Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Shane fucking Hollander - or a Cliff finds out ficlet
[this is a first draft but bc ao3 is still down, so this is my offering in these dark times]
Cliff wakes up early. He loves to party but he’s still a professional hockey player and at some point getting drunk until 2 AM and then getting up for an early morning flight has just become second nature. Hydration, Advil, and a lot of coffee are the keys to survival.
When his internal clock wakes him at eight, he’s not mad about it. They have a noon flight so that gives him time for a shower, a nice greasy breakfast with Roz, and then herding the no doubt incredibly hungover rookies back to their hotel.
He finds a bathroom with fresh towels in the hallway. He’s not a fan of putting his old clothes back on, but he can just turn his boxers inside out and he’ll borrow a fresh shirt from Roz. It’ll be a little short but he can deal.
When he walks downstairs, Roz is in the kitchen in sweatpants and a Centaurs shirt, staring blarily at the coffee maker. There’s no sign the rookies are conscious yet.
“Well, you look like death warmed over.” Cliff doesn’t bother keeping his voice down, the rookies need to get up.
He thinks he hears a faint groan from the living room.
Roz stares at him with narrowed eyes. It would be intimidating if he didn’t look so pathetic.
“Come on man, we didn’t even drink that much last night.”
Roz waves him off. “Not used to it anymore.”
Cliff wants to prod him about that, about his new life with Jane and whether it makes him happy enough to make up for playing on such a bad team, but that’s when there’s noise from the livingroom and then Svenson and Brooks stumble into the room. They look even worse than Roz.
“Bathroom,” Roz says and points down the hallway. “Then coffee.”
They nod and shuffle down the hallway. There’s some noise, the click of a door and then Brooks reappears, blinking dumbly.
“Only one toilet,” he says.
Cliff sighs and hands over a mug of coffee. “Lightweight.”
Brooks gives him a betrayed look. “You made us drink vodka with a Russian.”
Roz nods. “Is true. Rookie mistake.” He snickers at his own joke then groans and grips his head.
“Roz isn’t even in drinking shape,” Cliff says mildly and pours more coffee.
Brooks stares in horror and then burns his mouth on his coffee. Cliff can’t help but laugh.
Eventually, Svenson reappears. His face is flushed and the tips of his blond hair are wet so he attempted some sort of wash. Cliff pushes a coffe cup in his direction and Roz digs out a bottle of Advil. He takes two before he hands it over.
“Grease?” Cliff asks.
“Eggs and bacon in the fridge,” Roz says, apparently unwilling to move from where he’s leaning heavily against the kitchen counter.
Cliff gets started and eventually Roz manages to help with the eggs. He throws some herbs in it which is definitely new but it smells nice so Cliff isn’t complaining.
Brooks reappears, lookin marginally more alive but also incredibly grateful for the Advil.
“You guys need to learn how to party,” Cliff says. “Roz here was a natural when he came to Boston.”
“I am a natural at everything,” Roz mutters but his bragging is lacking his usual energy. He still looks like he’s ready to go back to sleep.
“Yeah, I’m not comparing myself in anything to Ilya Rozanov,” Svenson mutters under his breath.
It’s not quiet enough because Roz nods and says, “I am incomparable.”
Cliff laughs again. Man, he misses Roz. He blames it on his own lack of sleep that he actually says that out loud.
Instead of ribbing him, Roz just bumps his shoulder against Cliff’s.
It's what gives Cliff the courage to say, “I feel like in compensation I should at least get to meet Jane.”
Roz’s instant “no” clashes with Brooks “Jane?”
“Shut up,” Roz says to the room at large.
“Oh come on, man,” Cliff says. “I already know she’s the reason you moved here.”
Roz stares at him with wide eyes. “What?”
The two rookies stare equally wide-eyed.
“Montreal girl.” Cliff says. “Jane.”
“In case you forgot, I moved to Ottawa,” Roz says with a snort but his shoulders are tense. Cliff should probably drop this—he dropped it last night—but fuck that. They were team mates for nine years, friends even Cliff likes to think, partied their way through every club in a city with a hockey team.
Roz was the one who bailed him out of jail after the whole thing in St Louis and Cliff was the one who took a punch to the face when it turned out Roz unknowingly hit on a married woman whose husband had a very short fuse and a mean right hook in Philly.
And then Roz just left, almost no warning, packed up and left for fucking Ottawa, giving Cliff nothing more than press answers and cryptic shoulder shrugs. And Cliff never pressed on the whole Montreal girl thing because Roz was touchy about it, clearly a sore subject with the long distance and her obviously not wanting to move to Boston for him, but pretending she’s not the reason Roz left for Ottawa and Cliff’s too stupid to know it… Cliff’s a laid back guy and he rarely gets angry, not even with Roz, but fuck this.
