everyone i talk to thinks i’m crazy, so someone tell me if i’m just dumb. i think an exhibition/gala program should be done with stage combat! like, swordfighting on ice skates! maybe i’m just stupid. i think it would be cool :(
DEAR READER

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@prettyraspberry
everyone i talk to thinks i’m crazy, so someone tell me if i’m just dumb. i think an exhibition/gala program should be done with stage combat! like, swordfighting on ice skates! maybe i’m just stupid. i think it would be cool :(
I’ve seen a lot of vitriol from the lesbian community about bisexual women and vice versa, so I wanted to draw something for Pride. Remember to uplift your fellow queer sisters this Pride Month and always!
pspsps women pspsps
wait anons not wrong at all like when the screen goes black and says coming soon the audios giving more like cuming soon holy shit that’s wild
😂 I’m glad someone else can hear it - I’m trying very hard yall but my brain just won’t compute it - maybe I need to be high for this
it sounds to me like it was supposed to be anxiously talking to himself/panic attack/etc…but it definitely sounds like something else ;)
The way I heard it and was like “👁️👁️ WHAT IS THIS SUPPOSED TO BE BECAUSE IT SOUNDS LIKE FAP”
I’m questioning so much right now😂
I had to turn my volume ALL THE WAY UP AND HOLY SHIT
hear me out: someone should write this ;)
a casual Tuesday
· · ─ · ⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆ · ─ · · · ─ · ⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆ · ─ · ·
The rhythmic gymnastics Training Center was quieter than the ice rink. The scent of hair gel the girls used for their hair buns filled the air,contrasting the smell of sweat and hard work.
Ilia leaned against the doorway of the practice gym, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. He was still wearing his track jacket from his own session on the ice earlier.
You two had only been serious for about three weeks, and since your schedules were both completely insane, you’d agreed to meet up after your respective practices to grab dinner.
He’d expected to see you throwing a ball in the air or doing some pretty pivots. What he didn't expect was to find you doing oversplits using two chairs.
"Keep the knees locked, Y/N! Tighter!"
Your head coach talked in a loud voice as she paced around you like a hawk. She was a tall, imposing woman named Irina with a sharp bob and a permanent scowl that reminded Ilia terrifyingly of some of his parents' old skating friends.
Ilia watched, slightly mesmerized and a little bit horrified, as you straightened up. You looked so delicate in your practice clothes, your hair slicked back into a perfect, neat bun. Rhythmic gymnasts always carried themselves with this insane, floating elegance. But the actual training looked so painful and nothing like glamorous.
"Hands, hands, wake them up," Irina barked in a thick accent, stepping in closer to you.
Before Ilia could even process what was happening, you were presenting your arms to her and your coach started rapidly slapping your forearms, hands, and shoulders.
It wasn't malicious, it was the standard, old-school method to stimulate blood flow and activate the nervous system before apparatus work,but to an outsider, it looked wild.
You didn't even flinch. You just took a deep breath, your eyes focused, nodding along as she smacked your shoulders.
Ilia winced slightly from the doorway, rubbing his own arm,making a note to self to never get on Irina’s bad side.
"Again with the ribbon. From the beginning. Go," your coach commanded, clapping her hands twice.
For the next hour, Ilia just sat down on a bench and watched,having completely forgotten he was supposed to be waiting for you. He watched you spin the silk ribbon into perfect, mesmerizing spirals, tossing the stick into the air, doing a blind turning catch, all while looking flawless.
You looked like art in motion, light as air, but now he could see why people called your sport brutal.
Finally, Irina checked her watch, muttered something in russian about your posture that sounded halfway like a compliment, and waved a hand. "Enough for today. See you tomorrow at eight."
"Thank you," you panted, finally breaking character and letting out a huge breath.
As soon as the coach disappeared into the back office, Ilia uncrossed his arms and walked out onto the edge of the carpet.
"So," he called out, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Do I need to fight your coach, or is the physical assault just a casual Tuesday for you?"
You whipped your head around, your face lighting up when you saw him. "Hey!” You dropped your ribbon onto your gym bag and walked over to him, wiping your forehead with a towel. "shut up, it’s not physical assault. It wakes the muscles up. It actually helps."
"If my parents started slapping my arms like that before a program, I think I’d disown them," Ilia joked, stepping fully onto the carpet. "Whoa. This floor is soft. Why don't we have these at the rink?"
"Because you wear knives on your feet,maybe?," you teased, rolling your eyes playfully. You reached out, grabbing his hands and pulling him further onto the floor. "How was your session?"
"Good. Standard stuff," he said casually, though there was that boyish spark of pride in his eyes that you loved. He looked down at your hands, flipping them over to look at your palms. "Seriously though, you okay? She was really whacking you."
"I'm fine, I promise. It looks worse than it is." You smiled up at him, feeling a little flutter in your chest. You’d been dating for a few weeks, everything still felt brand new and exciting. "Did you see any of the routine?"
"Yeah. I saw the whole ribbon thing." Ilia’s tone shifted from joking to genuinely amazed. He looked at you, his eyes scanning your face, completely sincere. "You look like a totally different person out there. It’s crazy. Like, you're super graceful and elegant, and then you're just casually doing things with your spine that shouldn't be humanly possible."
You blushed, looking down at his track jacket. "Thanks. that’s rich coming from you",you teased.
"I'm serious," he insisted, stepping a little closer. He reached up, his fingers gently brushing a lock of hair behind your ear that had escaped your bun. His hand was warm against your skin. "It’s really cool to watch you work. You're amazing at it."
Your heart did a little flip. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." He smiled, that soft, genuine smile you had grown fond of. "Though, I think my back cracked just watching you stretch."
You laughed, the slight tension from your practice completely melting away. "I can teach you some stretches if you want. Might help your flexibility."
