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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    Luca hadn’t been sure he would go through with the plan. He’d talked himself into it and out of it about fifty times.

    But he's made it this far. He's sitting with Shane Hollander, just the two of them. Now all he needs to do it open his mouth and—

    “Look,” Shane is saying, “if you wanted to talk through coming out, I th—”

    “I can’t figure out anal sex,” Luca blurts.

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    10 Jun 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    He should just forget about Rozanov. Forget about Rozanov coming all over his own stomach as Shane watched, transfixed; forget about Rozanov’s hand curving possessively around Shane’s jaw to pull him in for a kiss. Forget about the dizzying, red-hot bolt of shame and anticipation and fear and arousal that had shot through him when Rozanov stroked two fingers down between his ass cheeks and pressed there—a question, an offer. A promise.

    (In which Shane responds to Ilya’s texts between 2011 and 2013.)
     



    “Stop saying dick pic,” Shane hissed. “This is harassment.” He glared at the bulge in his pants. “You are harassing me.”

    “I do not know what this word means.”

    “How fucking convenient for you.”

    “Aw, Hollander,” Rozanov said, but he sounded a little contrite. After a beat, he asked, “Do you want me to stop?”

    “Don’t you dare stop,” Shane said through clenched teeth, surreptitiously palming himself to take the edge off. It didn’t help.

    “So do you want my dick or not?” Rozanov asked after another beat.

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    29 May 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Barstool Sports Canada reports that Montreal Metros captain Shane Hollander has started learning Russian from new teammate and Russian rookie Sergei Dovonchezky.

    Ilya has some thoughts. None of them are particularly kind.

    Series
    Language:
    English
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    4/4
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    28 May 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    The steady, persistent pressure of Rozanov’s thick cock sinking into him is unlike anything Shane has ever felt before. He feels impossibly full, impossibly exposed, but more than that, he feels good.

    Fuck, it’s good.

    It’s so good that he forgets to feel awkward as he begins to rock back into Rozanov’s thrusts. He forgets to feel ashamed as Rozanov draws sounds out of him he didn’t even know he was capable of making. As Rozanov drives him out of his mind and deep into his own body, holds him there, forces him to feel everything and think nothing at all—

    Shane forgets to feel anything but good.

    (In which Shane has a dirty fantasy, and Ilya runs with it.)
     



    “Ah,” Ilya says softly, brushing a finger along the column of Shane’s throat. “Is that what you want, Hollander? To be humiliated?”

    “Yes,” Shane says, the word a guttural moan. “No? I don’t know. Maybe. Fuck.”

    “To be put to good use? To be told what to do?”

    “Yes,” Shane gasps, relieved to be asked a simpler question. “That’s what I want.”

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    24 May 2026

  5. Rec *

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    Ilya Rozanov’s opponents would describe him as a brutal savage with a dirty record, known for hitting after the bell’s gone off. Spectators would describe him as a cocky spitfire with the stats to back it up, dollar bills passed around like candy whenever he was in the cage. Commentators would describe him as a barreling force of nature with a promising legacy. Weighing in at a hundred and eighty-five pounds of raw muscle, he was the son of Grigori Rozanov, notorious Russian street fighter, and he pulled no punches, so to speak.

    Shane would describe Ilya Rozanov as a fucking asshole with, admittedly, a pretty clean uppercut. Hardly any of the matches he’d watched him win had lasted the full five minutes.

    *

    AU. Shane first introduces himself to Ilya Rozanov ten minutes before they’re slotted to beat the shit out of each other in front of a live audience. They go together like fire and gasoline.

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    18 Apr 2026