“You still moved for her,” Cliff says. “And I don’t know why you keep lying about it.” To me Cliff doesn’t say, but then he does because fuck this. “Come on man, you can tell me. You could always tell me.”
“Ottawa,” Roz says slowly, with emphasis, like he’s speaking to a toddler, “Is not Montreal.”
And Cliff is done with this bullshit.
“Yeah, well you couldn’t go to Montreal.” Cliff holds up a finger. “They would never sign you because you’re the most hated player in Montreal.” He holds up another finger. “Hollander would never play with you. He’d never move to second line for you and you’d never play second line for him. So unless you suddenly want to play wing, no dice. Never mind that even if the fans don’t set the Bell Centre on fire for signing you and Hollander doesn’t run you through with his stick, they still don’t have the cap space to afford you. So no dice on Montreal. And if my Canadian geography isn’t completely fucked, then Ottawa is the closest you can get to Montreal.”
Roz stares at him, shoulders slumped in defeat.
“What I don’t fucking get, is why she wouldn’t move for you?”
“That’s what you don’t get?”
Cliff shrugs. “You’ve been after your Montreal girl since rookie season. No one stuck around for as long as her except for Svetlana and you were always the one who said she’s just a friend. But Jane was never a friend. And then you stopped sleeping around last year, so it was obvious it was getting serious. But man, you’re one of the best and Ottawa is shit so… Why couldn’t she come to Boston?”
Roz looks up at the ceiling and mutters something in Russian. Cliff really only learned one Russian word, blyat, because it’s Roz’s favorite curse word. He hears it now too.
Behind Roz, the rookies are staring, mouths open but not making a sound.
Finally Roz says, “Jane has job in Montreal. Career. Would be stupid to move.”
“And it wasn’t for you?” Cliff asks incredulously.
Roz shrugs. “I can rebuild the team. Did it before in Boston, no? And… family is here, in Ottawa. So Jane is here a lot. It makes sense.”
It’s an odd mix of mushy and cocky, which is really Roz’s whole thing if you get to know him, just that he usually hides the mushiness more under layers of insults. Still, Cliff has questions.
“Okay, but what I don’t get is why you didn’t tell anyone? Like the fans might have not felt so betrayed you know?”
Cliff might not have felt so betrayed.
Roz shrugs again. “Jane is very private. I did not want the press to go snooping.”
That makes Brooks break. He lets out an incredulous noise.
Roz turns around like he forgot the rookies were there.
“Just,” Brooks stars helpelssly, falling silent under Roz’s hard look.
Svenson, now apparently remembering that he’s a six foot four MLH defenseman who regularly gets into fights on the ice, says, “What girl wouldn’t want to be seen with you?”
Roz snorts. “Jane is much too good for me. Trust me, I would not be good for reputation.”
The rookies both stare uncomprehending. Cliff gets it; Roz is their idol. They both had his poster on their walls just a few years ago. When Brooks got drunk with the team for the first time, he confided in Hammersmith that getting drafted to Boston was a dream come true because of Roz and that he’d honest to god cried when Roz went to Ottawa before Brooks ever got to meet him. It’s the main reason Cliff brought them with him last night, instead of catching up with Roz alone. The rookies’ sad puppy eyes had been too much for even Cliff to refuse.
“Still,” Cliff says, because he can be a dog with a bone when he has to, “now that I know, I could meet her? Just grab lunch or dinner or something? I really want to meet the girl who got you to move to fucking Ottawa.”
Roz blows out breath. “Sure. Some day.” There’s something heavy in Roz’s expression.
Some day. It doesn’t sound like any day soon. And it’s glaringly obvious that it’s not Roz’s choice.
Cliff stares into his coffee and wonders about this girl—or woman now, considering how long they’ve been a thing—who made Roz settle down and move to the worst team in the league. Who works in a field where she doesn’t openly want to date a hockey player. Who comes to visit Roz sometimes but doesn’t want to live with him full time.
Cliff is starting to hate Jane from Montreal a little.
The kitchen is quiet now, everyone staring into their coffee cups, the rookies still in shock and Roz just tired.
In the silence, the noise of the front door opening is very loud.
Roz’s head snaps up immediately.
There’s some shuffling, maybe a bag dropped, then a voice calls out. “Ilya?”
The voice is male. And vaguely familiar.
What the fuck?
Roz has gone as white as a sheet and hurries out of the kitchen. “Hey. I have—”
“Oh good, you’re up, I thought maybe you got so shitfaced with Marleau yesterday you’re still unconscious,” the voice says. There’s more shuffling, maybe a coat hung up or shoes toed off.
