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willyismybicycle · 21 days

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𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕜𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕒 𝕞𝕠𝕦𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕤 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤

Title: never kissed a mouth that tastes like yours [AO3 Link] Pairing: Auston Matthews/William Nylander (some side Max Domi, Tyler Bertuzzi) Rating: Explicit Summary: It’s not that Auston isn’t aware places like this exist, he’s just never thought to really look for it. What does he even type into Google anyway?

“Underground omega male only slutty dance club”?

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Auston Matthews, Top Auston Matthews, Omega William Nylander, Bottom William Nylander, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Public Sex, Oral Sex, Dirty Dancing, Felching, Wet & Messy, Beta Tyler Bertuzzi, Beta Max Domi, Knotting, Multiple Orgasms, Pining

Of course Max and Tyler know a place.

It’s not that Auston isn’t aware places like this exist, he’s just never thought to really look for it. What does he even type into Google anyway? “Underground omega male only slutty dance club”?

He should’ve known better. This is Max’s city, and Bertz — well, he’s Bertz. And the two of them get up to all sorts of shit, probably. He’ll have to ask what other venues they visit. See if he’s into whatever shit they’re into.

Because this place is fucking wild.

He should’ve known it would be, since they had to check their phones in and had to acknowledge their strict no photographs or videos rule.

Upon entering the darkened building, the first thing he noticed was the sheer amount of stuff and people. The scents took some time to get used to, his nose tingling immediately. He smells a little bit of everything and everyone, and it makes his nostrils flare.

“You’ll get used to it,” Tyler tells him, looking unbothered.

Maybe so, but for now, he ducks his head down a little, his own scent from his turtleneck helping him refocus.

It kind of looks like any other strip club — there’s a stage, there’s a walkway, there’s two poles on either end. But there’s also… other stuff.

His eyes look upward, at the various chains and swings hanging from the ceiling — he wants to know what the hell those all look like in action.

“Neat, right?” Max yells into his ear, just to be heard over the thundering, booming music playing. Max is nudging him further inside to reveal the full bar, another stage, this time circular. There’s a cage in the middle. Fuck.

He’s practically salivating at it all, so yeah, neat is one way to describe it. He nods and keeps walking with them.

First, he spends most of his time observing the crowd. When the first dancers come on, he feels a little ripple of excitement, the hairs on his arms rising as he watches the routine. The crowd is loud — not exactly distasteful, but rowdy. Drunk, probably.

Auston doesn’t even want to think about having a drink right now, he can’t understand anyone dulling their senses right now. He wants it all, to see, to watch, really watch. He wants to smell them, their sweat and pheromones, wants to fantasize how well they’d mix with him. He wants to feel the rush when they present themselves to the audience. To him.

The first dancers are okay. They look good, they smell good, but they’re clearly bonded.

The second dance he has to excuse himself, clear his head and reign in his rising alpha urge to claim someone — anyone.

Like the omega in the next stall of the bathroom giving what sounds like an incredibly sloppy blowjob.

His control is unparalleled, he knows this. His parents raised him right but goddamn does he think being born an alpha might be a slight curse.

Max and Bertz, they’re out there not struggling whatsoever, being attracted to omegas and alphas alike, not to mention other betas. And here he is, convincing himself not to jerk off in a public bathroom just to feel a little bit of calm.

By the time he returns, still half-hard and antsy, he suspects he’s missed an act or two. The man on stage right now is tall and lithe — and wearing very little. The crop top and shorts give off an effortless look and, for a second, Auston’s mouth waters at the skin he’s presented. But as he walks closer, the scent isn’t quite right — it smells clean. Almost clinical.

He sighs inwardly. It’s not like he’s hunting for a soulmate in this place, he just — he just wants to pretend.

He wants to believe, for a moment, that he has his perfect little omega, or even an omega-coded beta, and that they want to roll around in each other’s scents and just reek of happiness.

Stupid fucking alpha instincts.

Max and Ty have scooched their chairs so close together they might as well be sitting in each other’s laps, like they want to be. Some of the other dancers are mingling in the crowd, actually in people’s laps.

He smells the lust in the air. Lucky them.