Ilia lifted his hands in mock surrender, taking a step back. "Nope. Absolutely not. I value my joints, thank you very much. I'll stick to jumping over ice."
You rolled your eyes amusedly and kissed his cheek before disappearing into the changing rooms to take a shower and change into more date appropriate clothing.
When he saw you walk towards him,he grinned like a kid in a candy shop, and just stated “prettiest.”
He grabbed your gym bag for you, swinging it over his shoulder alongside his own. “Come on. Let's get out of here before your coach comes back and decides to activate my muscles."
You giggled, wrapping your arm through his as you both walked toward the exit. "i’m picking the music in the car"
"Deal," he said, leaning down to press a quick, sweet kiss to the top of your head. "Whatever you want, Y/N."
cute!
I got you
(was requested via dm)
The room was dark except for the pale glow of her laptop screen.
The kind of dark that happened when someone forgot to turn on lights because their brain had gotten too loud.
Sticky notes littered the coffee table. Half highlighted textbooks were spread across the floor. Her work uniform was tossed over the back of the couch from yesterday’s shift. Or maybe the day before that. She honestly couldn’t remember anymore.
The cursor blinked accusingly on her unfinished paper.
Three assignments overdue.
Two exams this week.
A manager texting asking if she could cover another shift.
And her mom’s voice repeating in her head like a cruel little metronome.
‘You’re too smart to fall behind.
You need to work harder.
Everybody else can handle it.
Why can’t you?’
Her chest felt tight.
Not crying yet.
That was the problem.
She almost wished she would cry. Maybe it would release some pressure. Instead everything sat trapped inside her ribs like expanding concrete.
Her phone buzzed.
Ilia ❤️
She stared at it until it stopped.
A minute later it buzzed again.
‘baby?’
Another.
‘you okay?’
She turned the phone face down.
Because if she answered him, he’d hear it immediately.
He always did.
The exhaustion.
The cracking edges.
The way she pretended she was “fine” with a voice stretched so thin it barely sounded human anymore.
And she couldn’t do it tonight.
Couldn’t hear concern.
Couldn’t hear gentleness.
Couldn’t hear someone love her while she felt like this.
So instead she opened another assignment and tried to focus on the words swimming on the screen.
Thirty minutes later her apartment door unlocked.
Her head snapped up.
Ilia stepped inside quietly, still in a hoodie and sweatpants from practice, curls messy from shoving a beanie on too fast. He took one look around the apartment and his face fell.
Papers everywhere.
Cold coffee.
No lights.
And her sitting cross legged on the couch looking like she hadn’t slept in days.
His expression softened instantly.
“Oh, baby…”
That almost broke her.
Not the words.
The tone.
Soft. Careful. Like he already knew she was barely holding herself together.
“I’m fine,” she said too quickly.
Ilia closed the door behind him without answering.
He walked over slowly, like approaching a scared animal, and crouched in front of the couch.
“You didn’t answer me all day.”
“I was busy.”
“You haven’t eaten.”
“I forgot.”
“You forgot yesterday too.”
Her jaw tightened.
“I’m handling it.”
He looked up at her for a long moment.
And very quietly said, “No, you’re not.”
The words hit like a slap.
Immediately her eyes burned.
“No one asked you to come over.”
“I know.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“I know you said that.”
Something inside her snapped.
“You don’t understand!” she burst out suddenly, shoving her laptop away so hard it nearly slid off the couch. “I can’t mess this up, Ilia! I can’t fail anything, I can’t fall behind, I can’t just stop because I’m tired—”
Her breathing started shaking.
“I have work and school and my parents already think I’m wasting my potential and if my grades drop then everything’s ruined and…”
Her voice cracked.
“And I’m trying so hard.”
That was the sentence that destroyed her.
Not angry anymore.
Just devastated.
She folded in on herself, hands covering her face as the sob finally tore out of her chest.
“I’m trying so hard…”
Ilia moved immediately.
“No, no, no, baby…c’mere.”
He climbed onto the couch and pulled her straight into him before she could fight it. She practically collapsed against his chest, shaking so hard her teeth hurt.
And Ilia held her like he was afraid she’d disappear.
One arm wrapped tight around her waist.
The other cradling the back of her head.
“It’s okay,” he whispered instantly, lips pressed into her hair. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I got you.”
“I can’t do this anymore,” she cried into his hoodie. “I’m so tired.”
“I know.”
“I can’t keep up.”
“I know.”
“I’m trying…”
“I know you are.”
His voice cracked a little on that last part.
Because he did know.
He’d watched her stay up until four in the morning rewriting assignments over tiny mistakes. Watched her apologize for getting a 93 because it “should’ve been higher.” Watched her work double shifts and then study until she physically couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore.
Watched her slowly disappear under the weight of expectations she never stopped carrying.
And it killed him because she genuinely believed her worth depended on performance.
He rubbed slow circles into her back while she cried.
Not rushing her.
Not trying to fix it.
Just holding her through it.
After a while he whispered, “When’s the last time you slept more than four hours?”
She didn’t answer.
His heart sank.
“Baby…”
She just cried harder.
Ilia closed his eyes briefly, pain flashing across his face.
Then he pulled back just enough to cup her cheeks.
“Listen to me for a second.”
Her wet eyes lifted to his.
“You are not a machine.”
She looked away immediately.
“There is literally nothing you could do that would make me think less of you.”
“But my parents!”
“I don’t care what your parents said.”
His voice wasn’t harsh.
Just firm.
“You are allowed to rest. You’re allowed to struggle. You’re allowed to be overwhelmed.”
She shook her head instantly. “No, because if I stop everything falls apart!”
“Then let it pause.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“You don’t understand….”
“No,” he interrupted softly. “I understand perfectly.”
His thumb brushed under her eye.
