#i only like playing this game when this family is involved

[youcouldmakealife]

COTT 36: outtakes

Today's chapter was originally almost a full 1k longer, as James got downright Holden-esque in his rambling (he gets over-explain-y when unsettled, and yearning is very destabilizing, especially on top of his general roadie overwhelm.).

I cut it because it's, you know, almost 1k of rambling reminiscence, but if you are interested, here is James' Vending Machine Adventures, That Time James Forgot His Passport and James' Feelings About Family Ties and Cracked Pepper.

On face licking and vending machine stalking:

Nor something he plans on ever doing, yearning aside, as he is not a canine.

But then, James would have also said that he was above loitering around a vending machine at midnight, trying to look like he was having trouble making a decision to avoid arousing suspicion.

Every time he heard footsteps coming down the hall he would resignedly pull out his wallet for effect, already knowing it wasn’t Holden.

At some point James must have learned what Holden’s walk sounds like. He’s not sure when that happened, but he can’t say he’s surprised either, given the intensity of focus he’s aimed Holden’s way over the past several weeks, researching him like an opponent, a play, a — the comparisons break down at some point, Holden unlike anything James has been preoccupied with before.

After the first few disappointments, James handled two more passerby — one a harassed looking member of the hotel staff, who paid him no attention, the other a teammate who unfortunately took James’ presence as an invitation to socialize — before he finally gave up, buying a bottle of water so he didn’t return to his room empty handed.

He’s not sure why he bothered — it’s not like was expecting to have to explain himself to anyone. Maybe so he didn’t have to admit, even to himself, that he’d been waiting for Holden, though it was probably a little late for that, because he knew that was precisely what he was doing.

He didn’t even end up drinking that water. He forget it in hotel mini-bar. He’d like to think someone drank it, but most likely, they just threw it out, which makes him feel dimly guilty about the waste. He reminds himself how many bottles of water they must sell at every hockey game, but that only makes him feel worse, so he watches highlights on his phone until his head clears, a clean sheet of ice again.

On Passport Snafus and Secret Safes:

Holden waves his passport at him triumphantly from his spot in line, and James rolls his eyes.

He forgot his own passport once — just once — early in his career. The team has photocopies, in case someone’s is lost or stolen, and apparently that was an acceptable substitute. At least, they let him into Canada, but rather than risk trouble on the way home — as a citizen, they have to let him in, passport or no, but he doubts they’re required to make it a comfortable process — his super let a staff member into his apartment with his permission. She sent it to them via same-day courier, and it arrived in Toronto almost as soon as they did.

James had been storing his passport in his underwear drawer at the time. He’d figured that way he’d never forget where it was, and he was right, but it didn’t prevent him from forgetting it entirely. For years he couldn’t look at her. Was genuinely relieved when she was promoted to a more senior position, one that involved significantly less interaction with the players.

His underwear drawer has simply been an underwear drawer ever since. His passport’s in his coat pocket now, of course, but when he gets home, it will go back into a hollowed out calculus textbook that Finn bought for him after the Passport Incident.

That book has been sitting on his shelf, concealing his passport for years without incident, up until last week, when Holden got his hands on it. He’d been skimming James’ shelves, making comments about the players whose autobiographies were present, snide and otherwise, but when he came across the calculus textbook he immediately reached out like he was magnetized, laughing when he flipped it open to find James’ passport, birth certificate, all the papers he couldn’t afford to lose. James would have been offended, but it wasn’t a laugh of amusement, more of discovery, of delight. Apparently, he’s able to identify that by sound too.

When James asked how he knew it was something worth investigating, Holden pointed out it was the only thing that didn’t involve hockey in the hockey room. James does have to admit that was an oversight on his part, and a concern if he is ever robbed. But then, if he is, everything of worth he owns is in that room, almost all of it irreplaceable. Losing his passport would be the least of his problems.

Even so, he likes it as a hiding space, so he’s considering hollowing out a hockey book instead. A bad one, one of the ones that barely discuss hockey, so busy offering braggadocio and salacious details, so he won’t feel so guilty about it.

Until then, he’s not particularly worried about Holden stealing his passport from its default hiding place. He’s far more concerned about him misplacing his own, or forgetting it again.

On the Ericksons and Schneiders sitting together during games:

His father said it made sense to, since he and Finn were almost always on the ice at the same time and besides, the Schneiders didn’t talk during play, like some parents did. It makes James uncomfortable, them knowing one another, socializing independently of him, but at the same time, it’s a relief they get along.

On dinner add-ons:

James demurs cracked pepper, parmesan, while the Schneiders load up on both — he likes both, but not enough to ask a stranger to lean into his personal space, over his plate, cranking their little machine unbearably slowly until he tells them to stop.

[virsancte]

back on my bullshit catastrophically

[6ebe]

rly wish male athletes would stop treating their wives and children as props for the sole benefit of their own well-being and sports career. like idk how to phrase this well but in that six nations show the sheer number of guys crediting their wives and kids for making them behave better/ have a more holistic view on life, “my children love me no matter how bad I play” like. smth abt banking on the unconditional love of children while you’re being an absent father bc of your job is crazy 😭😭😭

[skeletalheartattack]

drud that’s a family video you can’t buy games from there

just watch me. i whip my wallet and pull out an original holographic charizard pokemon card. yeah buddy. one of these for one luigi's mansion please. and some pikmin 1 and 2 as sides. and a laarge soda.

[countess-of-edessa]

.

[cielospeaks]

wanting romeo bc of in game character ship: regular brain

wanting romeo bc of shakes nerdiness: big brain

wanting romeo bc shakes squad w hamlet and macbeth: expanded brain

wanting romeo to make this meme w r + j and hamlet : galaxy brain

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - kidnapping, manipulation, mentions of physical abuse, and prolonged imprisonment.

You learn quickly that Nanami is significantly more bearable with he's playing house.

It should've been more obvious, in retrospect. If you hadn't been so terrified, so desperate not to fall into your captor's domestic delusions, you might've been more able to catch on more quickly, to realize how much softer he was when you treated him like a loving husband, rather than an obsessive stalker who had the nerve to roll his eyes when you asked if he had anything for you to wear that didn't involve bows and frills. You were slow on the uptake, but then again, he wasn't the kind of man who wore his heart on his sleeve.

His reactions weren't exactly more pronounced when your aggression started to fade, when you realized that he could barely take care of himself, let alone another person. You were skittish, eager to get in and out of the kitchen before he came home, and he was stoic, offering little more than a nod of his head and a muttered 'thank you' when he came home to find a bare-bones meal on the table or his constantly neglected apartment just a little cleaner. It took weeks for him to come to you directly; his suit jacket in one hand and spare button in the other. It should've only taken a minute to mend, but your hands shook so badly that it'd ended up taking ten. He watched over your shoulder all the while - smiling so softly, you'd been able to convince yourself that it was just your imagination.

You pretended that you didn't mind being with him, that the idea of being his stay-at-home hostage didn't make your skin crawl, and in exchange, he let you watch an hour of T.V. once a week, told you how your family and friends were dealing with your sudden disappearance. It wasn't a fair trade, but it was a trade - his domestic bliss for a handful of basic privileges, his happiness for the illusion of your freedom. When you can build up the courage, when you've recovered (or, recovered as much as you can, anyway) from the last time he bent you over his knee, you press for more. And sometimes, it works.

"I missed you," he mumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His strong arms are wrapped around your waist, his posture hunched to accommodate the disparity between your heights, and you can feel warm breath on your skin, his deep voice reverberating against your throat.

"Welcome home," you say, because he doesn't like it when you lie and 'I missed you too' might've been the most dishonest thing you could've said. "You should sit down. I just started on dinner, and--"

You pause, cursing under your breath. Nanami is tired enough or kind enough to take the bait. "Make me a list." He pulls you that much closer before straightening his back and kissing your cheek. "I'll run to the store. It's the least I could do, for the only person who manages to keep my head on my shoulders."

You let a second of silence lapse between you, then another. "You know," you manage, eventually, just as Nanami starts to detangle himself from you. "Most couples spend as much time together as they can."

You can practically hear his smile. "You want to go shopping with me?"

"...am I allowed to?"

"Of course." He says it like he hadn't kidnapped you. Like he hadn't kept you locked in his sterile apartment for the better part of a year. Like he hadn't taken you by the neck and promised he'd be the only man to ever touch you again every time you questioned his intentions.

There's another kiss, this one to the corner of your jaw. Just when you think your heart might beat out of your chest, he adds, "As soon as hell freezes over and curses go extinct, I'll take you wherever you want."

You might've cried, if you didn't know how much he loved wiping away your tears.

Sometimes, it works.

Most of the time, though, he chooses to remind you whose game you're playing.

[vivwritesfics]

Three Apples Tall

Lando and the readers son is insecure about how short he is. But he got his height from his dad and it was one of the reasons reader fell in love with him.

Lando Norris had never expected to become a father at 24. But life was odd sometimes. It threw curve balls when you least expected it. What counted was how you handled it.

Lando married his girlfriend, the mother of his child. He was going to do it anyway, whether there was a baby involved or not. He moved out of his apartment in Monaco and they got a proper house together, the perfect place to raise the family.

Robert 'Bobby' Norris was the spitting image of his father. Like Lando had made a little clone of himself. He was a little heartbreaker as a baby and had all of the women in his life fawning over him.

He was a mommas boy, but he looked just like his father. As he got older, the resemblance to Lando only got stronger. He didn't start karting, that wasn't in his future. He wanted to be a footballer instead (and Lando was going to support him the entire way).

When Bobby was eleven he expressed to his momma just how scared he was of growing up short. "Girls don't like short guys, mum," he said as they ate dinner together. Lando was away at a race, but Bobby and his mum had stayed home so that he could go to school.

"Trust me, Bob," his mother said as she grabbed his plate from the table. "Girls don't care about height. You've seen me wear heels around your dad, right?"

Bobby wore a frown, but he still nodded.

As Bobby Norris got older, he only got more insecure about his height. His friends all shot up around him, the boys on his football team were all much bigger than him. Bobby hated it; he couldn't help but feel as though people were staring at them. Of course, nobody was, but he couldn't help the way he felt.

He didn't say anything to his father, but he did speak to his mother. His mother that worried about him. His mother that had to speak to his father about it.

Bobby Norris might not have understood this, but his father had felt all of this before. He understood how Bobby felt, better than most.

"Lan," she mumbled as they laid in bed together, holding each other. "He feels really shitty. Do you think you can talk to him?"

Lando couldn't help but feel like this was all of his fault. The short genes were his, after all. He hadn't felt insecure like this since he was a teenager. But Lando didn't care about his own insecurities. He knew how to deal with his own insecurities. Bobby didn't.

I must say they had another child in this time. A daughter, Eleanor Norris. She was a daddies girl, followed in her fathers footsteps. As soon as she could she begged to get into karting, and Lando did all that he could to make that happen.

She was small, but she didn't care. It didn't affect her in the way it did her brother.

Now, back to Bobby.

His friends towered over him. He hadn't been picked on for his height, nobody but him cared about that, but he still felt shit. As a five foot nothing sixteen year old, he hated it. His friends were all nearly six foot, some taller than that, and he wasn't.

Lando knocked on his bedroom door. Booby normally left it open, but he was gaming with his friends so his mother had shut his door since, like his father, he tended to get a little loud.

"Yeah?" Bobby shouted as he pulled his headset off.

Lando pushed open his bedroom door and walked in. Bobby paused his game (it was call of duty - he didn't pause but hid somewhere on the map, a map that Lando remembered playing several years before) and spun in his gaming chair to face his dad.

"Hey, Bob," Lando said, trying to keep things light. Bobby raised his eyebrows at his dad. He just wanted to get back to his game. "Your mum and I have been talking."

Bobby's neutral expression dropped into a frown. "Fuuuuuck," he groaned as he leaned back in his seat. "What did she tell you?" His head was still against the back of the gaming chair as he looked at his dad.

"She told me that... you don't feel great about your height."

Bobby didn't say anything. He simply looked at his dad. How to you admit that you're insecure about your height to the person you inherited it from?

"I used to be insecure about my height," Lando admitted, linking his fingers together. "When I was a kid I really cared about what people thought about me and my height. My friends at school were all tall and I wasn't. I was really embarrassed when I was at school."

Bobby let out a groan. "Seriously dad, do we have to do this?"

"Just listen," said Lando. "I tried not to care, but I really did. Even in my 20's I still cared. But Then I met your mum. She made me realise that nobody cared about my height. It was all in my head and nobody cared but me. Your mum is taller than me in heels, and that made me insecure at our first FIA prize gala, but I realised I shouldn't care so much. I might be three apples tall, but nobody cares but me."

"Okay, I get it," said Bobby as he turned back to his game. His controller had turned off and he pressed the button to turn it on.

Lando stood and laid his hand on Bobby's shoulder. "I just don't want you to wait until your twenties to realise this."

It may not have looked like Bobby was listening, but he was. He took in what his dad was saying, and stopped caring about his height. It made him a lot happier, his friends could tell, his family could tell.

Robert Norris was three apples tall, just like his dad.

[krossan]

A Brief AU Explanation

I noticed that there are a lot of new followers that do know Danny Phantom, and others that the know very little. I am also aware that I haven't fully explained - maybe NOT in too much detail - the "story" and plots of my AU. You only have the ideas that I've been telling of this story through illustrations.

This AU is all about reconnecting with one self, with Jazz and Dan as the main two of this particular game.

Jazz remains as the same character that is portrayed through the OG show. She has always been the psychology enthusiast of the group, the one that cares for others and help with whatever she can. For her, others come first. First being her family.

On the other hand, we have Dan, an alternate entity of Danny’s ghost half and Vlad’s. A new form of entity that lost his humanity. For him to show any form of emotion is null.

Jazz involvement in this has to do with her putting everyone else first and then herself, and being keen to the study of the human-psyche, and now ghost-psyche, she secretly partakes to the role of Dan’s therapist. This was kept in secret from the rest of her friends and Danny until she can gain more control over Dan.

