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#test pinned size #-shakes fist; STOP LOOKING LIKE SHYTE

shawscandal

i'm a homewrecker, i'm a slut . . . ᴀʟʟ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ɪ ʟɪᴋᴇᴅ ᴀ ʙᴏʏ.

an independent, kyle swift roleplay from rachel reid’s common goal (and through out the game changers series. )

penned by berry.

#promo.#A PRECIOUS BEAN OFFERING

❝ 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐄 is to hate what i've become. it's to watch me as I'm fallin' from that 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐀 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐄 i can't fill, 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄 i can't break and 𝐈 𝐆𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 to it and 𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐃 ❞

𝐈 was younger then I 𝐖𝐀𝐒 younger then I was 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆

[ CAPNFRECKLES ] indie, private, and semi-selective roleplaying blog for heated rivalry's SHANE HOLLANDER. fiercely protected and defended by NIX / 𝐃.𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐎 ( she/her. )

#heated rivalry rp #indie roleplay #hockey roleplay #shane hollander rp #self-promo

self promo test

#ooc post #don't mind me! just wanna see if it looks like shit :D

Tempting Venom spoilers:

I just finished Tempting Venom… how insane would I be if I made Cyrus with Hudson as the face claim.

Shane just wanting to randomly shout out how much he LOVES his silverfox of a boyfriend, billy @popularmxnster

YES. 🤏🤏🤏🤏

#Shane (loves).

testing pinned

#testing pinned

testing pinned

#test pinned

WIRE DROP.

Come chirp Shanebug.

#sm drops: wire

storyfm

continued from here; @capnfreckles !

ilya rozanov had always been a man of action. from the first time he stepped onto the rink, to the first time his father had taken him on a job and he'd watched the way the man struggled against the knots ilya had tied. he was never the type of person who sat back and observed. he didn't have the patience for it by nature, but part of this job was learning to watch. to wait. being a hunter meant he had learned to perfect the art of waiting for the right moment, the moment when his prey was most vulnerable. the moment when his window of opportunity was most favorable, and to his advantage. much like hockey, stalking, maiming, and killing required a steady and precise skill that he possessed and had hone for years.

the first time he'd seen the wolf bird his attention had been caught in the trap. enthralled. enamored. obsessed with the way the man moved, the way he killed. sure, he'd ruined one of ilya's first missions in north america. ilya's father had been furious, it had nearly cost the family millions. but ilya didn't care, because now that the wolf bird was in his sights, the bear couldn't focus on anything else. his obsession came on strong, and he'd spent all his free time researching the wolf bird, learning about his origins, his kills, the methodology behind them, his modus operandi, the art of it. and there was beauty in the way shane hollander killed. ilya had studied everything he could find about the shadow identity of the man, and eventually he would learn who he really was behind the mask.

they'd crossed paths a number of times before ilya had figured it out - his true identity, which only proved to be more complicated and enthralling when ilya had discovered his counterpart was none other than his fiercest rival in his cover life - shane hollandar - star of the metros. the thorn in his side in both lives. and ilya had made a point of doing whatever he could to claim both sides of the man. it had been easy as rozanov, they'd been seventeen the first time they'd met, eighteen the first time they'd fucked. and since then, he knew shane was ruined for anyone else. besides the bear it would seem, and he realized this as he had shane up against the window of his own safe haven, begging him for more. begging the bear for more. somehow it turned him on and infuriated. how the fuck dare shane beg another man for more. if ilya knew…and ilya did know now. the internal conflicted only proved to make him want to prove himself more. the jealousy melting into anger, into something else entirely. something dark. a hunger that he never could seem to satiate.

by the time he was done he left shane worn out and used up completely before standing over him in the dark, his mask still in place. most of the time when he stalked, he had no problem saying his piece, but the voice changer in his mask could only do so much to mask his voice, his accent would still come through and he couldn't risk shane finding out his identity. not yet at least. still, he bent closer, watching shane's body recoil away from his touch as he reached out a hand and traced it along shane's jaw. soon. soon he would reveal himself. but not yet. not tonight. instead he pulled a note from his back pocket once he'd dressed, tossing it onto shane before he turned to leave.

