uninspired

mads, 26, she/her, sith apologist, fangirl always

[darkearthsuggestions]

faith is not soft like the thrum of a hummingbird’s wings: it is the gale on which the eagle rides. to be loyal is a promise to bleed, to break through the earth with broken nails until you find the heart you’ve left in stone. we hold our honor close. we hold with pointed teeth.  

[helterskeltered]

[2886beaconstreet]

ao3 asking if i want to see mature content. do i want to see birds in the sky. do i want to feel the wind in my hair and the grass under my feet

[landsccape]

[patrik6090]

Just finishd gay porn

ALL OF IT???????

[pipshinwhatever]

(said completely devoid of context) you know how it is

[ilyasmole]

crossing streams (hollanov ficlet) ⏰💦

i wanted to write a lil ficlet for my beloved @loontattoo & they requested hollanov + piss. it ended up being a lot fluffier than i first intended but i rly do like how it turned out! i hope u like it teddy bby 🫂 warnings: piss kink (peeing together)

"i can't fucking believe this. i cannot fucking believe this," shane has been repeating this same phrase over and over for the past ten minutes as he rushes alongside ilya to get ready, furiously brushing his teeth and staring angrily at himself in the bathroom mirror, "can't fucking believe this shit."

"it will be fine," ilya reassures him for what must be the fiftieth time, toweling off from his two minute shower, "we will be maybe an hour late. max."

"that's not fine, ilya," shane groans, "an hour is not good, you're the fucking captain."

"yes, i am the captain, and i'm not worried. so you shouldn't be worried either."

shane makes another frustrated noise of indignation and spits in the sink, shoving his toothbrush into its holder and reaching down to splash his face with cold water. he doesn't know how the fuck they managed to let this happen. he has never been late to practice. never. not once in his entire hockey career. and now, only one week into his placement on the centaurs, the unthinkable has happened.

"we need to start setting dual alarms," shane mumbles as he dries his face and tugs off his briefs, "i can't be in charge of it when it's the two of us, not when you're so fucking-" he cuts himself off, groaning again.

"so fucking....what?" shane can see ilya smiling in the mirror's reflection as he stands naked behind him, rubbing his thighs with his towel.

"so fucking horny in the mornings," shane says with a roll of his eyes, and then he's passing ilya to take his turn in the shower. he pays no mind to the firm slap ilya lays on his right ass cheek.

"oh, i'm sorry, did you not want me to fuck you?" ilya asks sardonically as shane turns on the shower, "mister 'i'm still all open'? mister 'fill me up again, please, ilya'?"

"can't hear you!"

"mister 'make me take it'?" ilya calls a little louder, even though he knows shane can hear him fine over the water, "mister 'fuck me awake'?"

"well, you didn't do a very good job did you?" shane calls back, frantically soaping himself, "you fucked me back to sleep."

"because it was good!"

"that's beside the point! you shouldn't have let me! and you shouldn't have fallen back asleep too!" shane grimaces a bit as he slows his washing speed to gently clean his hole, still sore and fucked open, "and now we're late for practice on my second fucking week."

"you know i will take full responsibility, shane."

shane shakes his head against the hot water and grumbles, rinsing himself quickly and then shutting it off. he stumbles out and ilya holds out a fresh towel, peering at him with a much more apologetic expression.

"i am sorry," he says, voice firm and serious, "you know i am sorry."

shane takes it from him and breathes deeply, "i know, baby."

"i did not mean to fall back asleep, really."

"i know," unable to stop himself when his husband is being so genuine and sweet, shane reaches over to cradle the back of his head, pulling ilya's face toward his. he kisses him softly, fingers tangling in his curls, "i love you," he mumbles against his lips, "i'm not really mad at you."

"i know you're not," ilya murmurs, brushing their noses together, "you are stressed. i love you too."

