re done with dinner, he quickly gets back to typing away hastily on his laptop. You quietly make your way to the bedroom, locking it behind you. You take the jersey, the box of brownies and other gifts out of your fully stuffed handbag… thanking the heavens for the nth time that your boyfriend was too focused on work to notice anything odd.

After wrapping his gifts and stacking them away in the cupboard, you take your time to shower and shave for the special occasion. You put on a white, skimpy, lace lingerie that leaves barely anything to the imagination before wearing his rugby jersey on top. You twirl in front of the mirror, noting that the jersey nearly covers your ass but would ride up easily if you bent down.

Your heart beats faster as you place a pair of leather handcuffs in a red paper box with black ribbon, placing it next to the box of brownies on the bed. You knew things were going to get wild so you recall your safe word ‘monkey’ just in case, but don’t fixate on it much since you trusted your boyfriend to know just how much he can push you before it gets too much. 

You had mentally prepared yourself for a sexually frustrated Suguru since you hadn’t allowed him to touch you for about 15 days now, which was the longest he’d gone without your touch ever since you started living together almost more than a year ago.

Usually you’d run to him to fuck you on your period since it always helped you with your cramps, but for the first week, it became an excuse to act cranky and bratty, which he took without complaining. You were aware that you probably shouldn’t press his buttons so much since his payback would be 10 times worse but you couldn’t help yourself since it was just so damn easy to rile him up. It revealed his animalistic side in bed, leaving no room for the gentle lover that he sometimes was, and you were a sucker for that.

You loved being ravaged by him because the aftercare was even better. Besides, it wasn’t easy for you either, to act so dumb and innocent in front of him while actively trying to seduce him throughout this whole week. You wanted nothing more than to jump his bones when he wasn’t even trying to seduce you. Your boyfriend was simply existing and it was enough to get you wet. 

At the beginning of your relationship, he’d quickly realised you were on par with him when it came to being horny to the point of borderline sex addict. For a short time, he had your number saved as ‘my succubus <3’ briefly to tease how much you craved his touch all the damn time. It didn’t last for long however, since you made him change it back to your name when Satoru accidentally read it when you’d called Suguru’s phone and started calling you that out loud at insanely inappropriate times in public. 

So imagine your boyfriend’s surprise and confusion when you, of all people, were asking for space because you ‘simply don’t feel like it.’ He respected your wishes, being a respectful gentleman, not wanting to overwhelm you.

Though you knew his patience was wearing thin and almost broke 3 days ago. You’d gotten out of the shower and dropped your towel to the ground as you paced around the room naked, taking longer than usual to decide what dress to put on, moving your hips seductively to The Weeknd’s more explicit and dirtier songs playing softly on your phone. He’d muttered a ‘for fuck’s sake’ before making his way to the bathroom for a quick shower, trying to calm himself down. He only stepped out of the bathroom when he was certain you’d left the house, a few moments after gently knocking on the bathroom door to inform him that you were leaving for work.

When Satoru had asked you why Suguru had been more irritated for the last two weeks, you told him about denying him sex to rile him up. Satoru chuckled, calling you devil incarnate… maybe so, but this devil was sure going to have the time of her life soon so it was a win-win for you.

As you spray on some perfume you know he loves, you hear his voice call out your name. You check the time and gasp – it’s 11:49PM. You place the red box on the bed for later, checking yourself out and fixing your hair one last time before opening the bedroom door.

“Baby, did you fall asleep?” Suguru speaks while sliding it into the bag and placing it on the coffee table. His back is turned to you so you think he doesn’t notice you tip-toeing into the living room.

“And here I was thinking you almost forgot it’s my birthd-” he abandons the joke, his words getting caught in his throat when his eyes land on you as he turns around. 

“Hi,” you giggle sheepishly, suddenly conscious about the way his eyes roam over your body. But you snap out of it just as quickly.

Pull yourself together – you have a plan to execute, a mission to accomplish!

“Sugu, do you like your present? The jersey?” you ask, feigning innocence as you twirl in place. He’s checking you out shamelessly with a devilish look on his face, “Love it.” 

“Hmm. Maybe you should put it on to see if it fits.” you reply as you seductively remove the top and toss it at him. He catches it, a cocky smile plastered on his face as he observes your antics in amusement – so this is what the forced abstinence was about.

“You’re right, we really should make sure it fits.” he peels off his own shirt before putting the jersey on in one swift motion. 

“Perfect.” you smile at him as you walk to where he’s standing near the sofa, your hands landing on his chest as you caress the fabric gently to smoothen the crinkles.

You could melt under how intense his gaze feels. You bite your lip as you blush, hands moving up to rest on his shoulders. He gives your ass a firm squeeze before lightly spanking it, causing you to yelp in surprise as his arms snake around your waist, trapping you.

“Baby, you are in so much trouble tonight.” he brings his lips closer to your ear, biting your earlobe.

“I’m counting on it.” you giggle at the tingling sensation of his lips on your neck. You pull yourself out of his arms and he lets you, following behind when you guide him by his wrist to settle him on the sofa.

“Let me make it up to you, birthday boy,” you say, bending down in front of him, intertwining your fingers with his to pin them to his sides.

You kiss him softly and ever so slowly before letting it deepen. Even with you trying your best to not let him touch you just yet, you know it's a useless effort given that your strength is nothing compared to his. Suguru tightens his grip, fingers still tightly intertwined with yours as he moves your hands to your lower back to lock them there.

You try to wiggle your hands out of his hold and feel him letting go. You try to take back control but his rough grip on your hips indicates otherwise as he pulls your body onto his till you're straddling him. 

You let out a groan as you put your hands on his chest and pull away to catch your breath, feeling his hard poke against your ass. Your hand reaches to your side to pull his wrist to your face as you check his watch, the screen lighting up just on time as 11:59PM turns to 12:00AM.

“Happy…” you give him a small peck on his forehead, “Birthday…” another one on the tip of his nose, “Babyyy.” last one landing on his lips.

He's smiling into the kiss as his grip relaxes a bit. You take the opportunity to slowly move down till you’re kneeling between his legs. You hastily unbutton his pants and he lifts his hips up to let you take them off completely.

Your hand strokes his dick as you lick the tip gently. You slide down his foreskin to reveal his wet tip, your mouth watering at the sight – Suguru might just have the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen.

“Missed this lil’ guy so much.” You tease and he lets out a snort, if there’s one thing that Suguru will never take an offence at is you joking about his dick, it simply doesn’t faze him – and why would it? He knows he’s big.

Your tongue rolls over his tip, causing him to sink down into the sofa, spreading his legs out further. You lick up the base before taking a few inches in your mouth as you hear your boyfriend let out a low groan.

He rests his head back as his eyes close, enjoying the way your tongue feels on his cock after so long. The peace doesn't last however, when his phone rings in the pocket of his pants. 

Mouth still connected to him, you reach a hand down to where his pants are bundled up and pull out his phone to silence it, tossing it onto the sofa next to him. You look up at his face as your mouth moves up and down his length. 

His phone rings again in a few seconds.

“For fucks sake…” he mutters as he looks at who's calling. You release his dick from your mouth, letting your hand take over.

“Who is it?” You ask, kissing at the base.

“Satoru.” he sighs, running his hands through his hair in frustration, “He's gonna keep calling till I answer.”

“It's okay, go ahead,” you assure him, your hands still.

He nods as he answers the call. But right as he's about to greet his best friend on the other end, you take him in your mouth, letting his tip hit the back of your throat slightly as you steady your hands on his thighs.

Suguru cusses out a loud ‘fuck’ as his hands move to your hair, gripping at your strands to steady your movements.

“Hello?” You can hear Satoru's confused tone.

“Sorry… I hit my… elbow.” Suguru speaks into the phone, almost mumbling the excuse, eyes closing as he tries to collect his thoughts.

“Happy birthdayyyyyy best frienddd!” You hear the blondie's sing-song squeal.

“Thank you Satoru.” Suguru says rather plainly, trying to sound as serious as he can. You’re determined to break him though, so you suck him the way only you know makes him lose his mind each time.

He moans as his hand wraps around your hair to take it in a makeshift ponytail. He yanks it… you know it's his way of asking you to behave. 

“I was honestly gonna knock on your door with a cake at midnight… but my favourite bakery was closed since the owner's away… thankfully, she'll be here tomorrow so I'll see you in the morning with only the best cake ever! Soooo what were you up to?” you hear Satoru's rambling on the other end, loving that him being so talkative is wearing Suguru’s patience out.

Your hands move to massage his balls and the base of his cock while your head bops in a steady rhythm, earning a soft groan as he moves his phone away from his face, putting it on mute. 

“Careful baby, this is your only warning.” he groans before unmuting. You release his dick with a pop.

Satoru is still going on when you hear him ask if he's the first to wish Suguru. Just as your boyfriend opens his mouth to speak, you lick at his sensitive tip, almost causing him to moan. He clears his throat to cover it up as he struggles to speak, “yeah… you are.”

“No way! So I beat your girl to it?!” Satoru rejoices.

“Yeah you did… She’s aslee- I’d hate to… wake her up… Bye.” Surugu cuts the call, not waiting for a reply. He tosses his phone to the side, eyes staring you down as you keep on blowing him.

