I Made A Hockey Game Recap Generator For Your Offseason Entertainment

scare the hoes more and keep yapping about ekky (& others) getting used to maffhew, it delights me. and say even more about how sasha handles this feral and sweet omega that gets dropped into his orbit. smth smth “feels like i’ve known him 10 years” or whatever vows sasha recited to the press, cameras, and god

apparently we are taking more tumblr user ratatatastic abo yap thoughts for 500 may god hear our screams up wherever he is. big man in the sky you fuckin owe me one.

i think theres so much in particular to say in concerns of 1619 and how quickly they gelled irl but even more so in an abo au

ive always enjoyed when people assign matthew stronger scents that take getting used to if you don't like it already and i know ive read a fic where his scent notes did skew towards stronger cinnamon foods/drinks

anyways on that note it wouldnt surprise me that sasha takes so easy to this spicy little omega.

Like of course he does, he smells like the pastries he used to eat back at home, the pastries he eats now because he's found an established Finnish bakery down here that makes them homemade every morning, the bakery he likes to frequent with the other Finns when he can.

Is it ever a wonder that the cute omega that sent him such a terribly sweet text when the trade news broke out (you know, after the initial excitement worn off because Sasha does chuckle at memory of the brash "Fucking, right!" that pinged on his phone the very first time from an unknown number) smells like... home... No matter all the rumours that have swirled around Matthew, the rumours Sasha has personally experienced himself playing against him...he smells nostalgic. Like Sasha could be at home right now—you know, home home—lounging outside his cottage with tea and pastries on the little table that he's set out. The warm cinnamon that wafts from the typically sterile room they've assigned for pressers smells divine, for lack of a better word. It smells indulgent. Because Sasha can't have those homely pastries all the time, what, with his training regiment.

It's why he doesn't quite believe it that Matthew's the one that's the centre of it all. He's absolutely convinced he's hallucinating because the season is about to start and he's had to cut back on all his favourite sweets as much as it pains him to but for the betterment of the team? He'd do anything. And yet despite the way he rubs at his nose to at least try to clear it, he smells that cinnamon. That cinnamon that's definitely coming from new omega they traded over who's laughing so obnoxiously at the lectern they have set up that if his scent didn't catch your attention, his loud mannerisms certainly did. His voice is practically bouncing off the walls in big loud echoes that should hurt Sasha’s ears. Emphasis on should. As it is he finds his heart melting more than it should instead.

It's been quite a long time since someone's scent has moved him this much. All the people that have, have been in his life for so long he's forgotten what it's like to feel instant scent compatibility. His nostrils are flaring and he's trying his best not to open his mouth to huff in big gulps of it because it's rather impolite to be so obviously scenting the new guy. It could be misconstrued as Sasha taking offence to the new presence in the room.

Some part of his brain is still trying to catch up to the idea that Matthew even smells at all because the first time he met him (down here for some joint offseason ice-time) he didn't particularly smell like much, if at all really. Whether it's because he put on blockers to not intrude on pack territory until he smelled more like them, or he was still on suppressants even in the summer, Sasha wasn't sure and he definitely wasn't going to ask about it.

Known him for 10 years? He feels like he's known him his whole life. But 10's a safe number, 10's a number that won't scare off this new omega, right? 10's a number that conveys "As Captain I want this to work out, I'm opening up my pack for you, I won't shun you, you're welcome here," and not "If I stick my nose in your neck right now to scent you, they're gonna have to forcibly evict me from the new home I've found in you, and it's not gonna be a pretty outcome."

It's also why he's a little nervous when Media Day is over because despite how much it dragged along in years past it practically blitzed by and now Sasha has to—

You know, properly scent the new addition. Give them the purring acceptance of their Pack leader's scent to carry with them. And it's nothing big, it's just some chaste wrist rubbing... something subtle and not too overwhelming for everyone: the pack, and the newcomer alike. It's not like Sasha is going to mouth at Matthew's neck glands. He doesn't think he can even handle that right now but that's a problem for future Sasha—for when Matthew is really part of the pack and not like a goldfish in a plastic bag being dunked into an aquarium to get used to the water temperature. He just has to rub his wrist against his, it's like basic Alpha etiquette. It'll be fine, mostly. He hopes.