"now put some clothes on," shane tells him as he pulls away, "and let anya out to pee."

ilya salutes him and leaves the bathroom to go get changed, smiling to himself when he sees shane in the mirror checking out his ass. typical.

shane towels off his wet skin and reaches for his lotion. he'll be damned if he's gonna deal with the uncomfortable feeling of dry skin all day, even if he's in a rush. he moisturizes his body as quickly as he can and then carefully applies some soothing cream to his hole, hissing a little bit at the cool sensation. it's a reminder that this really is his fault, not ilya's. shane had been the one to shut off the alarm. he'd been the one who rolled over onto his stomach while ilya sleepily sat up. he'd been the one who'd murmured, "you fucked me so deep last night," then widened his legs and added "i'm still all open."

he can't really blame ilya for immediately reaching down to thumb his hole, cooing softly and croaking out a soft and sleepy, "are you sore, sweetheart? or do you need more?"

of course he'd asked for more.

he tosses the cream back onto the counter and nakedly walks to the toilet. piss, get dressed, grab water and a protein bar, leave the house, he thinks to himself. plan what the fuck you're gonna say to coach on the way there. don't let ilya take the fall.

at the thought of ilya, his husband suddenly returns to the bathroom, no longer naked, "anya is all good," he confirms with a smile, "i'm ready to go, just need to piss."

"just wait a second," shane says, already aiming his soft cock at the toilet bowl, "i'm going first."

ilya doesn't respond and shane figures he's just waiting his turn, standing by. shane's not bothered; it's nothing ilya hasn't seen before. he relaxes himself and starts peeing, still going over the short task list in his head.

it's only a few seconds later that his stream is suddenly joined by another.

"ilya, what the fuck," shane groans, but ilya can hear in his voice that he's not actually mad. he would never dream of doing this if he knew shane would be uncomfortable, "you can't just wait?"

"no," ilya says with a sly smile. shane looks down to see where ilya is holding himself, cock similarly soft and clean, releasing a steady stream, "is hot, yes? kind of?"

shane's about to say no, but then ilya is directing his stream over shane's, allowing them to cross. wordless, shane angles his cock to meet ilya's stream even more, eyes going a little glazed over as he watches both his and his husband relieve themselves together. ilya chuckles softly, and shane feels his big hand palm his lower back, pulling him a little closer. their sides touch, shane's naked body and ilya's clothed one, and shane shivers.

"fuck, it is kind of hot," shane murmurs, and he leans his head over to rest it on ilya's shoulder, still gazing down at their streams. he notices that ilya's cock is hardening a little bit, watches as his husband gently tugs his foreskin back a little.

"you're getting hard," ilya says suddenly, taking the words right out of shane's mouth. shane's brow furrows and he looks down at his own cock to see that ilya is very correct.

"fuck," shane says softly, acknowledging his hardening length but also acknowledging that this is really turning him on. he can't believe how much it's turning him on, actually. if they weren't late...

"d'you want me to pee on your cock?" ilya asks, and it's not a joke, it's a genuine question.

"fuck," shane says again, closing his eyes, "...not right now," he shakes his head in disbelief at his own words.

"oh god, hollander," ilya groans, resting his head against shane's as his stream starts to taper off "i think we might like piss stuff."

"now is not the time to explore that," shane admonishes, though he can't help but smile a little.

"but later?"

"yes. for sure."

ilya groans again and rubs shane's bare back softly as both their streams die out. shane thinks about ilya's offer, pictures what it would look like, what it would feel like, for ilya to claim him in that way. he shivers again as he taps off his excess, reaching over to grab a square of toilet paper.

"wait," ilya murmurs, and shane waits.

ilya tugs shane into him a little more so they're almost facing each other, angling their cocks together. still holding his own, ilya carefully taps the head of his cock against shane's, lets a small dribble of piss leak down onto shane's tip. they watch as it drips down slowly, and shane lets out a soft sound of pleasure.

"that's mine," ilya murmurs.

shane buries his face in ilya's neck, nodding against his warm skin as his cock thickens, "it is," he groans, "but fuck, ilya, this is not the time."