“Baby, if you enjoy having your face stuffed so much…” his grip on your hair tightens while his other hand caresses your cheek briefly, deceitfully gentle, “... let me show you how it’s done.” 

Before you can register his words, you feel his dick hit the back of your throat, tears instantly welling in your eyes. You choke, letting out a few muffled moans and whimpers as he face fucks you, taking back his control.

The intensity feels too much but not enough for you to bail just yet. For times like these, where you cannot speak, you had a safe gesture, tapping his ass thrice on repeat… he’d protested initially by suggesting you do something else but you’d justified it by saying this was the only action that would seem out of place. He has accepted by now that, when it comes to arguments, he can never really win against you. He gave in eventually, still confident you wouldn’t ever need to use it cause, “I’m sure you’ll take anything I give you like a good girl.” One would say he was being too cocky but his words were like holy scripture, you obeyed every single word. 

Within minutes, he’s warning you that he’s about to cum, since he knows you’ve never really been a fan of swallowing. He’s about to pull out to cum on your tits but you swat his hand away, surprising him by sucking him even more fervently. Such a simple action is enough to make him lose his mind. He shoots his load into the back of your throat, warm liquid filling your mouth as you struggle to swallow it all.

When he pulls his cock out, a string of saliva connects it with your lips. You bring the back of your hand up to wipe your lips while he leans down to wipe your tears off your cheeks.

As he observes the black residue of mascara on his fingers, you grip his thighs for support as you stand up. He looks back at you, “God… I love you.”

“I love you too Suguru.” you smile at him as he digs his fingers into the flesh of your thighs, pulling you closer to kiss your abdomen. You giggle and run your fingers through his hair. He brings his arms up to secure them around your lower back before tackling you to the sofa in one quick motion, moving to position himself on top of you.

“SUGURU! I almost had a heart a-” he shuts up your complaint with a kiss and you let your words melt as you kiss him back, moaning at the way his hands rake whatever area of your skin they can find.

Your hands automatically move to his hair as he leaves hungry half kisses over your neck, making his way down to one of your breasts. He licks and bites the hard bud from over your bra, causing you to whimper at the touch. He repeats the action on your other nipple as wet patches form on the fabric.

Your breath hitches when you feel two fingers rub at your clothed pussy, already wet with your arousal.

“Wait… Sugu– please, wait.” you breathe out as he rubs your folds with more pressure. 

“Baby, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep without fucking you tonight.” he groans as his eyes find yours, his face contorted.

“Suguru, I’m not letting you sleep a wink tonight…” you reassure him, cupping his face in your hands to give him a quick peck, “... but please take me to the bedroom first, I might have another present or two for you.”

[fierypen37]

An Acquired Taste

moodboard by @libradoodle1​

An Acquired Taste

 The Night’s Watch was slammed tonight. There were three things northerners loved in boisterous, unabashed fashion: ale, rugby, and hockey. Tonight, the Winterfell Wolves had crushed the Casterly Rock Reds in Game Five of the Torrhen Cup Final four to nothing. The Wolves had been on a cold streak, and the cup hadn’t been theirs in thirty years. When they won, northerners poured out in droves to celebrate. Jon, Tormund, Gendry, and the new barback Satin hustled around the bar. Tom and Marya in the kitchen were slammed too.

While as an owner, Jon was pleased there were so many customers, the bartender in him hated the unending roll of rude, greedy patrons. The air was thick with the heat of crammed bodies, smelling of sweat, the sharp whiff of alcohol and cooking oil. Gods, it was hot. His black t-shirt clung to him, sweat trickled down the back of his neck. Jon irritably blew a strand of hair from his eyes as he leaned over the bar to hear the soft-voiced girl’s order.

“--our,” she shouted.

“What?” Jon shouted back.

“Amaretto sour!” she repeated.

“Lemon lime soda ok?” he said. She nodded eagerly. A plain girl, she wore a well-loved Winterfell Wolves jersey, her hair caked with dye half white, half grey. The look was one he was used to, half admiration, half invitation. Jon kept his smile polite.

“Comin’ up!”  Jon scanned the crowd as he found the square amaretto bottle without looking down. Drinks slid across the bar with machine-like regularity. Billiard balls clacked. The radio blared some top forty song that Jon didn’t know. Jon nudged Gendry.

“Don’t overserve,” he said in his ear. Baratheons thought if you didn’t feel the burn in your throat, it wasn’t a proper drink—and Gendry was no different, even though he’d never met his deadbeat dad. Gendry nodded, measuring the vodka he was pouring more precisely. The din of so many voices were punctuated here and there by a burst of laughter, or angry words. The latter made Jon nervous. From the corner of his eye, he saw Theon and his brothers shoulder in, neutralizing an argument. Theon’s older brother Rodrik leaned over the bar.

“I’ll expect a free drink as acting bouncer!” he said with his long, toothy smile. Jon flipped him a rude gesture, to which Rodrik laughed. I really do need to hire a bouncer for nights like this. Without missing a beat, he poured, adding the sweet and sour mix. He jiggled the jug. Shit, they were almost out.

“Satin! Get more sweet and sour mix from the back!” Jon called over the racket. Ice, topped with a splash of soda, garnish with a cherry. Jon slid the drink to the girl on a black napkin with a nod. Another guy wanted a beer—draft, garnish with a slice of orange. Another a whiskey—ice, pour. Another woman wanted a gin and tonic—gin, ice, top with tonic water, stir, garnish with lime. Another, another, another. The pace slackened to a bit of a lull.  

“I’m taking five,” Jon shouted to Tormund over the din. Tormund nodded.  

Weaving through the crowd out the side door, Jon sucked in a grateful breath of cold, clean air. Ears ringing from the noise, the silence was just as sweet as the cold air. He wished passionately for a cigarette. The urge was always there, even after quitting two years ago. Jon took a long draught of water from his reusable bottle. Dany had used her fancy water infuser to make mint-lemon water for him. It tasted delicious. He sucked down gulps of it. Reaching for his phone, he tapped out a question. Can you fly?

The back-and-forth of learning the extent of her abilities was surprisingly fun. Hypnosis, speed, strength, enhanced senses, immortality. Pretty fucking awesome. No mind-reading, though, and she didn’t need an invitation to enter a home. Three dots danced on the screen.

Of course I can fly

WHAT??? Really?

I have a pilot’s license 😊

             Jon smiled at his phone. Dany had been generous to the point of desperate in the week since she’d confessed. In bed and out. As flattering as it was, Jon reassured her it wasn’t necessary. He was glad a semblance of their usual easy humor had returned. In fact, it was almost like he could sense her smile. Bummer she couldn’t shapeshift into a bat or a raven though. If Jon could have a superpower, he would have chosen shapeshifting. I miss you, he typed. Dany kept the details of her ‘work trip’ vague—code for hunting. Jon wondered what it was like to be her prey. That smooth, liquid gait, her ethereal colors kissed by moonlight, her cool hands clamped tight around his throat, the sharp sting of her fangs—

“Fuck,” Jon said. There was that gut flip of terror and excitement . . . and he was hard as brass. How about that. He had a biting kink? Who knew?

I miss you too The dots danced.

Are you ok? Jon frowned, scanning the previous messages for why she was concerned. Heat flushed his cheeks at the thought of her being privy to his musings. She promised she wasn’t able to read his mind, but sometimes she made him wonder.  

The bar’s fucking slammed, but I’m fine Jon glanced at the time on his phone. His five was up about three minutes ago.

Hydrate. I’ll be home in morning Jon was at a loss with how to reply, so he settled on a thumb’s up emoticon.

He waded through the throngs back to the bar. Damn, there was nothing but slushy water in the ice bucket. Wet, wrinkled napkins littered the bartop. Liquor bottles strewn on the workspace.

“The fuck is this mess, Tormund? I’m gone for five godsdamned minutes and it all goes to shit,” he said, shoving bottles back in their places. He shouted at Satin for more ice and napkins. The rush had slackened. People had their drinks and were munching on cheese fries, or playing pool, or reliving the high points of the game on replay. Tormund grinned sidelong at him, mopping the bartop with a rag.

“When’s Dany getting back?” he asked. Jon’s irritation mellowed at the joke. He grinned.

“Early tomorrow.”

“Thank the gods,” Tormund said.

They had time to reorganize before patrons finished their drinks. A second wave broke. Another, another, another. Close this tab, cut this guy off before he’s too pissed, shout for Satin to fetch more ice, tell this kid off for flashing a fake ID, diffuse an argument. Announce last call. A seemingly unending roll of closed tabs. Wads of damp cash. Swipe, swipe, swipe. Tormund’s booming voice ushering the last rowdy patrons out. Jon’s ears rang in the sudden silence.

“Good work, everyone. Tips are divided even, remember,” Jon said. Gendry and Tormund settled into their usual post-close tasks. Satin took initiative and began flipping barstools.

“Satin, we need to clean everything before we set up the chairs,” Jon said, coughing to clear hoarseness from his voice. Satin blushed prettily, dark curls bobbing as he nodded.

“Sure, boss. I’ll get right on it,” he said.

It was almost four in the morning before Jon was satisfied with the state of the Night’s Watch.

“Get some rest. We’re taking tonight off,” Jon said. The take was good—really good. He could afford closing for a night to give his employees a day off. There was a couple hoots and applause. Jon waved it off.