And it's as anticlimactic as he thought it'd be: gentle reintroductions and reignited chatter of excitement about the new season that's about to start... maybe just with the new lingering scent of sweet and spice in the background as if someone lit up a candle without Sasha even noticing it. It's a struggle to keep his eyes from closing from how heavy they feel, from how relaxed he feels in the presence of this new omega he knows has pissed him off on several occasions as composed as he was about it.

Matthew presents his wrist in a flourish successfully managing to divert his attention back to what they're supposed to be doing all alone like this in the dressing room like this, "I'm sure you've been dying to do this huh, Cap?"

Sweat starts to break out at the back of his neck. He knows? Sasha doesn't think he's been sending off any signals that could've hinted otherwise but Sasha admits that he's well out of practise, he hasn't had to reign in his scent this much in such a long time, and maybe Matthew picked up his weird fixation—

Matthew waggles his eyebrows for extra effect an offbeat later when the joke doesn't seem to land the way he wanted it to.

Oh, thank Christ, he's just teasing him. It's a joke. He doesn't actually mean it in the way Sasha thought he meant.

"Yes. Yes, I have," Sasha chuckles in relief, shaking his head at Matthew's attempt to lighten the mood.

"10 years, or so I've heard, bud."

"You heard? Uh, listened to the..." he trails off.

"Kinda hard not to when the setup made it sound like you were in the middle of the Earth, my guy. I don't think my ears are ever gonna recover from that."

"It's the first day for everyone," Sasha lightly chastises, not particularly aggrieved at all but wanting to keep up the banter to stall for time, so he can prepare himself. Quite honestly he feels like travelled back in time to the young anxious Alpha he was breaking out into the league for the first time.

"Be gentle, I bruise easily."

"Right, gentle. I'll treat you better than my clothes on the delicate cycle."

"Is that supposed to be a line?" Matthew says in glee, his voice pitching into incredulity.

"Line like fishing?"

"Oh, come on! You know what I'm talking about! You've been in this country long enough to pick up on that!"

"Yes, yes, that."

Matthew shoves at his shoulder playfully. "Just go on and do the thing already."

"Doing the thing."

Matthew snorts but his wrist is limp in Sasha’s hold. And as much as it was a dumb joke he does feel delicate between his fingers like that. So delicate that when he rubs his own wrist against his—to transfer over their pack scent—he feels like he's going to break it if he holds onto it for too long. It's why he drops it as quick as he took it, hands scrambling to his sides in an effort to remain polite but also to get a handle on himself so his pheromones don't go haywire with the new stimulus. It's a bit of a losing battle because he knows his scent just. But he can play it off as the excitement of an Alpha being able to claim another member to his pack, it's a possessive kind of thing.

"Well, see you around! Call it a hunch but I have a feeling we'll be seeing more of each other." And the joke wasn't funny the first time, truly the equivalent of leaning on the office fax machine and going "You come here often?" to your coworkers who just want to get their work done—and just as sleazy too with the greasy grin Matthew has permanently stuck to his face but Sasha still laughs like he did the first time he heard it.

And it's only now that Matthew is gone that Sasha realises the room smells strongly of cinnamon, so potent that anyone with a working nose would be able to tell that. Like Matthew was doing his best to ease Sasha’s obvious nerves when Sasha should've been the one to calm the omega who's been uprooted from their own pack and thrown into a completely new environment, himself.

"Jesus, it reeks in here. Smells like cinnamon," Aaron wrinkles his nose, wandering back in after his own media duties were done, finding Sasha all alone in the locker rooms.

"It does?" Like he can't tell the room smells like the equivalent of someone knocking over a Yankee Candle into an open fire.

"Yeah, like an awful lot." Aaron scrunching up his nose, trying to fight off an incoming sneeze. "It's strong," he says without thinking, swallows before his eyes shift over to Sasha and then to the floor, "Not bad just... strong..." The I can get used to it is left unspoken between them.

"I like it," Sasha admits because if Aaron is confessing to things without thinking then he might as well too. They've known each other long enough.

"I can tell." Aaron snorts, "You reek too."

Sasha lets out a questioning little noise, tilts his head to the side as he silently urges Aaron to continue.

"You have no idea what cinnamon and cardamom smell like together, do you? I feel like I walked into a bakery when I should be at the gym right now."

