hollanov pr friendship is so special to me i need it played out more. i need them to have an absolute blast with confusing people whether they actually like each other. i want them to chirp at each other left and right but then also stand next to each other at the practice rink gossiping with their mouths covered. i want ilya to drop random shane lore he acquired that has everyone confused as to how close they are. i want shane to correct other people on their ilya opinions. i want everyone to wonder why these fuckers decide to sit eat hang out with each other all the time if they always piss the other off and then see them being the absolute safe space for the other and wonder when they got that close. i just want them to have a little fun with being close friends in public yk
one night ilya finds out about clone-a-willy and he has never ordered something so quick. he makes a mold of his dick at home just for shane to have a custom dildo because he's not obsessed with the idea of shane fucking himself with an exact replica of his dick, not at all. if shane can't have him when he's away that is the next best thing for him right, he's just being a very selfless boyfriend here. and he makes one that glows in the dark just to piss shane off cause he'll have him sexually satisfied but not without enraging him first the rozanov way☝️
The idea of Shane reprimanding Ilya is weird to me because like...for what? What is Ilya doing?
Making raunchy jokes? Chirping? Fighting on ice? They're fucking hockey players. And also it'd be out of line for Shane to start acting like Ilya's coach, like very uncool, they're colleagues. And Shane respects Ilya's game more than anyone else alive.
Being sexually inappropriate in public? Ilya wouldn't do anything Shane doesn't like. Being annoying on social media? Also OOC. And Shane wouldn't give a shit, again. He doesn't look at twitter.
Not picking up his socks? They've both successfully lived alone for a decade, they can manage domestic chores.
Not being woke enough? Shane is not better versed in that stuff than Ilya.
The only things I can imagine are smoking and diet, which are both symbols for issues in their relationship more than anything else
So I normally have a policy of never ever naming fics in a negative way, but since it seems this particular fic (which I have not read) is likely gone and the author is probably going to be run out on a rail I'll just say this about the Wolfbird situation
If a fanfic author starts pulling bullshit like threatening to delete the fic, or crashing out on social media, or doing any other crazy shit up to and including faking their death and / or grave robbing. Just walk away. It's not worth it. I promise there will always be better things to read. You don't need that in your life. And if you walk out the minute you start to detect even signs of this sort of behavior you'll save yourself a lot of grief
TGISHOS (THANK GOD IT'S SUCK HIM OFF SUNDAY) 🙌 we're stepping directly into ilya's shoes for this one with some second person pov, mostly because i wanted the reader to have a specific visual of shane in mind as things are happening—the visual ilya would be treated to, up close and personal. perhaps this is a spiritual successor to my post about how unfair it is that ilya gets to fuck The shane hollander whenever he wants. i frequently imagine what it must be like to be so blessed. here is one particular imagining.
tags: blowjobs (obviously), facials, degradation (very light), second person pov, pov ilya rozanov
You're staring down the length of your body at Shane, who is kneeling naked at your feet—his hands behind his back, because that's where you told him to put them; his eyes unmoving from where your cock is nestled in your hand. The swollen tip of it hovers inches away from his pink, parted mouth. You readjust your grip just to see what happens when the head of your cock shifts to the side, and are rewarded by Shane subconsciously mirroring the movement, like a dog tracking its treat. You laugh low. Give yourself one long, unhurried pull.
"You want my cock, Shane?" you say, not really a question. Anyway he nods.
"Yes."
You hum. "How much?"
"So much." You swear he hasn't made eye contact with you since you took your underwear off. It's like when you're naked your cock becomes the window to your soul to him, instead of your eyes, and maybe there's truth to that. There's no hiding the way you harden there at Shane's proximity, no explaining away the precum that leaks in response to Shane's obedience. If he gets it right, he'll know. Shane likes knowing when he gets things right. "Ilya, I want it so much."
"You can be more specific than that," you murmur, and Shane whines.
"I—it's killing me, Ilya. I need you in my mouth now. Please. I'm so ready for you. I want you to fill me u—"
A heavy thwap cuts his pleading off definitively. Shane's eyes are wide and his mouth is frozen open. You can see a shiny smear of precum high on his cheek where you slapped your dick against it. Abruptly, he moans—apparently over his surprise. He's breathing heavily. He swallows, and you wait for him to say what he wants to say.
"Again," he says, in a small voice, and you groan.
"Shlyukha," you say, and swing your cock against his cheek again. This time his mouth falls all the way open at the impact, and seemingly before he can help himself he's turning his face against your cock, rubbing his cheek on it, mouthing along the vein on the underside. He looks absolutely gone. You curve your free hand around the crown of his head and fist your fingers in his hair, then tug him up to where you're throbbing at the head, nudging it against his bottom lip.
"Show me how much you want it, moy lyubimyy," you say.
For how eager he is he still starts with restraint, giving your head open-mouthed kisses, the same he'd give your mouth. You hiss softly at the feeling. His lips sliding soft around the head and his tongue moving almost curiously into the slit—as if he hasn't done this to you a hundred times. It's good, a teaser. But his patience only lasts so long. He pushes down further, and you moan deep in your chest.
"Fuck, like that, lyubimyy." Your hands aren't guiding anymore, just resting—one on the back of his head and the other over a warm, flushed cheek. Concentration pinches the skin between his eyebrows as he fucks your cock into his mouth. "You are so good at taking me. From front and back, hmm?" His rhythm stutters at that, and the moan he lets out vibrates down your entire length. You growl, low, and shunt your hips forwards. He gets the message. Keep going.
"Love your fucking mouth," you murmur. "Fuck. So fucking wet... you are drooling, Shane. So excited for your food? Hm?" He moans again, twice in quick succession, as if to say yes, yes. You laugh, but it's mostly air. "Bet your cock—is just as wet right now. Fuck... If you make a mess—hah—on the floor, you'll have to—clean it up."
Shane moans near-continuously now. Like he's the one getting blown to pieces. But the orgasm is coalescing behind your cock, drawing your balls in. You gasp, and grab Shane by the hair at the back of his head, and pull him off urgently. A delicate string of spit bridges the sudden gap between his bottom lip and your cock. Your fist takes over from his mouth, blurring with the ferocity of the movement, and for the first time since you began Shane looks up at your face. His eyes are sheened with tears. I love the face you make when you're coming, he said once. It's so fucking hot.
But there isn't time for that. "Close your eyes," you grit out, and he does, immediately. Because he's a good boy. The best.
He trembles as your cum paints his face. Some does go over his eye, catching in his lashes. Some lands across and in his gasping mouth. Beautifully, most ends up over his cheeks and his nose. When you're done, you reach a hand out and rub it into his skin, right over his freckles. He hums contentedly. So good.
"Okay," you say, lazily, noting the way his hands are still behind his back—you don't think he moved them for even a second. So, so good. "You can touch yourself now."
reblogs are hugely appreciated!!! thank you for reading x
after lovergate at the hollander's house ilya asks why its not ok for him to call shane that. he still doesnt get it after shane explains because they love each other so why wouldnt they be lovers??
cue ilya calling shane his lover as much as he possibly can, partially to piss him off because he knows it icks shane out and partially because he actually likes the term "lover" to describe how he feels about shane and "boyfriend" just doesn't cut it.
after shane learns russian and realises lover is only a gross term in english he starts calling ilya his lover, much to ilya's delight