“We’ve earned it. I’ll lock up.”

The walk home passed in a fog. Ghost greeted him with a thump of his tail, but otherwise did not stir. Dany had taken him on a long run before she left for her ‘work trip.’ Jon shuffled up the stairs and collapsed facedown on his bed, toeing off his boots. He snuffled into his pillow. He could smell Dany: notes of apples and jasmine shampoo and another note he couldn’t place, but knew was hers. Jon hummed, breathing deeply of the smell and was comforted by it. Sleep took him.

Ghost’s cold nose woke him.

“Off, Ghost,” Jon croaked, his mouth dry and mossy. He blinked into the dimness of his room, realizing he was straight in the bed and tucked in the sheet and cover. Dany. Jon smiled, touched by the tender gesture. He groped for his phone on the bedside table—it was dead. Dimly, he heard the homey clatter of dishes and the hiss of a pan. Dany was downstairs cooking. Jon roused himself from the warm comfort of his bed to tiptoe on socked feet to the shower. He felt more human (what a pun) once he showered with his teeth brushed. Some spice filled the air, along with the scent of sizzling meat. Jon’s mouth watered. He pulled on sweatpants and headed down.  

“Smells delicious,” Jon said as he descended the stairs. Ghost clattered down at his heels.

“About time you’re awake, you lazy sod!” Arya said. Jon cursed, startled.

“Fucking hells, Arya! What did I say about boundaries?” Jon said. Dany manned the stove, resplendent in a midnight blue sundress, her silver hair in a single braid down her back. Arya stood smirched in flour, dredging chicken cutlets. Arya shrugged.

“Boundaries smoundaries, cuz. I wanted to meet Dany.”

Jon leveled a mock glare at Arya, winding one arm around Dany and kissing the curve of her shoulder.

“‘Mornin,’” he rumbled, watching over her shoulder as she deftly sauteed vegetables and fried the chicken in separate skillets.

“Evening more like, Lord Commander. It’s five o’ clock,” Dany teased, nuzzling a wayward lock of his hair with her nose. Wow, he never got sleep like that. Jon kissed the side of her neck, feeling her subtle shiver. Unbidden came the thought of her biting him and Jon warded off another surge of terror and arousal.

“Eech, no PDA, please. And where’s your shirt?” Arya said with a shudder.

“You don’t want to see it, don’t break in,” Jon shot back, continuing to happily nuzzle Dany’s neck. He couldn’t see her face, but he could sense her smile. There it was again, that weird reflection of her mood. Was it a vampire thing?

“I hope my cousin hasn’t been too obnoxious,” Jon said.

“Not at all, we’ve been chatting. She says she has all the dirt on you,” Dany said, flipping the sizzling cutlets. Jon gulped.

“Dirt?” his voice cracked. It was too damn early for this. Arya’s grin was pure evil.

“Yeah. Like when you were thirteen and got really into seances and shit. I can’t tell you how many times I found him asleep in the godswood.” He felt Dany stiffen. Jon swallowed.

“I guess I’ve always liked supernatural stuff,” he said.

“Or that time my mom walked in on you--”

“Arya, for the love of all the gods, shut up!” Jon thundered. Arya giggled, unrepentant. Jon hugged her roughly.

“Now quit making a mess of that and go set the table,” Jon said.

The meal was excellent: the chicken was crispy and had the perfect balance of salt and spice, the vegetables tender and flavorful. Jon shoveled it down with relish, and wondered how she was such an excellent cook when she didn’t eat. Decades of practice, he supposed. Conversation flowed as easily as the wine, and Jon felt pleasantly tipsy as the three of them sprawled on the couch. Jon lay with his head in Dany’s lap. Her cool fingers carded through his hair in hypnotic strokes, lulling him into a contented stupor. Arya lounged crosswise on the loveseat, swinging her feet.

“I see why Jon wanted to keep you to himself, Dany. Every one of my siblings would question your taste,” she said with her lupine grin.

“I suppose Jon is an acquired taste,” Dany joked, rubbing his arm to soften the words. Jon snorted loudly. Acquired taste?

“Hah! That’s an excellent way to put it!” Arya chortled.

Dany clicked through their streaming services to settle on a show. Arya loved true crime shows, forensics. During her last deployment, Arya’d binged shows and podcasts alike—a potential career once she was discharged from the military. She and Dany debated the pros and cons of various career tracks, the best being the House of Black and White in Braavos. He loved how Dany could speak intelligently on almost any topic. Jon lost interest in the show and watched the colors of the TV wash over Dany’s perfect white skin. Dany grinned at something Arya said, displaying the wet white gleam of her teeth. Fangs.

Arya said her goodbyes after a text from Gendry. Her motorcycle turned over with a roar, and she sped off, short brown hair whipping behind her. Dany rounded on him.

“What is it?” she demanded, with a fierce scowl. Jon sat up from where he lay draped on the porch bench, muddled by wine and drowsing.

“What?” he said. Dany made an irritated sound, jabbing his chest with her fingertip.

“Ow!” Jon said, with a giggle. It tickled more than anything. Dany flattened her lips, fighting a smile.

“You’ve been looking at me strangely all night. Did I say something wrong to Arya? She was already here when I got home,” she said. Jon stood.

“No no, it’s not that. Arya really likes you. She wouldn’t have hung around if she didn’t.” Dany chewed on her lower lip in a very distracting way.

“I just . . . you talk a lot about your cousins, and I wondered why we hadn’t met yet.”

Jon sobered, blinking owlishly. His brain was slow on the uptake. Dany was feeling . . . insecure? That boggled the mind. He scrubbed his chin.

“Dany, my family’s . . . a lot. Since my uncle died, my aunt and one cousin—we don’t speak. They despise me. The rest are normal enough, but ever since the Ygritte Incident, I haven’t brought any girlfriends around.” Not that he’d had a girlfriend since his hellbitch of an ex until Dany.

“I didn’t want to overwhelm you. Scare you off,” he finished lamely. Dany relaxed.

“I’d hoped that I hadn’t . . . ruined it.” By telling you what I am, the last was unspoken, but rang in the air between them all the same.

Jon pulled her into a tight hug. He breathed in the dizzying smell of her hair, apples and something wild he couldn’t place. Insects hummed, a faint chilly breeze stirred the air.

“Of course not. I’ll call Robb tomorrow. We’ll have ‘em all over for a cookout. Full Stark immersion.” Dany nuzzled his neck.

“That sounds nice.”

Dany bumped her forehead gently against his, leveling a narrow violet glare at him. One hand reached down and playfully grabbed a handful of his arse. Jon twined his arms around her with a chuckle. They danced a little on the creaking porch and Jon fancied himself truly happy.

“Is there anything else you’re thinking about?” she asked. Jon squirmed under her direct gaze. The words were on his tongue, but he chickened out.

“I was just thinking . . . has anyone ever . . . enjoyed it? Knowing what you are?” Daenerys’ posture relaxed and Jon inwardly marveled at how much more comfortable she was around him. He noticed when she was too still, too focused, too different. Dany snorted, rolling her eyes.

“Yes. Wealth, power, immortality. It is a potent allure to most. And so very dull.”

It wasn’t at all what he meant, but Jon was too embarrassed and tongue-tied to articulate what he wanted. Jon nodded.

“I can imagine,” he mumbled. No slouch at reading tones, Dany cocked an eyebrow.

“Why do you ask?” she murmured, breathing air-soft little kisses along his shoulder. Jon basked in her easy affection, feeling that weird reflection. Warmth and contentment, as warm as her hug. Better to focus on that than any weird kinks.

“Just . . . curious,” he said. Jon licked his lips.

“It seems like I can . . . sense your mood. Is that normal?”

Dany blinked, peering at his face. She didn’t relinquish her grip on him. No reflection of distress. The feeling chilled from warm contentment to something ambivalent. Confusion, maybe?  

“Really? Um, I’m not sure. It’s never been mutual before.”

“Mutual?”

A muscle fired in her face, almost a wince.

“When I hypnotize my . . . prey, I can sense the tenor of their mood, recent memories. Very superficial, and it ends when I’ve finished feeding.” The halting and clinical way she said it was evidence of her distaste. Each word was extracted slowly and painfully. Yeah, it was weird, but Jon was fascinated by the little details.

“But you’ve never fed from me,” Jon said, hoping the strange connection would convey his mingled disappointment and relief. Dany’s brow forked.

“Or hypnotized me?” Jon asked, with a hint of a question. Would he even know if she had? Dany looked affronted.

“No! Of course not.”

“I was mesmerized all the same,” Jon said, stealing a kiss. Dany softened under the touch. Jon tugged her inside.

 ~

 Psychically linked. It was a phrase that was strange to utter, even for a vampire. Missandei, who had rescued and changed her lover Grey Worm over a hundred years ago, hadn’t known of the phenomenon. For all the weirdness, it was . . . nice. It was like there was Jon-compass in the back of her mind pointing to where he was and how he was feeling. Right now, at eleven in the morning, the itch would guide her back to the house, and the mellow quiet was one of sleep. It was Wednesday. After the Monday night shift and Delivery Day on Tuesday, he was always exhausted.

