please eat enough and drink enough water and get enough sleep. this is so that you have enough energy. because we need you to be writing and drawing porn on the internet
Hello everyone. Here is a brief primer on hockeyblr etiquette. Follow these rules, and everyone has a much better time. if you have questions, feel free to ask.
Only tag what is in the post. This isn't instagram or tiktok- there's no such thing as tagging for engagement. Tag what's in the post, or people will block you for spamming unrelated tags. If your post features Player A and B, don't tag A, B, C, and D just because they're all on the same team- just tag A and B. It would be frustrating for fans of C and D to go through their tags only to see repeated posts of A and B.
Don't like a tag? Mute it! Tumblr has a block tag feature for a reason. Use it liberally to curate your experience! Can't stand Team X? Can't stand Player P? Mute the tag, and the posts will be covered so you don't have to see them.
Don't like a blog? Block them! Don't be passive aggressive. Block them and move on. If you're a sideblog and want to block them, you'll have to go on a computer and block their url from your sideblog as well, but it is possible!
If you're liveblogging your game and mention the opposing team in your post, censor the opposing team's name. Tumblr's tag search system is a mess, so if you tag 'team x lb' and mention team y in the post, the post will show up in team y's search page. It's not the end of the world, but it's courteous to keep the liveblogs separate. No one wants to see a post shit talking their team from an opponent.
In general, team liveblogs are tagged as '[team name] lb'. For example: sharks lb, flames lb, blue jackets lb. This is for people who are watching the game as it happens to talk about it, or even team news as it happens. If you're creating content about a team/player, you wouldn't tag it as 'team lb', you would just tag it as the team/player name. Remember, not everyone is here for RPF! Keep the shippy stuff separate from the liveblog.
Don't tag your hate posts. Censor names. No one wants to see a hate post for their favorite team/player in their tag. Tumblr's search system sucks- if you write the name of a player in a post but don't tag it, the post will show up in the player's tag anyway. Censor names!
Keep your tags simple. If you're writing X Reader content, tag it as X Reader content. Don't make each tag unique for your blog- a lot of people don't want to read that kind of content, and want to mute it. You can still have your unique tags, just also include the basic ones for filtering purposes. thank you to @jiminy-crickets for the addition!
Don't reblog a post just to hate on it in the tags. OP will always see those tags, and it's hurtful. If you absolutely MUST hate on a post or it's contents, make a separate post, with censored names. But in general, keep that stuff to yourself. thank you to @butterflyintochains for the addition!
saw you’d write smut for kirill kaprizov and it reinvigorated my zest for life 🙏🏻 i will take literally any scraps you are willing to throw me, but i definitely see him as someone who just picks you up and carries you around like,,, with those big arms???
okay YES!!! i'm here for it. happy to provide! this got... way longer than anticipated and i had to stop. i'll still consider this a blurb tho cuz it's relatively unedited. that being said i've got ideas for a pt 2 that gets properly smutty. oops. lmk if you have anything you wanna see in that!
i've not written for kirill before, so please do give me pointers if anything can be improved. regardless, i figured that writing him like a big sweet cuddly dog was apt. i'm also way more familiar with writing geno's voice for dialogue and if i understand, kirill's got a little less broken english? idk! lmk!
nsfw-ish blurb below!
you'd just come in from a walk, a quick trip of a few blocks to see the sunset and get some fresh air. the days were still warm, but twilight was bringing a hint of the autumn chill to the twin cities. back in the apartment, you've got two goals: open up a few windows to let in the crisp breeze, and get a snack.
something sweet, but not too much. that's how you land on plucking raspberries from the carton, perched on the counter and scrolling through your phone. it's kind of a perfect night. the warm light of your apartment, a slight chill. quiet. calm. and the raspberries are sweet - probably the last of the season to be so good.
one minute, you're contemplating if it's cold enough to pull on a sweatshirt. the next, you're being hoisted off the counter, away from the raspberries. "hello??" you yelp, and slide your phone onto the counter before it can fall. a pair of strong arms is wrapped around your torso, and you feel him squeeze you in his arms. the familiar cologne and blond hair - of course it's kirill. how he slipped into the kitchen so quietly you've got no idea.