"wolf bird. hollander. a dangerous double life you're leading. do you think about me when he's inside you? does he know you wish it was me? or do you keep our secret all to yourself?"

capnfreckles

if there was one truth about Shane? it was that, he didn't run from monsters. the monsters ran from him. god, the ways he had extinguished them... the men he'd amputated the hands from, for laying their hands on the kids who were under Shane's protection of his hockey camp. the useless wastes of human breath who lurked at his hockey games, who lingered their disgustingly hungry eyes too long on a little girl in the stands, that Shane took great pleasure in scraping the eyes out of. each of them... their screams, their last gurgle of blood bubbling in their throats, were like music to his god damn ears. especially...the ones that hunted his ilya. the countless individuals who had targeted him... the ones who fucking dared to aim to ilya rozanov away from him, for god knew what bullshit reason. the monsters shane had slain for ilya... he wished he could've somehow mentally recorded their screams and plea for mercy. the shady "body" guards hired to protect him, who'd plotted to kidnap and torture him, the industry heads who had plotted to poison him at events. his sweet ilya...the one who he kept a box of, wedged between his headboard and mattress? full of the phones he had kept, that held precious photos and memories, and couldn't simply turn loose of even after upgrading them? the pack of cigarettes shane kept, and the small travel sized bottle of Ilya's body wash? of course, he would make the mother fuckers who dared to take that away from him, scream the loudest.

if there was one thing shane didn't do? it was consulting his fucking conscience for any of those men, nor could he offer any sort of guilt. But it was now that guilt swirled into the base of his stomach...did his masked admirer somehow know that, with every stroke of his masked admirer's cock in and out of his ass, another feature of his would change? that his mask would be replaced with the beautiful Russian rival of his, with dark blonde curls that plagued his god damn heart? that his body clung to the strange familiarity of him... the length of his cock, the thickness...because it reminded him of...him? that, when he lifted hips to give his stalker more access to his insides, encouraging him to go deeper, it was him repeating what he did when Ilya was fucking him? he didn't know.

how was it that he had no moral issue with killing men, but felt a swirl of guilt in his stomach for his stalker, for imagining another man... the man Shane was in love with, at the feeling of his cock twitching and throbbing in his used hole, shane spreading his legs, lifting his waist up, and pushing the masked man deeper to catch every drop of his release into his cunt...wishing to god it was him, giving pleasure so blindingly to shane that he could practically feel himself ready to pass the fuck out, wishing it was ilya, who was finally pulling his dick out of shane.

he winced at the final pull that left his body used, empty and oversensitive, yet his insides clenched, painfully, around nothing inside him; an ache he would have to satisfy with a plug later, probably, and recoiled at even the thought of being touched... his heart craving only the enraging god damn comments ilya rozanov, his hopeless crush, could provide, after exploring shane so intimately.

shane had always been used to his masked admirer being silent - often only communicating anything nonverbally. but rght now? a note? a flash of...something passed through him at the sight of the paper, before unfolding it and watching the back of his masked admirer turning away.... a spike of pure fucking coldblooded fury pumped through shanes' bloodstream so violently, his eardrums throbbed with the blood pressure furiously thumping in his ears, and red bled into his god damn vision.

Ilya...this motherfucker knew about Ilya, and not only made it clear to Shane he knew...he dared to speak..or...er, write, suggest him... and worse...he dared to fucking mock Ilya in Shane's presence...

even on the ice... shane was impossible to get to. he wasn't blind to the players that attempted to jest him, to nudge under the shell he kept around himself to focus. the only person who had ever truly gotten under his skin, weasled their fucking way to his nervous system? was his ilya... and now? his masked rival.

leaping to his feet and yanking on the pair of baggy Adidas sweatpants and black tshirt that Ilya had lent him, months before, he wasted no time in breaking into a dead run towards The Bears back, the anger pulsing through his bloodstream, as he launched himself forward, crashing into his back and sending them both crashing into Shanes' cottage floor.

Roughly gripping his arm, he yanked and forced the masked man on his back and straddled him. Gripping his fingers around the butt of his knife, he raised the knife in his grip and brought it down... and buried the blade into the wooden floor, within centimeters of the bear's head, before sliding his hand from the knife and wrapping it around the bear's throat.