“We did and Marleau is still—” Roz starts, standing in the hallway, but then Shane Hollander steps into view, steps up right to Roz, takes his face into his hands and pulls him in for a kiss. Right on the mouth. And it’s not just a little peck either, it’s a full on lip smash, tongue swipe, going in for seconds kiss on the mouth.
What the…
One of the rookies squeaks and Cliff stares and Roz is frozen and Hollander—Shane fucking Hollander— pulls back.
Hollander makes a face. “You taste like an ashtray rinsed with vodka.”
Roz makes a helpless croaky noise. “I—”
Hollander rolls his eyes, plants another kiss on Roz’s mouth and then says, “Go brush your teeth. I missed you.”
“I didn’t know you were coming early,” Roz says, desperately, pleading.
Hollander grins. “Surprise.” Then his face falls, apparently finally registering Roz’s expression. “Not a good surprise?”
Roz shakes his head.
There’s a clinking noise and every head in the room turns to the kitchen island where Brooks just turned over his coffee cup.
“Sorry,” he says, a small puddle of coffee spreading over the counter.
Hollander stares, wide eyed. “Fuck.”
“Yeah, so Marleau and the rookies got so drunk last night, they couldn’t remember their hotel or room numbers so I took them home,” Roz says, somewhat weakly.
“And you couldn’t tell me this?” Hollander hisses.
Roz shrugs. “Was also very drunk. And didn’t think you were coming until later.”
“The interview was canceled,” Hollander says, almost absently, his eyes flitting back and forth between Cliff and the rookies. “Oh god. Fuck.”
And Cliff… he shakes his head, thoughts finally kicking into gear again. Because suddenly Roz’s secrecy about his Montreal girl makes a lot more sense.
And it’s… a lot. Fucked up probably. What about their whole rivalry? How long has this been going on?
But no, Cliff knows this. Montreal girl has been around since rookie season. He just has a hard time translating this to Shane Hollander—Shane fucking Hollander—having been around scince rookie season in his head.
Shane Hollander. Montreal girl.
Shane. Jane.
Jesus Christ.
Cliff lets out an almost hysterical laugh.
Roz rounds on him immediately, gets a fist into his shirt. “Marleau, I swear, if you—”
Still laughing, Cliff raises his hands. “Roz, no. I just… fuck, you were right.”
“Right?”
“Your Montreal girl really is too good for you.”
And then Cliff laughs again. Because Roz is in love with Shane Hollander. Has been in love with Shane Hollander for years, maybe his entire career, and no one fucking knew. How the fuck did no one know? Because it’s fucking insane, that’s what it is, but here Cliff is, hungover in Roz’s kitchen where Shane Hollander—Shane fucking Hollander—just kissed Roz square on them mouth. With tongue.
Roz stares, then he laughs too. “He really fucking is. I’m still best hockey player though,” he adds and Cliff slaps him on the shoulder.
“My brother in Christ, Hollander always had you beat,” Cliff says, and it's at least halfway true, and it’s Roz’s turn to punch him and none too gently.
“What the fuck,” Hollander says faintly behind them and Cliff really should have recognized his voice immediately.
Roz turns around, and his whole posture changes. He walks over to Holland slowly. “Shane. Is okay. Cliff is okay.”
Hollander nods, then stares at the rookies. Cliff doesn’t think he’s ever seen Hollander afraid, but it’s clear he’s now. And Cliff gets it. This is… a lot. And this is not Scott Hunter kissing his cute smoothie shop boyfriend after his cup win. This is the biggest rivals of the league being in a relationship. It’s kind of incomprehensible. Except they’re both risking their entire careers for this, have been risking their entire careers for this, and even if Cliff doesn’t get it, it’s got to be the real thing and Roz is still his friend, so Cliff will help him protect this. Even if it means threatening the rookies.
Roz just looks at the rookies for a second, his eyes suddenly burning with a promise that usually means someone is about to lose a tooth on the ice, then he turns back to Hollander. “The rookies will not say anything,” he says, voice calm and soothing. “They know I will kill them if they do.”
Brooks makes a noise again and Svenson goes very pale.
“We won’t tell,” Svenson says.
“Yeah.” Brooks clears his throat. “My cousin is a lesbian, so like, I’m down with the rainbow.” Then he cringes immediately.
“Svenson, are you also down with the rainbow?” Roz asks sardonically.
“I’m Swedish,” Svenson just says as if that explains everything. And maye it does.
“Cliff?” Roz prompts.
Cliff raises his hands. “Hey, man, I’m an ally. I went with Hunter to his bar the last time we played the Admirals.”