"hi, baby." his voice is a little ragged, he must've taken a power nap. you swear he was awake when you left.
the initial feeling of being freaked you're going to fall on your ass has faded, but you still wrap your arms around his neck tight. hovering over the counter is a little bit of a reassurance. not much distance to fall. "really? are we doing this right now?"
"yes. come on, wrap your legs around me." well. you're not sure if he's being cuddly or trying to start shit, but either way.
"fiiiiine." you huff a sigh, but play along. once you hook your ankles behind his back, kirill slides his hands down to your thighs. he cradles the undersides of them with his large palms. splays his fingers out across the skin. you silently thank your past self for it being warm enough to still wear shorts outside.
"thank you, baby." then he's carrying you out of the kitchen. it's a been a thing with him, lately, picking you up and carrying you around the house. when asked why he liked it so much, all you got was a shrug and sweet smile. the extent of an explanation was "because i'm strong enough". you weren't complaining, when it came down to it.
you press your cheek against his forehead as he does a lap around the living room. not saying anything, just holding you close. squeezing your legs the slightest bit. maybe you don't have to hold on for dear life. you start to hum a little, and let yourself relax in his grasp. a kiss to his forehead. eventually, you start to play with his hair. thank god he's letting it grow out again. it's always so pretty when he does.
then kirill's taking you down the hall. a cool breeze follows the two of you. without a sweatshirt, you're thankful for his warmth. his steps are resolute, but leisurely. there's no rush. it's been a chill day off for the both of you, why hurry now?
a streak of interest in your gut. with how close you're pressed together, you can feel his muscles flex. not only with how he makes small shifts to hold you better, but with each step. you pull him close, squeeze him. even when you pretend to be annoyed about this… it's sweet.
another surprise, when you pass through the doorframe of your bedroom and begin to feel open-mouthed kisses pressed into your neck. you let out a softer gasp this time. then a breath out through your nose. you ruffle his hair. it's a "thanks", an encouragement.
"you smell nice. new perfume?" kirill murmurs, lips refusing to leave your skin.
"just the one i got last month." and then you start to fall back. slow. careful. just as controlled as he is with every rep in the weight room. you keep your hands clasped around the back of kirill's neck. you ease into the bed, and smile up at him. "you could've just said you wanted to get me in bed," you tease.
kirill lets some of his weight on you, just enough to press you into the bed. "sure, but it's not as fun." he nudges at your jaw with his nose, enough that you get the memo to tilt your head the other way. with the access, he presses a few kisses behind your ear. then right under it. his breath tickles. "i like sneaking up on you."
before you can meet him for a kiss, he's pulling away. leaning back to almost stand straight, though his eyes don't leave you. so you're at the edge of the bed, you realize. his hands slide from the backs of your thighs to rest on your hips, right above your waistband. while his palms curl around your body, he runs his thumbs across your skin, slow. you can't help but shiver a little.
he's sweet, and you know the game he's playing. "okay. my turn. c'mere." your ankles are still hooked behind his back, and you use that leverage to bring him down against you. thankfully he doesn't push back on it. when kirill's close enough, you cup his face and pull him into a kiss. a real one. deep, slow, a little messy. he likes to press his chaste little kisses all over you, and yet - you know things getting a little sloppy gets him hot under the collar.
it's a small victory when you hear him sigh through his nose. so you nip at his bottom lip. he takes the bait, because it's not long until you feel his sharp incisors coast against your own. you hum. he squeezes your hips. one of your hands reaches to grab at his arm when you feel him suck on your bottom lip. when it's dragged out like this, you're sensitive to all the little things. even when he plays right into your hand.
there's a soft flush across kirill's face when he eventually pulls back. alright, at least he's as flustered as you are. maybe you can't help the smug quirk to your smile. "alright, kirya, you've got me in bed. tell me what you want."
not to add my own two indigenous cents to the McKenna conversation but read about the epidemic of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women, recognize his Indigenous parent is his mother, look at where he is from (Whitehorse, Yukon. Tr'ondëk Hwëch'in First Nation.) and use cultural context in this when discussing it.