“You think if you aren’t perfect, nobody will love you.”
Silence.
And that silence told him he was right.
Ilia’s entire expression shattered.
“Oh, baby…”
Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
Because she hadn’t realized that was what this was until he said it out loud.
He pulled her forehead against his.
“You never have to earn love from me.”
Her breath hitched.
“You don’t have to get perfect grades for me to stay.”
Another sob escaped her.
“You don’t have to work yourself into the ground to deserve care.”
His nose brushed hers gently.
“I love you when you’re exhausted.”
A kiss to her forehead.
“I love you when you’re overwhelmed.”
A kiss to her temple.
“I love you when you’re crying on the couch.”
Another kiss.
“I love you when you can’t get out of bed.”
She broke all over again.
This time quieter.
The kind of crying that came from finally being held after pretending too long that you didn’t need anybody.
Ilia just gathered her closer.
Her legs tangled with his on the couch while he rubbed her back over and over and over.
Eventually he glanced at the disaster around the apartment.
Then back at her.
“Okay,” he said softly. “Here’s what we’re gonna do.”
She sniffled weakly.
“You are done working tonight.”
“I have assignments!”
“Nope.”
“Ilia…”
“Absolutely not.”
Despite everything, her mouth twitched a little.
He pointed toward the bathroom.
“You’re gonna take a hot shower.”
She opened her mouth.
“That was not a suggestion.”
A tiny, exhausted laugh escaped her.
There she is.
Ilia immediately kissed her forehead like he’d won the lottery just hearing that sound.
“While you shower,” he continued softly, “I’m ordering food. Then I’m cleaning this place because looking at all this is stressing me out and you already have enough in your head.”
“You don’t have to do that…”
“I know.”
He tucked hair behind her ear carefully.
“I want to.”
Her eyes filled again instantly.
Not because he was doing something huge.
But because he was doing small things gently.
Like loving her wasn’t a burden.
Like taking care of her was natural.
Ilia stood and held his hands out toward her.
“C’mon, pretty girl.”
She took them.
And when she stood, dizzy from exhaustion, he steadied her immediately.
One arm around her waist.
Protective. Warm. Certain.
As he walked her toward the bathroom, he kissed the side of her head and murmured quietly,
“You don’t have to survive everything alone anymore.”
oh, this is absolutely perfect! thank you so much for writing it! :) also, you have good timing for dropping hurt/comfort when i need it…
i’m twenty today :)
Could you do a bit of an angsty request where reader and ilia were best friends and dating but then they broke up on like somewhat messy but good terms and then two weeks passed and ilia was debating wether to contact her or not since he missed her so much but then one day like right before (any important competition) he’s literally about to get on the ice , taking his guards off and the announcers are calling his name and everything and then his coach gives him his phone since it keeps ringing, he answers a bit irritated but then his heart drops as he hears it’s the hospital, reader had gotten in a bad car crash and she hasn’t changed her emergency contact yet so they called ilia, he freezes for a moment before he turns the opposite way and sprints, ignoring everyone trying to stop him, ignoring how important it is he compete
Almost….
The call came just as the announcer was saying his name.
“Next up, representing…”
Ilia barely heard the rest.
He was crouched near the boards, pulling the guards off his skates while his coach ran through last minute reminders. The arena lights felt too bright. The music from the previous skater echoed through the rink.
His phone had been vibrating nonstop for almost five minutes.
“Ilia.”
He looked up.
His coach was holding out his phone.
“It keeps ringing.”
Ilia sighed. “Can it wait?”
“I don’t know. It’s the same number.”
Annoyed, he snatched it and answered.
“Hello?”
“Is this Ilia Malinin?”
His stomach tightened.
“Yes.”
“This is Fairfax Memorial Hospital.”
Everything inside him went still.
“We have a patient listed under your emergency contact information.”
His heart dropped.
“Y/N?”
“Sir, she was involved in a serious motor vehicle accident…”
The world blurred.
The announcer was still calling his name.
The crowd was applauding.
Someone was waving him toward the ice.
And all Ilia could hear was…
“…significant injuries.”
“Is she alive?” he choked out.
A pause.
“Yes, but she’s in critical condition.”
His lungs forgot how to work.
“Sir?”
He hung up.
For a second he just stood there.
Frozen.
Then he turned around.
And ran.
“ILIA!”
His coach shouted after him.
“Where are you going?!”
He didn’t answer.
People called his name.
Officials tried stopping him.
Someone reminded him he was literally seconds away from qualifying competition ice.
He didn’t care.
Not even a little.
Because all he could think was…
“Please don’t let her die.”
The drive felt endless.
His hands shook so badly on the steering wheel he thought he might throw up.
Two weeks.
They’d been broken up for two weeks.
Two horrible, miserable weeks.
The breakup hadn’t been explosive.
No cheating. No screaming. No betrayal.
Just exhaustion. Schedules. Pressure.
Too many conversations that somehow solved nothing.
Eventually she’d sat across from him and quietly said maybe they needed space.
And he’d hated every second of agreeing.
Now all he could think about was how much he’d wanted to call her.
How many times he’d stared at her contact.
How every accomplishment felt wrong without telling her.
How every night ended with him wondering if she’d fallen asleep yet.
And now…
Critical condition.
His grip tightened.
He loved her.
He still loved her.
When he finally burst into the hospital, he was still wearing his competition costume.
The receptionist looked startled.
“Can I help…”
“Y/N”
His voice cracked.
“Car accident.”
Within minutes he was being led to a consultation room.
A doctor entered.
The expression on his face made Ilia’s stomach drop.
“She lost a significant amount of blood.”
Ilia swallowed.
“Okay.”
“We need to operate on her shoulder. There are multiple fractures and internal complications.”
“Okay.”
The doctor hesitated.
