Spacie



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  1. Rec 77

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    "'Cmon Derek, just the tip."

    Derek's fingers slide almost all the way out—drawing a moan of protest from Stiles' trembling form—before sinking all the way back in.

    "Please," Stiles' back arched, fingernails digging into his thighs where he's holding himself open.

    "You're not ready for that yet." Derek murmurs, watching the way Stiles' pink puffy rim stretched around his fingers, the way it sucks him in.

    "Bullshit," Stiles snapped, head tossing back against the pillow. "You've got four fingers up my ass."

    "Just the tip," he continues, babbling, really. Perfect thighs shaking as Derek's fingers push deeper, curling against the boys prostate. "Just the tip—fuck,"

    Stiles is very sensitive, as all virgins are their first time. They've been practicing this, Stiles is determined he wants to take all 10.5 inches of Derek's cock.

    So Derek has been training him, showed him how to flush himself out, been stretching him open until he's gaping, hole red and puffy from abuse.

    "Derek, you promised." Stiles' thighs are really shaking now, his body flushed and perspirating. He looks beautiful.

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    23 Feb 2026

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  2. Rec *

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    “You're being cruel, Ilya. Please just— stop.”

    Pain blooms across Ilya's expression, a brief lapse in form. He's quick to recover, furrowing his brow and pursing his lips, like Shane’s made more than a simple request, like he's got Rose Laundry here, in his lap, parading her around like Ilya has with all his women since rookie year. Like he has any right to that pain.

    “Oh, so this is what it takes to make you say my name without freaking out.”

    Or: Shane does not go home with Rose after the club.

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    22 Feb 2026

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  3. Rec *

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    "Ilya had loved him through his worst moments. Ilya had helped him find a therapist when he’d collapsed on the floor of their hotel bathroom after losing a particularly brutal game, scratching at his chest. Ilya had held him, even when Shane yelled at him because there was panic crawling under his skin and he felt as though it might claw its way out. Ilya had told him it was okay; that it didn’t make him a bad player to resent the spotlight sometimes, that it didn’t make him a bad teammate to hate the team when they were too loud and too drunk and too physical, that it didn’t make him a bad person to need space to breathe. Ilya saved him.

    And look what you give him in return. You’re a shitty husband, Shane Hollander.

    You don’t deserve his last name."

     

    -

     

    content warnings: discussion of mental health, depiction of a panic attack, depiction of invasive medical procedure, depiction of violence (generally non-graphic), use of hate speech, depiction of a hate crime

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    21 Feb 2026

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  4. Rec *

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    alternate universe where it’s ‘i’m coming to the cottage’ but make it feral werewolf shifter Ilya trying to court an oblivious Shane.

    or

    Shane trying to enjoy a relaxing time at the cottage only to discover a hot naked man in his living room, instead of the wolf he had previously put there.

     

    now translated in russian here!

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    20 Feb 2026

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  5. Rec *

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    Ilya's face split into a wide grin. It made his eyes sparkle. Shane wanted to kiss him very badly. "Oh. Oh. You are very drunk."

    "I wouldn't say very drunk. I'm normal drunk." Shane corrected, stepping closer to Ilya until they were barely centimeters apart. Shane reached up and wrapped his arms around Ilya's neck. They were so close and he smelled so good. Shane breathed him in for a second. Fuck, he had missed him so badly. It had only been two weeks, but it felt like forever.

    "I missed you too." Ilya whispered. Wait, had Shane said that out loud? Oops. Maybe he was very drunk. "More than you know."

    Or, the transition from friends with benefits to lovers is far from seamless.

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    18 Feb 2026