themotogirl
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He’s tired, the end of the hockey season wearing him thin, and his arms feel heavy as he takes off his equipment. This time of year is full of extremes, wins make you feel like you have endless energy, like nothing can get better, like you’re on top of the world; but then, losses feel like your body is ready to quit on you, just so tired and sore everywhere. And they lost. To Buffalo, a team not even in the playoffs. Jack Eichel got two goals. And Freddie had to leave, injured.
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“The royal line will carry on,” Freddie had said in Danish. The clip Connor saw had been dubbed over in a crisp English accent, but there was nothing that could dim the regal set to Freddie’s shoulders. “There will be kings and queens of Denmark after me, as there have been kings and queens of Denmark before me. I, like many before me, am placing my duty over my personal desire for children. Maybe--I hope I will find a husband in time, but I will not have children of my own. Instead, every child of Denmark, every son and every daughter of our land, can consider themselves my child, to be cared for and protected through my service to our country.”
Or, a Beauty and the Beast AU featuring the Leafs resident gingers.
Bookmarked by themotogirl
05 May 2026
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Freddie isn’t a player but he definitely has game.
Bookmarked by themotogirl
03 May 2026
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Mitch holds out his phone so Connor can see the image he has up on his screen and Connor nearly swallows his tongue.
Because it’s Freddie. Freddie with his broad shoulders and thick thighs, somehow looking as soft as he’s ever seen him in a cream sweater and threadbare jeans. His frankly ridiculously huge hands are curled gently around the smallest puppy he’s ever seen, something with massive paws and ears and big brown eyes that gaze up at Freddie adoringly—and Connor will deny to his last breath that he has a thing for how big Freddie’s hands really are.
“Fuck,” he breathes with feeling and Mitch snorts.Bookmarked by themotogirl
02 May 2026
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The jerseys bigger than his own and he knows what he’s going to find even as he turns it around.
He licks his lips, heart hammering in his chest.
The familiar material is cool against his skin as he slips it on. The sleeves come down over his hands, the collar hanging loose. The bottom of the jersey hits him mid thigh, the press of his cock against it indecent. Freddie’s name is a brand across his shoulders, his number against his back staking his claim.Series
- Part 27 of Inktober/Goretober/Kinktober
Bookmarked by themotogirl
25 Apr 2026