He bites his useless paper straw stuck in his mostly empty glass of water and waits for the next dancer, wondering if maybe there’s just something wrong with him. Like, maybe his scent receptors are broken. Except he knows that’s not true because sometimes in the locker room, after a game, after most their scent blockers have worn off, he can smell his teammates and —

His head gets dizzy from the rush of blood, forcing him to close his eyes to both stop the spinning of the room and also try and stop thinking about fucking his teammates.

“You okay, Matty?” Domi asks, with Bertz looking over, head cocked like the puppy he is sometimes.

“Yeah, yup,” he answers so very eloquently, taking the last few sips of his drink.

“Good, ‘cause you’re not gonna wanna miss the next dance,” Max says with the biggest, gappiest grin he’s ever seen.

In hindsight, he should’ve asked Domi what the hell that meant.

Instead, he gets to choke in every sense of the word. The instant the dancer struts out on stage, Auston knows who it is and proceeds to nearly slam his glass down, coughing when the liquid doesn’t go down right. He forgets how to breathe now that his nostrils are filled with the scent of honey-cinnamon cherry and cedarwood. As if holding his breath could keep the scent there longer, somehow.

He’s pretty sure Max and Ty are laughing at him, which like, fuck them, he’s having a crisis. He’s pretty sure this is what a crisis feels like.

He feels like his insides are bursting, ripping open — blossoming. Like something inside of him has grown too large for his body to hold and desperately trying to spill out of every orifice and seam in his body.

The dancer — he can’t think of him as Willy or he’ll simply combust — is just as scandalously dressed, showing off all his hard-earned muscle. In nothing but a harness and a snug jock that can be seen through a sheer skirt, he looks so damn good, Auston would kill a man just to take a picture. The skirt hides nothing even if it goes down to his ankles, slits running up each side the length of his legs all the way to his hips.

Even though he’s masked with a dark veil, Auston knows it’s him. He would know. He. Would. Know.

He’s turned to the right side of the stage and fuck , Auston can see every ridge of his obliques that he’s dreamed of running his tongue along.

Willy — he — rolls his hips on stage and Auston nearly passes out. The muscle in Will’s ass tightens with the move and Auston watches as he twirls, his perfectly sculpted ass out on full display.

It’s torture. It’s cruel and unusual punishment, inhumane, for this to be happening. His cock fills at an alarming pace, saliva pooling in his mouth as his instincts scream at him to claim the gift being presented to him.

In his mind, reels of flashbacks start to play, all the chances he gets to see Will’s body, which is so often thanks to Will’s aversion to clothing.

Will isn’t built like most omegas — not anymore. He left for Sweden and came back built more like an alpha than most alphas, if Auston’s honest.

He thought it might help stop him from wanting Will so badly that his fucking bones ached, but it’s somehow only made him want Willy more. Like Will’s body is a challenge, calling out to be conquered.

He wants to, he wants to more than anything.

Each step shows off the power and strength of Will’s thighs — thick, coiled muscle flexing with every movement as he makes his way across the stage. The fabric is a stunning blue — dark, like the Leafs logo they wear — in contrast to his porcelain thighs. It’s so light that it flows with each stride, swishing around Willy’s legs like ribbons of water in a whirlpool.

Hell, he knows Willy can move, anyone watching him skate would know that. But this… These are movements he’s never seen Will make, other than in his private fantasies. Seeing them so publicly is like suffering.

Will gets on his knees.

It’s not difficult to imagine himself underneath, to picture Will straddling him instead of nothing, to envision Willy grinding down on him instead of the air between his legs.

He could make Willy so happy, he knows it.

“Okay there, buddy?” Max teases and, without meaning to, he growls. Max backs off without question, and Auston will probably feel bad about it later, but right now he has to fight every urge in his body and it’s taking everything in him not to run up on stage and mount Willy.

Perfect, beautiful Willy.

The set is both too long and too short, in Auston’s mind, despite his brain trying to slow down every second so his eyes can follow every fucking tendon he can see. It’s painful, how enticing Willy’s body is — from the curves of his thighs to the suggestive treasure trail leading down his abs.

He wants. He needs.

The moment Will is done with his set, sauntering off stage like he owns the place, all Auston can do is stare after those enticing hips that lead to the perfect, plump ass he’s been trying so hard not to stare at for the past eight seasons.

“You knew?” Auston asks, deep and rumbling, holding back his primal instincts to snap his teeth and declare war on anyone else interested in Will.