“There’s something he isn’t telling me, Missy,” she said into her earbuds. Dany yanked a snarl of weeds from the budding green of her garden. There was nothing she loved better than the feeling of earth between her fingers, the rich smells of loam and water and flowers. Dragons plant no trees—one of her brother’s maxims. In this undead life, she strove to prove him wrong. Trees, flowers, herbs and vegetables.

“Tell me the context.”

“Well, he asked if ‘anyone enjoyed it,’” Dany said, framing the operative words in finger quotes even though Missy couldn’t see her. A habit picked up from Jon. She patted the dirt around the tender roots of a cluster of osteopermums. Beautiful blooms, and cold resistant.

“‘If anyone enjoyed it.’ Hmm, and he didn’t mean proximity to one who is rich and powerful. Surely he didn’t mean enjoying being bitten?” Dany stilled at Missy’s words, every cell of her frozen in a rictus of shock. Bitten? Dany replayed the interaction last night when her Jon-compass pealed. A cold zing of fear, along with the familiar ripening of arousal. Could he really . . .? Dany snorted.

“Surely not!”

Dany felt the warning prickle as the sun threatened to break through the blanket of clouds. She blurred back to the porch, irritably watching the sky.

“Anyway, when are you and Grey going to visit? It’s been an epoch.”

The seed Missy planted in Dany’s mind germinated as quickly as the plants she put in the ground. It lingered, following her through the day as she took Ghost to the dog park, bought groceries for Pentoshi spicy noodles, and secretly corrected Jon’s messy ledger. His books were detailed, but a couple alterations to the till would only protect him from audits. Since she’d confessed, she given up the pretense of ‘working,’ and had offered to help Jon with his finances, but he refused. Her wealth languished, accruing interest, ready for when he wanted it.  

Did . . . did Jon want her to bite him? Their sex life was robust, passionate. That hadn’t changed since the revelation. He was the same generous, ravenous lover as before. He had only seen her fangs one time—that one horrible time when she confessed. The thought of broaching the subject made her want to melt into a puddle of embarrassment.

“There you are, beautiful,” Jon said with a sleepy kiss as she washed dirt from her hands in the sink. In his typical fashion, he wore baggy athletic pants and no shirt. She loved Sleepy Jon. Affectionate and moving a little slow. Completely adorable. He had a shift in a few hours, there was time to talk about it. If she had the courage to broach the subject. Dany blurred around the kitchen, fixing his favorite breakfast: toast, scrambled eggs, and avocado.

“Thanks, love,” Jon said, tucking in. Dany settled in the chair across from him, at a loss for how to continue.

“Any news on the reflection thing?” he asked, taking a long gulp of Dany’s infused water—cucumber cilantro this time. Dany loved how messy his curls were when he woke up—sticking up straight like a porcupine’s quills.  Jon scrubbed his beard.

“Missy had never heard anything like that. She was a historian in her previous life, so she is well-versed in the peculiarities of our kind,” she said. Jon blinked, then one of his sunny smiles broke out, stealing her breath in how gorgeous he was. Jon took her hand and squeezed it.

“I guess that means we’re soulmates,” he said. Dany’s unbeating heart fluttered.

“I guess so,” she said, choked.

The meal passed in pleasant silence. Dany plucked up her courage. Just say it!

“Is there anything you want to . . . want to try?” Dany asked. Jon knew what she meant. She watched the bloom of blood beneath his pale skin. The apples of his cheeks, the base of his neck, even in blotches on his naked chest. Intoxicating.

“You noticed that last night, huh?” he said, combing his fingers through his hair. Dany nodded.

“What did you mean by ‘enjoying it?’” she asked.

Jon blush deepened to a deep dusky red. His gaze slid away from hers to inspect the worn wood of his kitchen table as if it held the world’s knowledge. Jon’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. Very distracting. Why was this so hard to say? No two lovers instantly knew what their partner liked or wanted—even psychically linked ones. They had had frank conversations about sex before.

“The um . . . the biting part. Has anyone liked it?” Jon mumbled. If she was capable, Dany would have blushed too. There were those humans who craved subjugation, but Daenerys had never interacted with them—even when they threw themselves at her feet. She simply hadn’t been interested. Saliva filled her mouth at the thought of tasting Jon’s blood. Hot, rich and full of life. Hunger quivered through her at the thought, hands curling into fists.

“Yes, some have. I never entertained them,” she hedged. Jon risked a glance at her, eyes wide and vulnerable.

“Do you not like it? When they--”

“Jon, I go through considerable pains to ensure those I drink from do not suffer unnecessarily. But being a vampire . . . yes.  Biting and drinking their blood . . . to my unending shame, I like it. I like it a great deal. And the thought of drinking from you . . .” Dany closed her eyes briefly, trying to master the demon clamoring for a taste. Her cunt throbbed as well, a well-placed touch and she could come just from fantasizing about it—as she never dared to. The heated look in Jon’s eyes was one she well knew, and the moment stretched on in the sweetest of agonies.  

“Ok. Let’s try.”

It took some extracting to tack down the details Jon wanted. Not quite a ‘scene’ per se, but a hint of violence. A vampire bite was by its very nature, violent. The safeword was ‘ghost.’ Dany followed him up the stairs, trembling with anticipation and nerves. Like a giddy virgin all over again. With Jon, so many things felt new, and so right. Jon pulled on an old grey t-shirt and took his place against the exposed brick wall, arms spread as if restrained.

“Like this?” he asked softly.

“Just so,” she whispered.

Daenerys grasped her control and breathed in. Her senses sharpened to painful acuity. She could smell the spicy scent of his skin, his spruce shampoo, a hint of cilantro on his breath. The thud of his heart was swift. She tilted her head, wondering if it was fear or arousal that sped its beat. All those blood vessels dilating, the roused animal heat of him. Dany closed the distance between them in a blink. Jon flinched, eyes wide. So innocent. So beautiful. Ripe for her corruption. Dany grasped his jaw, hard enough to hurt. Dany waited, gauging his reaction. Jon sucked in a gasp. Gods, the tempo of his heart would drive her mad. The heat and woodsy scent of him enveloping her. Heat radiated from his cock, already tenting his athletic pants.

“Mmm, I wonder what makes your heart race, handsome. Fear . . . or excitement?” she drawled, smirking in a manner to expose her fang. Even Jon’s eyes were dilated, only a border of grey around the black. He licked his lips. Dany followed the movement with intense interest.

“I’m . . . I’m not sure,” Jon said. Dany leaned in, bracing her forearm against his chest with a bit of pressure. Pressing him back against the rough brick. Attuned to her Jon-compass, his mood was rich with hunger, whetted sweetly with fear. Dany loosened the tight rein she held on her control. Wildness surged through her. She squeezed her thighs together; the throb of arousal was almost painful. He was so gorgeous like this, vulnerable and hungry, eager and wrecked.

With a negligent move, Dany’s nails shred open Jon’s shirt, then his athletic pants. Tearing it like tissue paper. They hung in tatters, the pants held up by Jon’s glorious arse pressed against the wall. No underwear, his cock stood at attention.

“Yessss. Hard for me? You’re perfect,” Dany whispered. Jon squirmed a little at the praise and Dany logged that away for future reference. He hissed in a breath through his teeth as Dany traced one finger down his broad chest and hard, quivering belly to grasp his cock. Dany tilted his captive jaw to one side and leaned close . . . Jon cried out, his hands scrabbling on the brick wall. She pumped his cock, spreading around the silky fluid weeping from the head. The panting silence broken only by those slick strokes. The echo of his heartbeat thudded against her palm with each stroke. Dany licked his earlobe.

“Let me taste you.”

Dany bit down on his neck. His sleek white skin gave way and the hot, metallic richness of his blood sang on her tongue. That first taste called down one of the most intense orgasms of her life, completely untouched. She shuddered through it. Pleasure burst like fireworks behind her eyes, and she was intensely aware of Jon’s matching orgasm. Hot seed spraying in sticky drops on her hand and forearm, the musky smell. Jon roared, arms snapping tight around her as he thrust helplessly into her hand. Dany drank from him, not pausing to moan lest she waste a single drop. Magic. He tasted of magic and wilderness, pleasure and home. If any god would listen, she would have begged to live in this moment. Sacred with his trust and love, incandescent with pleasure.

I love you

The words were not spoken, but flooded through the link between them.

 ~

 “More!” Jon begged, clinging to Dany. Her tongue lapped at the wound in his neck, lazy strokes that made him shiver and his cock throb. Despite the best orgasm he’d ever had, Jon throbbed back to full hardness.

“Please, Dany. More. More!” the words fell out, unbidden and needy. Dany guided him down to the floor and tore off her clothes. The cloth and denim shredded to ribbons. She looked like an otherworldly creature: hair a wild snarl from his tugging, her lips were vivid red, painted with his blood, violet eyes glowing. Gods, she was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, shredding her clothes so she could fuck him. The inner reflection had become a door—a door thrown open and washing him in the glory of her soul. Her loneliness and longing, her love and pleasure. Dany . . . Dany.