“And… us?” Hollander says, still standing very still and tense.
Cliff shrugs, decides to be honest. “I mean, it’s weird. I don’t understand how that worked for you guys. But like, I’ve watched Roz moon at his phone over his Montreal girl for years.”
“I did not moon,” Roz says, outraged.
“So whatever you guys have seems to be the real deal,” Cliff continues. “And I’m a romantic at heart.”
Roz snorts. “Stacey really domesticated you.”
“Pot.” Cliff points at Roz. “Kettle.”
And Roz, Ilya fucking Rozanov, smile as happily as Cliff has ever seen.
Heated Rivalry AU where the relationship reveal happens because David Hollander's phone gets hacked and approximately 5,000 pictures and videos of Shane and Ilya being cute (both together and individually) get dumped onto the internet.
No accusations can be made about them throwing games for each other, because there are several videos of them being super competitive about absolutely nothing. For example, one of the dumped files is a video of the two playing Monopoly (filmed discretely from a hallway). They look about ready to murder each other. And then, off-screen, Yuna's voice - in a Mom Voice TM, of course - calls, "Boys, you better not be doing what I think you are!"
Ilya says, "Nyet, Mama," at the same time Shane says "No, Mom!" And in perfect sync they hide evidence of the game, not a single movement between them wasted.
There's also a video of them trash talking each other for being slow as they race to put away the most clean dishes from the dishwasher.
It's a whole genre. Play-fighting as they bring out a measuring tape to literally measure who shoveled the most snow from the driveway, bringing up hockey stats as they argue over who deserves to hold the tv remote, etc.
And, of course, Ilya isn't upset at David for the whole incident. Ilya is crying, though, because it's clear from looking through the photos how much David absolutely loves Ilya. It's so apparent through the captured moments how much David adores his second son.
In my defense for being late with this, the HEATED RIVALRY fandom has been putting out not just bangers, but longfic bangers that update regularly, where multiple fantastic authors are still in their feverdream state and I am but a simple reader who is trying desperately to keep up. It's so far beyond being a problem that it's wrapped back around into being the best thing pretty much ever! I still can't believe this fandom that had like 2k fics when I joined will soon have 20,000 fics, what a time to be in a fandom!
This set has a whole bunch of fics that changed my brain chemistry, like that incredible Irina fic or that fic that humanized Alexei for me and now I can't go back or the Bears sort-of-not-really kidnapping Shane because the Voyageurs suck or some absolutely incredible explorations of Ilya's self-harm tendencies or the funniest Kip portrayal I've ever read or Shane being a competitive freak vs being a horny freak for his husband: FIGHT, all of it is absolutely wrecking my id. Nobody save me, I'm exactly where I want to be.
HEATED RIVALRY - NO I WON’T BE CHILL ABOUT THE GAY HOCKEY PLAYERS SHOW:
Sinking While Swimming by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle, ilya/shane & hayden & alexei & svetlana & cast, 28.2k
“Maybe you don't have to-” “Uh-uh. No backtracking now.” Hayden pointed a finger at him. “If you tell Shane, fantastic. Would love that, quite frankly, but until you do, I want those goddamn pictures, Rozanov. Am I clear?” Ilya wanted to make some quip about Pike trying to get a different kind of picture out of him, but given the circumstances... He just nodded. “Good. My kids tragically love the fuck out of you, so figure this out.” Ilya nodded again. “Alright then.”
Mama's Boy, Mama's Boy by WhimperSoldier, ilya/shane & irina & cast, NSFW, 68.3k
Shane's first mistake was going to talk to Ilya Rozanov before their game. His second was immediately, stupidly, meeting the eyes of Rozanov’s very much dead mother hovering at his side.
(We Could Be) Something Great by Anonymous, ilya/shane & bears, nsfw, 77k wip
When Ilya Rozanov goes down on the ice, the Boston Bears are already moving to defend their captain. No one expects Shane Hollander, captain of the Montreal Voyageurs, to be the one who throws the first punch. Or: the Boston Bears figure out Ilya and Shane’s relationship first—and decide that instead of letting their captain move to fucking Ottawa, they’ll just kidnap a his boyfriend instead. Shane Hollander would make a better Bear anyway.
tongues a-wagging by Anonymous, ilya/shane & oc & cast, 29k
Barstool Sports Canada reports that Montreal Metros captain Shane Hollander has started learning Russian from new teammate and Russian rookie Sergei Dovonchezky. Ilya has some thoughts. None of them are particularly kind.
