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  1. Rec *

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    Shane’s hair had grown out. It was long enough to fall into his eyes and annoy him, but not long enough to be tied out of his face. That was exactly how Ilya preferred it. It was long enough Ilya could comfortably grip him as long as he wanted without fear of losing his hold no matter how sweaty his hands became from their fucking. So Ilya took advantage. He wound his fingers into the back of Shane’s hair, fisted, and hauled his head back, forcing his back into a deep arch that made Shane cry out again. His body was a work of art, all that muscle honed for optimum performance only to be wrung into submission, and Ilya fucking loved it. He loved that Shane let him do whatever he wanted to him, that Shane always came back and asked for more.

    Mean Dom Ilya Week 2026, Day 6: Free Use / Total Power Exchange / "anything you like"

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    18 Apr 2026

  2. Rec *

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    While trying to write to his friend studying abroad in Moscow, Shane Hollander accidentally reaches Ilya Rozanov.

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    16 Apr 2026

  3. Rec *

    Summary

    imagine Heated Rivalry but with a slapdash of magical realism, ghosts, and the slowly dawning realization of just how much Shane and Ilya have to gain, if only they could figure their shit out. featuring: the most supportive team in the world (the Bears), the seething underbelly of malice (Montreal), and three tiny babies (boston's rookies), who just want to meet their stepmom.

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    10 Apr 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    i love love love magical realism and fantasy 🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩

  4. Rec *

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    That next time, Shane had thought to get ahead of it.

    It had been— difficult. Doing it himself, without Ilya there to monitor. And then he had knelt apologetically at Ilya’s feet, confessing shamefacedly that he’d done it again, he’d come when he wasn’t supposed to. And Ilya’s face had changed— not to anger, it was never anger, even when he pretended at it, just a kind of electric anticipation, his lips curling back over his teeth like he was trying to taste Shane in the air— before Shane had blurted out I ruined it, though. He’d sat up a little straighter.

    A pause. Ruined it, solnyshko?

    Shane had nodded.

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    09 Apr 2026

  5. Rec *

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    “What did she look like?” asked Hollander.

    “She was brunette,” said Ilya. Marleau’s eyes trailed along the hard lines of his traps, past the glint of his crucifix, the swells of his pectorals, towards the trail of hair disappearing into his shorts. They landed on the thickening outline of his cock. “Pretty little thing, with freckles. Big, brown dumb eyes, begging to be made to cry.”

    Hollander’s breath hitched. Marleau realized, perhaps belatedly, that this was a game in which truth was incidental.

    In 2014, Ilya and Marleau went to Paris on a girl to celebrate the Stanley Cup win. Ten years later, on a balmy evening spent in the Hollander-Rozanov Ottawa home, Marleau reminisces and, courtesy of Shane and Ilya, re-enacts.

    It’s just a game of play pretend.

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    23 Mar 2026