And suddenly looked uncomfortable.
“There’s something else.”
Ilia frowned.
“What?”
The doctor glanced at the chart.
“She’s pregnant.”
Silence.
The room tilted.
“What?”
“Approximately nine weeks.”
His entire body froze.
Pregnant?
“No,” he whispered.
The doctor nodded.
“We discovered it during imaging and bloodwork.”
Ilia sat down before his knees gave out.
Pregnant.
Pregnant.
Pregnant.
The word echoed endlessly.
The doctor continued carefully.
“If complications arise during surgery, we may have to make decisions quickly.”
Ilia stared at him.
“If we need authorization regarding the pregnancy, we’ll need your consent as the listed emergency contact.”
His chest felt crushed.
“We’ll do everything possible to save both,” the doctor said softly. “But in a worst case scenario…”
The doctor paused.
“Do we have your permission?”
Tears immediately filled Ilia’s eyes.
He hated the question.
Hated it.
But the answer came without hesitation.
“Her.”
His voice broke.
“Save her.”
The doctor nodded.
“Understood.”
10 hours.
10 endless hours.
Ilia sat in a plastic chair.
Didn’t eat.
Didn’t sleep.
Didn’t move.
Every few minutes he’d glance toward the operating room doors.
Waiting. Praying. Terrified.
Finally….
A doctor appeared.
Ilia shot to his feet.
“How is she?”
The doctor’s face softened.
“Surgery went well.”
Ilia nearly collapsed from relief.
“She’ll recover.”
A shaky breath escaped him.
“And the baby?”
The doctor smiled.
“We were able to keep it safe.”
The tears came instantly.
He laughed through them.
Actually laughed.
For the first time all day.
“Can I see her?”
“Yes.”
The room was quiet.
Machines beeped softly.
She looked pale.
Exhausted.
But alive.
Alive.
The moment he saw her, something inside him settled.
She slowly turned her head.
Blinking.
Then frowned.
“What are you doing here?”
Ilia laughed.
It came out watery.
“Hey, you.”
Her eyes moved over him.
“Why are you in costume?”
He looked down at the rhinestones still covering his shirt.
“Long story.”
She squinted.
Then suddenly remembered.
“Oh my God.”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t ruin your competition, did I?”
His eyebrows shot up.
“Seriously?”
“Ilia…”
“You got hit by a car.”
She winced.
“Okay, fair.”
He pulled a chair beside her bed.
“Still your emergency contact.”
Her expression softened.
“Oh.”
“And I was at qualifiers.”
She covered her face.
“I am so sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
He reached for her hand.
Immediately. Instinctively.
Like he never stopped.
She squeezed back.
And neither of them let go.
After a moment, he quietly asked,
“Why did you break up with me?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Ilia…”
“Because these last two weeks have sucked.”
She laughed weakly.
“Yeah.”
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
He swallowed.
Then took a breath.
“One more thing.”
She looked confused.
“What?”
“You didn’t tell me you were pregnant.”
Her eyes widened.
“What?”
He blinked.
“What?”
“What do you mean pregnant?”
The silence stretched.
“You didn’t know?”
“No!”
She stared at him.
Then at her stomach.
Then back at him.
“My periods are all over the place.”
He laughed in disbelief.
“I know.”
“I thought it was stress.”
“Well.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Apparently you’re nine weeks.”
She looked completely stunned.
Then immediately said,
“I want it.”
The words came so fast they almost overlapped.
Ilia felt his chest tighten.
“I do too.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“What are we going to do?”
He stared at her.
The girl he’d fallen in love with.
The girl he’d never stopped loving.
The girl he’d nearly lost.
And suddenly the answer felt simple.
“I want you.”
She froze.
“I love you.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
“This breakup doesn’t work for me.”
A watery laugh escaped her.
“No?”
“No.”
He leaned closer.
“Not even a little.”
She was crying openly now.
“So am I allowed to admit I hate it too?”
“You better.”
“I’ve missed you.”
His eyes closed briefly.
Relief flooding through him.
Then he leaned down and kissed her.
Soft and gentle.
Careful of all the bruises.
It felt like coming home.
When they finally pulled apart, he pressed his forehead against hers.
“Let’s get you healthy first.”
She smiled.
“Okay.”
“Then we’ll figure us out.”
“Okay.”
“And apparently we’ll figure out a baby too.”
She laughed through her tears.
“Yeah.”
“Together.”
“Together.”
Months later, when she was healthy again and the worst of the accident was behind them, Ilia stood in their apartment kitchen watching her attempt to organize baby clothes.
Attempt being the key word.
“You have six newborn jackets.”
“You never know.”
“You absolutely know.”
She pointed a tiny sock at him.
“Don’t judge me.”
“I am judging you.”
She gasped dramatically.
Then immediately grabbed his hand and placed it against her growing stomach.
The tiny kick made them both freeze.
For a moment neither spoke.
Just stared at each other.
Then Ilia smiled.
The kind of smile that reached all the way to his eyes.
The kind he’d thought he might never get again.
“I almost missed this.”
Her expression softened.
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
He leaned down and kissed her forehead.
Then her cheek.
Then finally her lips.
And as she smiled against his mouth, surrounded by tiny baby clothes and a future neither of them had planned, Ilia realized something.
The accident had nearly taken everything.
Instead, somehow, it had led him back to the two people he loved most.
And he wasn’t letting either of them go.
well, that was the perfect emotional rollercoaster :)
Am I the only one that actually liked the photos?😭
let’s see bestie..
new Ilia photoshoot
Ili-Yay
Ili-Nay
is it even a good photo shoot unless half of the target audience hates it? ;)
(M)oral Support
Ilia Malinin x fem!reader
Summary: You’re stressed. Ilia offers some help.