“Hey, c’mon,” Ty chirps. “Of course we knew, we’re his lineys. Gotta make sure nobody fucks with our Willy.”

“Yeah, now come on,” Max jumps in, motioning for Auston to stand.

“Where are we… ?”

“Come on,” Max repeats, walking and expecting Auston to follow.

He does.

—

He can understand now why Max and Bertz come here, even if they weren’t simply enjoying the club. He knows how protective they are of Will on the ice, now he sees it off the ice too.

The hall leading to the backstage area is packed with people — mostly alphas, all of them swimming around like sharks waiting for a hint of blood.

He feels like it might be impossible to find Willy in the crowd, but then he hears it — the sound of Willy’s laugh. He’d be able to pick that sound out of any noise on the planet.

Parting the crowd, he pushes his way in between warm, sticky bodies, until Willy’s giggling gets louder and louder.

He’s still in the same outfit he wore on stage, minus the veil. Laying his eyes on Will like this… it’s an experience. Christ, there are sparkles on him. They look like little stars smattered across his skin, among the constellation of freckles already adorning his shoulders.

“What the fuck,” he blurts out before he can think it through.

Will’s smile falters for just a split second, but Auston sees the flicker of hurt in his eyes. Then he does something Auston’s never seen him do — he shies away.

Crossing his arms, Willy looks away, eyes dropping.

Fuck.

He’s pretty sure he hears Max groan in disappointment and then the sour smell starts to permeate his space. It takes a second for him to figure out that it’s Willy’s embarrassment. He’s never smelled that scent in his fucking life.

“No — I didn’t mean it like, fuck,” Auston rushes, taking a step forward.

The plus side? Willy doesn’t step away.

The downside? He’s pretty sure Bertuzzi just growled at him a little.

“I’m sorry,” he amends quickly. Willy just does something to his ability to speak, to think.

“I just meant — I didn’t know that you — you were so fucking good out there.”

Willy bites his lip, looking at him again. They’re only an inch apart but Willy looks through his lashes at Auston in a way that makes him want to commit a crime.

“Wasn’t expecting you,” Willy says instead of acknowledging all of Auston’s blunders.

“Uh, I wasn’t expecting you,” Auston says, letting his eyes roam Willy’s body up and down again now that his friend has uncrossed his arms. “You were incredible. Are. Are incredible.”

Christ, get a grip.

Willy laughs, which means Auston is forgiven, and it’s like the earth has healed.

“Thanks.”

“Do you, um…”

“What, come here often?” Willy quips. “Once a month, maybe. After my heat has cleared for sure. If we’re in town.”

Right.

“Oh,” he says lamely, eyes blinking dumbly. What’s he supposed to say? “Cool”?

“Aus?”

God, he wishes he could focus, he’s in the middle of a conversation but his instincts are screaming. He just hopes he doesn’t sound breathless as he answers. “Yeah?”

“You wanna fuck me?”

Auston swallows a pained noise as his dick throbs against the confines of his pants. Why the fuck did he wear such tight jeans?

“What,” he squeaks, hoping to buy himself more time to think of a reasonable answer.

Willy shrugs as he runs his hand through his hair. “Iunno, you kinda reek of horny. I thought maybe it was for, uh — this,” he explains, waving a hand down himself to signal the outfit. “But if it’s someone else, th —”

“It’s you!” Auston cuts him off, trying to avoid any more floundering. If Willy ever got the wrong idea that Auston had his eyes on anyone else here tonight, Auston would absolutely throw himself off a building. No. Willy is, and has always been, ethereal to him, very little in the world could compare. “You,” he repeats.

Willy grins and tugs Auston by the collar of his expensive shirt, not caring if he stretches it out. Auston doesn’t give a fuck either, not when Willy lets himself bump into a wall and pull Auston towards him.

He’s fantasized about kissing his teammate too many times to count — he’s only fucking human, okay? Willy’s lips have always looked perfect for kissing, soft, rosy and constantly licked or nibbled on, how could he not? And now Auston gets to see just how right he was about it. They slot together perfectly, his tongue swiping along said perfect lips, begging for more.

Willy opens for him, granting him access to heaven as he licks into Willy’s mouth. Willy tastes just as good as Auston thought he would. His nostrils fill with Willy’s scent as he starts to kiss down Willy’s neck next.