This, of course, prove to be a VERY difficult task. With her having to hide her constant fears when facing that “particular someone”: he could go on a rampage, have uncontrollable outbursts, cause havoc, and that he could turn against her any day/time without any remorse. She knows this, but she also knows that deep down, her little brother is still there. She’s looking to rekindle that part of him again. Of course, never knowing at what extent this could go.

And this, apparently started to bear fruit, although at a slow pace. As Jazz stood closer and closer to him, she understood that he stayed alone his entire life, and after losing everyone he cared, his violent actions were his significance of showing the world "hurting". The hurt he have been caring so many years. Now he has that second chance. To “live” a new life and Jazz wants to help him out.

With this new information, each time Jazz got close to him, Dan, instead of seeing her as an obnoxious-human-parasite, he slowly starts bonding with her. His interest increasing each day he is with her and grows more comfortable being around her (something Dan originally despised).

***

Part of this AU, enrolls on a particular context that the ghost of a halfa is sentient. The original show as proven this*. When Danny’s ghost has been separated, his ghost has a mind of his own, but when staying together, human-ghost, the consciousness of the halfa acts as one. *Episodes in question: What You Want, Identity Crisis, The Ultimate Enemy

This part that the ghost plays on the known halfas is a mayor plot point from this AU. Let me explain my concept briefly:

This roll that the ghost is part of the halfa is the one that caries the power of the wielder (human). The human can transform into the ghost and vice versa. The ghost powers remain within the ghost half. The human half acts as a vessel/host to the ghost half.

All living things have the instinct of survival. And on this case, the ghosts would do ANYTHING to keep their host safe as they are the means of a linked connection human-ghost. Not unlike the rest of non-halfa- ghosts that their link/host relies on the Ghost Zone -since they no longer have a corporeal body, the vessel for their survival is ectoplasmic energy, the one that emanates from the GZ.

***

Since Dan is no longer connected to a human, he became a full-ghost. An entity that merged from two ghost halfas. He can sustain himself alone, but strangely enough, he building a bond with Jazz, it rekindled what Jazz intended, but in an unusual way. Jazz intention was to try and reconnect Dan with his long-lost humanity. Even if he didn’t have a human half, both his ghosts may have some little information stored deep within of what that used to feel like. And even though that started to give results, the ghost also retained that of his original purpose: Protect the host.

And as the bond Dan and Jazz grew more and more, unknown to them, it caused a physical manifestation: a white streak formed in Jazz’s hair. And even if this came up as a surprise to Jazz, she later discovered that this manifestation was much more than just physical.

Dan rekindled his humanity but he, unknowingly, intertwined Jasmine’s humanity to his. Her humanity is part of him. Jasmine’s emotions have an impact on him. Whatever she feels, he can sense it, let them be good or bad ones.

They both are this new form of halfa, both human and ghost are separate life forms, but from the ghost side -Dan’s perspective- Jazz is acting as his human half. His host. That’s is why his instincts respond to protect her at all costs.

No. This new form of a halfa representation doesn't mean Jazz has ghost powers. The one with that power is Dan. This bond is more of a psychic link.

 (i.e. In European folklore, you “could” say Dan is Jasmine’s "familiar", although Jazz is not considered to be a witch, but imagine the possibilities of this small plot causing people or ghosts to think Jazz is a witch… idk… random ideas)

This is why Dan is more sympathetic towards Jazz and why their bond is very important.

______________

It's worth pointing out that I don't have a specific name for this AU, like many people do when they create these stories. And NO. Please refrain from saying this is a romantic relationship. It is a sibling/platonic relationship.

[alotofpockets]

Just like Mama | Alexia Putellas x Reader

Where your daughter wants to be just like her mama

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.1k

-----

“Mama scored!” Your daughter Talia jumped up from the couch and ran a celebratory lap around the coffee table, ending her lap in your arms. 

“Yes she did! Did you see that she did your celebration, Carinyo?” She nodded enthusiastically. “Mama scored for me.” You kiss her on her cheek. “She always does.” Talia cuddles back into your side, as the match plays on.

Since Talia had started pre-school you weren’t able to go see her Mama play as often as you used to. You went to all the home games, but away games that involve travelling, were less practical now that your baby was growing. Despite not always being able to go watch your wife’s matches live, you and Talia never missed a match. 

Alexia had been nervous about not being related to your daughter by blood, when you were still pregnant, but while Talia was biologically yours, she was a carbon copy of your wife. They shared the same passion for football, the same big heart, the same shyness, and the characteristics were uncanny. 

“Mommy?” You hear the sadness laced into your daughter’s voice, and are fast to her side. “What’s wrong, Carinyo?” With big sad eyes she tells you that she misses her Mama. “I miss her too. Do you know what I like to do when I miss Mama?” Your four year old shakes her head, but you could tell in her eyes that you had piqued her interest. 

You grab your phone out of your pocket. “I like to look at pictures of Mama, and think about the memories I have from those moments. Would you like to give it a try?” You took Talia crawling into your lap as a yes and got the first picture ready on your phone.

“Hey, we have that one at home!” Talia instantly recognised the Ballon d’Or trophy that sat on the shelves of your home office. “Yeah, that’s right. Mama won two of these trophies, they’re called Ballon d’Or’s. This was the first time she won it, and it means that she was the best footballer that season.” Talia nodded with a content smile, “Mama is the best.”

“Do you know who that is, Carinyo?” Talia observes the next image. Alexia holding a baby in her arms. “Is that me, Mommy?” You nod with a smile on your face. “It is! That’s the day that Mama and I got to bring you home from the hospital for the first time.” The memory brings a smile to your face. Bringing Talia home for the first time had been both scary and amazing. It was your and Alexia’s first time being alone with Talia, no more doctors around to help you as the first time parents that you were. But also the moment the reality of your family expanding started to feel real. No longer just the two of you at home, but now a family of three.

“This one isn’t from too long ago. Remember Mama’s birthday?” Talia thought for a moment before exclaiming, “We had cake!” You chuckle at the part of the day she remembered, but she wasn’t wrong. “That’s right, we did have cake.”

The next picture on your phone brings an instant smile to your face, it’s an image of your wife posing on a bridge over the canals of Amsterdam. “This is when I took Mama on a little weekend trip to Amsterdam. It was a very special trip, do you know why?” Talia shakes her head. “Why Mommy?” You place a loving kiss onto her head. “I’ll tell you why, Carinyo. I told Mama we were going to have a baby on this trip, that we were pregnant with you.” Talia seems deep in thought for a moment. “Mommy, have I been to Amsterdam?” 

“Well only when you were still a tiny baby growing in my tummy.” With a determined look she turned your way. “Can we go now that I’m a big girl?” 

You loved your little girl with all your heart, and yes to you she would always be your little girl, no matter how often she would say she’s a big girl now. “Yeah, Carinyo, I think we can take a little trip as a family when Mama has some time off next.” Content with that answer, Talia requested the next picture.

“In this one Mama had just won the World Cup, and that’s you celebrating with her on the field.” Talia was too young to remember the moment, but it would forever be one you’d hold close to your heart. Your wife accomplished something incredible and for the first time she was able to celebrate a trophy with her daughter. 

While your mind went back to 2023 and the moment the final whistle blew, watching the girls win, your daughter’s mind was focussed on something else. “Mama had pink hair.” You remember Ale coming home from running errands with her hair dyed a bright pink a few days before leaving for the World Cup. To say you were surprised was an understatement, sure Alexia dyed her hair every now and then, but usually they had been neutral colours. You loved her with any hair colour though, even the pink looked amazing on her.

“Can I have pink hair like Mama, please?” You were hesitant at first, but the many pleas that followed after with the best puppy dog eyes Talia could manage, you caved. “Alright, why not. Let’s surprise Mama with it.” 

Talia was overjoyed with her new hair, and walked around saying “Just like Mama.” every time she saw herself in a reflection. 

Clad in her FC Barcelona kit, you took her to pick up your wife. The moment she saw Ale she ran towards her Mama. First she ran in for a hug, cause she missed her so much, but after she stepped back and proudly showed off her hair. “Look Mama, just like you!” Alexia took in the look, and smiled at her daughter, “Just like Mama, I like it. You look very pretty.” 

She picked up Talia and walked to your side. “Surprising me like I surprised you before the World Cup?” She smirked.

You raise your hand in surrender, “It was all her idea, I just provided the hair dye.” She pecked your lips and hugged you with Talia still in her arms. “Let’s go home. I’ve missed cuddling with my favourite girls.”

----- 💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

[princeoftheeternalbog]

OP characters reacting to you kissing them and running away (here's part 2) established relationship ish. Feel free to ask for other characters.

ALSO I've definitely seen another creator who did this idea with op characters but I can't remember who so if someone could tell me I would really love to credit them :(. I tried to make mine different but still it's the principal of it.

Slightly suggestive in some parts so mdni.

Luffy

Thinks its a new game like tag but with kisses and it ends up actually becoming one. You'll both wait for the other to become distracted and then you'll strike, planting a kiss and sprinting off around the ship or the island you're docked at. It's not hard to chase after each other because the trails of laughter are so easy to follow and it always ends up with one of you on the floor from a tackle or something similar.

Zoro

Gobsmacked. Genuinely his jaw drops especially if there's other people there and you get away so easily only because of how long it takes his brain to boot back online. Oh but he doesn't let it go. He waits until you're in a similar situation, either talking to someone or doing work and he sneaks up to pull you into a deep, intense kiss that leaves your knees weak. Like he fully puts the moves on you, hand on your lower back, other hand cradling your jaw, hes literally licking into your mouth and then he just disappears for the rest of the day. Asshole.

Sanji

You are not running away from this man. Not in a scary way but he can't do just one short kiss, as soon as you're leaning in his hands settle firm on your hips and that grip is not something you can wiggle out of. You can try to run away but he just laughs at you and pulls you closer to him, ofc he would let go if you actually wanted him to but he knows what you're trying to pull. Says something like "Oh? Trying to run darlin? How sweet." swoon- Just don't even bother, he will always try to win if your affection is involved.

Nami

Honestly thinks nothing of it. A lot of your affection is sweet but quick because yk pirate life. But if you look disappointed from her lack of reaction then she catches on quickly and starts playing along. So sweet even though she can be scary. Oh but don't try to run if she's initiating, like Sanji you aren't going to get out of her grip. If she wants to shower you with affection, she is going to thank you very much. If you do manage to slip away she's surprisingly quick and surprisingly stealthy. Like you'll think you got away and you walk into a room and she drops down from the ceiling like fucking batman.

(maybe not that dramatic but shes good)

Robin

She lets you run away but only because she knows she could summon a mouth to kiss you at any time and in any place so she's content knowing she always wins. Also thinks it's really cute when you try to rile her up like this, she just finds it so endearing and usually ends up playing into it anyways- "My, my, aren't you getting so bold my love". Sometimes will purposefully trip you up while you're doing these antics so you can't get away or so your plan is ruined, absolutely pretends she has no idea what you're talking about.

Usopp

Highly likely he was doing something when it happened. Highly likely he dropped something onto his foot as a result. Yowls like an injured cat and then when his brain catches up it's like steam comes out of his ears. Stands there with his mouth open and pointing at you like you betrayed his entire family. Very funny and very cute. Also a possibility of him smacking you out of fearful instinct in which case he'd probably cry his eyes out and beg for forgiveness. Nami makes it worse by punching him in the face for hitting you. A mess all around if you get him at the wrong time so just be careful.

Ace

Immediately sprinting after you, it's actually a bit scary. But like hey he's not letting you get away with just one measly little peck on the cheek. Absolutely nobody on the crew helps you unless it would be funny, i.e. someone tripping Ace up so he faceplants. If it's near the beginning of your relationship then you likely go back out of concern which he takes as a chance to catch you, but if it's later then you already know this man's antics and you know he wouldn't be injured just from tripping so you use it as an opportunity to get away💪. You still have to kiss it better later though when hes whining to you about how cruel you are for leaving him in the dust(he would do the same).

Izou

Don't bother. As soon as you turn he snatches you by the back of your collar and pulls you onto his lap, proceeds to resume his conversation like nothing is wrong but his arms are firm around your waist and his cheeks and ears are a particularly pretty shade of red. Once his conversation is over and the other person has left, he turns his attention to you with a very pointed look. He's not actually irritated but if he enjoys watching you squirm that's his business. "If you wanted a kiss you should've just asked my love" and then he's practically devouring your mouth. Doesn't care about the other people in the vicinity. Doesn't care that he's smudging his lipstick. Just wants to fluster you more than you flustered him.

Marco

Do you even want to run away from this man lets be real- anyways.

If he's doing work then he just laughs and lets you get away with it, tallys it in his head for later, but if he's free and hes in a good mood then he absolutely plays into it. Will chase after you. Will cheat by using his powers. Its a bit scary but also very attractive, somehow ends with him pinning you in some way (☺️), looks very smug when he wins. Like you'll end up flat on your back, legs trapped under his and his hands restraining yours and he's just grinning- "Oh what a surprise. You were so easy to catch-yoi" Yeah yeah shut up. Absolutely asks what his reward is just to see your shocked face (absolutely asks again later when you two are alone).

Sabo

VILLAIN!!!!!! Sorry only way i can describe how devious and obsessed this man would be. Like Izou he tries to snatch you immediately but you planned for this so you manage to spring out of his grip in time. You falter a bit at his reaction then because he just blinks at you for a while. You start to feel a bit nervous and when he finally grins at you, you definitely feel nervous. "Playing like that are we honey? How about I give you a headstart then?" Evil. You know he's going to catch you. He knows he's going to catch you. He's just giving you false hope but yk hope is hope so you take the chance.

You don't get far. It's not even fair how quickly he catches up to you and gets you underneath him, it takes him barely any effort, not even a strand of hair is out of place. Spends the next 10 minutes kissing you on the floor of the hallway until Koala comes back and promptly drags him back into his office.