"i know," ilya rubs the head of his cock against shane's once more before pulling back, taking the square of toilet paper from shane's hand and dabbing himself, "now go get dressed or else wiebe will make you team goalie."

"fuck off."

[valtsv]

i've had enough of being so brave about it i want to start screaming

[piwonplaylist]

fem hollanov time

[buckybarmnes-moved-deactivated2]

[dragging my sad, limp body across the floor] im doing fine

[2birds1pencil]

a wise little fishy once said

[mybloodstream-caffeine]

Boston and Montreal are at the same club. They're at different tables, but they were all sat in the VIP section - it's a little more secluded, offers the facsimile of privacy more than anything - and the Boston boys are loud, loud enough to be heard even over the thumping bassline of the music. Loud enough for Shane to hear them from where he's sitting in the corner of his booth, nursing his drink.

"Okay, best lay. Go."

"Sorry fellas, I'm a gentleman - I don't kiss and tell."

"That means you have nothing to tell, Connors?"

"Suck my fat one, Lenny."

"And become your best lay? Pass."

"For me, it was twins. In Vegas."

"Yeah, their names were right and left, surname hand. Gimme a break."

"Ye of little faith!"

"Ey, there's nothing little about me, bud. Just ask my best lay - Laura Steeler."

"What, the chick from the car commercials?"

"Oh yeah."

"No wonder she was your best lay, Petey - she was the only one of the poor girls you picked up who could act."

Raucous, jeering laughter drowns out Peterson's objections. It doesn't drown our Marleau's voice, clear and sly:

"We all know who Rozanov's best lay is."

Like they'd rehearsed it, the Boston Raider's all cry out in lilting sing-song unison: "Montreal Jane!"

Shane stops breathing. His skin goes hot, then cold, prickling, his hair standing on end. There's no way. He must have heard it wrong, there was no way-

"Now why are you limp dick losers talking about my best girl?"

Shane has to shut his eyes. This is not happening, surely. Ilya Rozanov is not swaggering up to the next table, calling Shane his - his -

"Ayyye, Cap. We were just talking about our top fucks."

"Ah, I see. You all had nothing to offer so you had to talk about my conquests, I understand."

Boos briefly follow.

"No but seriously, Cap. Yours has gotta be Jane, right?"

Rozanov hums, slow, indulgent, like he's savouring something. "Mmmh yes. My Jane."

Some catcalls follow, lurid. Shane's pulse is in his throat, thumping thumping thumping. He stares out into the throng of writhing bodies on the dancefloor, unblinking.

"Yeah okay so you love banging this chick, but that still doesn't answer the question: what was your best fuck with her."

Rozanov's laughter is rolling, incredulous. "This I cannot answer - no, no it is true!" He adds when he's met with crows of denial, "My Jane, she is always surprising me. She is crazy for my cock. You would not understand what this is like, for a girl to want your dick so bad she is biting your belt buckle."

It's like getting shoved in the solar plexus, hard. Boston's jeering rises but it doesn't dim the memory - they hadn't seen each other in weeks, and it was coming off of summer besides, and Shane had felt like he was on fire, like he'd die if he didn't get Rozanov's cock inside him now now right fucking now, and in his desperate rush, mouthing his way across denim, over Rozanov's zipper, he'd clipped his teeth against -

"I call bull. No way she's that easy for it."

"Oh, but she is," Rozanov's voice is inescapable, like he's whispering straight into Shane's ear, "I go to eat her out and I can already work three fingers inside - she opened herself up for me in the shower because she needs it so bad."

That's not fair, Shane thinks dizzily over Boston's whooping, that wasn't the same night as the belt thing.