Dany crouched over him to lap at his neck and slid down on his cock. The fresh sensation made him cry out again. Jon fisted a hand in her hair, holding her to his neck as the tender lapping turned to a sharper suction. The pain was a whisper compared to the pleasure of her cunt riding his cock. Warm and so wet, gliding up and down. Jon’s back bowed up, seeking more contact. He was saturated in her. The smooth cool touch of her skin, the tickle of her hair, wild, appley smell of her, the musk of her sex. There was a cooling tickle of his blood down his neck. The hot point of contact of her cunt milking him as she came again. Her pleasure called down his own and howled through another orgasm. Her name punched out of him with each stroke, his ardent prayer.

“Dany. Dany. Dany. Dany!” I love you I need you, don’t leave me I love you It was a stream of thought pouring into her. The answer was instant: I love you I need you you’re mine you’re mine you’re mine forever!  The pace quickened, short, fast strokes. Jon screamed as the pleasure pierced him as surely as her fangs. Come poured out of him with each spasm. She was there joined with him—the tide of pleasure crested over them both. Dany cradled his head to keep it from thudding against the floor.

Jon floated, cruising on waves of bliss. Pleasure so excruciating he couldn’t think, pain so sweet he felt tears leak out of his eyes. A noise somewhere far away. Jon held tighter to Dany. The noise again, louder. Dany tugged the turf of his hair, pain a delicate prickle. He moaned, eager for more. Anything to please her. Look at me, love. Jon blinked. Dany’s beautiful face was above him, thick brows puckered in a frown.

“Jon, are you ok?” she asked, framing his face between her hands. Her whole world. Jon’s heart fluttered.

“Yes,” he said fervently. Jon was hoarse and limp, thoroughly fucked out. He’d never come that hard—much less three times in rapid succession. Sex with Dany had always been white hot, but discovering his ‘biting kink’ had taken it to a new level. Jon tugged her closer, missing the press of her weight. Vaguely he was aware of the hard floor, and a stickiness from fluids . . . oh! Jon stirred himself.

“I better get up, I don’t want to bleed all over the floor.”

Jon sat up, gingerly touching his neck. The skin was smooth, unbroken. Dany smiled, her fangs winking in the light.

“I took care of it. Vampire blood has restorative properties.”

“Oh,” Jon said, shuffling to the bathroom and cleaning up before returning to lay next to Dany in bed. He would’ve liked to keep the scar. Maybe next time. Already arousal stirred at the thought of next time. Jon winced, kneading away a cramp in his thigh.

We’ll have to pace ourselves. Hydrate and stretch, definitely. They drowsed together in silence, but even with his nose in her hair and his eyes shut, he could see the worried pucker on her face.

“What is it, love?” he asked.

Dany peered up at him, chewing on her lower lip.

“It wasn’t too much? You’re ok?” she asked. Jon kissed her, slow and lingering, tasting the metallic tang of his own blood.

“Never better.”

[thefrenchcakecompany]

Goal! Creating Themed Cakes for Sports Fans

hoarse at games, and live for those epic victories. So, when it comes to celebrating a birthday, graduation, or any special occasion for a die-hard fan, a regular cake just won't cut it. You need a cake that screams "Touchdown!" or "Home Run!"

At The French Cake Company, we believe in celebrating every passion with a cake that's as delightful as the event itself. For sports fans, nothing beats the thrill of a big game or the joy of a victory, except perhaps a cake that embodies the spirit of their favourite team or sport. Whether it’s for a birthday, a championship win, or a viewing party, a themed cake can turn any occasion into a memorable celebration. 

Understanding the Passion

The first step in creating a sports-themed cake is understanding the passion of the fans. Each sport has its unique appeal and each team its fervent followers. A soccer fan might revel in the sight of a meticulously crafted ball and pitch, while a basketball aficionado might prefer a cake designed to look like their team’s jersey or a slam-dunk scene.

Choosing the Theme

The theme is the heart of any themed cake. Here are some popular ideas:

Team Colors and Logos: Incorporate the colours and logos of the fan's favourite team. This could be as simple as a cake in the team’s colours with a fondant logo, or as elaborate as a cake designed to look like the team's mascot.

Equipment and Accessories: Think soccer balls, basketballs, baseball bats, and hockey sticks. These can be made from fondant or molded chocolate and used to decorate the cake.

Stadium Replicas: For the ultimate wow factor, create a cake that looks like the home stadium of the fan's favourite team. This can be a complex project, but the results are always stunning and memorable.

Player Figures: Whether it’s a beloved star player or a mini-figure of the cake’s recipient in their favorite team’s uniform, adding a human element can make the cake more personal and exciting.

Designing the Cake

Sketching and Planning: Before we begin baking, we sketch out the design to ensure every detail is perfect. This includes deciding on the size, shape, and color scheme of the cake.

Cake Flavours and Fillings: While the design is crucial, the cake’s taste is just as important. We offer a variety of flavors and fillings, from classic vanilla and chocolate to more adventurous options like red velvet or lemon curd.

Baking and Sculpting: Our bakers and cake artists work in tandem to bring the design to life. Baking the cake to the right consistency is key, especially when sculpting elements like stadiums or sports equipment.

Decorating: This is where the magic happens. Using fondant, buttercream, edible paints, and other decorations, we meticulously craft each element of the cake. Attention to detail is crucial, from the texture of a football to the intricate details of a team logo.

Special Touches

Edible Images: For an extra touch of authenticity, we can print edible images of team logos, player photos, or even a snapshot of a memorable game moment.

Personalisation: Adding the recipient’s name, a special message, or their jersey number can make the cake feel extra special.

Interactive Elements: For a fun twist, we can incorporate elements like edible goalposts, nets, or a field where cake toppers can be moved around.

Catering to All Fans

No matter the sport, football, soccer, basketball, baseball, hockey, or even niche sports like cricket or rugby, we can create a cake that will thrill any fan. 

Ready to Bake a Winner?

At The French Cake Company, we're passionate about creating cakes that celebrate every kind of passion. So, whether your loved one is a die-hard fan of football, basketball, or any sport in between, we can create a custom cake that will have them cheering for joy. Contact us today to discuss your ideas and let's bake a cake that's a true winner!

[cultureinireland]

Design Mine

Irish rugby is a huge aspect of the Irish culture. As a nation, we come together during historical sports events such as the rugby world cup, to show our support and proudness of the Irish Rugby team and their success. This year especially, has been a very important year for the Irish rugby team and their supporters, as they made it to the quarter finals of the world cup.

Come and show your support on this culture night, as we give you the chance to create your very own customised Irish rugby jersey.

Whether it be for a loved one or for yourself, you have the option to customize your very own name on one of our Irish jerseys!

[customizedjersyes]

"Sweat, Blood, and Threads: The Stories Behind Sports Jerseys"

Sports jerseys are more than just pieces of fabric with team logos and colors. They represent the sweat, blood, and tears of the athletes who wear them, as well as the passion and loyalty of the fans who wear them to show support for their favorite teams. In this article, we will explore the stories behind some of the most iconic sports jerseys and the meaning they hold for fans and athletes alike.

One of the most iconic sports jerseys is the green and gold jersey of the Green Bay Packers. This jersey represents not just a team, but a community of fans who have supported the Packers through thick and thin for over 100 years. The Packers are the only publicly owned team in the NFL, and the team's ownership structure is reflected in the green and gold jersey, which features the initials "G" and "B" on the sleeves, representing "Green Bay".

The story behind the green and gold jersey is one of resilience and perseverance. In the 1950s, the Packers were struggling to stay afloat, and the team's finances were in disarray. It was then that Vince Lombardi took over as head coach and began to turn the team around. Lombardi recognized the importance of the green and gold jersey to the community and made it a central part of the team's identity. Today, the green and gold jersey is one of the most recognizable in all of sports, and it continues to inspire loyalty and passion among fans.

Another iconic sports jersey is the black and white striped jersey of the Juventus soccer team. This jersey represents not just a team, but a city and a culture. Juventus is based in Turin, Italy, and the black and white stripes on the jersey are a reference to the colors of the city's flag. The story behind the jersey is one of tradition and history. Juventus was founded in 1897, and the black and white stripes have been a part of the team's identity since the very beginning.

Over the years, the black and white striped jersey has become synonymous with success and excellence. Juventus has won numerous titles and championships while wearing the jersey, and it has become a symbol of the team's dominance on the field. For fans, the black and white striped jersey represents not just a team, but a way of life, and it is worn with pride both on and off the field.

Another sports jersey with a powerful story is the red and white jersey of the Japanese rugby team. This jersey represents not just a team, but a nation and a culture. Rugby is not the most popular sport in Japan, but the national team has made significant strides in recent years, culminating in a historic victory over South Africa at the 2015 Rugby World Cup.

The story behind the red and white jersey is one of determination and perseverance. Rugby was introduced to Japan in the late 1800s by British sailors, and it has since become an important part of the country's sporting culture. The red and white jersey is a symbol of the team's commitment to excellence and their determination to succeed in a sport that is not widely played in Japan.

For fans of the Japanese rugby team, the red and white jersey represents not just a team, but a nation and a culture. It is a source of pride and inspiration, and it symbolizes the team's dedication to representing Japan on the global stage.