[puck-luck]

wedding crashers | jack hughes

warnings: semi public sex, pining on jack's side, older!reader (jack is 22, she is 26), unprotected p in v (always... do as i do not as i say, wrap it when you tap it), fingering, dirty talk, insinuation of oral (m & f receiving) pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader request: "jack hughes and a slightly older reader (like idk 3 years older maybe), i feel like he’s so sassy and cocky that he would go nuts if he was able to get an older girl hahaha, maybe it could be like a challenge type situation where they were bantering over whether he’d be any good in bed bc he’s “just a baby” or something so he has something to prove.. 🫣" wc: 4167

You’d first met Jack Hughes in 2015. You were at one of the USA Developmental games with Matthew, your best friend at the time, watching his brother play for the last time that year. Since it was Christmas just recently, this was the only time you’d get to see Matthew until who knew when. Even though it involved hockey, which always stole Matthew’s attention from you, you decided to join him anyway. It was Matthew that introduced you to the Hughes family, after you had commented on Quinn’s performance.

Jack was a goof from the get-go. He was fourteen when you met, so all of his attempts to flirt with you went nowhere. Well, they made it to the front seat of Matthew’s car, where you laughed about the younger boy’s boldness. He was a sweet boy, and cute in a way that made you want to pinch his cheeks, and you were able to watch him grow up and come into himself. 

Your friendship with Matthew had dwindled since he was drafted in 2016, but you were still close enough with his family to be invited to Brady’s wedding. It was there that Jack cornered you, hitting on you for the umpteenth time. Now, he was 22 years old, overconfident and cocky due to years of praise from not only his coaches and peers, but from every pretty girl that fell into his company. You were 26, mature and happy with the life you had made for yourself. 

Jack had never stopped chasing you, though it wasn’t an overbearing and constant chase. He was sure that he would conquer you someday, having never forgotten the way he rubbed himself raw after he had first met you and you had smiled in his direction. What can he say– he was fourteen and a pretty girl, an older girl had smiled at him. 

And, pleasantly tipsy, Jack had decided that today was that day.

He tore himself away from Luke, having delivered a new drink to his underage brother, and made his way to you. You were sitting with one of Brady and Matthew’s relatives, making small talk over a glass of white wine. Your legs were crossed in a way that Jack could only describe as dainty, your nails painted a pretty blush color that matched your dress. Jack licked his bottom lip when an image of your hand around his cock, with those painted nails contrasting the color of his member, flashed through his mind.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jack said, not really feeling sorry at all. He turned to you. “I was wondering if you’d join me for a dance.”

You smiled and shook your head slightly, a small laugh falling from your lips. “Sure, Jack.” To the Tkachuk relative, you excused yourself, standing to take Jack’s extended hand. You took a sip from your wine glass, polishing off the drink. 

Jack truly couldn’t have chosen a better moment to ask you to dance, as a new song began and decided for you, due to its pace, that the two of you would engage in a waltz of sorts. Jack wasn’t much of a dancer, but he was able to box step in time with the music and lead you through the dance. 

You had given Jack a knowing look when his hand found its way to the small of your back, threatening to dip dangerously onto the curve of your ass. Your hand rested on his shoulder, the other in his hand, held close to your bodies. 

Jack pulled you close to him, mere inches between your bodies. You laughed again, your head dipping to fall on his shoulder for a split second. 

“What?” Jack asked as you flicked your hair from your eyes with a slight tilt of your head. “You’re supposed to be close when you dance.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever you say, Jack.” Your voice was light, almost sing-songy. “Your intentions are nothing if not innocent, isn’t that right?”

“I just want to dance,” Jack deflected, but the smile on his face told you everything you needed to know. His eyes were shining, both from the drinks he had consumed and the charged energy between your bodies.

You raised your eyebrows and pursed your lips, trying to suppress a smile as you and Jack continued to stare at each other. You broke first, looking away and shaking your head.

“What?” Jack said. “You don’t believe me?”

“No, I don’t believe you.”

“Oh, I’m hurt by that.” Jack pouted, his bottom lip jutting out in a way that caught your attention. It was plush and pink and just a little cracked from sun exposure. You knew Jack had spent the beginning of the summer out on the lake, and his skin reflected that– both tan and sunkissed at once. 

Though you hated to admit it, Jack had grown up to be very attractive. He glowed, especially in the summer, especially when he had a few drinks in his system and he had grown a little more brash and a little more bold.

“Poor Jacky,” You teased. You tilted your head down and blinked up at him through your lashes, saying in a baby-voice: “I hurt the little baby’s feelings?”

“You did,” Jack agreed, his pout just becoming more exaggerated. “How are you going to make it up to me?”

Your whole body moved with your laugh this time. “I suppose you’re about to ask me to kiss it better.”

“Well, I was hoping for more than just a kiss,” Jack said, chuckling at your laughter. He licked his bottom lip before biting it in a cheeky smile, the apples of his cheeks prominent and pink. His teeth were a sharp white contrast to the red dusting across his cheeks, but you found yourself growing fond of that shameless smile the more you saw it.

“Jack, you’re a baby,” You laughed. “In the real world, you’d have just graduated college. I know things are different because you’re a big, famous hockey player and you’ve been doing this job for years, but the fact of the matter is that you’re just too young for me.”

Jack was unscathed by your rejection, just like he always was. He didn’t even mind that your tone was borderline condescending, like you were talking to a five year old instead of a grown adult. 

“Plus, Jacky–” You smiled, itching to hammer the final nail in this coffin. “You can’t handle a grown woman.”

His eyes grew dark at that. “I can handle a grown woman,” He stated, voice definite.

You threw your head back, not quite laughing, but not quite rolling your eyes in exasperation either.

Jack’s hand left yours and found your jaw in a flash, bringing your face back to his. “I can handle a grown woman,” He repeated. His gaze flickered down to your lips. “Let me prove it.”

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes flickering down to his lips to match his motions. “In your dreams,” You denied, bringing your hand to his chest to put some distance between you.

Jack didn’t allow it. If anything, he pulled you closer. He pressed his hips into yours, took your hand off his chest and resumed its original dancing position. He tugged you tight to him, tight enough that you were looking over his shoulder and his mouth hovered right next to your ear.

“I’d be so good to you,” Jack whispered. Your eyes flickered around the room, but no one seemed perturbed by yours and Jack’s positioning. “I’ve had a long time to think about this, Y/N. Let me tell you what I’d do, what I have done in my dreams.”

You didn’t say anything, but the fingertips of the hand on his shoulder found the hair at the nape of Jack’s neck and stayed there.

“I always start by kissing you. Always. I’d start slow– just feeling how these pretty pink lips feel against mine. I’d wait for you to loosen up, to open your mouth and invite me in for more. I’m going to keep going slow, but I’m going to slide my tongue into your mouth and kiss you until I’ve figured out just what you taste like. Today, you’ll taste like your white wine at first, but I’m going to kiss you until I’ve deciphered your taste, Y/N.”

Jack moved his hand to your waist and squeezed gently.

“I’d start with my hands here, but I wouldn’t be able to help myself. I’ll start moving, feeling every inch of you. There’s not a part of your body where my fingerprints won’t be found. You won’t know what to focus on– when one of my hands is tangled up in your hair, the other one is going to squeeze your ass and really feel it out because I’ve been thinking about it for so long. And all the while, darling, I’ll be kissing you and stealing the breath from your lungs.”

You gasped at that, shifting closer to Jack. He smiled, knowing that he was closing in on the moment that he’d been wanting for the past eight years. His hand moved to the curve of your ass and you’re nearly helpless with it, or just unwilling to chide him for venturing that far. Jack made eye contact with Quinn over your shoulder and smirked, showing his teeth in a cheshire way.

He spoke again. “But then I’d bring my fingers down, won’t I? I’ve made you breathless, I’ve made you moan, I’ve got you begging for more– something you thought you’d never do. Yet here we are, and you’re always dripping for me.” 

By the end of his sentence, Jack’s voice was barely audible. You were straining to hear him, and his mouth was right next to your ear. You felt a bit breathless already, strung together by terrible stitching. Your resolve snapped when you felt his lips close around your earlobe, his teeth tugging at your skin gently.

You jumped away from him like you’d been electrocuted by his touch. You’re breathing heavily, chest heaving. 

Jack fared no better, standing in the same spot. You watch his chest rise and fall, the little bit of his skin you can see between his unbuttoned white shirt glistening. His mouth was slightly open, ready to whisper something else dirty in your ear. 

You looked him up and down like you couldn’t decide where to focus, like you were fulfilling a prophecy where Jack made you fumble where you once stood so sure.

In a second, you made your decision. You needed to see how this would end, needed to feel it for yourself.

You grabbed Jack’s hand and dragged him out of the reception hall, down the winding hallways until you’ve deemed that you’re far enough away from the party that no one would be able to find you if they came looking.

You shoved Jack into a closet– a closet, you thought to yourself, wanting to laugh at the absurdity. When you closed the door behind you and turned to find Jack’s eyes, he was waiting with a stoney face, not letting any of his emotions show. You’d have killed to know what he was thinking.

All you could do was nod, mouth opening and closing a few times, but never finding words. 

Jack tilted his head, his eyes flashing in the darkness.

“Please,” is the single word that ended up breaking the silence between you. 

Jack’s lips were on yours in the blink of an eye. His hands cradled your face and his kiss was insistent, bruising. He was slow, sure, but he was emphatic, unyielding. The kiss reflected the eight years of waiting that had passed before he got this chance. 

His hand pulled one of your legs up onto his hip before it circled around you to knead the skin of your ass. Your dress, already short because Brady and Emma had planned for a wedding in the dead of summer, rode up until your behind was barely covered. 

All the more for Jack to hold onto as his tongue made its way into your mouth.

You continued to kiss, breaking apart only to take a breath and recover, unbuttoning the rest of Jack’s shirt and pushing it down his arms. Your hands roamed his torso, feeling every muscle that Jack had worked so hard to build. 

Jack’s mouth traveled south, sucking along the skin of your neck. He bent down, both of his hands finding your thighs and lifting you. You wrapped your legs around him and ground down against him, finally getting some relieving friction from the sizable bulge that was pressing against his zipper. Jack moaned out loud, gasping at your movements. 

“What next?” You asked, grinding down again.

“What?” Jack replied, lost in the moment. His eyes met yours and they seemed cloudy, swirling with lust.

“After you, shit, after you touch me–” Your head tipped back as he pressed a kiss to your collarbone. “What do you do next, in your dreams?”

It took a minute to register for Jack, too caught up in the feeling of your pussy against his cock, even if there were multiple layers separating you. 

“I touch you,” Jack said, the obvious next action. “I don’t do anything, I just touch you. I use two fingers and I find every spot that makes you react. Once I’ve got you figured out, I–”

You cut him off. “Do it,” You told him. Your head felt light, almost dizzy, and you nodded like a bobblehead. “Do it.”

Jack let out a pathetic, wanton whimper at your command and walked forward until you were pressed against the wall. He shifted you over to that you were held up by his thigh and he brought one hand down to your panties.

He felt over the skimpy fabric, which was barely doing anything anymore. It was soaked, darkened with your slick, and briefly, Jack thought to take it off of you and pocket it to bring home as a souvenir. How dirty you would feel going back out to the reception… the thought of it nearly made Jack’s knees buckle. It would be a constant reminder that he’d won, that he’d managed to fuck you and satisfy you after thinking about it for so long.

He allowed his fingers to wander up and down the expanse of your pussy, cataloging how you whined when he rubbed over your swollen clit and how you clenched down when he pushed at your entrance through the fabric covering it. He noticed how your stomach tensed as he teased his way across your lips, running his finger over each curve and ridge. 

As if inspired by something divine, Jack pulled your panties taut, making them ride up into your cunt and provide some gratifying friction when you next ground down on his hand. Jack watched, eyes wide, as you chased your own pleasure. His hand was the catalyst and you were moving mindlessly, like he had already plucked every thought from your head and replaced it with desire for him.

“Fuck,” Jack choked out, feeling a spark zip up his spine. “Y/N.”

He said your name with such reverence, and flexed his hand against you like an offering. 

“Fuck me,” You said. Your hands found Jack’s hair and you pressed your lips to his. “Jack. I need you to fuck me. I need you inside me, I can’t– oh, need you to make me come. Baby, I’m so close already, I need you.”

Jack’s cock was throbbing like he might burst from the slightest breeze. There it was again– “Baby.” It didn’t mean the same thing now, Jack knew it was more of a term of endearment than an insult, but it lit a fire under him nonetheless. He was going to prove to you that he wasn’t a baby, that he was a man and in this moment, you were his. He was going to fuck you hard, like you’d never imagined he was able to do. He was going to make your legs shake, make it so you couldn’t walk or do anything but sit prettily at your table and sip on another glass of wine to cool you off.

He was going to make it so that the next time he saw you, you’d be begging him to make you come again.

Jack let your feet find the floor again, stepping back just far enough to get his hands on his belt. “Strip,” Jack commanded. “I want to see you.” At the same time, he unbuckled his belt and worked to remove his dress pants. He kicked them away, in a crumpled little pile near his dress shirt. His underwear joined shortly after.

You hurried to remove your dress, eyes locked in on Jack’s cock. It was a burning red at the tip, wet and straining. It stood away from his body, solid and you swore you might’ve just felt some drool pool at the corner of your mouth. 

His hand fisted his cock, eyes lasered in on your protruding nipples when you dropped your dress to reveal your body. 

Jack sighed, stroking himself slowly to keep himself at bay. “You’re better than I dreamed,” He said, causing you to blush.

“Jack,” You whined, aching for him to come closer, to slide inside you.

“Let me.” Jack stepped forward and got to his knees, gently bringing your panties down and helping you out of them. He dropped a kiss on your clit before standing again.

You brought an arm around his neck, your other hand placed solidly on his chest. You could feel his pulse racing wildly beneath your palm and you suddenly remembered that he’d been waiting to do this for years.

“Come on, Jacky,” You voiced. “Prove yourself.”

