Hello! This is an everything blog, this is your warning lol. Maybe one day i'll figure out side blogs but for the moment everything I love goes here. Honestly it's a heated rivalry page plus sprinkles of anything else a lesbian would like (me)
I'm still kinda new to tumblr so if im doing somthing egregiously wrong, please let me know.
Also I love chatting to pepole!!
She/Her, 23, Queer, Minors DNI
CURRENT OBSESSIONS
Heated Rivalry, Hayley Williams, Dropout Tv, X files
TOP 4 MOVIES
Hedwig And The Angry Inch, Strictly Ballroom, Alice (1988), Sinners
TOP 4 ALBUMS
I Got Haven - Mannequin Pussy, Different Class - Pulp, Laurel Hell - Mitski, Sometimes I Might Be Introvert - Little Simz
TOP BOOKS & GAMES
Wuthering Heights, The Secret Garden, Return Of The Obra Dinn, HollowKnight
I had all this stuff on the website page of my blog but I dont actually know if anyone every goes over there oops
on the topic of ilya's necklace i do often think about how exactly it came into his possession because i'm sure his mother hardly ever took it off. i volley back and forth between him sobbing and screaming to his brother and father until they gave in and let him keep it before they took her body away (with the threat of never letting it be seen and hence why it is never seen around them) or when ilya found his mother, she had already knew ultimately that it would probably be ilya that found her and took it off so he took it before anyone else could when he found her body and his brother and father never ask about it because they just know and ilya never allows them to see it again, but refuses to let the only piece he has of her go
also a third and more devastating option. she gave it to him the night before, maybe after a small meltdown or something as a way to calm him and ilya doesn't think much of it (knowing in the back of her mind that he deserved a piece of her more than anyone else)
can I say a big part of me is so delighted by the #myshane/ #myilya the fandom has going on bc it has allowed so much healthy discourse where ppl who don't characterize hollanov the same way are able to go 'ok well thats #theirhollanov n thats fine' n move on. absolutely wonderful turn of events. however. a small part of me is endlessly amused by the fact that we all sound like a bunch of brain rotted toddlers a la 'thats MY shane/ilya 😠'
tags: post-TLG, free use, dom bottom Ilya, addiction mention
Summary:
It’s one of these rare days. A Sunday in December. No games, no training, no meetings, no photoshoots, not even a phone call on the schedule. Shane’s only obligation today is to be whatever Ilya needs: to give whatever Ilya wants to take and to take whatever Ilya wants to give.
Shane is ready for Ilya to use his body however he desires. He just wasn't expecting him to desire this.
Read on AO3 or below the cut
It first came about early in the season, the day after a brutal two week roadie. Shane was simultaneously exhausted and incredibly horny because he had stupidly insisted they absolutely couldn’t have sex in the room next door to their teammates. At the time it had seemed like a neat solution: Ilya could do whatever he wanted with him all day and all Shane had to do was lie there and take it. Convenient. Easy. But of course, it was also insanely hot. So long after Shane’s “no sex on roadies” rule had been sensibly struck down, this remained a regular occurrence: whenever they had a free day to themselves, Shane would hand over his body to Ilya, to use for his own pleasure however he desired.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It’s one of these rare days. A Sunday in December. No games, no training, no meetings, no photoshoots, not even a phone call on the schedule. Shane’s only obligation today is to be whatever Ilya needs: to give whatever Ilya wants to take and to take whatever Ilya wants to give.
On these such days, Shane usually rises early, using the last of his autonomy to go for a run. Then a thorough shower to get himself prepped and plugged, ready for Ilya to roll out of bed. Ilya’s morning routine is a little more straightforward: he just grabs the bottle of lube and the Sharpie from his nightstand and he’s good to go. The Sharpie was Shane’s idea — the second time they’d tried this arrangement he had worried he might lose count after Ilya had already filled him with a fourth load before lunch. It was a neat solution. After the plug is safely returned to Shane’s ass and Ilya has given him a quick wipe clean, he carefully marks a tally — either on his throat or his ass — before going about his day. Their current record is 9 but Shane is confident they can do much better.
Shane has just finished his morning routine and is sitting on their ridiculously huge designer couch reading the latest hockey biography. He’s pretty sure the subject of this one must have paid the writer a hefty fee because he’s being far too complimentary about his frankly terrible defensive play.