In conclusion, sports jerseys are more than just pieces of fabric. They represent the stories and histories of the teams and cultures they represent, as well as the passion and loyalty of the fans who wear them. From the green and gold jersey of the Green Bay Packers to the black and white striped jersey of Juventus and the red and white jersey of the Japanese rugby team, each jersey has a story to tell, and each is a symbol of something greater than itself.

if you want to buy customized sports jersey then you have one best option https://jersify.in/

[cliftonclothing]

Looking for a custom rugby shirt that is both stylish and durable? The Watson Traditional Cotton Custom Rugby Shirt is the only option! This shirt has a traditional twill collar, is made to order, and is made to last. It is made of 100% cotton jersey.

You can personalize your rugby shirt by selecting the style of the collar and sleeves, the design, and the colors. You can also add text and logos, as well as individual names and numbers. Twill patches, rubber buttons, contrast collar, chest pockets, placket blocks, sunglasses loop, and chest stitching are just a few ways to personalize your shirt.

Our leisure rugby shirts can be ordered as a set or in any combination of men's, women's, and kids' sizes. Also, on the grounds that we utilize 100 percent pre-contracted cotton, you won't ever need to stress over shrinkage after some time. Simply machine wash cold with comparative tones and permit to normally dry. Therefore, what are you awaiting? Today, create your cotton rugby shirt online!

Personalised Rugby Shirt Custom Rugby Polo Shirt

[hauntedstarfishbanana]

How to Solve Issues With producent skarpet

Are you presently interested in sports activities? There are actually unique varieties of athletics current On this earth. Various people have distinct alternative of athletics. Some enjoy football while others like rugby another individual could be keen on hockey. And that is your favorite Activity? If you're a sportsman then it is very important so that you can have appropriate sportsman spirit.™

Besides toughness, stamina and Electricity In addition, you need to have to take care of particular other matters. The equipments as well as components Employed in sports activities are equally crucial. You have to spend good notice in direction of them.

Tons of folks are unsuccessful to pick the proper sort of equipment and This can be the rationale why they are unsuccessful to realize accomplishment during the sport. Other than the equipments you need to also listen to the jersey, shoes as well as socks. You'll need to be sure that the stuff you wear are cozy.

Unless of course that you are absolutely cozy You can not Engage in effectively. Socks are one of the most essential things once the sneakers which you want to take care of. You might have listened to regarding the custom sports activities socks.

These are socks which are produced by many providers and they are designed especially for you. There are actually various sorts of socks offered lately. To start with you might want to select the personalized created sporting activities socks which can be a perfect suit on your own toes.

A number of the custom made sports activities socks accessible nowadays are ankle socks, crew socks, tube socks and no exhibit socks. You should learn which of such socks is match for you personally. You can find selected organizations which take the get for The complete team.

Prior to deciding to area your order you have to uncover appropriate information about the business. You have to Be sure that the business is really a dependable 1 and provides the merchandise in time. In addition to this, In addition, you require to find out if the company manufactures the kind of socks you need for the Activity.

So normally have the evaluate of a business before you decide to make investments your cash. Socks are likely to guard the feet in the sweat. These socks can be found in several models, colours, measurements as well as styles.

They're also manufactured of different styles of supplies. It is usually extremely important to select the proper kind of fabric. Cotton is often not a preferred in case of athletics socks. Cotton tends to soak up the dampness and This is actually the purpose why sportsmen stay clear of carrying cotton socks.

Wearing cotton socks may also bring about blisters in your feet. You have to often decide on a fabric and that is well suited for all kinds of climate. You should be Similarly cozy While using the socks in very hot, humid as well as chilly climate.

The sort of socks also differs according to the type of athletics you choose. Custom style and design sporting activities socks are available on-line in addition to in the departmental suppliers. So pick your customized athletics socks and begin participating in your preferred sport easily and luxury.

You could question, precisely what is a odor fetish? It really is also known as olfactophilia. An individual by using a fetish for smells will practical experience sexual arousal when he or she smells the body odor of somebody appealing. The most common odors to arouse sexual desire are people who come from the armpit, the anus, and the ft. It's not necessarily unusual to also get turned on when sniffing farts, socks or panties; While these, far more precisely, arrive below fart, sock, and panty fetish, respectively. Individuals with a fetish for smells are likely, also, to locate their unique entire body odors to get a powerful aphrodisiac.

When you've got a odor fetish, You're not in the minority. Plenty of individuals have it producent skarpet in a single kind or One more. It is a difficult fetish, though, to confess for your partner. Telling your wife, girlfriend or boyfriend you want to sniff their base is, allow us to deal with it, not an easy issue to perform. In truth, some associates would even locate it fairly disgusting.

In case you have olfactophilia and would like to investigate it in your sexual intercourse existence then you want the right companion. Possibly This is certainly your current lover; maybe it can be somebody else. As an alternative to just confessing your fetish on your existing companion, it's a good idea to slowly but surely, step by step introduce your fetish - inside of a refined way - into your intercourse existence. You can start off by kissing and sniffing her ft, for instance. The true secret is to choose it gradually In order to not shock your lover with as well major of a revelation!

[rjhamster]

Search results: 305 Search Results for: "Arizona *" – Ultras

Ultras Custom Jerseys Soccer Apparel T-shirts Shorts Socks Hats Custom Team , Ultras, Rugby Shorts Made in USA Soccer Jerseys — Read on ultras.com/search

[besteamsport]

Custom Rugby Jersey Designs Enhance Players' Performance

Nowadays, custom rugby jersey manufacturers are making a great variety of designs. Earlier, the players were not aware of any such designs of rugby jerseys. Our custom rugby jerseys are made from ultra-light, breathable polyester fabrics and luxuries for the comfort of today's players. The design of custom rugby jerseys enhances the performance of the players, thereby increasing the game mentality of the players.

The texture of this rugby jersey greatly helps in giving players complete comfort and adaptability while playing. Wearing a collection made from these textures helps your team's players perform at their best while editing the best game.

There are so many exceptional uniforms in the present era, one of the most famous types of jerseys is rugby. These are custom-made decorations that are precisely tailored to the needs of different groups and club members. The stylish trend of players wearing rugby jerseys carries patterns that make the game more attractive to fans.

[bluefuckboy]

Pencils and Pining

Day 1 Prompt of sfw DabiHawks Week: college au. Also up on ao3

WC: 4574

CW: none. Mentions of sex talk.

A/N: this is fluffy I don’t know where it came from. Unedited cos I ain’t got that kinda time

Keigo Takami had always gotten what he wanted. It was effortless. His natural charm and refusal to ever back down from a challenge meant there was little he couldn’t do. He’d gotten into a prestigious school full ride on just a sports scholarship, and he wasn’t even all that good. Sure he could get the ball from point A to point B. But it wasn’t like he was some sort of rugby god. He knew it was thanks to his personality that he got in.

He was the perfect poster child for the college’s team, The Raptors. Their mascot was a bird of prey that could have been a hawk or possibly an eagle. No one really knew, which is why they generalized it into Raptor. Their school colors were red and gold, which complimented Keigo’s flaxen hair perfectly.

There was little that didn’t compliment him to be honest. The royal red jersey made his aureate eyes pop as he gave winks to fans during matches. His scrum shorts hugged his ass just right. His cleats were even custom made. Gold aside from the trimming, laces and studs. He strutted around the field like a bird of paradise.

Girls had been falling at his feet since first of semester and half the guys on the team had asked him for advice on how to get girls to like them. He liked being the center of attention and was more than happy to give pointers on how to be suave and charismatic. But at the end of the day, no one measured up to his innate charm and carefree personality.

He knew he was the whole package, and yet, one student was never impressed by him. Touya Todoroki, a senior art student who spent most of his time holed up in the art building. Keigo had no reason to be by that part of the campus aside from it being a shortcut to the rugby pitch, which is how he met Touya. Or rather nearly took him out by crashing into him.

He’d been late for practice and decided to sprint from his dorm to get his heart rate up and make up time, two birds with one stone as they say. Practice was after classes but before dinner, so most students studied or got in another nap during that time. That assumption was what landed Keigo on his ass after smacking into the lanky art major.

He’d ran square into the chest of Touya, knocking the wind out of him as Keigo was knocked to the ground.

“Shit! My bad!”

Keigo was on his feet again in the bat of an eye, hovering by Touya, who was doubled over wheezing as he tried to regain his breath. Keigo never paid attention to students that didn’t want his attention, so it was the first time he’d seen this art major, or rather the top of his head as he inhaled raggedly.

He was dressed in mostly black aside from an old and slightly oversized sweatshirt which was zipped halfway over a band tshirt from which Keigo could see the letters ”ED ZEP” in red. Touya’s charcoal jeans were torn at the knees, cuffed at the bottoms to sit above the all black Chuck Taylors he wore.

As he stood up Keigo could see his face, which was set in a scowl. If he weren’t looking at Keigo so murderously, Touya would probably be handsome, if not a little rough around the edges. His hair was an ashen white, sweeping in front of intense turquoise eyes narrowed at Keigo. He had enough piercings to set off a metal detector. Most were on his ears aside from a triple nose stud in his right nostril, snake bites and a bridge piercing which Keigo couldn’t decide if it looked painful or not.

A pair of black painted fingernails snapped in front of Keigo’s face. “Hey birdbrain! The fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Keigo blinked. “Uh. Going to practice?”

“And trying to kill people in the process?”

“No. Sorry I just didn’t see you there man.”