Contains: Smut, oral, fingering, minors dni
The apartment was quiet except for the soft hum of the city outside the window and the occasional frustrated sigh from the couch. Ilia closed the front door behind him with a gentle click, kicking off his sneakers and padding across the hardwood in his socks. He’d just come back from a light training session, hair still damp from the shower at the rink, wearing a loose gray hoodie and black sweatpants. His eyes found you immediately—curled up in the corner of the couch, laptop balanced on your knees, eyebrows pinched together in that way he knew too well.
“Hey, babe,” he said softly, voice warm like melted chocolate. He dropped his bag by the door and crossed the room, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Still at it?”
You groaned, rubbing your temples. “This project is killing me. I’ve rewritten the same section four times and my professor’s going to tear it apart anyway. I can’t even think straight anymore.”
Ilia’s hand slid down to your shoulder, thumb rubbing slow circles against the tight muscle there. “You’ve been staring at that screen for hours. Come on, take a break with me.”
“I can’t. Deadline’s in two days and—”
He cut you off with another kiss, this one to your temple, lingering. “I’m not taking no for an answer. You’re stressed out of your mind. Let me help you relax.” His fingers slipped into your hair, gently massaging your scalp. You leaned into the touch despite yourself, eyes fluttering half-closed.
“Ilia…” There was a warning in your voice, but it was soft, already melting.
“Shh. Just a little while.” He set your laptop on the coffee table, then eased down beside you on the couch. Strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his lap so you straddled his thighs. Your foreheads touched. “You work so hard. I hate seeing you like this. Let your boyfriend take care of you, yeah?”
You exhaled shakily, arms looping around his neck. “You’re too good to me.”
“Nah. I just know what you need.” His hands roamed up and down your back in long, soothing strokes, thumbs pressing into the knots along your spine. He kissed the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, slow and deliberate. “You’re so tense, baby. Feel how tight your shoulders are? Breathe for me.”
You did, inhaling deeply as his lips trailed lower, feather-light kisses along your neck. A tiny shiver ran through you. Ilia smiled against your skin. “There she is,” he murmured, voice dropping just a little. “My pretty girl. Always so wound up until I get my hands on her.”
The kisses grew a fraction deeper—still soft, still teasing. He sucked lightly at the spot just below your ear, the one that always made you squirm. Your fingers tightened in his hoodie.
“Ilia… we should probably—”
“Probably what?” He nipped your earlobe, then soothed it with his tongue. “Talk about your project? No way. Not right now.” One hand slid under the hem of your shirt, palm warm against your bare lower back. “Right now I want to hear those little sounds you make when you stop thinking so much.”
You laughed breathlessly, but it turned into a soft moan when he rocked your hips forward against him, letting you feel how he was already half-hard just from touching you. The friction was barely there, just enough to tease.
“See?” he whispered, lips brushing yours. “Your body’s already saying yes. Let me make you feel good. Please?”
How could you say no to that voice—low, sweet, a little husky with want? You nodded, and Ilia rewarded you with a proper kiss, slow and deep, tongue sliding against yours in lazy strokes that promised more. His hands slipped higher under your shirt, tracing your ribs, thumbs grazing the undersides of your breasts but never quite giving you what you suddenly craved.
When you two broke apart for air, he rested his forehead against yours again. “Couch or bed? Your choice.”
“Couch is closer,” you admitted, cheeks warm.
He grinned, that boyish, mischievous flash of teeth you loved. “Good answer.” In one smooth motion he lifted you, flipping you two so you were on your back against the cushions, him hovering above. He peeled your shirt off slowly, kissing every inch of skin he uncovered—collarbone, the valley between your breasts, the soft plane of your stomach. When he reached the waistband of your leggings he paused, looking up through dark lashes.
“Still okay?” he asked, voice gentle even as his fingers toyed with the elastic.
“Yes. God, yes.”
He tugged the leggings down your legs along with your panties, taking his time, kissing the inside of your knee, your thigh, the sensitive crease where leg met hip. By the time the fabric hit the floor you were already breathing faster, thighs pressing together instinctively.
Ilia settled between your legs, broad shoulders spreading you open. He kissed the top of your mound, then lower, but only brushed his lips over your folds—light, maddening. “So pretty,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Already wet for me. Been thinking about this all day?”
“Since you walked in,” you confessed, voice shaky.
He hummed, pleased. “Good girl. Just relax. I’ve got you.” His hands slid under your ass, tilting your hips up like you were something delicate and delicious. Then he finally gave you what you wanted—his tongue, flat and warm, licking a slow stripe from your entrance up to your clit.
You gasped, back arching.
“Mmm, there’s that sound,” he said, smiling against you. He did it again, slower, savoring. “Taste so fucking good, baby. Sweet and all mine.” The dirty words were soft, almost reverent, laced with that teasing edge he knew drove you crazy.
He took his time, exploring every inch with lazy licks and gentle sucks. When your hips started to twitch he held you still, strong hands pinning you down just enough to make you feel it. His tongue circled your clit in slow, deliberate spirals, never rushing, building the heat in your belly like a slow-burning fire.
“Ilia—fuck—” your fingers threaded into his hair, not pulling, just holding on.
He pulled back for a second, blowing cool air over your slick skin, making you shiver. “Yeah? Feel better already?” He dipped down again, this time sliding his tongue inside, fucking you with it in shallow thrusts while his nose nudged your clit. “So tight. So needy. Let me hear you.”
You moaned louder, hips rolling as much as he’d allow. He switched back to your clit, sucking it gently between his lips while two fingers teased your entrance, not pushing in yet—just rubbing, spreading your wetness.
“You’re dripping down my chin,” he groaned, the vibration shooting pleasure through you. “Love when you get like this. All stressed and pretty, then I open you up and you’re soaked for me. My perfect girl.”