All this time, he’s only ever gotten a whiff of this — diluted, post-game when the scent blockers are wearing off. Even when he’s been to Willy’s place, the windows had been open to air it out as a courtesy. Auston’s never hated someone for being so considerate before.

But now? Now he gets the pure, full-blown scent of Willy without blockers, without being aired out, and it’s all for him. Hell, he gets to taste it and Auston lets out a filthy moan into the hollow of Will’s throat.

He can’t believe he’s been given the honour of tasting the most decadent dessert known to mankind. He savours it, each lick, every nibble, making sure he doesn’t leave a single inch of Willy’s skin untouched.

Their scents start to combine, and Willy’s purring tugs Auston out of his hazy daydreams to focus on the here and now. Willy purrs a lot, but it feels different when it’s all for him.

“Holy fuck, Willy,” he groans. “Dreamt of this…”

“Yeah?” Willy asks, breathless and with his fingers digging into the back of Auston’s neck.

“Every fucking day,” he replies honestly, pressing Willy into the wall, his body needing to be inside, to be one with Willy’s more than anything in the world.

“Show me,” Willy whispers but it rings clear in Auston’s head, like a command he’s been waiting for his whole life. The alpha instincts in him go into overdrive — the chance to make his fantasies a reality?

But first — he wants to make Willy understand what it’s really about. It’s not about him, it’s about wanting to make Will feel good, that’s what he wants more than anything.

He squeezes Willy’s hips before slipping his hands beneath the silky fabric of the skirt, hands roaming up the toned thighs that Auston’s dreamed of slipping between. His thumbs sweep over the muscle adoringly as he moves closer and closer to the junction of Willy’s groin, coaxing Willy’s legs open. The smell of Willy’s slick hits him and it makes his knees weak — he wants to drown himself in it.

“Oh my god,” he groans in Willy’s ear as he nudges the jockstrap aside and gives Willy’s hardening cock a few gentle strokes before sliding his fingers over Willy’s hole. He gets a gasp in return — the first of many sounds he’ll never forget. Bringing his fingers up, he takes a long whiff before taking them in his mouth.

Willy’s eyes light up in delight, even as his pupils blow wide and dark, watching Auston like he’s the only person in this club.

He preens about it, holding Willy’s attention like this and then he moans like a man starved the moment the taste floods his tongue. He always thought that in movies, after someone’s first bite of their meal, it was overly dramatic the way their eyes would flutter and roll back while they groaned. Now, he understands. He’s pretty sure he just did the exact same thing.

“Fuck, you taste so good, baby.”

“Then have another taste,” Willy goads with a mischievous grin.

Well, Auston doesn’t need to be fucking told twice.

—

Will’s heart is fucking racing, hammering in his chest harder than it’s ever had to before. He didn’t think Auston would actually show, but it had been too late to chicken out and now he’s so glad he hadn’t.

Auston Matthews, one of the most eligible bachelors in the city, Alpha of the ages, getting down to his knees. For him, for Willy.

The smell of his own slick is almost embarrassing when Auston pulls the flimsy jock down, damp patch evident. He pants as Auston’s giant hands knead into his thighs, encouraging one of them up and over those sturdy, broad shoulders.

It’s good for him that Auston’s still propping Willy up because the moment Auston starts to eat him out, his legs go weak, knees giving out.

“Oh fuck!” He desperately reaches to grab onto something, anything, as Auston’s tongue slips inside, curling and rolling, pressing in deeper and deeper.

His hands find Auston’s hair, fingers curling and nails scraping along his scalp. “Auston, Auston.”

God, his whole body seems to vibrate as Auston moans against his entrance and he swears it travels through every nerve in body. “Holy shit.”

Somewhere in his haze, he can see Bertz and Domi watching — watching him, watching Auston, but also still watching the crowd around them, puffing their chests out in challenge if someone gets too close to their little corner. He’s so grateful for them, grateful enough he doesn’t mind at all giving them a little show.

He closes his eyes and lets his head drop against the wall, tugging at Auston’s hair to keep going.

Auston’s tongue is absolutely divine.

“Oh my god, Aus… Fuck, Aus,” he starts, rambling and becoming more incoherent as Auston’s mouth takes him apart.