Live Through This (And You Won't Look Back) by Snaptic, ilya/shane & scott/kip & hayden & cliff & j.j. & cast, 49.9k
Shane rolls onto his side and stares at the faint outline of the window. The darkness presses in, but it doesn’t feel as suffocating as usual. Before he can talk himself out of it, he reaches for his phone. The screen lights up the room, too bright. His thumb hovers for a second, then he opens the thread. Shane: I think we should tell Scott.
let me give you innovation (got that good good) by splatticus, ilya/shane & centaurs, NSFW, 9.6k wip
Ilya can't keep out of the box, so he's not allowed to put it in anymore.
A Sacred Ottawa-Pike Peace Treaty by Mooeyeddie (mooeyeddie), ilya/shane & hayden, 9k
Forced into ridiculous ‘bonding’ playdates by their spouses, Ilya and Hayden are adamant about doing it their own way
Grady v. Rozanov by Pickle_Chips, ilya/shane & scott/kip, nsfw, 19.9k
Kip can't believe no one else can tell how outrageously gay Ilya Rozanov is, but he's not complaining, he's happy to have someone else to talk to at all the hockey functions. Or: Perfect gaydar haver Ilya Rozanov finally gets a taste of his own medicine. A series of looks into Kip and Ilya's friendship, starting after the cottage.
A Dozen Forget-Me-Nots by technicallyverycowboy, ilya/shane & hayden/jackie & hayden/shane, 6.2k
Hayden coughs up the first petals the night Shane's trade to Ottawa is announced. Hayden doesn't have hanahaki and if he does, it's purely platonic and if it's not, nobody ever has to know. Especially not Shane.
Pull it Off by smugrobotics, shane(/ilya) & oc, 1.2k
Shane hires a stylist.
shane hollander boy kisser confirmed! by chuyasexual, ilya/shane & hayden/shane & hayden/jackie & centaurs, 16.1k
In 2021, Shane Hollander reveals his relationship with former rival Ilya Rozanov to the shock of chronically online people worldwide, who’ve spent the last decade convincing the world he’s secretly in love with his teammate Hayden Pike
you're gonna go far, we'll all be here by writinginasnowglobe, ilya/shane & luca & centaurs & ocs, 3k
Ilya: everyone welcome luca haas new rookie 🫨 Ilya: i gave him all your numbers do not introduce yourself Ilya: i do not need phone buzzing i am busy
One for the Road by PastyPirate, ilya/shane & centaurs, NSFW, 28.4k
“You can’t go two weeks without fucking me anyways,” Shane heard himself saying, and instantly felt like he’d chosen the wrong dialogue option. He should’ve said something like I’d like to see all the ways you can figure it out or maybe not sharing a room has never stopped us before. Ilya let out a laugh, “Please, you beg for me all the time.” “I’m not the one who can’t go more than a day without jerking off —” shut up Hollander, SHUT UP “I can totally go two weeks without fucking.”
The chips are set to fall by icopythefax, ilya/shane & scott & cast, 17.8k wip
At the 2017 All Star Weekend, Ilya takes fate into his own hands to produce at least one out MLH player by the end of the season. Thus begins his part-time side hustle as community organizer, mastermind, and Commander-in-Chief of the Gay Hockey Army.
The Condom Cartel by CognitiveMiser, ilya/shane & ocs, 5k
Team Canada is undefeated, the Olympic Village is buzzing, and Shane Hollander just wants to focus on hockey. Unfortunately, his husband has discovered capitalism. When the Olympic Committee announces a condom shortage across the Village, Shane assumes it’s just another chaotic headline in an already surreal tournament. What he does not expect is to discover that Ilya Rozanov has been quietly selling their unused “complimentary health supplies” to stressed-out rookies and possibly half the international athletes...for five euros each.
Scotty Didn’t Know (but he sure does now) by halfbaked_ziti, ilya(/shane) & scott, 1.8k
“You have problem, you bring it to me,” Rozanov growled. “Not him. Me. I am not so easy of a target, not like boring Canadians. And you keep that shit off the ice. Chirping, yes, fine. Not that. Never that. You are older than the game of hockey, should understand difference by now.” Canadians? “Wait,” Scott said slowly. “Is this about what I said to Hollander the other day?”
bad bluetooth by goldengalaxies, ilya/shane & hayden & j.j., 1.8k
“You have a message from: Lily.” The automated voice read out. Shane almost swerved into the other lane trying to press the mute button on the dashboard.
Our Cup Runneth Over by Ottawacentaursstan, ilya/shane & centaurs, 6.9k
The rise and fall of a Cool Party Guy (aka the Centaurs win the Stanley Cup and Shane gets uncharacteristically drunk to celebrate)
Wrap It Up by alchemystique, ilya/shane & scott & wyatt & cast, 3.1k
The Olympic Village runs out of condoms on day three. Luckily for Olympians, Shane Hollander took note of exactly how often this has happened previously.