It was a weak command, a weak insistence, barely any indicator of sureness in your voice now. Jack had turned you inside-out, made you question everything because you never imagined you’d need him the way you do now. 

He practically growled and you could feel it rumble in his chest. He captured your lips with his, nibbling on your bottom lip before filling your mouth with his tongue. It was slippery and wet and it felt like magic.

Jack pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance, feeling the head slide in. He stopped there for a minute, breathing deeply into your mouth to ground himself. He couldn’t disappoint you, wouldn’t dare shoot off early and cut short the night that he’d been fantasizing about since he was a teenager.

“So good,” You breathed out, feeding the words to Jack. He dipped his head and inched further into you, moving slowly until your pelvis connected with his. 

“Fuck,” Jack whimpered out. 

His thrusts started shallow. Jack felt like you were constricting him, squeezing him like a snake in a cartoon. His voice was caught in his throat like an ugly lump and the only noises that could force their way past it were groans and “uh”s that borderline on squeaky. He didn’t care about the noises, he didn’t care that he could be embarrassing himself in front of the girl he’s wanted for so long.

It didn’t matter to you, either– you were too caught up in the feeling of Jack’s cock sheathed inside of you. He was pressing against your most intimate spots and you could feel him throbbing inside of you, dragging delectably along your walls.

His thrusts grew deeper, became longer, harder. Jack’s hair fell into his eyes and you brushed it away. His eyes met yours and the air between you felt thick and charged. You brought your hand to Jack’s jaw and leaned forward, connecting your lips.

This kiss was different. It was soft, intimate. Your tongues slid against each other, licking into each others’ mouths and swallowing each others’ groans and whimpers. You forgot for a few minutes that you were in a closet at the wedding of a man you’d known since you were children, fucking a man that you swore you’d never touch because he’s too young.

That man was quickly proving that he’s one of the best fucks in your whole life. 

Here he was, mouthing against your neck after moving away from your lips. He was making these desperate noises, thrusting into you like he’s taking a chance at something he’ll never have again. At the beginning of this night, you might have agreed that he’d never get another chance. Now, you can’t help but look forward to the next time you see him, when you’ll get your mouth on his thick, skillful cock. 

You told him such, and Jack fucked you harder as a result. His hands clutched at your waist, fingertips destined to leave bruises. 

His cock entering and leaving you caused the closet to fill with wet noises and the sound of the slapping of skin. That, paired with Jack’s pants and whines, pushed you further to the edge. Your climax wound up inside you, tense and heavy in your gut.

“Jack,” You said, voice pleading. “I’m close.”

A moan was ripped from Jack’s chest, sweat beading at his hairline. The look in his eyes was almost animalistic, capturing you in his gaze like you’re the only being that exists in the world.

“Please,” Jack panted out. “Come on my cock.”

The winding coil of your climax unravels as Jack continues to thrust his length into you, drawing himself almost completely out of you and then forcing his cock back into your cunt. Your release leaked down his shaft, coating him completely.

The vice grip of your pussy on his cock made Jack hesitate, made him stutter. He still didn’t want to shoot off, he didn’t want to fill you up with his come, because that meant that this would be over. His dream, journey, his conquest would be complete, and he’d have to find something else to lust after. 

He knew in his heart that he was still just Jack, just a younger hockey guy who you’d known when he was pimply and stick-like, one who could never fit into your life the way he wished he could. 

He’d almost rather torture himself, deny himself from his release, than have this end.

But end it must, and it ended with a breathy whisper of his name.

“Jack,” You mewled, twitching in oversensitivity. 

“Oh,” He groaned as his cock jumped inside you, your walls milking him for everything he has. His eyelashes fluttered as you seemed suddenly re-energized, fucking yourself on his cock as he came inside you. It was like his come brought you to life, something too powerful and symbolic for him, and Jack closed his eyes at the thought.

You came down together, eyes finding each other intermittently in the darkness, only when the other wasn’t looking. Your breaths synched, unknowingly, as you dressed yourselves. You were close enough that your elbows could bump as you pulled your clothes on, but both of you were too conscious of the tension to let it happen.

You finished dressing yourself first and you looked over to Jack, feeling something close to awe as he buttoned his shirt and left some skin exposed. You were drawn to it, wanting to reach out and reveal the curve of his shoulder, the dip of his collarbone, the ridge of his waist again and get your mouth on him, but you couldn’t move.

The tension felt like molasses, thick and heavy. Jack’s eyes met yours and you knew that the emotion in his eyes reflected your own: that you knew everything had changed and you didn’t know if it was for the better or for the worse. 

Jack opened his mouth to say something, but you shook your head. You made your way into his space, tilting your head up to meet his lips in a sweet, short kiss. You pressed something soft into his hands, then turned and left the closet, leaving Jack alone in the dark. 

He didn’t know how you knew, but you had handed him your ruined panties. He slipped them into the pocket of his pants, mentally noting to find his suit jacket and move the panties to the inside pocket of that garment. 

When he saw you again at the reception, almost a half an hour later, you were sipping a new glass of wine. Jack made eye contact with you over the glass and patted his pocket, the small lump of your panties still visible to those who looked closely, and he grinned to himself when he saw you blush.

He’d text you later that night, having bummed your number off of Brady years ago but never used it until now. It was a simple message, teasing and confident, bold like you had come to expect from Jack:

“lmk when u want to see what i can do w my tongue ;)”

note: this might just be my magnum opus. this is my favorite thing that i've written in ages. i had toooo much fun with this. ...will write a part 2 when jack DOES show her what he can do with his tongue... maybe paired with another recent request i got about jack's current injury and what he is or is not able to do with his shoulder.

P.S. I'm not married to the title of this. It was kind of just something I threw out there. They do not crash a wedding. Although their behavior is certainly dramatic & would disrupt the wedding.

[abbyshands]

THE LAST OF US, and the israeli themes surrounding it

i'm very glad that people were able to see one of the previous things i published, where i complied a series of links that you can use to learn more of what's going on in gaza, how you can help, places you need to boycott, etc. however, at the end of the post, there is a large part of it that is DIRECTLY meant for people who play or watch the last of us, or play the last of us 2.

the last of us 2 in specific is not at all elusive in displaying the chilling themes we are seeing before us today. what boggles my mind, is that a select few individuals are choosing to keep publishing fics, reblogging them, uploading content that has NOTHING to do with what's going on, etc. also, you can't reblog one thing about palestine and claim that you care, then flood your account or people's home pages in fanfiction, especially during a media blackout. it just doesn't work like that.

i took the time to make a post discussing all of the israeli/palestinian themes that the games as a whole, but mainly the second one, display. if you are my mutual, a friend, a fan of my work, or a fan of the game or show, then i 100% demand you read this. if you can read fics for hours, you can spend time to read a post discussing the universe those very fics came from.

a lot of us are now aware of the last of us's nature in regards to the ongoing genocide, but not many people know the specifics of it. after seeing this post last night (the person who made this, you are an angel), i decided to take the time to dive into the specifics of the last of us 2's israeli nature, on a logical level, but also a moral level, using a list of sources to help me along, which will be linked at the end of this post. i will link the sources along the way so you know which sources i got my information from.

regardless of if this changes anyone's mind about ignoring the media blackout, or not giving a fuck about what's going on period, know this: regardless of how you feel, regardless of what you believe, from the river to the see, palestine will be free. at this fucking point, the people who are on the right side will keep speaking out and spreading awareness, regardless if you are here to do it with us. that's it. now, let's get into this.

UPCOMING DISCUSSIONS: neil druckmann, the last of us 1, the last of us 2, the last of us show and zionism in the show's cast, boycotting the game and show, and conclusion

NEIL DRUCKMANN

45-year-old neil druckmann, who was the co-director and co-writer for the last of us 2, was born in tel aviv, israel in 1978. according to the above source, druckmann was raised in a settlement in the west bank, where he was surrounded by violence on a daily basis. comics, movies, and most of all, video games, became an escape for him as a child, before he and his family moved to miami, floridawhen he was 10 years old.

to water down the full story that you can, again, read here, druckmann went to college to major in criminology. however, when he was in college, druckmann took a compsci course, that later lead to his major becoming coding as opposed to criminology. soon after, he knew he wanted a career that related to one thing: video games.

in the summer of 2013, the last of us part 1 was released, and it was renowned as one of best video games to have ever been made. in 2020, druckmann and nd released the last of us part 2, followed by the 2022 release of HBO's show based on the first video game. druckmann played a huge part on set, being not only the co-creator and co-writer of the show, but also having directed an episode himself. druckmann will remain involved in the second season of the show.

bringing up neil druckmann’s background is a crucial aspect of what’s upcoming in this post, hence why i wanted to discuss it at all. druckmann growing up in israel is one of the sole reasons the last of us was ever made at all, and not only that: it is the reason why the second game is the way it is, because neil druckmann planted his israeli ideologies right into it.

so, let’s speak on it.

THE LAST OF US 1

on the official the last of us podcast, neil druckmann himself discussed the last of us' link to the israeli-palestinian conflict, and now, genocide. the general consensus was that people will go ridiculously far for the people that they love. this idea of druckmann's was revealed when he discussed the first time the main character of the first game, joel miller, kills somebody to keep his daughter, sarah, safe from harm. this is one of the first scenes in the game prior to the time jump, where the pair's neighbor becomes infected, and attacks them. joel uses a gun to kill him so that the neighbor doesn't harm sarah.

the following is a quote i would like to copy from this link word for word: "Druckmann said he follows "a lot of Israeli politics" and compared the incident to Israel's release of hundreds of Palestinians prisoners in exchange for the captured Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit in 2011."

the plot of the first game, as neil druckmann explained, is based around a moral dilemma. he discusses how if joel had to kill a man to save a random kid, would he have done it? druckmann himself says, "but when it was his tribe, his daughter, there was no question about what he was going to do."

while the first game, in my opinion, isn't as heavily centered around israeli themes as the second game is, regardless, it is heavily crucial to note that the basis of the first game derived from a real-life incident involving israel and palestine, where hundreds of palestinian people (edit: i believe it is more than 1,000) were released from imprisonment, all in exchange for one israeli soldier. in the second game, the israeli-palestinian themes, if you look closely enough, scream out at you.

let's talk about it.

THE LAST OF US 2

"There is a common saying that if you seek revenge, you should dig two graves. Playing The Last of Us Part II is like being made to dig those graves with your teeth (Zacny)."

nd's 2022 the last of us part II is described down to the last letter in the above quote, albeit the game's utterly obvious israeli nature. in this post, the creator, rob zacny, goes on to discuss the game's theme of a "cycle of violence," and how the game reminds you in each grotesque encounter of the cruel ideology behind that. due to what occurs in the last of us 1, joel, basically, reaps what he sows when he is murdered for killing a surgeon who, along with the group said surgeon was a member of, the fireflies, was planning to perform surgery on ellie, who joel had since grown close to, in search of a cure for the infection that has plagued their world for decades. four years later, the second playable character in the game, who is introduced in the first half hour or so, abby anderson, kills joel to avenge the surgeon who was murdered, who happened to be her father. from then on, the game follows what, again, can only be described as a "cycle of violence." joel kills abby's dad, abby kills joel, ellie kills all of abby's friends, aims to kill abby in the final battle of the game, but spares abby when ellie's conscious morally attacks her for her decisions.

throughout the 24 odd hour gameplay, the player is allowed to play as ellie and abby, abby's parts of the game being arguably longer than ellie's. the idea this, i believe, is meant to introduce, is one of perspective: the player is meant to be loyal to joel miller once the first game has been finished, so when he is killed, they are inclined to make abby pay for it. however, abby's perspective, both in the past and as the present course of the game goes on, is meant to make the player understand why she did what she did. thus, the moral: there are no good guys in this game. every person is as equally bad as the following, and no one is innocent. however, when we consider the israeli-palestinian nature of this ideology and how it is presented in the last of us part 2, it simply doesn't work like this.

“I suspect that some players, if they consciously clock the parallels at all, will think The Last of Us Part II is taking a balanced and fair perspective on that conflict, humanizing and exposing flaws in both sides of its in-game analogues. But as someone who grew up in Israel, I recognized a familiar, firmly Israeli way of seeing and explaining the conflict which tries to appear evenhanded and even enlightened, but in practice marginalizes Palestinian experience in a manner that perpetuates a horrific status quo (Maiberg).”

when discussing the last of us part 2’s plot, one could 100% argue that there really aren’t good guys on the dual sides of the game. if you compare ellie and abby, you know that ellie went on a murder frenzy to get revenge on abby for killing joel. on abby’s side of it all, you know that abby wasn’t all that great before coming across lev and yara, and even then, she killed people to do what everyone in said world aims to do: survive. prior to finding lev and yara, abby had killed numerous people before, and did, as the player sees, handle joel very cruelly before she ended up killing him. here’s one more example, one that’s more random (but it’s simply to compare abby vs. ellie’s people, if you will): joel and manny. joel went on a cross country murder spree to keep ellie safe, and killed a building full of people at the end of the game to save her life. in regards to manny, if you recall a discussion that manny and mel had in the beginning of abby’s parts of the game, the pair are discussing a happening where a group aside from the wlf, the seraphites (which we will discuss later) attacked them because the wlf killed children who were a part of their (the seraphite’s) group. manny voiced how he would prefer to keep their people (the wlf) safe, and challenges mel, implying that those “kids” weren’t really kids, because they were the ones who attacked their guys (the wlf) in the first place. as a general consensus, manny kills several people throughout the course of the game, which can be inferred or seen by the player, making him, for the sake of what i’m getting at, a bad guy.

we see in the game how ellie and abby’s people are unanimously bad. the last of us is set in a world where laws and morals are thrown out the window for the sake of survival, so this is no surprise. however, this dual perspective, “no bad guy,” ideology simply doesn’t apply in the world today. you may compare ellie vs. abby, or joel vs. manny, or bring in more characters in the game, such as tommy, nora, etc, claiming that all parties are bad. that makes perfect sense. but think about it like this: if this is meant to represent the israeli-palestinian perspective, and i give you the scenario of a five-year-old child versus a full-grown IDF soldier, what would you say? isn’t there an obvious answer as to who is in the wrong and who’s not? maiberg is 100% right in claiming that the game marginalizes the real-life palestinian experience. abby, ellie, joel, manny, etc, are not real people. but the thousands of innocent children who have been killed for the ridiculousness and inhumane israeli regime are. you can’t say each side is equal in awfulness, not when one side is full of innocent men, women, and children, some of which could never make it into a year of their lives. not when if one side pauses their battle, there would be a ceasefire, but if the converse pauses their battle, they would all be dead.