The praise mixed with the filthy words had your head spinning. He finally slid one finger inside, curling it just right, then added a second, pumping them slow and deep while his mouth sealed around your clit, sucking with steady rhythm.
Your thighs started to tremble around his ears. “Close—Ilia, I’m—”
“I know,” he murmured against you, not stopping. “Come on my tongue. Let it all go. I want to feel you.”
The orgasm hit you in waves, slow and intense, drawn out by his relentless mouth and fingers. You cried out, back bowing off the couch, fingers tightening in his hair as pleasure crashed through every nerve. He kept licking you through it, gentler now, drawing out every last shiver until you were boneless and panting.
Only then did he crawl up your body, kissing your stomach, your chest, your lips so you could taste yourself on him. His eyes were dark, lips shiny, that cocky little smirk in place.
“Feeling less stressed?” he asked, voice rough.
You laughed weakly, pulling him down for another kiss. “Ask me again after round two.”
Ilia grinned against your mouth. “That’s my girl.”
this hits different when i’m enduring my communication class :0
Save the Skates, Edge the Skater
Ilia Malinin x f!reader
Summary: Let’s just say you’re hands on
Contains: Smut, mdni, sub!ilia, handjob
The late afternoon sun filtered through the kitchen windows of the quiet suburban home, casting a warm golden glow over the countertops. You stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up, scrubbing the lunch dishes with a soft hum on your lips. The house smelled like the faint remnants of garlic and herbs from the pasta you’d made earlier—simple, domestic, the kind of ordinary Saturday that felt like a luxury after Ilia’s grueling training weeks. Your hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame your face, and you wore one of his old team hoodies over leggings, the fabric swallowing your frame in that effortlessly cute way he loved.
Ilia had just come back from a light mobility session in the basement gym, his body still humming with residual energy. He padded into the kitchen barefoot, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, a white tank clinging to his chest. He watched you for a moment from the doorway—your hips swaying slightly as you rinsed a plate, the way the hoodie rode up just enough to show the curve of your lower back. A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face.
Without a word, he slipped up behind you, arms sliding around your waist as he pressed his chest to your back. His chin rested on your shoulder, breath warm against your ear. “Missed you,” he murmured, voice low and playful, nipping at your earlobe. His hands splayed across your stomach, pulling you back against him just enough for you to feel the growing interest beneath his sweatpants.
You laughed softly, leaning into him but not stopping your scrubbing. “You were gone for like forty-five minutes, you big baby.”
“Forty-five minutes too long.” He kissed the side of your neck, slow and open-mouthed, then let his hands wander higher, cupping your breasts through the thick hoodie. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, teasing them into peaks. “You look way too good doing dishes. Dangerous, even.”
You shivered, biting your lip as you set the plate aside. “Ilia… I’m almost done.”
“Mmm, but I’m just getting started.” His tone stayed light, teasing, as he rocked his hips forward once, letting you feel how hard he already was. One hand slipped under the hem of the hoodie, fingers tracing warm skin, dipping just beneath the waistband of your leggings. “Bet I could make you drop that sponge in ten seconds flat.”
You turned your head, catching his mouth in a quick, playful kiss. “You’re impossible.” But your voice had that breathy edge already. You rinsed the last fork, dried your hands on a towel, and turned in his arms to face him fully. Your hands came up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Whatever you want,” he said, grinning down at you, eyes dark with want. He backed you gently against the counter, kissing you deeper now—slow, languid strokes of his tongue that made you melt against him. His hands roamed, squeezing your ass, pulling you closer until his erection pressed insistently against your stomach.
You both stayed like that for long minutes, kissing and touching like you had all the time in the world. Ilia’s fingers eventually found their way under your leggings, teasing between your thighs, but you caught his wrist with a wicked little smile. “Not yet. You started this. Let me play.”
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Yeah? Bossy today.”
“Very.” You tugged him by the waistband of his sweatpants toward the living room couch, the one with the big soft cushions you had christened more than once. “Sit.”
Ilia dropped onto the couch, spreading his legs wide, watching with hungry eyes as you knelt between them. The playful energy still crackled in the air—he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, thumb brushing your cheek. “You’re so fucking pretty like this.”
You hooked your fingers in his sweatpants and boxers, pulling them down just enough to free his cock. It sprang up, thick and flushed, already leaking at the tip. You wrapped your hand around the base, giving one slow, firm stroke from root to head, thumb swirling over the sensitive underside. Ilia groaned, head tipping back against the cushions.
“Eyes on me,” you whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the head, tasting the salty bead there. Then you pulled back, settling into a steady rhythm—long, languid strokes, your grip perfect, twisting just a little at the top the way he liked. Your other hand cupped his balls gently, rolling them, massaging as you pumped him.
“Fuck, Y/N…” His hips twitched, but he kept them still, letting you set the pace. The pleasure built quickly, coiling tight in his core. You watched his face the whole time—his parted lips, the way his abs flexed under the tank top, the flush creeping up his neck.
Just as his breathing grew ragged and his cock throbbed harder in your fist, you slowed. Deliberately. The strokes became feather-light, barely there, dragging your fingertips along the veiny underside until he was panting.
“Y/N…” he groaned, half-laughing, half-desperate. “Don’t tease.”
“But you love it when I do.” You smiled up at him, innocent as anything, and leaned in to lick a slow stripe from base to tip, swirling your tongue around the head before pulling away again. Your hand resumed—tighter now, faster, building him right back up to that trembling edge. Precum dripped steadily over your fingers, slicking every stroke with wet, obscene sounds.