He could taste his fucking death right now... just like he did every other man that meant to harm a hair on ilya rozanovs fucking head. but something... something was screaming at him, something he couldn't place. he never hesitated... what the fuck was wrong with him? his heart ached... he'd finally found a distraction from the man he wanted... he... why did he have to fucking mention ilya? why did he have to mock him? why'd he have to fucking ruin it?

He tried to speak rationally, but... in truth... every ounce of fucking rationality had been simmered out by the hot fucking rage boiling in his bloodstream. He He wsn't even sure he could speak period, but at last... he found his fucking tongue. Leaning in towards the masked man, he finally spoke through his teeth.

"you have a lot of fucking balls," he spat out. "you shouldn't have done that... why did you do that?!" he snapped.

"don't you ever--" he snarled once more, the hand around the masked mans' throat beginning to tremble with control he didn't fucking have, not to snap his fucking neck. "--mock him to me," he snarled. The conflict was flaring through his mind. he... he didn't not feel emotions. of course, he'd become attached, for god knew what reason, to The Bear. even if he didn't know the reason.

"i can't...let you fucking live, now," he whispered, the ache in his heart crawling into his chest and wrapping around his throat. "i could threaten you right fucking here...that if you go near him...if you so much as cast a fucking shadow on him... that I will fucking kill you," he trembled. "you're a threat to him... i can't let threats to him live, i didn't let the others live. you are no exception," he explained, staring into the dark eyes of the mask. "you've made me have to choose between you and him... i will always choose him," his lips trembled at this point. "you have it backwards...it's him... every time you're inside me, it's his face i see...his face, i want... the face i cum to, when anyone's inside me. i'm in love with him,"

#storyfm #ilya & shane: murdur boyfriends (verse tbd)#usfw

“Ilyas protective of Shane” absolutely yes.

“Ilyas going to be in the penalty box for fighting metros so much” absolutely yes

However…. I don’t believe we’ve quite thought enough about the possibility that Shane is going to be the FIRST one in the penalty box for their first match against the voyagers/metros.

Shane “Ilya, no unnecessary fights on the ice tonight. It’s our first match against the Voyagers/Metros. Let’s be civilized.” Hollander.

Also Shane Hollander, 2 minutes into the game: throwing his gloves off and driving his fist into JJs jaw, for making a remark about “Lily”.

Ilya, skating by, giggling and pointing at Shane in timeout: no unnecessary fights, you say?

#ooc post

bostonlilyxo

Ilya had spent far too many minutes out in the extreme heat and dramatically collapsed onto the couch as soon as he got back inside of the house. He let out a pleased sigh, feeling the cooler air quickly enwrapping him

"...fuck," he grumbled into the cushion. "I prefer Canadian winter to this."

capnfreckles

If there was one thing that was Shane's luck? It was his damn flight from Boston back to Montreal being canceled due to the damn heat wave. But if he had to be honest? That wasn't what was the most nerve-wracking... not even the suffocating humidity of the East Coast heat... it was the fact he was here, in Ilya Rozanov's fucking house.

What the fuck was he thinking, taking Ilya up on the offer of staying until the next prospective flight to Montreal in a couple of days? Jesus... he really could be an idiot when he chose to be.

Though right now, he was more worried than anything about Ilya. He'd come from a much colder climate; surely this shit was harder on him?

After wetting a washcloth with lukewarm water, he made his way through the hallway, hoping to fuck he wouldn't get lost, and eyed the Russian before making his way closer to him, the nerves causing his limbs to tremble slightly, until he came to the edge of the couch and he stood between his legs, where he was sprawled over the couch. "You're red! Did you even put on sunscreen?" he hissed, before pressing the wet cloth against his temple and working his way down to his shoulders. "Take off your clothes," he said, before thinking of a better arrangement of words. "Let's get your back,"

#bostonlilyxo

pointless reminder that my boy has long hair in my portrayal. as a matter of fact, not only does he do messy manbuns, he mostly does half-updos.

#ooc post