“And then they cheered afterward,” Druckmann, who grew up in Israel, recalls. “It was the cheering that was really chilling to me. … In my mind, I thought, ‘Oh, man, if I could just push a button and kill all these people that committed this horrible act, I would make them feel the same pain that they inflicted on these people.’"

remember how i said discussing neil druckmann's background was crucial? it is. druckmann, who, again, was born in israel, told the Washington Post that the game's cynical themes of revenge and suffering is linked to the 2000 killing of two israeli soldiers (tw, lynching), who were killed by a mob (maiberg). allegedly, some of the incident was remembered in film, that druckmann watched, and in his interview, he explained his angry nature that came about in response to the video, and how he desired vengeance.

the last of us part 2 is mainly set in seattle, washington, where secondary main character, abby anderson, resides in with a militia group named the wlf (which we will also delve into later, alongside the seraphites). maiberg brings out how seattle, on a visual and mechanical level, is based around "a series of checkpoints, security walls, and barriers (Maiberg)." he notes: "[seattle] looks almost exactly like the tall, precast concrete barriers and watch towers Israel started building through the West Bank in 2000." here are side by side images for comparison:

now that we’ve discussed this, let us discuss one of most prevalent aspects of abby’s part of the story: the wlf, and the seraphites. the seraphites are a religious group, nicknamed “the scars” due to the scars the members of said group carve into their faces to display their membership, who the wlf, a makeshift militia group, runs into conflict with following the fall of FEDRA, the country’s former military. in a note in the game, a fedra commander explains that the city of seattle has been lost to the wolves (the wlf), who he names as terrorists. maiberg brings out the following: “Here, there are parallels to early Zionist organisations that fought British rule in the region. These organizations were also described as terrorists, and leaders of those organizations later became leaders in Israel, much like how Isaac, the leader of the Wolves, came to control Seattle. Other in-game notes, scenes of urban ambushes, and the bodies of executed FEDRA officers laboriously walk the player through the cliche "one man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter (Maiberg).”

maiberg also discusses a series of manners in which the fictional seraphites resemble real-life palestinians. here are the three ways he specifically discusses in his original post, but there are much more:

“The same note from the Seattle FEDRA commander that bitterly says the Wolves are in charge explains that it's now their responsibility to not only feed and shelter the people of Seattle, but deal with the "religious fanatics," referring to the Scars.

Later in the game, Ellie finds a location called "Martyr Gate," where the Scars' spiritual leader apparently died, indicating a religious significance of a specific and disputed location, and emphasizing the notion of martyrdom as central to their culture.

The Scars are able to get around Wolf patrols and various barriers around the city via an elaborate, secret system of bridges between skyscrapers. These function as a kind of flipped version of the underground tunnels Palestinians use to bypass Israeli blockades and other means of limiting free movement in order to get supplies and carry out attacks on Israel.”

one more post i would like to link is this one, the very reason i decided to make this in the first place. it captures the zionism in the last of us 2, along with the wlf vs. seraphite conflict, perfectly. i very much recommend you read it, as it explains it much better than i can.

the general consensus is this: the idea that the seraphites are equally as bad as the wlf, which implies that palestinians are equally as bad as israelis, simply doesn’t apply in 2024. as i said before: what is so vile and cruel about a newborn baby? a pregnant woman? an innocent man? NOTHING. part of the reason the last of us captures this so poorly is due to the apocalyptic nature of the world the game is set in. obviously, people would go rogue if their lives were put in peril by not only animalistic infected beings, but also humans. however, we live in a real world where laws and morals do, in fact, apply. this isn’t a video game where those are simply discarded. what the wlf and the seraphites did to each other in the last of us 2 could be any other day for them: but what israel is doing to palestine right now is a war crime, a genocide, and plainly vile.

THE LAST OF US SHOW, and zionism in the show’s cast

i don’t think i need to spend a lot of time here, because if you have made it this far, you are well aware of the real nature of the last of us and the last of us 2 already, so you must understand that the show is HBO’s take on the game’s story (which, need i remind you show-wise and game-wise, neil druckmann played a huge part in). i simply bring it up so that people are aware of the fact that the 2022 show is ALSO linked to the ongoing genocide, and the cast is a major part of that (however, if anyone would like me to delve deeper into the show, let me know, and i 100% will).

for the following season which is a sequel to the last, theorized to center around the happenings of the last of us 2, members who are set to play a few crucial characters in the game have been announced. this includes isabela merced, who will play dina woodward, ellie’s romantic partner for most of the game, alongside kaitlyn dever, who will play abby anderson.

many people freaked out when they realized kaitlyn dever will be playing abby, but not for the reason they should have been. if you are a last of us fan, you are well aware that abby’s muscles are a central aspect of her persona. yet, kaitlyn dever is on the skinnier side, and according to some, does not resemble abby.

but this is not the issue that is most crucial to discuss.

kaitlyn dever is a zionist, and so is isabela merced (i am under the impression that both of these claims are true, but i had trouble finding a source i deemed reliable enough to link here. if i do, however, i will). now, while i’m not here to riddle you with conspiracy theories, people believe this (zionism) is the reason kaitlyn dever in specific got the role of abby anderson (there is a separate actress, shannon berry, who more closely resembles abby, but made a post in solidarity with palestine. this is theorized to be the reason why she didn’t get the part, and why kaitlyn dever was announced shortly after this particular actress made said post). let us not also forget that ellie’s actor, bella ramsey, is also in support of israel, which can be seen here.

(edit: i was informed since making this that bella has a story on one of their social medias, showing their alleged support of palestine and calling for a ceasefire. i’m going to link this post where i spoke on it, so you aware of what i think on that front).

all of the previously provided information brings me to my final part of this post: boycotting the games, and boycotting the show.

BOYCOTTING THE GAME AND SHOW

i could go on and on about why this is so crucial, but we would be here forever. however, i’m going to paste in what i wrote in this post surrounding the topic of boycotting, as i personally believe i got it down quite well in regards to the last of us (the show and game). it reads:

"DO NOT BUY TLOU, TLOU REMASTERED, TLOU2, TLOU2 REMASTERED, OR ANY GAME FROM ND! neil druckmann has donated money to the IDF in the past. & where do you think he’s getting his money from? yeah, you got that. watch gameplays, pirate these games, or buy them secondhand. several shops sell used games. & for those of you who went and purchased the game anyway, knowing about all of this? fuck you.

if you think your $10 doesn’t matter, then think about this: okay, one person spends $10 on the game. whatever. but when 100,000 people do it? that’s a million dollars, going into the hands of a zionist, who is using YOUR money to help kill innocent men, women, and children. put that in your pipe and smoke it.

it is not just the games you need to boycott. HBO’S show also needs to be. follow this link to learn of more movies and shows you need to boycott, & the reasons why, including the last of us. let’s also not forget that dina & abby’s actresses are in support of israel, and BELLA RAMSEY, ellie’s actress, has also shown support.

boycott. the fucking. show. there are a million websites where you can pirate it, so you are not giving any of your support to it. resist."

what it comes down to is this: purchasing the game or watching the show directly from nd or HBO is not a must. spreading awareness and speaking out about palestine is. you are more than capable of not purchasing the game, or watching playthroughs, or buying the game secondhand, etc. you are more than capable of pirating the hbo show so that money is not made off of your engagement. it's not that difficult. i have said it once, and i will say it again: boycotting is a form of resistance, and that is the least we can do for those suffering in gaza as you read this. resist. people openly admitting that they went and purchased the game anyway simply make me sick. i hope you know what an awful thing to brag about that is, and how despicable of a human it makes you.

CONCLUSION

there's so much to discuss when it comes down to this topic, and it's possible that in the future, i will make a second part to this. however, for now, i really hope this does suffice. i believe knowing of the game's israeli nature is a step. but knowing the specifics is a leap, one that i need everyone engaged in this fandom to take, hence why i wanted to make this post at all.

i'm not saying anyone needs to quit liking the games or the show or whatever. i'm not saying you need to delete or throw away a game you spent $60 on. i've seen so many people who are way too dense to understand that. what i'm saying is that it's crucial you are at least AWARE of the content you are consuming. aware of why it even came about at all.

in my opinion, you can't separate the game from the roots. but you can remain aware of the inner workings of this world you've grown to love. you can keep spreading awareness about it, and you can do right by the people in gaza by discussing the ongoing genocide, and using your voice as much as you can.

i'm so lucky to have been able to gain a following on here in such a short amount of time, even if that following has gone up and down because i've chosen to post more about palestine as opposed to my previous content (granted, that fact won't deter me at all). i will keep using said following to keep speaking out for the people in gaza, and i encourage you to do the same. keep reblogging. keep speaking up. keep using your voices. the people in gaza need us. be there for them.

FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE 🇵🇸🍉.

LINKS AND RESOURCES:

neil druckmann | the official the last of us podcast | the not so hidden israeli politics of the last of us 2, by emanuel maiberg (i highly recommend you read the full post. it discusses several crucial details i didn't discuss in this post) | galid shalit prisoner exchange | Neil Druckmann Speaking on the Washington Post | 2000 killing of two israeli soldiers (TW: LYNCHING) | 'The Last of Us Part II' Is a Grim and Bloody Spectacle, but a Poor Sequel | Veiling Colonial Violence: The Last of Us Part II, Israel and the Erasure of Power (full disclosure, i did not read the full post. i merely needed the quote in the very beginning of it) | zionism in tlou2 | isabela merced | kaitlyn dever | bella ramsey's support of israel

PALESTINE LINKS

—

[gravestrain]

I don't know how to feel, but someday I might (qh43)

in which Quinn will do just about anything to help his sweet girl.

This is 2.6k words of Quinn angst/fluff. It involves his girlfriend dealing with hate comments online. There are some hurtful things said about weight and appearances. This is a fem reader, with mentions of wearing makeup and dresses. She/her pronouns are used. Felt a little down lately and wanted to cheer myself up with some sweet Quinn. I hope you all enjoy this <3

There was almost nothing in the world that was easier than loving Quinn Hughes.

With his heart of gold and smile to match it, you found yourself falling in love with him almost instantly. It would have been impossible not to. To know Quinn is to love him. You doubt that there is anyone in the world who has met Quinn and has not been mesmerized by his charm and his raw kindness. Even his toughest opponents and fiercest rivals have nothing but kind things to say about your boy.

You met Quinn three years ago while you were on a girls trip at a rented lake house in Michigan. When you first saw your neighbor for the weekend, you were so caught off guard you tripped over your own feet and spilled your drink all over your feet. Quinn was quick to throw the towel he was holding out of his hands and on to your body to help you clean up the sticky mess that was now covering your body. Never mind the fact that in a house full of lazy boys, there was no other clean towels. It was just what he wanted to do.

Over stumbled apologies and blushing words, you exchanged numbers with Quinn. Neither of you were foolish enough to hide your intentions. At this point, you had both known you were only going to be in town for the weekend, but Quinn did not care, and neither did you. Your intentions were always to continue to talk to Quinn, even after the close proximity was no longer.

And you did. It was months of Facetimes and silly texts, until finally Quinn played a game near your town. Quinn insisted you came, and when you saw him again in the tunnels after the game, you knew you would never be able to move on, and Quinn felt the same way.

The start of the new season found you moving to Vancouver with Quinn. You were able to find a job similar to yours that was only 20 minutes away from Quinn's house. The choice seemed like a no brainer. And if you thought dating Quinn was a gift, nothing could compare to living with him. He was silly and considerate, adventurous and attentive. You found yourself falling in love with him more and more each day.

You were no stranger to Quinn's spotlight. It became more and more apparent to you when you moved to Vancouver. Almost every block had a Canucks fan, Canucks memorabilia, often sporting your boyfriend's face, loud and proud.

You were no stranger to the comments that other girls would make in the stands of Canucks games, or even at the bar while you were tucked right in to Quinn's side. They found Quinn to be as beautiful and as breathtaking as you did, and they paid no mind to the fact that you were hooked on his arm, or wearing his last name across your back, or even sitting with his family. Their intentions were to be with Quinn. They did not find you as a threat. But many made it their intentions to let you know that they were a threat.

You were public on social media, but with hardly any mention of your faceless boyfriend being Quinn Hughes. However, being the captain's girlfriend had automatically put you in the public eye, despite the fact that both you and Quinn tried your hardest to keep it on the down low publicly. It was challenging for Quinn to be in the spotlight at times, even after so long of being in it, and he wanted to make sure he tried his hardest to ensure that that spotlight never graced your wings. There was so much trouble that came with it, trouble that Quinn never wanted to expose you to. Nevertheless, some fans persisted.

"This is what you wear to stand next to the captain of the Vancouver Canucks? Maybe try a little harder next time," a comment had graced your post of your outfit from a Canucks gala. Despite your insistence that Quinn didn't pay for much, it hardly ever worked. Quinn had bought you the most beautiful dress, with a price tag you could not fathom. His insistence was that he saw you eyeing it on social media from a post of a fashion show, and he wanted you to have it.

The dress instantly made you feel beautiful, and Quinn's gaze and charming words made you feel beautiful tenfold. It was almost devastating how that feeling had disappeared so fast, just by the words and actions of a few cruel individuals who had made it their life's mission to tear you down.

Just one comment wouldn't hurt so bad. Unfortunately, there was tens of comments that point out a few flyaways, the creasing of your concealer, the cellulite on your arms, the rolls of your hips. You had tried your hardest not to let them bother you. But it bubbled up inside like a bad stew. When you find the one that hurt the worst, it caused you to sink to a feeling worse than you had ever felt. The comment read: "I don't understand why Quinn would want to be with a fat girl who does not know how to present herself in public. She has no redeeming features."