Ilia’s hands fisted the couch cushions, thighs tensing. “Baby, please… I’m so close—”
You stopped completely for a few heartbeats, squeezing the base firmly to hold him back. Then you started again—slow, torturous pumps, your mouth hovering close enough that he could feel your warm breath but not your tongue. Over and over you brought him right to the brink: stroking faster, twisting your wrist, thumb pressing into that spot under the head that made his toes curl… only to ease off, letting the orgasm recede like a tide.
Minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His cock was flushed dark red, painfully hard, twitching in your hand with every denied peak. “Y/N, you’re killing me,” Ilia rasped, voice wrecked. “I need to come so bad.”
You looked up at him through your lashes, lips shiny, eyes sparkling with mischief and heat. “Not yet. I want you desperate.” Another long, tight stroke, your free hand trailing up his inner thigh. You leaned in and sucked just the head into your mouth for a few torturous seconds—hot, wet suction—before popping off and resuming the handjob.
Ilia’s head fell back, a broken moan escaping him. His hips bucked involuntarily now, chasing your fist. You let him fuck your hand a little, matching his rhythm, building him higher than before… then slowed again, edging him mercilessly. The living room filled with the slick sounds of your hand on his cock, his heavy breathing, and the occasional whimper when you denied him again.
By the fifth or sixth edge, he was a mess—whining your name, muscles trembling, cock leaking in a steady stream down your fingers. “Please, Y/N… I’ll do anything. Just let me come.”
You finally took pity, but not completely. You stroked him faster, firmer, your grip relentless as you leaned in and whispered against his thigh, “Come for me, Ilia. Now.”
The orgasm crashed through him like a wave. He cried out, hips jerking as thick ropes of cum spilled over your hand, painting his abs and your fingers. You kept stroking him through it, milking every last drop, drawing it out until he was oversensitive and shuddering.
When he finally slumped back, chest heaving, you crawled up into his lap, kissing him softly. “Good boy,” you murmured against his lips, playful again. “Think you can help me with the rest of those dishes later?”
Ilia laughed breathlessly, arms wrapping around you, still twitching with aftershocks. “Only if we do this again after dinner.”
i sang the title. this is amazing!!! :)
walk with me here… Ilia is giving ✨pillow princess✨ vibes, so what if reader made him do all the work? whether it bring Ilia ride reader or just straight up making him do everything from start to finish?
This made a lightbulb go off in my gremlin brain 🧠 a lot of emojis included because I enjoy them
Pillow Princess - Ilia Malinin x Fem!Reader Headcanons
Usually Ilia gets his way. He’s the princess of the relationship. Constantly gets pampered, gets whatever he desires if he begs hard enough, makes you do all the work.
You’ve had enough. You wanna lay back for a change and enjoy.
So one night, you finally just… lay there. And ilia stares at you like 👁️👁️… 🧍🏼♂️
He’s the physical embodiment of “what do I do right now?” He’s so out of his element. You’re always telling him what to do, when to do it. He’s used to you being in charge but in the way of him always getting the treatment.
“What’s up?” Is all he can think to say.
“You’re gonna take care of me for a change.”
His immediate reaction is to defend. “I take care of you.”
You raise an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”
He feels bad. He wants you to feel good too. He thought that was what was happening - you took charge and got off on that power. He didn’t even stop to think that you weren’t always happy with that.
He panics a little bit, both internally and externally. What does he do? He’s never in charge. He never makes the decisions.
But he’s determined to show you that he cares about you and is thankful for how much you take care of him in return.
At first he goes for the first thing on his mind - he eats you out. That boy is pussy drunk at all times and he’s sure that this counts as taking care of you.
And it does, but as per usual, you want more. So you pull his mouth up to suck on your tits while his fingers push inside of you. You’re moving him around, but he’s got all the initiative
He would be whining and pouting if he wasn’t so determined to be the best
He would fuck you just the way you like because he knows exactly how to get you to make those faces he’s so proud of. He’s slow at first, dragging in and out as his hands grip your hips and chest. Then when you’re out of breath, he pounds into you hard, knocking the wind out of your lungs.
He doesn’t stop until you’ve finished at least three times. After the first time, you’re like “okay, you proved me wrong. Good job. I love you,” and he’s just “absolutely not. No. I’m making a point. Lay back down.” You’ll open your mouth to argue, but his tongue is already lapping at you and suddenly words don’t exist anymore 🤷🏻♀️
(He finishes too, but he’s too damn stubborn to pay any attention to it)
Keep in mind that this is the FIRST time you make him take care of you. His feelings are a lil hurt and he’s desperate to make you happy. AFTER this happens, when you make him take over, he’s a whiny brat about it. You’ll do it in the middle of sex sometimes just to switch things up and he’s all 😗 “huh?”
Pouts that he has to do everything - “I literally do everything all the time,” you’ll tease and he sighs in a way that makes his shoulders heavy. “Yeah, but I was having such a good time.” “Oh, if you’re not having a good time I can just get up and -“ “NO”
He whines about it but really he doesn’t mind. At first he’s always slightly annoyed to be taken from his lazy bliss, but then he gets to make you make those noises he likes and it’s all okay to him 😊
(This is ass guys, I’m sorry 😭)
he’s such a brat. i want to start a pillow fight with him, and said pillow fight will end with his eyes rolled up into his head
(this was requested via comment☺️ not my fav but it’s short and sweet.)
The first mistake was agreeing to stay friends.
The second mistake was actually trying.
Because if there was one thing you and Ilia had never been good at, it was pretending you didn’t feel everything too much.
It had been three months since the breakup.
Three months of awkward texts.
Three months of accidentally showing up at the same competitions because your lives revolved around the same ice rinks.
Three months of pretending neither of you noticed how hard the other was trying not to look.
And somehow it hurt more than when you’d been together.
You were sitting in the nearly empty rink after practice, unlacing your skates, when you heard familiar footsteps.
You didn’t have to look up.
You knew exactly who it was.