"Is that bad?"

"For you? No, of course not," Aaron's eyes soften, and while his scent wasn't anywhere close to abrasive, it does lighten up just a tad bit in the presence of his pack Alpha. "For me? I'd rather dunk my head in a bucket of coffee beans." A bit of an exaggeration on Aaron's part but the wry grin he has on really adds to the fact he's just joking—just a little, maybe there's some truth hidden in there. He knows how Aaron is, the way he tries to downplay anytime he bristles about something. Peace and vibes, and all that.

So Sasha can joke as well, "Forsy's stall is over there," and motions his head towards it across the room.

"Oh, hilarious."

"If I was funny I would say jock."

"You know, what? I think I will hit the gym today, thanks for reminding me."

"Mmm, anytime." And when Aaron's half out the door he adds, "Ask the staff where they put the jerseys we used today!"

"I'm going! To the gym!" he echoes back, not bothering to turn around as he shuffles down the hall in a hurry, and decidedly not going in the direction of the gym. It's not surprising when he hears chatter pick up and shoes scuffing briskly into the direction of the laundry rooms.

I still think its crazy that Nate bought a house right next to Sid. Imagine Sid having a real hot girl summer and getting railed within an inch of his life every night. Nate always sees the guys the next morning leaving while he's out water his lawn or some shit. He has to make sure his eye doesnt twitch because Sid is just such a damsel in distress but also he should so let Nate rock his world for a night

I LOVE the idea of Sid having a hot girl summer while Nate looks on in horror and jealous lust, he deserves it!!

The ‘unity’ stuff is dumb and bad but this is great

i love everything about this

inspired by ekky and his snoopy: a little baby sharks fic 🦥

The Sharks media team have let them loose with half-a-dozen rolls of quarters and a camera guy trailing them round.

As media goes, it’s not too bad - they both love any kind of game, no matter how dumb, and they’re so competitive they end up getting way too into everything, which apparently is what the fans love. If Mack can’t be playing hockey, then beating Will at the coconut shie by the pier is a pretty good consolation. At least no one’s asking him questions.

It’s nice to see Will so relaxed too, throwing his head back to laugh at Mack’s terrible rifle shot, his perfect teeth bright in the fairground lights. It’s busy, and after a while they manage to accidentally-on-purpose lose their social media handlers in the crowd. They wander, aimless and contented, through the stalls, passing a churro back and forth now there’s no one to confiscate any contraband.

“Oh hey,” says Mack, stopping in front of a stall garlanded with stuffed sloths. He reaches out, strokes a gentle finger over one of their weird little faces. “I used to have one just like that when I was a kid. He was like, my favourite thing.”

“Yeah?” says Will, taking advantage of Mack’s distraction to swallow the last of the churro.

“Yeah, Slothy, I think he was called. My dad tossed him out after I got benched in some Midget game.” He grins and turns to Will, expecting some chirp about naming a sloth Slothy. But Will’s staring at him.

“What? He, like, threw it away?”

“Well, yeah,” says Mack, “But I was probably like, seven? So not like it wasn’t time anyway.” He bumps Will’s shoulder companionably to try and smooth out that unhappy furrow between his eyes that Mack hates. It doesn’t work.

“Jesus fuck, Mack.”

Mack’s frowning now, starting to feel actually upset, which is dumb. “It’s not a big deal, dude.” Will opens his mouth, as if to argue but Mack spies the Sharks camera guy craning his neck through the crowd and elbows him. “C’mon.”

Will doesn’t look convinced but lets Mack steer them over to the hoops stand anyway. He’s quiet, doesn’t even demand a rematch when Mack smokes him at tiny basketball and barely acknowledges a dachshund dressed like a hot dog. Mack glances at him all the way back to the car park, trying to catch his eye long enough to pull stupid faces but Will barely notices.

“Hey, sorry, think I forgot something,” Will says, when they’re almost at the car. “Here.” He fishes his keys out of his sweatshirt pocket and tosses them at Mack.

“Dude, what?” Mack starts, but Will’s already heading back towards the fair.

“I’ll be quick!” he shouts over his shoulder, breaking into a jog. Will never jogs. Mack stares after him, trying to shake the feeling that he’s missed something here but not quite managing it. He sighs and clambers into the car, resigned to actually answering that email from his agent and texting his dad back, earlier happiness vanishing like bubbles.