it's a bad return!! greentree was high scoring in the o but like. that kind of means nothing with the rangers. i'm not really emotionally attached to panarin so it's fine in that sense but i'm frustrated with him for choosing LA like that when there was really no good return possible. and i'm frustrated with the conditional third like are you serious
okay okay so minten being obsessed with getting you up against a wall and making you come on his dick,, and like he holds you up the whole time like it’s nothing and his glasses fogging up but he won’t take them off bc then he can’t see every single minute detail duh and his big muscle teeheehee 🙏🏻 kk luv u bye
nsfw content below
you aren’t even sure how you ended up like this, back pressed to the wall, fraser’s hands strong and steady beneath your thighs, holding you up like you’re weightless, like it’s as easy as breathing. your legs wrap tight around his hips, feet dangling a little in the air, the cool surface of the wall against your bare shoulder blades making you shiver, not that you notice much with the way his cock is buried so deep inside you. his hips are pressed close, every movement sending sparks up your spine, and you can’t look away from his face—how his glasses are crooked, slipping down the bridge of his nose, fogging up so badly you can barely see his eyes behind them, but you know he’s looking at you, wide and so blue, pupils blown with need.
fraser’s breathing is ragged, the faintest sheen of sweat darkening his hairline, lips parted in concentration. there’s nothing rough in the way he moves, nothing hurried or careless—just this slow, rolling rhythm, hips rolling up and into you with the kind of patience that makes you ache everywhere he touches. his hands grip you tight, fingers flexing under your thighs, and every now and then you feel the effortless power in him, the way he holds you up like you’re barely anything at all, even as you clutch at his broad shoulders, digging your nails into the muscle there.
he whimpers, soft and high, every time your walls squeeze tight around him. “oh—god—please—” it’s barely more than a breath, voice cracking into a whine as he buries his face in your neck, glasses sliding sideways until you have to giggle and push them back up for him. he smiles, goofy and helpless, mouth pressed to your jaw. “can’t take them off,” he gasps, “i want to see you—want to see all of you, every second, please—” he says it like he means it, like it’s all he wants in the world, and his hips stutter, driving you up a little higher on the wall.
the muscle in his arms flexes as he adjusts your weight, holding you steady, and you can’t help the breathless laugh that escapes your lips. “fraser—how are you—?”
he blushes, even now, but his eyes are intent, focused. “you’re so perfect,” he whispers, like it’s a secret, like he needs you to know. “i love holding you like this. love making you feel good. can’t believe i get to—” he cuts himself off with a whine as you clench around him, and suddenly he’s thrusting a little harder, not rough, but more desperate, voice trembling. “want you to come for me, please—i want to feel it—need you so bad—”
he buries his mouth against your neck, kissing you everywhere he can reach, glasses smeared with fog, his hair tickling your cheek. you feel every inch of him, the strength in his arms, the way his abs tense as he lifts you higher, adjusting his grip without ever faltering. every movement pushes you up the wall, back arching, and you gasp his name, tangling your hands in his hair. he’s shaking with the effort, but you know he could hold you like this forever if you needed him to.
he looks up at you then, blue eyes swimming behind the fogged glass, lips wet and parted, cheeks burning pink. “please,” he begs, so sweet and ruined you almost come from just the sound of his voice, “let go for me, i want to feel you—please, i—i can’t—” and then he’s whimpering, hips grinding deep, and it’s too much, too good, every muscle in your body tightening as you shatter around him, crying out his name.
fraser holds you through it, murmuring soft, shaky words against your skin, still thrusting slow and deep, almost sobbing now, “that’s it, that’s my girl—so good, you’re so good—oh god—” and he follows you over, hips jerking, arms trembling as he comes, head dropped to your shoulder, breathing hard.
he doesn’t let you down right away, just holds you there, letting your legs slide a little lower until your toes brush the floor, his arms locked tight around your waist. you reach up to wipe the fog from his glasses, and he laughs, soft and breathless, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “sorry,” he says, voice shaky and full of joy, “can’t see a thing right now.”
you smile, nuzzling close, and he just hugs you tighter, strong enough to hold you forever, never letting go.
jbbartram-illu
tangentwithtanner
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