Ilya is taking his time in the shower this morning. Shane listens to the flowing water with great irritation. Ilya knows how much Shane has been looking forward to today. Yes, they may have fucked every night this week (plus a few mornings), but these special days are like a drug to Shane. Ever since he first got a taste, he’d been hooked on that feeling, of being reduced to nothing more than an object for Ilya to use as he pleases. He craves it. And he’s been sprawled out on the couch wearing only his underwear and a silicone plug for 30 minutes, listening to his husband choose to sing along to Abba gold in the shower instead of giving it to him. He knew Jackie’s birthday Mamma Mia karaoke night would come back to bite him. Four renditions of “Dancing Queen”? Really Ilya? Whilst Shane is here ready and waiting? He huffs as he reads, trying not to think about the precious minutes that are ticking away, and the 9 tally record slipping out of reach.
He hears the shower shut off finally and his ass quivers around the silicone in anticipation. The words on the page swim across his mind but none of them latch on — the book is more of a prop at this point, just another little part of their well-practised theatre. He breathes carefully, trying not to get ahead of himself. He doesn’t know what Ilya has planned for him, he could simply choose to ignore him all day and there would be nothing Shane could do about it — begging is against the rules after all. His eyes stay firmly fixed on the page as the soft footsteps pad nearer. The moment he hears them stop next to him, he closes his book and moves to flip onto all fours — he knows his lines by now — but he’s stopped by a strong arm to his shoulder.
“No. I will use your mouth,” Ilya states plainly.
Shane swallows his surprise and obediently lets Ilya guide him onto his back. Ilya lets the towel around his waist drop to the floor, and lazily straddles Shane's head with his knees, feeding his already hard cock into his waiting mouth. Shane can smell the faint remnants of their overpriced bodywash on his skin and his jaw relaxes in an almost-pavlovian response. Ilya fucks into his mouth, grunting as he bottoms out in Shane’s throat. Shane bathes in the delicious fullness, his pent-up anticipation dissolving into a familiar limp buzzy feeling. Ilya reaches down to free his cock from the pathetic wet fabric of his underwear, brushing light fingers along his shaft. Shane moans around him, savouring the sensations as the generous gift they are. It’s not that Ilya never lets him come on days like this, but he has discovered how needy Shane gets after being denied only a few times. So Shane will take anything he's given gratefully.
The cock stills, buried in his throat, as Ilya leans forward, taking Shane's tip between his soft lips and swirling his tongue against the head. Shane tries to focus on his own tongue, sliding across the thick shaft as it pumps into his mouth, determined to earn himself a reward — and hopefully a tally mark — with his performance.
Shane feels a hand grab his wrist, directing it towards Ilya’s plump ass. He catches on quickly: it’s not unusual nowadays for Ilya to want to be touched there. His fingers find his rim and he’s a little surprised to find it already wet and ready. Blindly, trying to remember to breathe through his nose whenever he gets the opportunity, Shane circles his rim and presses a gentle finger inside. It’s softer than he remembers, offering less resistance than it had on previous occasions. It doesn’t take long before he finds the spot that makes Ilya moan around him, first with one finger, then two, then — to his surprise — three. He clenches around the plug in jealously, chasing any stimulation the obtrusive silicone can provide.
Suddenly Ilya pulls his cock from Shane’s mouth with a pop and dismounts. A desperate whine escapes Shane’s lips before he has the chance to stop it. He hopes Ilya doesn’t choose to punish him too harshly for that later. He strains his neck, his now empty mouth chasing after the retreating cock, but a strong arm roughly pushes his shoulder flat to the couch. That must be it, it’s over. Ilya got what he needed for now. Shane looks up to see where he is going to shoot his load this time. If it’s not in his mouth or his ass, will it be on his stomach? His face? Shane tries not to think about the loss of a tally mark.
But Ilya is climbing onto his lap, straddling his legs and grinding their cocks together. The relief flows through Shane’s body, pathetic and limp and grateful. He closes his eyes, surrendering to every fraction of pleasure Ilya is bestowing upon him. Ilya coats both of their cocks generously with lube and encloses them with his fingers, pressing their shafts together and thrusting into the tight fist. Shane feels a strong hand press into his chest and he lets himself sink into the cushions, falling, falling, falling into that soupy feeling that makes his teeth tingle with want.