He’s never felt this level of need before. He’s had his urges, he’s had moments where he lusts or throws himself at someone because the omega drive has made him, but he’s never experienced this deep, unearthly desperation to be knotted by an alpha before.

“Please, Aus, need your — need your knot,” he manages to gasp out, burning with embarrassment over his neediness.

He knows Auston’s mouth is preoccupied but even still, he can make out a muffled “fuck”, and the groan that follows makes him squirm, Auston’s moustache tickling him.

“Right here?” Auston asks when he finally detaches himself from Willy’s hole. The entire bottom of his face is soaked, glistening under the dark-coloured lighting of the club as he looks up at Will from his knees.

“Yeah,” he chokes out, feeling like a king. “Right fucking here.”

And just like a royal servant, Auston obliges, standing up and Willy turns himself around, pulling the skirt to the side. He can hear Auston fighting his own zipper to tug his pants down.

He knows Auston likes what he sees — what he smells and tastes, too — because the scent Auston gives off is spicy, enough to tickle Willy’s nose, and the way Auston drapes himself over Willy’s back is so possessive. And Auston’s cock —

Even without meaning to, without the claiming bite, without any of the things they’re supposed to do, it still feels like a claim.

He groans and pants like he’s in a fucking heat when Auston burrows himself inside, pushing his way into the space of Willy’s body like he’s making a home there.

“Oh god, fuck, fuck,” Willy blabbers, getting increasingly higher pitched as his nails scrabble at the wall. “Aus, Aus — shit. ”

“Baby,” Auston whispers as he bottoms out, hips pressed to Willy’s ass. “Feel amazing, baby.”

Baby, baby, hell if Willy isn’t already over the moon, thinking about Auston calling him pet names while they lie in bed, mated, and not just having a one time fuck in a sketchy ass club.

“Knot me, knot me,” he begs. Loudly. “Please, fuck, I want it, Aus. Want your knot, want your come, fuck — want you.”

“Yeah,” Auston agrees easily, voice strained. He wants to feel proud for making Auston sound like that but when Auston pulls back and thrusts in again, he makes the most pathetic keening noise possible and it all goes downhill from there.

Auston’s cock stretches him in a way he didn’t expect, like all his organs are shifting to make space for him. Each snap of Auston’s hips feels like it could break him and he’s just merely holding onto the concrete wall for dear life, his face pressed to the cold tiles becoming so warm he feels like he could melt them.

And then Auston starts talking.

Things like “you’re so wet for me” and “can feel you gripping me so tight” and yeah, it is all for Auston which is such a problem, but he can’t stop. He drools against the tiles as Auston fucks the daylights out of him, his legs quivering as he gets shoved further and further up the wall. His cock, now trapped between his body and the wall, weeps. The friction isn’t quite right for him to get off, not that he needs it, but he’s aware that he’s making a mess of the wall.

“Feels too good, baby, I’m gonna come,” Auston tells him eons later (or so it feels).

Willy, already just barely hanging on by a thread, nods frantically. He’s been trying his best to hold on so they could come together and he lets out a guttural sound when he finally comes all over Auston’s knot. Auston’s knot . Christ, he’s wanted it for so long and now it’s growing inside of him as Auston lets out a filthy low moan that turns into a purr.

Oh god, Auston’s purring.

Their scents and sounds mingle while Auston’s knot insistently pushes against his walls internally and he just about collapses after coming for an eternity. In front of him, the splatter on the wall drops, leaving streaks of milky come on its way to the ground.

Auston, to his credit, just plants a hand on the wall beside Will’s head and keeps the other arm wrapped around Will’s waist. He sags in Auston’s hold, panting, somehow knowing Auston would never drop him no matter how spent Auston may be.

“You okay?” Auston asks gently, kissing his shoulder. Oh god.

He nods, feeling his hair cling to the sweat along his neck. “S’perfect,” he slurs, eyes closing to commit this moment to memory.

“… Can you please call your guard dogs off?”

Willy blinks his heavy eyes open again. His wha-?

Domi and Bertz are looking mostly unsure but they have their jaws clenched, ready for a fight.

Right.

He throws them a lazy smile over his shoulder. “S’all good,” he calls out, even if it’s far, far better than just good.