“You’re still here?”
Your stomach immediately tightened.
Ilia.
Of course.
You focused on your laces.
“Apparently.”
He laughed softly.
You hated that laugh.
Not because it was annoying.
Because it still did things to you.
Because after all this time your brain still associated that sound with late night drives, stolen hoodies, and being loved.
You finally looked up.
Big mistake.
His hair was damp from practice.
His cheeks were pink from the cold.
And he was looking at you the way he always did.
Like he knew every version of you.
The good ones.
The bad ones.
The ones you tried to hide.
“You skated well today,” he said.
“Thanks.”
Silence.
God.
You hated silence with him.
Silence was dangerous.
It made room for memories.
“You landed the quad loop.”
“Yeah.”
“Looked easy.”
“It wasn’t.”
A smile tugged at his mouth.
“There she is.”
You frowned.
“What?”
“The attitude.”
“I don’t have attitude.”
His grin widened.
“Sure.”
You rolled your eyes.
For a second it felt normal.
Like before.
Like nothing had changed.
Then you remembered.
Everything had changed.
The smile disappeared from both of your faces almost immediately.
The rink suddenly felt too quiet.
Too empty.
Too cold.
Ilia shifted his weight.
You looked away.
And somehow that hurt more than looking at him.
Because there was still so much there.
You could feel it.
The unfinished conversation hanging between you.
The things neither of you had said.
The things both of you regretted.
“You know,” he said quietly, “I almost texted you yesterday.”
Your heart skipped.
You hated that it did.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
You swallowed.
“What stopped you?”
He stared at the ice.
“You.”
You blinked.
“What?”
His jaw tightened.
“You said you needed space.”
The words landed harder than you expected.
Because he remembered.
Of course he remembered.
Every word from that awful night.
The night you ended things.
Not because you stopped loving him.
But because everything felt too big.
The expectations. The pressure. The distance.
The fear that one day one of you would choose skating over the relationship.
And maybe you already had.
You weren’t even sure anymore.
“You listened?” you asked softly.
A humorless laugh escaped him.
“You think I wanted to?”
Your chest tightened.
“I missed you every day.”
The confession knocked the air out of you.
Ilia looked away immediately after saying it.
Like he regretted it. Like it had slipped out.
You stared.
He never admitted things first.
Never.
Yet here he was.
Looking absolutely miserable.
“Ilia…”
“I know.”
His voice was rough.
“I know we’re not together.”
You stood slowly.
The distance between you suddenly felt enormous.
And somehow not enough.
Because being near him always felt dangerous.
Like standing too close to the edge of something.
“You don’t make this easy.”
His eyes finally met yours.
Neither do you.
Neither of you said it.
But it was there.
The truth sitting between you.
You still knew exactly how to hurt each other.
Exactly how to pull each other back in.
Exactly how to make each other stay.
The worst part?
Neither of you wanted to stop.
“I hate seeing you,” he admitted quietly.
You laughed once.
A sad little sound.
“Good. Me too.”
That made him smile.
Actually smile.
And suddenly you remembered every reason you fell in love with him.
The way he smiled when he was trying not to.
The way his eyes crinkled.
The way he looked happiest when he forgot to be careful.
Your chest ached.
“You don’t mean that.”
“No,” you admitted.
His smile faded.
Neither of you looked away.
For a moment the entire world seemed to disappear.
No competitions. No expectations. No breakup.
Just you and him.
The way it had always been.
The way it probably always would be.
Even if you tried to fight it.
“I still love you.”
The words escaped before you could stop them.
The silence afterward felt deafening.
Ilia froze.
Actually froze.
His eyes widened.
And for a second you wanted to disappear.
Then he took a step forward.
Just one.
But it felt like everything.
“I know.”
Your breath caught.
“You know?”
His laugh was soft.
“Yeah.”
Another step.
“Because I still love you too.”
The air left your lungs.
Three months.
Three months of pretending.
Three months of missing him.
Three months of trying to convince yourself you could move on.
Gone.
Just like that.
He stopped in front of you.
Close enough to touch.
Not touching. Just looking. Always looking.
Like he was waiting. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed anymore.
And somehow that broke your heart.
Because this was Ilia.
The boy who had once reached for your hand without thinking.
The boy who used to kiss your forehead before competitions.
The boy who had become careful around you.
You closed the distance first.
His relief was immediate.
Visible.
The second your arms wrapped around him, he pulled you against his chest like he’d been holding himself back for months.
Maybe he had.
You buried your face in his shoulder.
His arms tightened.
Neither of you spoke.
You didn’t need to.
Because for the first time in a long time, neither of you were pretending.
And standing there in the cold, empty rink, holding each other like something precious you’d almost lost forever, it felt like finally exhaling after being underwater for far too long.
ouch. my feelings ;)
hold on circling back to that one anon. can they share which playlist ilia has eat it by megan thee stallion on??!
It’s on the playlist rap trap. I had no idea he has this in his playlist😂🫠🫠
munch!ilia confirmed ;)
happy pride!! be gay; do crimes; love yourself :)
wait anons not wrong at all like when the screen goes black and says coming soon the audios giving more like cuming soon holy shit that’s wild
😂 I’m glad someone else can hear it - I’m trying very hard yall but my brain just won’t compute it - maybe I need to be high for this
it sounds to me like it was supposed to be anxiously talking to himself/panic attack/etc…but it definitely sounds like something else ;)
i spent an hour and a half at the ice rink near me, and i learned three-turns! :)
my kitty fought mightily to avoid being taken to the vet. she was calm in the car (thank you, kurt cobain), but she embodied wet cat syndrome during the appointment. they want to do a blood panel for three hundred dollars!!! she’s been eating weirdly, and they said her teeth look like she might have issues, but they can’t do anything without the blood panel…