I can see it, your face is glowin' by joldiego, shane(/ilya) & hayden(/jackie), 4k
Shane is stooped over to strap on his shin guards when his phone buzzes once in Hayden’s hand. He doesn’t mean to tap the notification. And oh god, does he wish he could un-tap the fucking notification. Because why the fuck has Lily, Shane’s mysterious Boston hook-up of several years (no matter how fervently he denies it), sent him a picture of a fucking sonogram. Black and white, blurry, and undeniably baby-shaped.
MORE RECS UNDER THE CUT because I have some fucking manners. Sometimes.
No Angry Kitten by AkirasStories, ilya/shane, 2.1k
ilya sends shane yet another picture of an angry kitten. (a texting & social media fic)
oh my god you should see your faces by writinginasnowglobe, ilya/shane & hayden & scott & centaurs, 13.2k wip
A few months after the FanMail incident, Yuna Hollander decides to do what she does best. With the added benefit of having another son to lovingly manage, of course. The internet, unsurprisingly, loses its shit. Or, Shane and Ilya go on the press run to end all press runs, courtesy of Yuna Hollander.
Gotta catch 'em all. by mnamosyna, ilya(/shane) & cliff & oc, 1.8k
CLIFF: I think my rookie may be one of yours. ILYA: Russian? CLIFF: No, dumbass. Gay. Marlow accidently helps Ilya add to his collection of hockey queers.
Statement for Immediate Release by katie_606, ilya/shane & hayden & farah & yuna & harris, ~1k
Shane feels it necessary to release a subsequent statement following too many people questioning his on ice integrity against Ilya. But he does it on Instagram where the comments go a little wild, thanks mostly to Ilya.
shane hollander's guide to bottom prep by bisexualbuckley, ilya/shane, NSFW, 13k
Ilya shrugs and runs his hand from Shane’s waist down to his ass and back up. “But you are so good at it. What is English saying? Having it with science?” “Having it down to a science.”
I saw your face and you blew my mind by juniperjensen, ilya/shane, 1.8k
It's that one Reddit post where the guy wakes up from surgery and doesn't remember his wife. But make it Hollanov. That's it.
The Heat by dntat, ilya/shane, NSFW, omegaverse, 6.2k
The flight home seemed to take forever. So did the drive, even as he broke every speed limit. His hand was shaking when he tried to get the key in the door. Once, twice, he missed. Then it was flung open. Shane was standing there. He was dressed only in the smallest pair of briefs, the black fabric stretched over the curve of his muscular thighs and ass. A fine sheen of sweat covered his skin and his chest was heaving with shallow, panting breaths. His eyes were hazy and dark. He smelled like sweat and sweetness and Shane. Like everything Ilya had ever wanted since he was just a boy of seventeen. Or: Shane's suppressants are failing.
English Lessons with Ilya by taliiaa, ilya/shane & luca, 1.1k
Luca: if we are holding our horses that means we want to go outside? Luca: take a break and go see animals? Ilya: yes Ilya: exactly
Lily & Jane Take Over Twitter by winter1477, ilya/shane & centaurs, nsfw, 4.6k
The hockey twitter world explodes when a new Shane fan account under the name "Lily" pops up. And all she tweets about is how bad she wants to fuck Shane Hollander.
MINE MINE MINE by Anonymous, ilya/shane & david/yuna, 3.6k
“So,” Yuna says, as she polishes off her third glass of cabernet. “When are you boys going to get started on kids?” Shane chokes on his tiramisu. - Or: Maybe Shane doesn’t want kids.
20 Questions & Mutual Destruction in Elevator 2T by fringe_problems, ilya(/shane) & scott(/kip), 3.6k
Ilya takes out his phone and swipes to Jane and types quickly, eyes on Hunter: I am trapped in elevator. With Scott Hunter. I am coming soon as I can. Shane responds immediately: Please don’t kill Scott Hunter
Shane Hollander, Man Who Would Eat Hockey If He Could by elumish, ilya/shane & scott & centaurs, 2k
[Scott Hunter]: thanks [Shane]: I meant it. [Scott Hunter]: I know [Shane]: Please don’t have sex in the locker room. [Scott Hunter]: lol (or: four moments throughout the years, as seen through the eyes of the camera)
Vibrate by NotEvenCloseToStraight, ilya/shane, NSFW, 6.6k
One day, Shane will learn not to take the “you are scared.” bait from Ilya. Today is not that day.
Snowed In by Evilharlowe, ilya/shane, 4.5k
Shane and Ilya sneak away to a cottage for a rare weekend together. Then the snow starts falling, and it doesn't stop.