You tried your hardest to hide the comments from Quinn. You knew he rarely checked social media, so you made a promise to never let him know what they said and how they bothered you. You tried to insist to yourself that it was minuscule, it shouldn't matter. But the state Quinn found you in when he returned from his road trip was nothing but minuscule. It was no position he had ever found you in.

When Quinn FaceTimed you two nights ago after their game in Anaheim, you were wearing one of his Canucks blue t shirts, curled up in bed with your dog. When he walked through your bedroom doors, he found you in the same place, wearing the same t shirt, sporting the same hairstyle. His heart sunk to his toes. Were you hurt? How could he help you? What caused you to get into this state?

When he found you, your eyes were closed, but he knew you weren't sleeping. You had your head intentionally turned towards the wall, so as to not face Quinn. But even without seeing your face, he knew something was seriously wrong. And at that point, all he wanted was to see your beautiful face, to give him a little reassurance as to how you were feeling.

Quinn rounded the corner of the bed, kneeling down on the floor next to your head. "Hi sweetness," he muttered, running his fingers down the slope of your face. "Can I see your eyes, please?" He asked, causing you to shake your head lightly. He hummed at your answer, not wanting to push, but also knowing he had to get to the bottom of this.

"I brought you some takeout, your favorite. I know you have that project due in a few days and I figured you would be hungry." He had left the food on the table downstairs when he walked in to a silent house. No singing to music, no clambering of kitchen cabinets, no playing with the dog, nothing. The silence was eerie to him.

"I'm not," you muttered out in your smallest voice, cracking from lack of use, and even lack of water in your throat. You had a few sips over the last two days, but once it ran out, you couldn't get yourself to fill it. One of the only things you could manage to do the past two days was let the dog out. No matter how bad you were suffering, your sweet dog did not deserve to be punished for that. You let him out in the backyard only, not wanting anyone to see you walking on the sidewalk and be alerted by your state. There were a few other WAGs who lived in yours and Quinn's neighborhood, and at any sight of your despair, you know Quinn would have been alerted immediately.

"I'd like it if you could eat a little bit, though. I'm sure you're hungry, and your voice sounds dry. Can I fill your cup for you?" He posed it as a question, but he intended to fill it regardless of your answer. You shrugged, and Quinn took that as a win. He woke up your dog, assuming he had to go out. He journeyed downstairs and filled your cup. He also just let the dog out in the back, but promised a long walk in the morning. He only hoped you would come. It was something the two of you loved to do, walking the dog together after he came back from road trips.

As Quinn stood outside, the cold air biting at his shoulders, he tried to rack his brain of what could have possibly happened while he was gone. Did he forget something important? Did you miss a deadline? Did something happen at home? Nothing seemed to make sense, even when he tried to make sense of them.

Your dog was nothing if not loyal, so as soon as Quinn opened the door to let him back in, he bolted up the stairs to the bedroom, nosing his way through the door and back on to the bed with you. You put your hands in his fur, hoping to find some comfort in him. Silent tears streamed down your face. You saw the look on Quinn's face when he walked in to you. In a way, you were letting the trolls win even more. Quinn didn't deserve to come home to someone who couldn't get out of bed. At least, that's what the voices in your head were telling you.

Quinn walked quickly back up the stairs, but with less energy than your dog. He set your cup down on the bedside table, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand rubbing your calf over the blankets. He knew at some point you would tell him what's wrong. He didn't want to force it out of you, but at the same time, Quinn had been alerted to the fact that you had not left the bed in days. He was concerned.

Your sniffle gave you away, not pretending to hide. Quinn knew you were struggling, and there was no point in trying to hide your mood. "Why are you crying, lovely? I'd really like to help you, but I'm not sure how," he muttered, leaning in to softly wipe your tears away. "It's nothing, I should be able to handle it by now." you muttered, hinting him to what was wrong without giving away any details.

"Handle what, babe? The roadtrips? I know they're hard. They're hard for me, too. I promise you're not alone in that." Your heart softened at his kind voice, at his genuine concern. Of course the roadtrips were hard, and in a way it helped to know that they were hard for him too, but you knew that wasn't what was bothering you.

You shook your head lightly, curling in further on yourself. At this point, Quinn was even more confused, but he knew that you weren't going to budge. "I'm just gonna get ready for bed, okay sweetheart? We can talk more in a minute," he went to get ready, and also to collect himself and his thoughts.

When he walked into the en suite bathroom, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Brock's girlfriend had texted him. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He had her number for a reason, but they obviously didn't text much individually.

"Hi Quinn, sorry to bother you so late," it started. "I was a bit worried about Y/N these past few days because she went radio silent over the weekend. We were supposed to have plans over the weekend, but she bailed with pretty much no explanation. So I did some digging on social media, and I found some pretty nasty comments on her most recent posts. I know people sometimes make comments to her at games, but these comments are new. I just wanted to let you know in case that was what was bothering her."

Quinn couldn't believe his eyes. These were some of the most hateful things he had ever read. And he had no idea they were saying things at games. He noticed that you started caring more but also less simultaneously somehow. She did much more hair and makeup than usual, while also covering her body entirely, almost drowning herself in her clothes.

Quinn was horrified. How long have you been dealing with this? Why didn't you say anything? Quinn couldn't get back to the bedroom fast enough. He rushed over to the bed, pulling you into a hug immediately. He felt your tears soaking his shirt, and Quinn had tears streaming steadily down his cheeks. "Why didn't you say anything? I'm so sorry, I love you," he whispered into your neck.

"I didn't want to bother you. I thought I should be able to deal with it by now. The jealousy, the mean girls. But it has gotten worse. They've been truly evil. I tried not to let it bother me, but I couldn't help it." You didn't want to remove yourself from Quinn's embrace. It was the first time you felt comfort in days.

"My love, you are never a bother. I'm appalled of these things they're saying, I can't believe you've been dealing with this in silence. No one deserves this, especially not you, my sweet girl." He coaxed you slowly to look him in the eyes, but you were still touching at almost every nerve ending.

"You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," he murmured, running his finger across your cheek. "And above all that, you're kind, loving, caring, empathetic, selfless, giving, and so many other amazing things. You are none of those things they say about you, okay? I'm so sorry, my angel. I know I can't fix it, but I want to. Tomorrow, we're gonna spend the whole day together, okay? And I'm gonna pamper you like you've always deserved. I'm so sorry that you've been going through this. I'm gonna fix it. I'm gonna make a statement, we can limit comments to friends only, make a separate, more private account. Whatever you want, baby. I just want this to be fixed and I want you to be okay. You don't deserve to suffer like this because of some evil, hateful people."

You knew Quinn would be helpful and caring if he ever found out about this, but you never expected all of this. You were exhausted and thrilled just thinking about everything. You had let those hateful people bring you down for so long, now you just wanted to be with your sweet boy.

"Can we do all that tomorrow? I just want to be with you. And I lied, I'm starving, I can smell the food from downstairs and I'm practically salivating," Quinn laughed out loud, causing you to smile for the first time in days. "There's my angel, I love you so much. We can do whatever you want, okay? Anything, my treat. Whatever you want. You deserve that damn food, okay? And everything else in the world, I love you so much."

Tears had begun to stream down your face for a different reason. You couldn't believe how lucky you were to have such a sweet, caring, and thoughtful man to have and to hold.

"I love you, Quinn. Thank you so much," you mumbled with watery eyes. When he leaned in and connected your lips with his, you knew you would get through this. Yes, their words still hurt. It wasn't fixed for good, it wasn't perfect, but you knew as long as you had Quinn by your side, you could make it through anything.

[sincerelyneo]

wildflower | z.cl

“you know you are my favourite fantasy”

💿now playing: wildflower by 5 seconds of summer

❯ summary: Chenle just has to make it through one more round of twister. Then, you and his friends can leave and he can take care of the boner growing in his pants from your limbs grazing over his crotch every turn. Yeah, that’s his plan. Just one more round.

❯ pairings: chenle x fem!reader

❯ genre: friends to lovers, smut

❯ words: 4.0k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, light petting, male masturbation, explicit descriptions of chenle's thoughts while he gets off, voyeurism, hand jobs, literally just horny chenle, reader uses she/her pronouns.

"Chenle, left foot, green," Jisung announces.

It's just a game of Twister, Chenle keeps reminding himself as the colourful spinner dictates his next move. So why is he feeling so flustered? He needs to get a grip. Like he said, it's just a fucking game for Christ’s sake, one that families play on holidays. There's no reason for him to be turned on right now, but he is.

"Dude, will you hurry up? I don’t think I can handle Jaemin's ass in my face much longer," Haechan grumbles from his awkward position on the board, head perched to the side to avoid eye contact with the back of Jaemin's jeans.

"Stop pretending you don’t love my ass." 

Chenle feels no sympathy for Haechan; after all, this stupid game was his idea. He's the reason Chenle keeps having to conjure up the most unsexy thoughts imaginable to suppress the growing bulge in his pants.

It all started with a trip to the mall earlier in the day. Chenle had turned his back for just five minutes to go to the bathroom, and when he returned, he found his friends gathered around the ridiculous board game on the shelf. 

"Come on, it'll be fun," Haechan insisted, while Jaemin practically bounced with excitement. 

Chenle thought it was stupid; he's never been any good at Twister. But they all begged and pleaded to buy the game instead of sticking to the original movie night plans Chenle had organised for their traditional Friday night hangouts. And truthfully, Chenle had no intention of playing the game, let alone buying it. That is, until you stepped off the wall you were leaning against to join the conversation.

You strode over to pick up the box Haechan was clutching onto and inspected it. Chenle's gaze was fixed on your fingers as they tapped the package gently. It was surprising how everyone instantly fell silent from the shock of you wanting to get involved in their antics for a change.

 "Come on, Lele, Haechan has a point. It does look fun," you encouraged.

Chenle's attention immediately shifted to your puppy-dog eyes, and he swore they were strong enough to break his willpower. Or maybe it was the way your lips protruded in a practised pout, staring up expectantly at him. Actually, now that he thinks about it, it was definitely the soft and eager "Please," that you uttered that had him heading straight to the counter with the box and his wallet. 

That's what landed him here now. Stupid you and your stupid eyes and your even more stupidly cute smile.

“Chenle did you hear me?!” Jisung waves the spinner in front of his face, “Left foot, green.”

He snaps back to attention, finally shifting his left foot to a green circle. 

“Fucking finally,” Haechan murmurs, “Sung, spin it for me.”

Jisung complies, giving Haechan his next instruction. Haechan begins to twist his body through the gap between Jaemin’s legs – he just needs to stretch a little more to reach the blue target in his vision. But then…

“Ow, what the fuck?!” Jaemin groans, his ass crashing down on the board from Haechan’s manoeuvring between his limbs. 

“That was totally your fault! If you didn’t wriggle your body at the last second I wouldn’t have—”

"Nobody cares, Haechan. You're out. Off the board," Chenle grits through his teeth. He can't stand the arguing; it only prolongs the silly game for him, and he doesn’t want that – he doesn't need that. He just wants to get this all over with.

But as Haechan and Jaemin move away from the board he realises that won’t be so easy because you and him are the last two players standing. Chenle gulps, the realisation hitting him like a truck. He’s the only player left that you can tangle your limbs up with. 

He doesn’t need this – this is what he’s been trying to avoid thinking about all night. You’ve only innocently brushed him this round, nothing overtly explicit. But just seeing you contort and arch alone was enough to trigger a twisted fantasy in his mind. 

Chenle considers forfeiting. Sure, he's a little competitive, but he’d rather lose than pop a boner in front of all his friends while playing the old-school classic game of Twister. He also knows Haechan would complain, insisting that the winner was rigged and therefore there needs to be a rematch. Chenle does not need a rematch.

He just needs to focus. Keep his head in the game for a little while longer. Then, you and his friends can leave. Yeah, that’s the plan. He just needs to breathe. 

Chenle composes himself, hastily waving his finger in Jisung’s direction. “It’s her spin.”

“Y/N, right-hand yellow.”

You’re already reclining, distributing your weight between a palm and a back foot. And you’re just as competitive, so when Jisung issues the instruction, you aim for the dot directly beneath Chenle but still behind him, manoeuvring beneath him for your hand to brush past his thigh before landing on the target.

Chenle almost stumbles at the slight touch, and it makes you raise an eyebrow. Was he ticklish or something? 

“Y/N, that’s cheat–” 

“Oh, so when she touches you, it’s cheating, but when Jaemin wiggles, I get told to get off the board,” Haechan complains. “I see how it is.” 

“Be quiet, Haechan,” Jisung says, and Chenle is thankful for the intervention as he shushes the boy and flicks the spinner with his hand. “Left hand, red.” 

Chenle looks down at the position you’re both in right now. So far, luck had been on his side as he was still on two feet, but you, you were on all fours and very close to him. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about looking down to see you pooled at his feet, looking up at him with pretty eyes, but he never imagined it like this.

The fact that this is all happening in front of his friends should be enough to kill his boner, but he’s still turned on. Not only was just the position of you on all fours tantalizing enough to begin with, but your last spin caused arms to cross over one another, pushing your breasts together. 

Damn. 

Chenle bites the bullet and goes for it, his body fully covering yours as he plants his right hand in front of him. In theory, his plan sounded like a good idea; if he places his right hand on the red dot behind you, he can just hover over you and then he won’t have to see you looking up at him with those pretty tits, he so desperately wants to fuck, on display. 

But that was all in theory, because Chenle may have overlooked one massive fatal flaw. The new position places his crotch right in front of your face, and Chenle hadn’t even registered that until he could feel your hot breath against the fabric of his sweatpants. 

This is not good.

Chenle can’t help but panic, he knows being like this, his clothed cock so close to your lips, he’s not gonna be able to hide his growing erection any longer. His cheeks flush, he doesn’t know how much more he can take, but he still tries to compose himself. 