Just as soon as Shane lets himself be cradled by the warm ripples of pleasure, the grip disappears. Ilya shifts his hips forwards, pressing Shane’s cock instead between the plump cheeks of his ass and grinding against it. Shane loves his husband’s frankly ridiculous ass, but he can’t help but resent its softness at this moment. His cock mourns for the tight pressure snatched away only moments ago. He bites his lips together to silence his frustration.
He feels Ilya’s hand press against the bottom of his shaft. Shane’s eyes snap open as Ilya guides his tip towards his tight rim, a thumb pressing against the bottom of the head until he feels it stretch around him. Fuck. His cock is inside Ilya’s ass. He watches helplessly as Ilya lowers himself onto his length inch by inch. His vision blurs from the hot grip engulfing him, but he can still see those oh so familiar sensations flash across his husband's face. An ugly thought crosses Shane’s mind. In this moment — this beautiful precious moment — Shane can’t help his jealousy. His own hole, stuffed only with silicone, pines for the pleasure he can see written so plainly across Ilya’s face for the first time. Shane scolds his covetous prostate and grips the couch cushions, watching Ilya work his hips in little circular motions, slowly stretching himself around his cock until he is fully seated.
He is inside Ilya. His whole entire cock is inside his husband’s asshole. The thought alone is almost enough to send Shane hurtling over the edge and bring this whole experience to an embarrassingly premature end. He desperately tries to focus on anything other than the tight wet heat enveloping his dick.
Shane had always sensed an anxious little thought lingering in a dark corner of his mind that he would never be able to enjoy his husband in this way. For all the exploration they had done in the bedroom (and kitchen, and living room, and lake, and — you get the picture), for all the new ground they had relished breaking together, Shane had always held onto that grain of doubt, that this would be it: the one sexual experience with Ilya Rozanov that he wouldn’t enjoy. He supposes he had feared it would remind him too much of his embarrassing attempts to fuck women.
The idea is almost laughable to imagine in this moment. If the weight of Ilya’s palm on his chest wasn’t enough, or his thick cock pressing against his stomach, then the view of his husband towering over him — always so strong, so beautiful, so hot — could drive the message home: he was nothing like those women. Shane feels his ridiculous worry evaporate as his brain is overwhelmed with pleasure.
Ilya clenches around him as he raises his hips slowly. Shane watches his muscular chest rise and fall with ragged breaths, bathing in the long deep groan escaping his lips as he bears down, taking Shane’s length within him again. He starts a steady rhythm of slow circular grinds, working the entire length of Shane’s shaft with his tight hole.
Pleasure pulsing through him, Shane marvels at the sight. He had seen Ilya’s sculpted body so many times now but its beauty hadn’t faded even a fraction — if anything it had only grown more gorgeous, a feat that would have seemed impossible when it first captured Shane’s desire in those showers. It takes his breath away every time. But he had never seen it move like this. Ilya’s abs ripple as he rolls his hips and his thighs bulge with muscles borne of years of discipline and exertion. Shane stares at where his own cock should be, watching it disappear inside a tight ring of muscle again and again. He feels hypnotised by it, like a snake helpless against the charmer’s alluring dance.
Even Ilya’s face holds an expression Shane had never witnessed. His eyes were closed and Shane could only read the bizarre mix of emotions written across his brow because he himself knows exactly what it feels like. The strange cocktail of fullness, obtrusion and pleasure had become Shane’s drug of choice all those years ago, and now he pined for it like an addict gazing through a liquor shop window.
Shane gasps as Ilya removes his palm from his chest, but he doesn’t have to miss its weight for long, as Ilya drapes his torso over him. Shane can feel his ragged breaths against his ear, and hear his throaty grunts every time he drives his hips down, his steady rhythm dissolving into a smaller, faster, more desperate grinding on his cock.
He wonders if Ilya has ever practiced this. Did he prepare for today the way Shane himself had all those years ago? Had he stolen away hours in lonely secrecy, secluded encounters with some silicone impersonation? He hopes he didn’t. He hopes that not even an empty room had been offered a chance to witness this before him.