Keigo put on one of his signature smiles, getting a scowl from Touya in return. Keigo put his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Really it was an accident.”

Touya stooped down between them, picking up a pencil that was snapped in half. He held it in front of Keigo’s face.

“You owe me a new pencil.”

Keigo pushed the pencil out of the way with a finger. “Oh come on. It’s just a pencil bro.”

“I’m not your bro and I don’t care.” Touya pressed the broken pencil against Keigo’s chest. “Don’t you dare get me one of those soft tips. 3B or higher, got it?”

Keigo nodded despite having no clue what 3B meant. Touya pressed the pencil harder against Keigo, who brought a hand up to catch it when Touya’s long fingers drew back. The art student gave Keigo another murderous scowl before trudging off towards the dorms, leaving Keigo with a broken pencil and a blush on his cheeks.

Touya was his type and then some. An artsy “bad boy” with blue eyes and gorgeous hands. It was like one of his fantasies had come to life. Except Touya had made it very clear he loathed Keigo. Keigo didn’t blame him as he had knocked the air out of him pretty bad. But all the fuss over a broken pencil? It seemed a tad excessive.

Keigo held onto the pencil, tucking it in his drawstring bag and forgetting about it until he tossed the bag onto his bed later that night. Practice had been a doozie and he was sore as fuck. He flopped down on his bed, pulling the pencil out and turning it over in his fingers.

The tip of the pencil was rounded and worn down, the eraser merely a nub. It was clear it was a well used tool. Keigo’s fingers brushed over teeth marks on the end of the pencil. Of course Touya chewed on his pencils, how could he not. He probably let them hang out the side of his mouth absentmindedly.

Keigo shook his head as his mind began to wander. He hadn’t anticipated being hit in the face with well, a crush? And especially literally. His ass was still sore from hitting the pavement.

He sighed and let the pencil drop to his chest. At least his assignment to replace the pencil meant Touya would have to see him again. But first he needed to figure out what the fuck 3B meant.

.

It didn’t take Keigo long to find another pencil. The campus bookstore sold them by the pack so he just grabbed the one that had 3B on it. He tapped the pack against his chin in thought as he made his way to the art building. A couple of freshmen in the lobby gave him odd looks. He supposed he didn’t look like an art student.

He was wearing his varsity jacket and his favorite pair of jeans, which were crisp and a deep denim. He pushed his aviator sunglasses up over his messy golden locks.

“You guys know… uh.”Shit. He had no idea what the guy’s name was. He cleared his throat, “I’m looking for a guy, bout this tall, white hair, blue eyes, looks like he’s trying to bring punk back from the dead?”

One of the freshmen rolled their eyes. “Todoroki. He’s probably on the top floor.”

Keigo thanked the freshman and made his way to the stairwell. His sneakers squeaked on the tile as he rounded the stairs, jogging his way up to the top floor. He pushed the door open, poking his head out into the hall.

It was quiet. He let the door shut, regretting it as it slammed loudly. No one came to chastise him so he made his way down the hall. He peered into the rooms as he passed. They were empty, probably for the best as he knew it would be odd to see someone with their nose pressed up to the glass window in the door.

When he reached the last door he noticed it was open a crack. He slipped inside, taking care to shove the doorstop back in place so the heavy door didn’t shut. The room was full of easels, some with canvases and some without. Keigo peered at the canvases as he made his way further into the classroom.

The canvases that were there each depicted the classic bowl of fruit he’d seen in so many artsy movies. Each piece was a different style. Some were messy, others crisp and clean. One was merely colors where each fruit should be. An easel on the far side caught his eye.

The piece sitting on it was black and white, like an old photograph. Eerily like a photograph. The lines and shading were so precise it looked like someone had just taken a picture and placed it on the canvas. Keigo stepped closer, peering at the differences in shading.

There was an area that was very dark. It looked almost raised due to the amount of layers that made up the shading. Ever curious and obvious Keigo put a hand out, tracing it with his finger and regretting it imminently. The charcoal smudged messily as he heard a voice behind him suddenly.

“Wow you are good at fucking things up.”

Keigo spun around. Touya was standing a few feet from him. He was dressed in the same outfit aside from a fresh tshirt. Keigo put his hands up as though he’d been caught, which technically he had.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t think it was gonna smudge like that.”

Touya sighed. He made his way over to the canvas, producing what looked like gray play dough from his pocket. He took the object and rolled it between his palms a bit, forming it into more of a oval. He put it against he canvas, using it like an eraser to get rid of the smudge Keigo had made.

Keigo’s eyes boggled and he pointed excitedly to the gray lump as Touya pulled it back, “What is that thing?”

Touya raised an eyebrow, but let Keigo inspect the blob and he answered, “It’s a kneaded eraser. Makes it easier to fix mistakes.”

He emphasized ‘mistakes’ and Keigo knew it was a jab at him. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Oh. Right. Uh..” He remembered the pencils. “Check it out! I got you backup ones even.”

Keigo presented the pencils to Touya like they were the greatest gift in the world. Touya took the packet from his hand, inspecting it before handing it back with a tsk of his tongue. Keigo’s excitement vanished and he gave Touya a confused look.

“Those are a shitty brand,” Touya said dismissively.

Keigo put his hands in the air. “A shitty- what? How am I supposed to know who makes good pencils?”

Touya shrugged, and put a hand in one of the deep pockets of his jeans. He fished out his phone, ignoring Keigo as he pulled the bulky headphones round his neck over his head. Keigo stared at him dumbfounded for a moment as Touya started to walk away. Touya made it halfway to the door before Keigo was in front of him again, his arms out as though he were somehow capable of blocking his path.

Touya didn’t take his headphones off as he asked, “Did you need something else? I got another class to get to.”

Keigo bristled with indignation. “What the hell dude? You’re just gonna blow me off like that?”

“Yeah. Bye.”

Touya pushed past him, leaving Keigo gaping like a fish. He’d never been so annoyed and intrigued at the same time. Touya was an enigma and Keigo desperately wanted to know more about it. But it would have to wait till after practice, and maybe some research on what the best brands of pencils were.

.

Keigo’s next encounter with Touya was much sooner than he expected. It was only a half hour later, on the rugby field where he noticed none other than Touya sitting in the bleachers. He was sprawled out, one leg resting on the bench in front of him while his arms draped over the one behind him. Despite it being hot as hell, he was still in that blue hoodie.

Touya caught Keigo’s eye as the latter trotted onto the field for practice. He gave a wry smile followed by flipping him the bird. Keigo’s fists clenched angrily. Touya was taunting him now, clearly already aware of how to push his buttons. It was working a bit too well.

Touya’s presence on the bleachers turned out to be a huge distraction for Keigo. What made things worse was that Touya was now ignoring him. He was scrolling his phone, paying zero attention to the practice or to Keigo who kept glancing over to him.

Keigo missed a couple passes, then a few goals, and finally the massive senior in his peripheral. The guy slammed into him like a brick wall, knocking him face first into the turf as the ball rolled from his arms into the hands of the other team.

As he painfully propped himself up, spitting dirt from his mouth, he noticed Touya had finally looked his way. Just in time to see him eat shit and cause his team to lose the practice. Keigo’s cheeks were red from more than just skidding against the pitch as he limped off field.

He wasn’t seriously injured, aside from his pride. His teammates were pissed at him, rightfully so. But he didn’t want them to know the real reason for his distractedness. A hot guy wasn’t an accepted excuse for throwing a game. In the end he faked a headache, excusing himself with numerous apologies.

Keigo skipped dinner at the cafeteria. He didn’t want to have to answer why he was limping and why his face looked like someone had scrubbed it with the rough side of a sponge. His cheeks were ruddy and stung a bit from the astroturf, so he decided to swing by the campus nurse to get some salve.

His stomach growled as he walked out of the office, prompting him to make a beeline for the campus café. It had coffee, snacks to grab, and quick meals for students who had to skip the cafeteria in favor of studying. Keigo rarely went to the café, preferring to visit with his entourage of buddies in the cafeteria at mealtimes.

He tucked his hands into his varsity jacket as he sauntered into the café. There was one other student aside from the barista behind the counter next to the coffee machine. Keigo gave a nod to the student waiting for food as he made his way to the register.

He leaned an arm on the counter, turning on his charm as he asked, “So what’s good here, huh?”

The smile faded from his face as the student turned around. It was Touya, who gave Keigo a small smirk.

“Oh look who it is.” Touya’s tone was mocking as he crossed his arms and leaned on the counter with a hip, “That was some fall, champ.”

He popped the ‘p’ and gave Keigo a shit eating grin. Keigo’s face went redder. He tried to keep his cool, crossing his arms and tilting his chin up aloofly.’

“And who’s fault was that?” he chided.

Touya let out a chuckle. “I take full credit. It was spectacular, and red’s a good color on you.”

Touya gave him a wink as Keigo flushed all the way down to his neck. Of course Touya was also a barista. As if he wasn’t hot enough already. Keigo was losing a game he didn’t know he was playing. Touya had the upper hand and seemed to be a step ahead. It wouldn’t surprise Keigo if he had swapped places with the actual barista just to mess with Keigo further.

Touya leaned forward, his long fingers tapping on the countertop, black painted nails clicking.