***

When Mack steps out of the bathroom, damp from his shower, Will’s exactly where Mack left him: slumped in bed on his phone. But he’s not alone. There’s a stuffed sloth sitting upright in the opposite bed, it’s long furry arms holding Mack’s sleep shorts and t-shirt.

Mack stares at it, then at Will scrolling TikTok. He picks it up. It’s very soft, softer than Slothy was at the end, because he went everywhere, but the button eyes and little sloth-hands are just the same. Its smell is different though, like Will’s detergent - like the Marleau’s detergent, Mack mentally corrects, because Will doesn’t know how to work a washing machine - like maybe it travelled in his suitcase, folded between his clothes. He strokes a hand over its belly, along its arms.

“Will, I-” he breaks off around the sudden lump in his throat, and stares down at his sloth in his hands, unsure what to say.

“It’s not a big deal, dude.” Will parrots Mack’s own words back at him, but he’s clicking off his phone, and rolling over towards Mack, smiling at him, warm and teasing. “Ekky’s already ruined our street cred. You can have a little buddy too.”

Mack nods, risking a watery glance in Will’s direction. “Thanks man.”

He doesn’t put the sloth down when he pulls on his pajamas; has to swap hands so he can tug his t-shirt over his head. When he shuffles over Will takes it gently out of his hands and makes it pat the bed next to him.

“Did you win it for me? At the fair?” Mack whispers, sliding in under the thick comforter and pulling a pillow under his cheek.

“I tried.” Will grins and tucks the sloth in against Mack’s chest. Mack’s arms immediately come up around it, holding on tight. “I was worried that you’d come find me, kept flubbing the game - you had to knock all these little bananas down. And then I ran out of quarters.”

“That‘s ‘cause your hand-eye coordination goes to shit under pressure,” whispers Mack, shifting closer. There’s a warmth rising up from his toes, slowly filling his whole body. Will reaches over and tucks the blankets right up to his ears, then gives him a flick on the nose for good measure.

“So I offered him twenty bucks, which was all I had, but he said no, they can’t do that, so I told him that it’s for a guy I really like who lost one a long time ago.” He grins ruefully at Mack. “I think I’ve been watching too many romcoms.”

“Oh,” breathes Mack. He inches closer, emboldened, until they’re touching: foreheads, hands and knees. He wonders if Will can feel his heart thumping through the sloth. “Did it work?”

Will winds an arm around Mack and rolls them until Mack’s on top and the sloth is flattened between them. “Yeah,” he whispers, catching Mack’s smile with his own. “It did.”

Surefire | Rated E | Published: 2024-09-02 | Words: 6,313

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics | Tye Kartye is bad at sex | But that's OK because he has some experienced vets to teach him | Light Dom/sub | Mentorship | Size Kink | Praise Kink | Humiliation | Kink Discovery | Blindfolds | Restraints | Alcohol

Read it here!

they want to do what to the oilers

puppy tops that are in heat and can’t help but rut into you. puppy tops that whine and beg for you to let them cum inside. puppy tops that howl as they breed and knot you.

postgame interview | kings @ hurricanes | 01.15.24

Help Joe Thornton whattt????? hwuh????????? I didn't know this lore?? I desperately need to see the sources if that's ok

the province article on the quote:

“Shut up, have you ever played the game? (...) I’d have my cock out if I scored four goals. I’d have my cock out, stroking it.”

some context on that for anyone who didnt see my original tags about it is that tomas hertl scored 4 goals in a game in his rookie year in which. um. the sharks won 9-2 against the rangers (gamecenter).

the people thought he was havin TOO good a time about it and also the between the legs fourth goal (youtube) so just a whole lotta askin "what do YOU think about the four goals"

barstool sports article on cockless bruins @ sharks game, in which joe thornton scores is first hat trick in over 8 years and also for the first time since tomas hertls dick trick

gamecenter on the bruins @ sharks game in question. which the sharks lost 6-5 in ot LMAO (did you know the only players left on the sharks lineup from this game are logan couture and marc-edouard vlasic?)

the mercury news also said brent burns said he would go naked. which is unrelated. completely so. now im not sayin hes still playin on the canes. but.