“They look like they want to eat you alive,” Auston tells him, sounding a little — jealous?

“Maybe they do,” he replies nonchalantly, chest still heaving as he catches his breath. He’s going to milk Auston’s knot for all it’s worth, tiredly clenching around the shrinking base.

“Maybe I should let them,” Auston snarks, sinking his teeth into Willy’s shoulder.

When Auston pulls out, Will whines at the loss, at the empty space now that Auston’s no longer buried inside of him. A hot stream of come and slick leaks out and dribbles down his thighs, a filthy little reminder.

He’s wiped at this point, exhausted and worn out in a way he can’t say he ever really feels except after a rough heat, which is maybe why he doesn’t exactly register Auston moving around —

“Aunh!” His knees buckle when he feels a tongue lick along the length of his softening cock.

It’s not Auston’s.

“C’mere, baby,” Auston whispers, voice raspy as he maneuvers them — pulls Will close until they’re chest to chest and lips locked. He can still taste himself on Auston’s tongue, whining happily as he feels Auston’s warm, large hands gliding down his back.

He groans when he feels another tongue lap at his balls. “Fuck,” he curses softly against Auston’s jaw.

“Give ‘em a real taste,” Auston says, hands cupping his ass and spreading them apart, not giving him much of a choice.

He’s shivering from it all — the post-orgasm high, Auston kneading his ass, his friends feasting on him like vultures. All he can do is cling to Auston’s shoulders, nails leaving little crescent-shaped marks and pant like an overheated dog.

“Taste good, boys?” Auston asks over Willy’s shoulder. He sounds pretty fucking smug about it.

It fucking must, Will thinks to himself, if the vigor of Bertz and Max’s tongues are anything to go by. His ass involuntarily clenches around them, only to be pried open again.

“Fuck yeah,” Bertz replies enthusiastically before diving back in.

“Shit, Aus,” he moans. He feels them… everywhere. Hands, tongues, teeth. He feels filthy, and he’s never been more turned in his life. His cock is already starting to fill again, pressing into Auston’s thigh as he embarrassingly starts grinding down on the toned muscle.

“That turn you on, baby? Getting eaten out by our buds in front of all these people?”

He shakes his head even if it’s a bold-faced lie, even if his grip on Auston’s shoulders tightens as one of them seals their mouth over his hole and shoves their tongue as far in as it’ll go.

“Liar.” Auston’s hand lets go of his left ass cheek before it comes cracking down. It makes him jolt with a yelp and clench down on whoever’s tongue it is.

“Hell,” Bertz bemoans from behind him.

“Move over,” Max complains, and then Willy feels both of their tongues fighting for dominance at his hole.

Auston’s hand slides down to his cock and he feels a wave of relief… though it's short-lived.

“Lie to me again,” Auston dares, hand wrapping around his cock tightly — too tightly.

“Fucking — fine,” he spits out begrudgingly. “You’re right, okay?”

“Say it.”

He bites his tongue. He wants to resist — mostly because he wants to see how far Auston will go with him, but he starts to ache all over.

“Say it,” Auston demands again, voice lower.

He wants to come so bad and someone’s cupping his balls just right and his hole is a fucking wet mess.

“Fine! Fine,” he caves. “It — yes, it turns me on.”

“What does?” Auston presses, his hand loosening a bit. Even if Willy knows it’s just the blood flowing, it feels like pure euphoria rushing through his veins.

“Getting — getting fucked and eaten out — in front of all these people.”

“Fuck, baby, that’s so hot,” Auston praises, hand starting to finally move.

“Please —”

He doesn’t get much farther than that, it’s as if all three of them had collectively decided to push him over the edge and work in tandem to ruin him.

He comes all over the front of Auston’s hand and jeans. He comes all over Max’s and Bertuzzi’s faces. He’s pretty sure he comes all over the fucking floor. Dripping. Twitching like he’s been electrocuted.

“So pretty, gorgeous,” Auston coos softly, petting his hair as if he was a sleepy puppy. “Come to mine? I’ll get you all cleaned up?”

“Mmmm, only if you make a mess of me again.”

#hockey rpf #men's hockey rpf #auston matthews #auston matthews fic #william nylander #william nylander fic #3488 #auston x willy #willy nylander #hockey fanfiction #omegaverse #alpha auston april

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