Ilya is still talking, rapturous now:

"- but it does not matter if she does not open herself up before I get there because the way this girl gets wet for me? Oh my god, she is like - like faucet, just dripping, always, making a mess in her little panties -"

And suddenly Shane is standing, uncaring if the movement is obvious through the dim lights of the club. He's weaving, stumbling his way to the bathroom. Jesus, people probably think he's wasted what with the way he's walking, but he doesn't care, he doesn't care about anything apart from getting behind a locked stall door right fucking now.

When the lock clicks shut, Shane is scrambling for his pants. He's so hard he's throbbing, hot to touch. And he's - he's dripping, all down his shaft, down to his fucking balls, making a mess of his -

Panties, Shane hears in Rozanov's indolent drawl, and he puts his fist in his mouth and bites down, hard.

It's enough to muffle his noises, if not the shwick shwick shwick of his hand jacking his cock.

It's enough so that he doesn't miss the door handle of the bathroom turning.

Shane's hand doesn't (can't) stop working, neck arching as it flies over his dick, but he's not worried, not really.

He already knows who's walking in.

[perlukafarinn]

first post for context / see the tag 'open relationship au' for more snippets. just a heads up, updates will be slower now since i started working full time this week. i am still very excited for this au and hope to update frequently, i just won't have as much free time to write anymore.

2014

They arrange to meet up after the first Boston-Montreal game of the preseason. Montreal wins, a pretty embarrassing 4-2 defeat for Boston on home ice, and Ilya would feel worse about it if not for how cute Hollander looks when he's trying and failing not to be smug.

"You sure this is the same team that won the cup last season?" is his greeting when he arrives at Ilya's place.

Ilya rolls his eyes. "It's the preseason, who cares?"

"You should care about every game."

"And you should stop talking."

Hollander is still grinning widely as Ilya backs him into the nearest wall. He lets out a softly surprised sound as their lips meet, arms wrapping around Ilya's shoulders and pulling him in closer. Ilya groans; he's been waiting for weeks to have Hollander against him like this, and pinning him against the boards - while fun - just isn't the same.

They make their way to the bedroom, shedding clothes as they go. Ilya's heart is racing, hands grasping greedily as more of Hollander's skin is revealed to him. He's tan from the summer sun, warm and golden, the freckles on his cheeks even more pronounced than usual.

He's beautiful, and even more so lying prone on Ilya's blue sheets, looking up at him with those shining dark eyes, practically begging Ilya to bite into him.

Ilya crawls up between his thighs, admiring how big they've gotten in the weeks Hollander has been bulking. How easily they part for Ilya, despite the shy tilt of Hollander's smile.

Then he spots it.

A small bruise, hidden high on Hollander's thigh.

Something sours in Ilya's gut. It's not like he expected Hollander to dump his boyfriend of seven years after one night with him.... except who does he think he's kidding, that is absolutely what he thought.

After a night like that? Ilya doesn't think anyone should blame him. He doubts fucking Brian ever made Hollander come hands free, not if he can't even be bothered to eat him out.

"Are you okay?"

Ilya responds by biting the soft flesh of Hollander's thigh, grinning when Hollander gasps, hips twitching upwards.

He's just gonna have to keep going, he decides. One night was not enough but a few weeks or months of consistently amazing sex should do the trick. Ilya doesn't exactly love the idea of sharing Hollander for that long, but he can be patient.

To start with, tonight he'll suck Hollander's soul out of his dick.

But first, he'll make sure to wipe out every trace of his terrible boyfriend from Hollander's body and mind.

With that thought, Ilya places his mouth over the bruise and bites.

+

The first game of the season proper Boston beats Montreal and after, Ilya fucks Hollander in his own bed.

Hollander is tense when they start out. Maybe like Ilya, he's thinking of the fact that this is the bed where he sleeps with his boyfriend. Ilya doesn't mind; enjoys, in fact, putting Hollander on his hands and knees and fucking the tension out of him until he can barely stay upright.

They collapse on the mattress in the aftermath, sticky with sweat. Ilya turns his head to watch Hollander as they catch their breath, feeling smug at the dazed expression on his face.