Scott Hunter Night by that1friendguy, ilya(/shane) & scott(/kip), 1.9k
Ilya Rozanov was perhaps the last person Scott expected to show up at his impromptu Hunter Night. After post season awards. In a gay bar. Which could mean nothing.
Did he just…? by anarchyat4am, ilya(/shane) & scott(/kip), 1.2k
Rozanov flinches when a loud laugh breaks the white noise from the party inside, and Scott realises that Rozanov’s been doing the same thing he has all these years: cataloguing who is or isn’t safe, watching, noticing, waiting.
meat ugly by thathastu, ilya/shane, 1.7k
When Ilya agreed to let Shane adopt a cat to join their family, he did not expect Shane to fall in love with a hairless cat named Pork, the fattest, meanest, and ugliest creature that the shelter had to offer. And he certainly didn't expect for Pork to be his sworn nemesis.
Peeled Rotisserie Chicken by Nimming, ilya/shane, nsfw, 1.4k
Moving back to the cottage meant relaxing and spending every second with his husband. Instead, he's having to fight for attention. Insert a two step plan for Ilya to steal back his husband's affection.
finsta by Marmeladeskies, ilya/shane & centaurs, nsfw, 1.7k
LaPointe tries to catch him, but Holmberg leaps from his chair, holding his phone high and reading the post out loud so everyone can hear. “-following her from his main professional account. The transgender creator specializes in-” All heads whip around. Shane quickly grabs the laptop because Ilya is already on his feet, reaching for LaPointe who, Shane thinks, is seconds away from punching Holmberg to stop him from reading more.
Hacked by Masterless, ilya/shane & david/yuna, 2.1k
Heated Rivalry AU where the relationship reveal happens because David Hollander's phone gets hacked and approximately 5,000 pictures and videos of Shane and Ilya being cute (both together and individually) get dumped onto the internet.
10,000 Condoms for Russia's Greatest Love Machine by Lexi_Leckstar, ilya/shane & oc, nsfw, 2.2k
Or: At the 2026 Winter Olympics, Ilya doesn't get paired to room with Shane because of the Coach's stupid 'no-sex rule'
like the back of my hand by xianvar, ilya/shane & hayden, 1.3k
Hayden is the person who knows Shane best. Even if he sometimes feels like he doesn’t know him at all. Surely, that fear won’t be proven right after Shane’s concussion… right?
the tape measure incident by 17darwinism, ilya/shane & centaurs, 1.3k
Harris does the tape measure TikTok trend on the Centaurs, and he learns more than he ever wanted to know. But at least the internet seems to love it.
Let’s stay professional by jumpsuit_en (jumpsuit), ilya/shane & centaurs, 2.8k
Calling your own spouse a coward in public takes nerve. Goading a three-time Stanley Cup champion takes another kind. Ilya Rozanov is the only player capable of unlocking both achievements in one breath. Or: Shane’s first day on the Ottawa Centaurs, and Ilya supporting him in his unique way.
Washed Up, Irrelevant by lavery, ilya/shane & centaurs, 1.3k
“The third player.” Shane clarified, “In the big three of active players? I mean it’s me and Ilya, right?” Amelia nodded mutely whilst Luca Haas, who had been asked the question, stared at Shane with wide eyes. “So, who’s the third?” Shane’s face took on a contemplative look. “Scott Hunter?” Amelia said with confusion. “Hunter?” Shane looked surprised. “Why?” Across the room Roz let out a bark of laughter.
the pda police by goldengalaxies, ilya/shane & centaurs, 1.6k
Roz We are good looking and married and in love, is normal to be sexually active Hazy I’m sorry but no. There’s sexually active and there’s YOU TWO Shane @Hazy I’m confused. We only have sex everyday? Shane That’s not that much, is it? Dykstra I can’t tell if you’re joking or not???? Shane How often is normal? Roz Shut up Roz Everyone is banned from speaking Roz No more talking
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I don't like the idea that Anakin and Mace disliked each other, I actually think it's very important that when Obi-Wan wasn't there Anakin went to Windu first in ROTS. And that Windu took him seriously, and went to arrest Palpatine. I think it's telling that Windu seems to immediately realize how Palpatine has manipulated Anakin, and how he tells Anakin not to listen to him. When Anakin helps kill Windu, Anakin considers that his point of no return. There's a relationship there that was not at all built on contempt or malice, but Windu seems to worry more for Anakin than he ever did fear him.
They had talked about telling close friends. Shane was thinking about telling Hayden, and Ilya had tossed out Cliff’s name to have someone to consider, but he hadn’t actually been planning to tell anyone. It felt like too much to admit and, as much as he tried to hide it, Ilya was scared of the reaction. He only had the rest of this year left in Boston, why could he not just finish strong with the same lies he’d started with?