“I would say I feel bad, but I don’t. What do they say? An eye for an eye? Guess we can say a pencil for a wipeout, hmm? Lucky you didn’t break your face though. That would have been a real shame.”

Keigo rolled his eyes. “Great. Now we’re even.”

“Not quite,” Touya quipped.

“Ugh. Don’t tell me I have to buy you more pencils.”

Touya waved his hand. “Nah. Just buy me dinner instead.”

“Dinner?”

“Wow you really don’t have anything going on in that pretty head of yours, do you?”

Keigo stood there stupidly until Touya sighed heavily. “I’m asking you out, birdbrain.”

Keigo’s eyes went wide. “Huh?? Really? Wait I thought you didn’t like me?”

“I don’t. But that doesn’t mean you can’t try to change my mind.”

He grinned and Keigo felt a flutter in his stomach. He quickly put his golden boy façade back on, leaning on the counter.

“Joke’s on you. Everyone likes me, eventually?” He gave Touya a smile and put a hand out for him to shake. “Keigo.”

The pads of Touya’s fingers were rough as they brushed against the back of Keigo’s hand. His grip was firm.

“Touya.”

They shook hands like they were making some sort of business transaction. Touya’s pointer finger brushed against the inside of Keigo’s wrist as he let go. Whether intentional or not, it made Keigo’s heart beat faster. He was going to win over Touya one way or another. Even if it meant he had to eat shit on the pitch again.

.

Wooing Touya was much more difficult than Keigo anticipated. The other student was hard to read and rarely laughed at Keigo’s quick witted jokes. He’d just raise an eyebrow or let out a dismissive snort which Keigo took as a laugh.

As far as conversation went, Touya never started any. They’d sat in silence for a good half hour the first time they went on a “date.” It was a little coffee shop down the street from the campus. Keigo insisted on paying for the drinks, practically preening as he brought Touya’s coffee over.

When Keigo had finally broken the awkward silence they fell into a conversation with no real direction. Keigo asked the typical questions to which Touya would give one worded replies.

Siblings? Three. Favorite food? Hot soba. Favorite drink? Black coffee. Alcohol preference? Whiskey. Favorite season? None. Favorite sex position? Next.

Keigo was a little disappointed Touya hadn’t answered his last question. But he rambled off his own answers for the questions. No siblings. Fried chicken. Condensed coffee. Beer. Spring. And reverse cowgirl.

Touya had rolled his eyes, but then surprised Keigo with the question, “So bottom then?”

Keigo had choked on his iced coffee a bit, coughing before finally saying, “Uh. Yeah. Usually.”

Touya had nodded and then leaned forward with a vulpine grin to say, “Sounds like we’re a good match. Oh, and it’s doggy style.”

Keigo had spent the rest of the outing trying to fend off seriously dirty thoughts. A good match? Doggy style? Touya just kept getting sexier, and Keigo kept getting klutzier. In his defense, Touya was very distracting. He had a couple habits Keigo had noticed during their dates that always caught Keigo’s attention.

Touya never sat fully still. He was always tapping his foot or fingers, seemingly restless all the time. Even standing he would shift his wight back and forth from one foot to the other. It was endearing for some reason. Touya’s habit of running his tongue along his bottom lip however, was not at all endearing.

Keigo would have to stop himself from staring when the tip of Touya’s tongue would start to poke out of his mouth. It happened when he was deeply focused on something, like his art. He’d let Keigo chill with him a few times while he completed assignments in the top floor of the art building. When Touya got really into a piece, his tongue would occasionally poke out the corner of his mouth, swiping along his lip as he’d walk back to get a better view of things. It seemed like it was subconscious, but it drove Keigo crazy.

Though Touya in general drove Keigo crazy. He found himself wanting to spend more and more time with Touya, even ditching practice a few times to go sit in the quiet art room and watch him work. There was something extremely calming about how Touya sketched. He was very detail oriented and used a ridiculous amount of different pencils to create pieces that Keigo could stare at for hours.

While Touya’s drawings were already beautiful to Keigo, Touya would always tell him these were just practice. Keigo didn’t understand what he meant and kept asking Touya what the finished product could possibly be since he felt the sketches were too good to be merely practice. Touya always told him he’d show him at some point, but Keigo got the feeling he wasn’t quite at that point in their friendship, relationship?

They’d been on established dates and were gradually spending more and more time together but had yet to define what they were. There was definitely flirting, especially on Keigo’s end. Touya would respond though, usually with an eye roll and a bump of his shoulder agains’t Keigo’s or by pulling Keigo’s baseball cap down over his eyes playfully. It was a nice dynamic and part of Keigo was nervous to try and make it something more.

He finally decided to shoot his shot one evening while they hung out in the art building after dinner, almost a usual routine at this point for Tuesday nights. Touya was working on a mid semester assignment that was a big portion of his grade, so Keigo had taken on the role of cheerleader and sustenance runner. It was coffee he was currently trying not to spill as he sprinted lightly up the stairs to the top floor.

He handed Touya his coffee as he took his usual seat near Touya’s feet as he worked. Touya was already immersed in the project as evidenced by the tip of his tongue poking out the right corner of his mouth. Keigo glanced up at the canvas, watching Touya add more charcoal to the depiction of a flame which covered the canvas.

It was a study in values, meaning the light and dark of the piece was the focus from what Keigo had gathered. There were no lines anywhere, just meticulous shading that somehow made a black and white representation of flames licking at the canvas. It was impressive and seeing the process from concept to final product was fascinating.

Touya downed his coffee in nearly one sip, holding the empty cup out for Keigo to take and toss into the trash can by the door. He gave himself a self five as the paper cup banked off the wall into the bin. He’d learned it was best if he was quiet while Touya worked. Distractions tended to throw him off and make him have to get into the right headspace all over again.

Nearly another hour passed and then finally Touya clapped his hands together, shaking off some of the charcoal on them, a telltale sign he was done. As some point Keigo had taken to leaning against Touya’s chair form his spot on the floor. It put his head level with Touya’s waist and in the perfect spot for Touya to drop his arm down and rest his hand atop Keigo’s head.

Keigo perked up at the touch. Touya had used him as an armrest a few times before, but it was the first time those long fingers were touching Keigo’s scalp. His heart nearly burst out of him as Touya’s fingers worked their way into Keigo’s messy locks. It wasn’t exactly a head massage, but it was intimate in a way Touya hadn’t touched him before.

Touya twirled a strand of Keigo’s hair between his fingers as he said, “Guess this is a good as it’s gonna get.”

Keigo tilted his head up slowly to look at the canvas, trying not to move Touya’s hand out of his hair. The piece was gorgeous. A white hot flame that looked as though it would burn if you were to touch it.

“You’re full of shit,” Keigo retorted, “This is amazing.”

Touya chuckled. His fingers slipped lower, lightly caressing the back of Keigo’s neck for a moment. It sent chills down Keigo’s spine and he decided it was now or never. He reluctantly stood up, causing Touya’s hand to leave the top of his head. Touya looked up at him, ever so slightly shorter from being perched on the chair.

“Hey, uh,” Keigo felt anxiety blooming in his chest, but he pressed on, “Now that your project’s done would you want to, uh. I mean we’ve been kinda skirting around, uh, you know, and I, uh…”

The words died in his throat as Touya laughed suddenly. It was a heavenly sound, an actual laugh that echoed through the small art studio. It was the first full laugh Keigo had ever gotten out of Touya. While he wanted to fist pump in triumph, the laugh had been at his attempt to have a romantic relationship with Touya.

His cheeks burned and he stuttered, “What’s so funny?”

Touya wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and stood up. Keigo crossed his arms moodily, waiting for an answer and purposefully not looking at Touya. Touya sighed and his fingers carded through Keigo’s hair again, coming to rest his hand at the back of Keigo’s neck. His other hand moved to cup Keigo’s face, moving it so

Touya could look at him properly.

Touya’s eyes were soft as he said, “You really are a birdbrain, Kei.”

Keigo’s stomach clenched. Touya had called him a nickname. He could feel his cheeks getting hot but then Touya’s lips were against his and it felt like time was standing still.

Touya’s lips were soft and warm. Keigo wanted to melt into the floor as Touya swiped his thumb over his cheek as he kissed him. There were little fireworks going off in Keigo’s mind, making it hard for him to reciprocate. Touya separated their lips for a moment and Keigo quickly grabbed Touya’s hoodie, yanking him back into a near bruising kiss.

They were both breathing a little harder when they finally separated. Keigo’s hair was messier than usual and there was the hint of a blush on Touya’s cheeks. Keigo felt drunk, floating on a cloud as he stayed pressed against Touya.

When they parted a bit another small laugh came from Touya. “Shit. I got charcoal on your face.”

“Huh?”

Keigo reached up to his cheek, pulling his fingers back to see gray smeared over them. He snorted, but didn’t make a move to wipe the smudge away.

“Maybe I should be your next art project…” he teased, smiling with his tongue between his teeth.

Touya smirked and tucked a strand of hair behind Keigo’s ear and Keigo continued, “You’re gonna draw me like one of your French girls, right?”

Touya laughed again, a sound that was quickly becoming Keigo’s favorite.

“Maybe,” Touya mused before picking up a charcoal pencil that was almost a nub, “But first you gotta buy me a new pencil.”

[dchsgroup-blog]

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