"Where is your boyfriend tonight?" Ilya asks.

There were no hickeys this time but he's still fairly certain Hollander's relationship status hasn't changed and he wants to find out for sure.

"At home," Hollander says. "His place, I mean. We don't actually live together, it would be a logistical nightmare to keep hidden. He spends some nights here, I spend some nights at his, we make it work."

"Does he know I'm here?"

Hollander glances at him. "Why?"

Ilya shrugs one shoulder. "Just curious."

"Oh." Hollander's expression twists, lips tugging in a frown. "No, he doesn't. He doesn't tell me about other people, either. I don't wanna know."

"Sound healthy," Ilya says dryly.

"Fuck you. Don't you need to have been in a relationship to know what a healthy one looks like?"

Ilya resists the urge to tell Hollander that his relationship is so dysfunctional, a blind dog could see it. He doesn't feel like being thrown out of bed just yet.

"What about me?" he asks instead. "Do I get to know if you fuck anyone else?"

Hollander looks at him, startled. "Who else would I fuck?"

Ilya blinks. "Who - anyone you want to? You are aware that you're Shane Hollander, yes?"

Hollander's cheeks go bright red. It's a nice color on him, Ilya thinks.

"I know I'm successful," he mutters, like that's not a massive understatement. "But it's not like I could go out to a bar and pick someone up, you know? You're the only person besides Brian who knows I'm gay. I don't know how to find someone else I could trust to keep it secret."

"Hm." Ilya understands; it's the same reason men have been such a rare indulgence for him. It's also a sad reality he has no interest in dwelling on. "I see. So I am, what, last resort?"

Hollander rolls his eyes. "Oh, fuck off. You've got a different girl hanging off your arm every week, your ego doesn't need any more stroking."

"Still keeping up with me in the tabloids, I see."

Hollander smacks him in the face with a pillow.

+

tag list (let me know in the replies if you want to be added): @quillquiver @mybloodstream-caffeine @tearsofshane @natmoose @knippsblips @myshanela @mariesthename @sage-herbal @hornylittlecoyote @starrrlve @catscatscats0104 @bluest-hyacinth @casualsheepcollection @shashanene @tafkarfanfic @thedragonflylover @livythewidow @kevinssecretplace4546 @moonrise-rebel @shanetism @2014federalbudget @buckitweride @illustriousprophetlillila @chaothur @silverssorrysoul @dandelionsinsunshine @mrv-l-blog @and-come-to-dust @psyche-dahlia @hollos @wannabetonthat @dropbear8118 @shanebug @vogeley @intersemiotic @hollanders-left-tit @toapoet @what-is-life-but-an-empty-void @riversidecacti @sunless-garden @princess-of-fangirls @shadowflame84 @anxietycroissant @poetic-mac-n-cheese @jizzinandsplizzin @shouldveagesago @tamtamwithicecream @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @steddieassheg0es @whoneedscanon

[hollanovshome]

happy wet shane wednesday!

inspired by this post by @ilyasmole , the whole thing is incredible, but specifically this part:

ilya's own fingers dig into the soft flesh of shane's waist and he tugs him impossibly closer, murmurs, "are you gonna come for me, hollander?" all low and sensual, and shane can barely speak, can only give a desperate nod as his eyes squeeze shut and his cock bobs in the mirror. "yeah? you gonna show me how you come from just this?" and he punctuates the words with the slow pounding of his hips, burying his nose in the side of shane's face and keeping his eyes fixated on where shane continues to leak.

thank you for your beautiful inspiring wonderful hornyposting <3

full art on ao3

my art tag

don’t forget to reblog <3

[the-pickle-jar]

">_< but im scared of change!" <- girl who wishes everything was different

[pisshandkerchief]

*guy who has repressed every feeling he's ever had* yeah I'm just really good at rolling with the punches I guess haha

[hollanovshome]

for anon who requested these as standalones <3

ilya domming & breeding kink version under the cut

give! him! a! baby!