It occurs to Shane that this must have been why he’d been given a cock in the first place. He’d been carrying it around all these years, a big useless thing that swelled shamefully and leaked like a girl. And now he knows why: so Ilya could use it as his own personal fucktoy. He imagines this thought should fill him with embarrassment — it probably would have in years gone by — but right now, lost under the weight of his husband, it brings him nothing but pure bliss. A groan rips through him and he writhes desperately, his hole clenching against the plug, his cock possessed to thrust wildly into Ilya's ass, greedily chasing the pleasure that surely lay within.
He is suddenly aware of just how dangerously close he is and an unfamiliar wave of panic washes over him. His own pathetic horniness could cut short this precious moment for both of them. It is — he realises — the first time he’s held this kind of power. He doesn’t like it one bit. He closes his eyes and claws at Ilya’s back manically, grasping at anything that might keep him from tumbling off the edge. He can’t fail. Ilya could have picked any dildo from their well-stocked drawer but he chose him. He has to give him what he wants. He has to hold on, he has to let him take what he needs, he can’t, he can’t —
“Fuck Ilya — I’m gonna — I can’t —”
Ilya doesn’t relent. He bears down his hips with his full weight and Shane can feel his resolve shattering with each heavy slam. No, he thinks. No I — a lightning bolt of pleasure rips through him and he moans pitifully as he feels his balls tighten, pumping rope after rope into his husband’s ass.
He couldn’t help it. His arms fall limp to his sides as Ilya sits up, still fully seated on Shane’s cock, but his hips mercifully stilled. Shane whimpers, even that small movement almost too much for his oversensitive cock. He failed. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t give him what he needed. He opens his eyes tentatively, realising they are wet with tears. Sorry, he thinks, sorry Ilya. But Ilya doesn’t ask him to vocalise his apology. In fact, he doesn’t see any disdain written across his husband’s face at all. Ilya is looking down at him, awe beaming from his eyes, as he strokes his cock. Shane lies still, transfixed in his gaze, as his chest is coated in his release, Ilya’s hole clenching around him as he orgasms with a strained moan.
Shane doesn’t dare move lest he shatter this delicate moment. He just stares up at Ilya, hunkered over him and breathing heavily, sweat dripping from his brow. Maybe they can just stay here forever. They could just waste away on this couch long after their cocks are fully soft and the cum is crusted over, never to be seen again. People would understand. Wouldn’t they?
Eventually Ilya’s panting slows and he lets out a breathless laugh. Wordlessly he reaches past Shane’s shoulder to the floor below, retrieving his towel and — the Sharpie? But Shane didn’t earn a mark? Ilya clearly sees the confusion on his face but he just chuckles, uncapping the pen. Wait, but I — Shane barely gets halfway through the thought before he catches on. Ilya marks a single tally on his own hip, and teasingly squeezes his ass around his cock as he recaps the pen. Shane breaks out in a grin of his own. He supposes he did earn that.
He tries not to whimper as Ilya finally pulls himself off his cock, catching any rogue fluids with the towel. He just lays there, letting the afterglow wash over him, knowing that Ilya will be going now, leaving him alone to bask in this feeling. But Ilya, now up on his feet, reaches down to stroke his hair tenderly. Shane supposes that’s not against the rules. He melts at the touch, letting it guide him out of the blissful pit he had carved into the cushions.
Ilya leans down to place a single soft kiss on his crown.
“My good little fucktoy,” he murmurs into Shane’s ear. Shane can only watch as he rises and walks away, leaving him lying sticky and used on the couch.
it’s always “I understand why you have an autism diagnosis now” and not “thank you for explaining the entirety of the Chernobyl nuclear disaster to me, I really enjoyed hearing about the Chernobyl nuclear disaster”
thank you for the tag wonderful @li-rheinn!! <3 <3
i love picrew!! <3 <3 these are always such fun.
no pressure tags to these lovely people @wisteriagoesvroom @deadpoets @inhalingstardust000 @raspberry-ribcage @siysuki @arsenicjade @daesanghyeok @vampirepointbreak @ladymarshmall0w @damn-yelle @graciousapples @jesterlavorrre <3
I havent been on piccrew in so long and im so happy i finally get to do one of these!!