It’s just a game of twister.

“Y/N, right-hand green.”

Chenle thanks the heavens when he hears Jisung tell you to move your right hand because it’s that hand that’s already put him in this stupid predicament. You move to a red dot and it helps create some space between your lips and his groin. And Chenle thinks the Earth is finally on his side, because Jisung’s next instruction is for him. 

“Left-hand blue.”

This seems perfect, he thinks. He can simply shift the hand that caused him to hover over you behind him. That should work. And it does, but only for a little while. Because on Jisung’s next instruction, you’re reaching over Chenle's shoulder with a hand, but your reach isn’t quite good enough, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep himself balanced on one arm. 

Then it happens – you land on top of him, and the room fills with whoops and cheers as the game comes to an end. But Chenle can’t comprehend that because all he can think about is you, and how your body is pressed on his, tits crushing him and looking so delectable. 

He sees you laughing, and God, how he adores your smile. He almost loves it as much as he loves how close you are to him, almost. You feel so warm, and he wants you to stay there forever, wrapped up in him as he... well, his thoughts suddenly take a more heated turn.

Damn, he’s getting hard.

No, fuck, he’s getting hard with you on top of him.

Without hesitation, Chenle brushes you off him and rises to his feet. He hastily adjusts his sweats to conceal his bulge, but nothing can disguise the sudden shift in his mood, which casts a frosty chill over the atmosphere.

“Dude, you good?” Mark asks. 

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Chenle responds, his voice strained as he tries to sound casual. 

The vibes in the room have turned awkward, suffocating almost. All he can think about is you, and he just wants this whole shit show to be over.

“Hey, why don't we call it a night?” he suggests, trying to mask the urgency in his tone. “I mean, it's getting late, and I'm sure we all have stuff to do tomorrow.”

You exchange glances with the others, sensing Chenle's unease, but you all agree to pack up and leave. As you gather your things and head towards the door, Chenle can't shake the image of you out of his mind. All he wants is to be alone, to explore the thoughts and desires that have been swirling in his head ever since the game started – he wants to deal with his boner.

Once you’re gone, Chenle lets out a sigh of relief, finally able to breathe again. But even with the apartment empty, his mind is still consumed by thoughts of you. He knows he needs to get a grip, but the memory of your touch, your laughter, lingers in the air, and he can't help but crave you.

He can’t control himself anymore, he just feels so needy. He sits down on the sofa, eyes fluttering shut as he thinks. He lets his tongue slip out from between his lips and one hand travels down his body, over his hoodie until he reaches the waistband of his sweatpants. 

He can still feel the warmth of your breath there, and he’s harder than a rock, but this time there's no need to hide it. He wastes no time slipping inside the fabric to palm himself, his hands cool and rough. He savours the feeling of rubbing his long, thick length slowly with both hands, imagining it's your body taking him in, and filling you to the hilt.

You.

The girl he could never quite shake. The girl who Jisung had introduced to the group a couple of years ago. The girl who started hanging out with them more often, securing her invite to ‘boy’s night’ at his place. The girl who he’d found himself having the same interests as. The girl who was seconds ago brushing soft fingers over his body while playing Twister.

His friend.

His mouth parts and he thrust his cock up into his fisted hands. Precum lubes the tip of his head as he spreads it around with his thumb, gently rubbing the slick up and down himself. Needing more glide, he spits into his hand and rubs it down his length, coating his cock. He knows that when he finally gets to bury himself inside of you he won’t need spit, you’ll be fucking soaking for him, he’ll make sure of it.

He squeezes his eyes shut and groans. He needed this, badly. It had been a long night of your body bending, spinning and twisting – and fuck – remembering the way your back curved so delicately in the first round. 

Not to mention you’d worn leggings that clung to your skin and a T-shirt that dipped low enough to flash everyone. Skimpy shit that you insisted were your ‘comfortable clothes’. He doesn’t believe that for a second – but he’s not complaining. They may have killed him when he was trying to hide his arousal, but now he’s glad he’s got a more accurate image for his thoughts. 

Thoughts that include him wanting nothing more than to feel your body beneath his, sweating and used. Panting. Hair wild and a mess, as his fingers explore every inch of your flesh. He wants you wet enough that your arousal seeps over your thighs. He wants his cum dripping out your mouth, down your chin, and pooling on your tits.

He wants you filthy.

Fuck.

He palms himself up and down again, gritting his teeth and throwing his head back against the sofa.

He wants to bend you over, stretch you out. He wants to make you beg for him, writhe for him. Mould you to be his perfect little toy. If you could see him panting as he indulgently strokes himself to thoughts of you he’s sure you’d be flushed, embarrassed. 

The image has him shuddering and thrusting his cock up into his hand again. And again. And again. 

Fuck. What would you say if you knew? If you walked in and saw him?

You couldn’t blame him. Nobody forced you to insist on the game of Twister. Nobody forced you to trace your delicate little hands across his legs and arms and shoulders as you found the coloured circles. Nobody forced you to stumble on top of him, your grip holding his shoulders to find balance, immediately triggering his mind with thoughts of you riding him. 

And fuck – nobody forced you to be that flexible. 

His arms begin to ache at the punishing speed, but he couldn't stop. He wouldn’t stop. It felt too good. He hisses at the smooth glide over the sensitive underside of his head, head falling back again as he curses. 

He knows you’d beg for it - just like he is.

“Fuck, Y/N…”

You and Haechan are making your way through Chenle’s building, en route to the parking lot. Haechan had insisted on you driving him home tonight, citing that "Ubers are too expensive in this economy." But as you both walk towards the car, your mind starts to wander.

Chenle's behaviour tonight was odd.

He never ends your Friday night hangouts early, and his sudden shift in demeanour was quite... uncharacteristic. Moreover, he's usually very competitive, yet there were numerous instances during the game where he could have easily nudged or jostled you, but he refrained. It was almost as if you were a hot stove, and he feared getting burned by touching you.

Was he coming down with a cold or something? Whatever it was you don’t like it, and you’re about to ask Haechan about it. However, as your hand reaches into your jacket pocket, you realize: shit, you left your car keys.

"Mind waiting here? I left my keys back there," you inform Haechan and he looks at you unimpressed. 

He groans dramatically, “Y/N, it’s freezing out.”

"Relax, I'll be back in five minutes tops," you assure him.

 "I knew I should've gone home with Jisung.”

 You quirk an eyebrow, "What was that?" 

"Nothing, just hurry up." 

You return to Chenle’s building, taking the elevator up and walking down the halls. You hoped he hadn’t retired to bed if he was feeling unwell. Unfortunately, you can't even send him a quick text because your phone is with your keys.

You're slightly puzzled as you reach Chenle's door and find it open just a crack, unusual for him as he typically locks up immediately after everyone leaves. Concern creeps in — did something happen to him?

Anxiety triggers, and though you know you should knock and give him some warning that you're entering his apartment, your rational mind seems to switch off. And then it fogs because you just realised what you’ve just walked into.

Chenle’s head is thrown back with shut eyes, lips parted just a touch as he fists his cock. He groans, the motions causing a loud sloppy sound. His hand goes past the base of his cock and he grabs his balls, tugging at them with a whine. 

He fucking whined. 

You have to fight every urge not to gasp because the sight sends heat to the place between your legs, wetness pooling in your panties because he looks so hot, so unfiltered, raw and erotic. His face is so relaxed, his breath uneven, and you wonder what has got him so worked up. He looked like he was ready to kill moments ago. 

“Fuck Y/N…”

What the fuck?

Chenle sounds like he’s on the brink of an orgasm…to your name. Were you hearing it correctly? If only you could see better, peer further into his apartment, and realize that you'd made this whole thing up, then you could relax – you could curse your mind for playing such a cruel hot joke on you.

So you do, you creek the door open and that’s when you see his abs begin to quiver and his eyebrows knit tighter together. It was visible that he was getting close and he let out an involuntary yell, hips bucking as his hand pumps harder.

Your thighs rub together, and your legs threaten to tremble from the sight. You'd never imagined yourself being so turned on from watching someone else get off, but here you are, and you don't think you've ever been more aroused. 

And perhaps you’re a little too aroused because you don’t even realise that Chenle’s hand has stopped stroking because he’s staring straight at you, eyes wide looking like a deer in headlights. His cheeks are red and he’s awkwardly stuffing his very hard cock back into his sweats. 

“Oh shit! Fuck! I’m sorry,” you stumble over your words as you turn around, giving him a little bit of privacy. 

Chenle is at a loss for words. While he might have entertained the idea of you catching him, he never expected it to actually happen. And he certainly hadn't anticipated just how hot the glint of lust in your eyes as you watched him would be.

“No, it’s my fault…I should have locked the door.”

You’re still facing away from him, looking at his apartment walls when he stands to his feet and walks closer to you. You can feel the heat radiating off his body as he settles behind you. It’s a delicious warmth and if you weren’t just caught being a fucking perv, you would have let yourself bask in it. 

“N-No, I should have knocked, I just came to get my keys, I’m so so sorry–”

“Y/N will you just look at me?”

He cuts you off and you feel him wrap a hand around your wrist. You wonder if it’s the same one that was wrapped around his cock and – fuck Y/N – now is not the time. 

His gentle tug compels you to turn around and face him. You can't bring yourself to meet his eyes; instead, yours remain fixed on the floor. Still, you can feel the intensity of his gaze burning into your forehead.

"How long were you standing there?" His voice breaks the silence, prompting your mouth to open and close, resembling a fish for a moment as you process his question. 

"I-I um, not long," you stammer out.

“Not long?” He raises an eyebrow, “Were you planning on standing there until I came or what?” 

Your mouth goes dry as the realization dawns upon you because, yes, that's exactly what you were planning on doing. You wanted to witness what he looked like when he reached his climax, to see if he could possibly look any sexier than he already did as an orgasm washed over him.

“Lele—”

"You know," his finger reaches up to rest beneath your chin, trailing along your jawline until he has a firm grip, coaxing your eyes to meet his. "If you wanted to see me cum, the least you could have done was offer to help."

"W-what?" Your eyes widen in surprise.

"You heard me," he smirks confidently. "You gonna help me or what, Y/N?"

You bite your lip and nod, your hand dances along the hem of his sweats slipping inside to feel the length of his cock. It twitches in your grasp, and it doesn’t surprise you since he looked so close to his peak only seconds ago. 

Chenle sucks in a breath, he’s thought about this moment plenty, and today specifically, he’s been so pent up about it. He focuses on the feeling of your touch, slow but effective as you tease him. And Chenle swears he almost drools at the sight of you collecting his precum and licking it off your thumb – it’s so filthy – just as he fantasised.

The sounds coming from his mouth are heavenly and sinful all the same, echoing in your ears. Your hand hovers over his length again, only starting to stroke when he bucks his hips. The rutting of his hips forces you to quicken the pace and his breath is all but shallow gasps. 

Chenle can’t help the way his abdomen tenses, and his eyes find themselves falling on your low-cut top that had earlier been teasing him with your tits as you contorted your body for a stupid board game. Chenle thinks the view paired with your vigorous stroking might be enough for him to blow his load in his pants.

He's whining. He needs it. He’s chasing it. 

He spasms as you continue frantically fucking him with your fist. He meets your touches grunting and cursing with every thrust. He bites down hard on his lips when you grab his balls cupping and pulling and squeezing until you know his high is ready to hit him like a steam train.

Chenle’s body tenses, thrusting his cock as hard as he can manage. His stomach contracts as stars cloud his mind and he moans out your name. His body has never been hit by this much blinding bliss before – especially not from just a hand job. But still, his legs buckle and he has to steady himself on the wall behind him.

“Fuck Y/N! Just like that, gonna cum.”

Unashamed, his eyes roll back as cum shoots violently from his pulsing cock and all over your hand. His voice rings out clear and desperate with yells in the air. Long strings of hot cum coat your fingers, each rope eliciting another groan. Another clench. Another bliss.

You bite your lip, relishing the explicit sight of Chenle as he rides out his orgasm. Despite being soaked through with arousal yourself, your own pleasure takes a backseat; witnessing him in such a state – sweat glistening on his forehead, eyes glazed with ecstasy – is more than enough to satisfy you.

As you withdraw your hand from his sweats, you both gaze at the white substance coating your fingers. You're almost tempted to tease him with it, to watch him shiver as you lick it off your fingers, but that fantasy is abruptly cut short when the front door swings open.

“Seriously how hard can it be to find some damn keys—”

Haechan takes one glance at your glistening hand and the wet patch on Chenle’s pants and puts the pieces together. Then, he looks at you his eyes squeezing as he grimaces.

“If you left me in the freezing cold for fifteen minutes to give Chenle a fucking hand job, I'm going to kill both of you."

[lumosandnoxwriting]

look at you || Fred Weasley

Title: Look at you Pairing: Fred x Reader Summary: distance really does make the heart grow fonder. Warnings: NSFW - minors DNI! This contains, vaginal sex, female receiving oral, breeding kink, mentions of cum marking, dirty talk, praise, mentions of sex toys/sexting and pregnant sex.  A/N: hockey!fred could hit me with his car and I would say thank you. Anyway as always this is dedicated to @darthwheezely b/c she always encourages my shenanigans. 

The away games are always the hardest. 

Fred is usually gone for a week, and between traveling, playing multiple games and the time differences they mainly communicate via text and maybe a phone call if they’re lucky. At first the lack of communication bothered Y/N. They moved across the country after Fred got drafted and it felt isolating to have the only person she knew in Washington unavailable most of the time. But now that Fred’s in the fourth year of his contract Y/N is a pro at handling the distance. Her and a bunch of the other WAGS always get together to watch the games at someone’s house, and usually do dinner or brunch on some of the days the guys are gone. And now that she’s working and more involved in the area she’s got plenty of friends and activities to keep her busy while Fred is away. 

She figured this season would be just like the others, that it would suck while Fred is gone but she’d just keep busy until he was back home in their bed. 

Until those two little pink lines stared up at her from the bathroom counter the night before training camp started. She wasn’t totally surprised at the result, considering her and Fred had been together for a decade, married for half of that and regularly relying on the pullout method as their main form of contraception. And of course they’d talked about having kids, but their general consensus had been that they would start trying once the season was underway, hoping to time it just right that their baby would be born at the beginning of the off season, so they could spend the first few months as a complete family unit before hockey took over Fred’s life again. 

But of course life decided to say fuck their plans, and now Y/N is due to give birth just before playoffs begin in April. 

Y/N had thought that having Fred gone during her first trimester would be the worst part of it, having to deal with morning sickness and those first few doctors appointments by herself. But the nausea and vomiting left her feeling so gross she was glad Fred didn’t have to see her like that, and they were able to work with her doctor so that Fred didn’t miss a single appointment. 

It’s now, with Y/N into her second trimester that Fred’s absence seems to be hitting her the hardest. Her bump has finally popped, and she can barely keep her hands from stroking over the smooth skin at all hours of the day. The baby has started to move around too, starting off as gently flutters she assumed was gas that have now grown into distinctive pushes against her belly. Not to mention the nausea and vomiting that plagued her first few months of pregnancy have faded away, and Y/N finally understands what people say when they talk about pregnancy glow. Her skin is the clearest and softest it’s ever been, and her hair and nails look amazing thanks to her prenatal vitamins. 

And just as she passed the five month mark her newest, and most annoying to deal with on her own, pregnancy symptom started. 

She’s unbelievably horny every hour of the day. 

Her newly filed out breasts constantly ache, and some days her nipples are so sensitive just the material of her bra sends a shiver down her spine. Her pussy is almost constantly slick, her clit throbbing and her cunt aching to be filled. Once the seam of her maternity jeans pulled so deliciously against her as she was driving that she nearly crashed the car as she came from that brush alone. 

Everything seems to turn her on these days, no matter how inconvenient the time or place is. 

Like right now, the guys are on the last leg of their longest away game stretch, the final game of a two and a half week trip, and her cunt is dripping as she watches Fred punch the other team’s center in the jaw. Not only is it inconvenient because she’s sitting on Melaine, the goalie’s girlfriend’s couch, but because Fred isn’t due back home until tomorrow afternoon and she passed out last night before she could put her vibrator back on the charger. And her own fingers will never live up to the memories of how worked up Fred gets after a fight, and how the only thing that seems to calm him down is taking Y/N from behind as he growls in her ear. 

She tries to shift subtly as the ref throws Fred in the sin bin, his mouth still moving wildly as he throws insults at the other team, but when Rachel throws her a look Y/N knows she’s been caught. Rachel is the wife of one of the defensemen, and had been heavily pregnant for most of last year’s season, so Y/N figures she knows exactly how she’s feeling right now. 

“Tomorrow afternoon can’t come soon enough,” Rachel teases, voice low enough so only the two of them can hear. 

Y/N snorts in laughter, nodding in agreement. “You have no idea.”

-

Fred throws a middle finger over his shoulder as he rushes towards his truck, causing his teammates to laugh even harder. The bus had barely stopped before he was up out of his seat and making his way to the front, far too eager to get home to Y/N. Because the texts she’s been sending since he got off the ice last night have had him perpetually hard in his pants and the only thing on his mind is getting home to his wife. 

He drives well over the speed limit on his way home, praying to whatever deity that exists out there he won’t get pulled over, since he’s pretty sure his urgent need to fuck his wife is not a good enough excuse to get out of a ticket. The car is barely in park as Fred throws the door open, hockey bag left behind in his haste to get inside. In a matter of a few seconds he’s barreling through the front door, taking the time to lock it behind him before he heads for the stairs. 

“Baby?” he calls as he climbs, ripping his shirt off as he goes. He pauses to kick his shoes off, just letting them tumble back down as he continues up. 

“Hi,” Y/N greets breathlessly when Fred appears in their doorway. Her eyes are immediately drawn to the way his jeans hang open, his cock clearly fighting against the material of his boxers. 

Fred groans as he takes Y/N in, cock throbbing at the way she kneels on their bed in nothing but his jersey. The curve of her bump is visible even in the oversized garment, and Fred almost can’t believe that this is his life. He makes a living playing the sport he loves and every night he gets to come home to the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen who’s beauty has only grown as he watches his child grow inside of her. 

“Fucking hell,” he practically growls as he steps into the room, his complete focus on Y/N. “Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are, wife? That picture of your pretty pink pussy all wet and begging for my cock has been driving me crazy. I couldn’t sleep knowing you were all alone in our bed, desperate for my cock wearing nothing but my jersey.”

Y/N practically pants as Fred stalks toward her, hands clenched in fists at her sides to try and resist the urge to touch herself. She had to give herself a pep talk before taking the photo she sent, so to see Fred’s reaction to it here in the flesh makes her cunt throb with want. Before falling asleep Y/N had managed to work herself up to a few weak orgasms with her fingers, but those are nothing in comparison to what she knows Fred is about to give her. 

“Sexy?” she asks teasingly. Fred has finally made it to the edge of the bed, and she runs her hands up his arms and over his shoulders, resting her palms against the sides of his neck. “Even with my big old bump in the way?” 

“Especially with your big bump in the way,” Fred practically purrs. He finally gives in to his urge to touch his wife, one hand hooking around her thigh while the other fists the front of her jersey, yanking her closer to him. “Just knowing that you’re full of my baby, that I did that to you is enough to make me cum, something I know you’re well aware of.”

And she knows Fred isn’t lying. He’d always been possessive in the bedroom, and it only intensified when she got pregnant. Once her bump popped Fred was like a man possessed, needing to have one hand on it at all times. He’s finished on her bump more times than Y/N can count, rubbing his cum into her skin so he can claim her fully. 

Instead of responding Y/N lets Fred pull her into a kiss, her fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his skull as he nibbles on her bottom lip. He claims her mouth with his, crawling up on the bed so he can get even closer. The hand he had on her jersey makes its way up to cup her jaw, angling Y/N’s face so he can kiss her deeper, while the one that was on her thigh starts to travel further up.  

“Fuck,” Fred moans into her mouth as his hand brushes her bare hip. “No panties? Dirty girl.” He lets his hand cup the swell of her stomach, thumb slowly brushing back and forth in a sweet gesture that is the total opposite of the way he kisses his wife. 

“Please,” Y/N pants as Fred’s mouth finally leaves her’s, starting to press kisses into her neck. “Need you to touch me, Freddie, only feels good when it’s you.”

“Well how can I deny my wife when she asks so nicely?” 

Fred kisses the juncture of her throat one last time before pulling away just enough so he can pick her up under her thighs. He positions her back on the bed just how he wants, her back flat against the mattress with her legs spread wide, a hand on each thigh to keep them open for him. 

“You’re fucking cunt,” he groans, his eyes drawn to her slick pussy as he bites his lip. He sinks down on the bed so he’s resting between her thighs, thumb and forefinger spreading her pussy apart to put her clit on display. “This pussy is going to be the death of me.”

Y/N gasps as Fred finally puts his mouth on her, hips nearly lifting off the bed as he sucks her clit between his lips. Her toes curl as his tongue flattens against her, thighs already quivering as Fred’s thumb presses against her entrance. “God, please, Fred.”

That’s all the encouragement he needs to fuck into her with his index finger, curling it to press against the front wall of her cunt, right against the spot that has her moaning his name. His cock twitches as Y/N’s hand tangles in his hair, curling his tongue around her clit as she tugs. 

“Such a good girl,” Fred praises as he presses another finger into her slick cunt, letting his thumb rub small circles into her clit. “I love this pretty pussy so much, wife. Gonna eat it every fucking day of the week.”

He takes her clit back between his lips as he fucks her with his fingers, needing her to cum before he can give her what they both desperately need. His cock aches as Y/N grinds down against his face, the feel of her taking control of her pleasure only turning him on more. Fred’s tongue flicks at her clit as his lips suck, and he can tell by the way her cunt grips his fingers that she’s close. 

“Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my hand so I can have you cumming all over my cock.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Y/N babbles as Fred licks her, fingers tugging him even closer into her as she grinds against him. Waves of pleasure are swirling in her core, electric shocks radiating all down her spine as Fred brings her closer and closer to the edge. He makes her feel like she’s on fire, completely erasing the few weak orgasms she had last night from her memory.

Fred wraps his arm around her thigh to keep Y/N in place as her orgasm takes over, his fingers and mouth still working her through the pleasure. Y/N’s toes curl as pleasure consumes her, thighs quivering as a cry of Fred’s name leaves her lips. Aftershocks of pleasure send shivers down her spine, and Y/N has to use her grip on Fred’s hair to separate his mouth from her cunt as she comes down. 

He doesn’t say anything as he crawls back up the bed, letting Y/N catch her breath before he leans down to kiss her softly. Her legs wrap around his hips, the need for Fred to be close overwhelming her need to get off for a brief moment. 

“Need you inside me,” Y/N murmurs against Fred’s mouth, her legs tightening around him. 

“Needy girl,” Fred teases, nipping at her jaw. But with one final kiss to her lips he pulls back, climbing off the bed so he can rid himself of the rest of his clothes. Who is he to deny the needs of his wife, the woman growing his child? 

Y/N makes a move to pull the jersey she’s wearing up over her head, and Fred grabs her wrist, shaking his head. 

“No, the jersey stays on.”

Fred’s pretty sure he hears her mumble something about him being a possessive idiot, but he doesn’t even care. Settling on the bed, back against the headboard with his cock leaking against his stomach, he beckons Y/N closer. “Come sit on my lap and make yourself cum on my cock, baby.”

Under normal circumstances she’d make some joke about how he’s making her do all the work, but her cunt is already aching again and if she doesn’t get Fred’s cock in the next three minutes she may die. Y/N crawls up the bed, shivering at the look in Fred’s eyes. It’s full of nothing but pure desire, and she can feel her heartbeat pulsing in her clit. At one point she feared that pregnancy may change the way Fred looks at her, and now as she straddles his waist Y/N can’t believe what an idiot she had been. 

One of Fred’s hands lands on her hip, the other on her bump and the contact sends a shiver down her spine. It takes a little bit of finesse with her bump in the way, but as soon as Y/N has Fred’s cock pressed against her cunt she’s sinking down. She’s slick enough from Fred’s mouth and her previous orgasm that she presses down until she’s fully seated in his lap, and her eyes flutter shut from the pleasure coursing through her veins. 

Fred is so thick and full inside her, and Y/N just sits there in his lap, eyes closed and her head tilted back as she appreciates the feel of him inside her. Y/N’s cunt pulses around him, and with how desperate she’s been to feel her husband like this, she already feels embarrassingly close to her climax already. 

“Fuck you are perfect,” Fred groans as her hips start to gently rock. He fixes her jersey so the hem rests on the top of her bump, wanting to see it in all of its glory. With one hand squeezing her thigh, Fred places the other on her stomach to help keep her balance. “So fucking full aren’t you, wife? So full of my cock and my baby, hm? Love being full of me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she responds breathily, leaning back to brace herself against Fred’s thighs. The new angle lets him sink even deeper, and a sharp gasp falls from her mouth at the sensation. “Always wanna be full like this.”

“With my baby or my cock?” he teases. 

“Both,” Y/N hits back truthfully.

“Fuck,” Fred growls, unable to keep his hips from thrusting. The moan that comes from Y/N spurs him on, and he continues to match her movements with his own. “Whatever my wife wants my wife gets. Gonna keep you nice and full with my cock and my cum and my babies until we’ve got a whole fucking hockey team, baby. And no one will ever doubt who you, who this fucking pussy, belongs too.”

Her cunt clenches even tighter at his words, encouraging Fred to keep talking. 

“Look at you, my pretty little wife, fucking herself on my cock. Bet you thought about this the whole time I was gone, didn’t you, love?”

“Fuck, yes,” Y/N moans. She’s inching closer and closer to her orgasm with each of her movements, thighs quivering from a mixture of the pleasure swirling in her core and the effort it’s taking to fuck herself on Fred’s cock. 

“Fuck you look so good like this, baby,” Fred praises. “Not gonna be able to take you like this much longer, am I? I swear everytime I look at you, your belly is bigger. It’s not long until you’ll be too big to ride me like this, isn’t that right, love? But that’s okay, because you look so fucking good all full of my baby. Seeing you like this, knowing I did this, makes me feel fucking feral, baby. You’re doing such a great job, growing our baby. Gonna be such a good Mama.”

The combination of Fred’s cock stretching Y/N to her limits and the constant stream of praise coming from Fred pushes Y/N over the edge, and her back arches as she comes. Shocks of pleasure jolt out from her cunt, her clit aching and her toes curling as her orgasm washes over her in waves. 

The feel of Y/N’s walls pulsing around Fred’s cock as she moans his name pushes him to his own climax, his hips just barely pushing up into her as he empties himself into her eager cunt. 

“Taking it so well, baby. Fuck.”

He places a hand on her lower back for support as they both come down, the hand he has on her bump rubbing soothing circles into the skin. When having her in his lap starts to get uncomfortable, Fred carefully lifts her off, maneuvering so he can lay Y/N next to him on the bed without jostling her too much. 

Finally feeling satisfied, Y/N watches Fred move around their room through her barely open eyes, too tired to try and stay awake any longer. She lets him move her around too clean up, a soft whine coming from her lips when he pulls the jersey up and off over her head. But she’s immediately placated when Fred helps her into one of his old t-shirts, and she doesn’t even fight him as he pulls sleep shorts up her legs. 

He disappears into their bathroom then, and Y/N is practically asleep by the time he reemerges and gets into bed beside her. But instead of Fred pulling her into his arms like she expected, her eyes open in surprise as Fred pushes up the hem of her shirt just enough to expose her bump.

“What are you doing?” she murmurs, tone laced with humor. 

“What does it look like?” Fred responds as he pours lotion into his hands, rubbing them together to warm it up. He cradles her stomach carefully, slowly starting to massage her skin. “I’m taking care of both of my girls.”