@fifiyuri74 @snuffstar4ngel @armadillocrossing @no1cliverosfieldlover @human-n0-l0ng3r @witchesgetstitches-18 @thenoblewar1 @saltcirclesigil @dumb-nerd7 + anyone I forgot to tag (sorry)/or anyone who wants to join in!!
omgg my first little tag game!! tysm @myneighborjoetoro for tagging me. now we can have matching moon necklaces
here's me, just imagine my bangs a little shorter and the rest of my hair a bit longer :P
oh! and a spiky septum piercing
here you go moots, if you'd like to participate :) @withdevovotion @asourorange @cale-likes-stuff @jadeybab-y @michaelqueerlerslipstares @kiwiwthebylercursed
wooo I love doing these (my pfp is accurate up until my hair had gotten longer)
@immortalbeingthatiam @cherriesandwriting @jonesybird @lesbian-aunt @dia-the-fangirl @peterpettigrewismyhomeboy @portia-ghost-of-versailles @totallyareliablenarrator @skatesfullofsunshine @jenjentheboscostick @that-gay-jedi @cornishpadfoot @a-tam finally the last but certainly not least of these @istealvideohomesystems (+anyone else)
tagging takes so long that isn’t even everyone what a labor is it to have friends
feels like it's been a hundred years since i last used a picrew :DDDD it's pretty much perfectly accurate, my sidebang is on the other side but that's genuinely the only thing that's different
tags: @creatureofalatau; and lmao sorry i know i tagged you in a tag game like yesterday: @razzerot-vbs and @bloodydamnreaperofmars
OKOKOKOKKOK wait before you look too hard, there is two things you must know. This image must be imbued with fat dyke swagger for it to look like me, and I have a sick unibrow. Otherwise I feel like I did a decent job.
THANK YOU @icedvovoblog this was exactly the fun kinda thing I needed today!! also YOU LOOK SO COOOL
Im tagging @coralsplice I feel like you'd like this! no stress if you dont though :)
a new centaur is trying to bond with shane during a game so when ilya does something risky he goes "oh my wife would kill me if I tried anything like that"
and shane just gives him some of the bitchiest side eye and goes "she's holding you back"
thus ends trying-to-bond-time with shane hollander
I read so many hr fics in which a point is made to make it clear that Shane and Ilya couldn’t keep any photos of each other out of fear of their relationship being exposed. I’d like to read at least one in which they purposefully *do* take pics of each other. Like, they still go through the same timeline and the same steps of eventually getting together, but they have a slightly elevated sense of emotional attachment from the beginning that they aren’t afraid to express to one another, and that’s via taking pics.
This comes out of the heartbreaking vision I had: in the relative immediate aftermath of their relationship being exposed, and the internet is doing cia level detective work to dig up proof, Ilya posts a singular photo: Shane, laughing at something Ilya said, his hand outstretched to playfully bat away Ilya’s flip phone (or blackberry or whatever phones they had in 2010). And it’s clear that the photo was taken on an older phone bc of the quality. And Ilya captions the post something like “we were just kids.”
Ilya Rozanov any time Shane is on a cleaning tear because he overheats easily so his “cleaning outfit” consists of nothing more than shorts with a three inch inseam.
Mulder & Scully will wake up in the middle of the night & instinctively reach for the phone to call each other only to remember they sleep in the same bed now so they can just turn over
struck by the concept of the hollanders on a little weekend vacay somewhere and ilya is steering his husband back into the house they all rented together after he somehow got absolutely shitfaced at brunch and shane is alllllll smiles baby he is really feeling the love. he's untangling himself from ilya's arms to wrap his massive self and his silly little vacation shirt so so gently and sweetly around yuna the second he sees her like "hiiii mama", content hums and drunk, closed eyes. yuna loves this of course. and ilya is standing there just happy he managed to coax his wonderful free-spirited husband down out of that tree before that lady called the cops again.
(david is somewhere in the background on the couch during all this, peering casually at the scene over the tops of his reading glasses.)
ilya very kindly unwraps shane from his mother and is all "oké time for nap" despite the fact that it is exactly 11:43 in the afternoon and shane puts up a fuss about how ilya said he would play soccer with him when they got back which is something ilya said but it was mostly to get shane out of that tree and now shane is calling him names and whining at yuna that he isn't being fair and ilya should be annoyed but he thinks maybe this is the most happy he's ever been in three hundred years, even as shane gives him the cute bitchy eyebrows and calls him a "lying fuckface"
"be nice to your husband, kiddo." (david. who has gone back to his newspaper.)
idk. something about the easy family of it all.
(shane passes out into deep, bear-snore sleep twelve seconds after his head hits the pillow btw)