Marlow was in Ilya’s hotel room after an away game. They had practice the next morning before their flight, so most of the older players had headed to the hotel instead of out on the town. Ilya had the tv turned to a movie channel, paying only vague attention to the Star Wars movie that flickered by as he waited for Shane’s text that he was back at home from his game that evening. At the commercial break, Ilya turned the tv to mute and let his head loll back against the head board, analyzing the aches left over from the game.
Marlow’s voice was low like a confession in the quiet room but it still surprised Ilya, “What if I’m not cut out for a real relationship?”
Ilya’s head turned to see Marlow’s expression, ready to laugh, but he found a look of true concern on his friend’s face and recalibrated. “What do you mean, Marley? Have you tried?”
Marlow sighed, sounding more defeated than Ilya had ever heard. “I mean— yeah? I think so? But I don’t even know, man. This is the third girl I’ve tried to get serious with in the last six months. And it’s only been a couple weeks but I can feel it slipping away again. I just don’t know how to fix it. We’re always on the road and I guess I’m a shit texter but even if I wasn’t— who wants to deal with a schedule this fucked?? But I’m 30 and I keep going to clubs like my dream girl will stumble drunk into my arms and surprise me with a happy ever after. I just don’t think it works that way.”
Ilya wasn’t sure what to say, or even if he was meant to say anything at all. Clearly this had been eating at Cliff for a while, and Ilya wasn’t even sure this was something he was qualified to discuss.
“Being 30 is not the end of the world, Marley. Your dick has not fallen off, and your face has not gotten any stupider.” Marlow huffed a little, but he had a smile on his lips. “There are lots of nice girls who would love to date a hockey player. Even St. Vic has had a girlfriend for several years! Clearly there is someone for everyone.” This actually drew a laugh, but Ilya was not done. “But maybe you should ask one of the guys who is married about how they got there? I’m not sure I’m the person to ask in this department.”
“I just thought…” Cliff started, but then paused, seeming to parse through a decision. “Well, you have been seeing that Montreal girl for all these years—“ Ilya tensed and started to defend himself, but Cliff waved him off. “I know, I know. But it seems serious with you two now, right? You aren’t taking girls home any more, and you’re always smiling when you check your phone. And I know I’m not supposed to know about her, but I just thought that if you had finally made it out of the hook up stage you might have some tips for me. I always figured you met her at a club or something, but you were always different about her than other girls.”
And suddenly, Ilya is torn. He had gotten permission from Shane to tell Marlow about them. Marlow clearly thinks that Ilya is in a committed, if secret and long distance, relationship and wants to know how he’s made it work. He tries to come up with a lie. A convincing one, not just a cheeky deflection, because his friend is being vulnerable and he doesn’t want to reject that show of trust. But then he lets himself imagine for a moment telling the truth. The relief of lying to one less person.
Before he has even really decided the words are out of his mouth, quiet but sure. “He is different from the girls I met in clubs.”
Ilya stops then, letting the words hang in the air as he can almost hear the gears turning in Cliff’s brain. He will start small, though it feels ridiculous to call coming out to an NHL player small. But Cliff had just explained how he saw Ilya’s joy about Shane. They were friends. Best friends, maybe. Could he really not accept that Ilya was happy with a man?
“How did you meet him?”
So it was that simple. There was a timid lilt to his tone that Ilya could recognize as unsteadiness. But he had acknowledged and continued. So here was the harder part.
“We met through the league.”
Cliff’s eyebrows scrunched as though trying to do complex arithmetic. When he didn’t add anything, Ilya pushed further.
“Did you ever notice that my Montreal girl was always in town when we played against Montreal?”
This was an admission, spoken with the hushed fear of a man on his deathbed. This was how the pieces clicked into place. All the smiles at his phone and the staring from the bench and the excuses to leave the hotel whenever they were in Montreal.
Cliff huffed in disbelief, “You’re in love with a staff member for the Voyageurs? Is he a trainer or something? A coach?”
Oh. Ilya hadn’t even considered a different conclusion, but it was true, there were actually lots of people who traveled with the team every game. Coaching staff, medical staff, media managers… and players.
“Something like that… He gets the schedule thing. Though I will admit, the only thing worse than one NHL schedule is two. I would not recommend this if you’re as bad at texting as you say. But when you find the right person, you figure out eventually that you have to make it work because not having them is worse than any compromise.”
Ilya can see that Cliff is looking at him now, really looking, as though seeing him for the first time.
“Do you think maybe he could come work for Boston instead? Cutting the scheduling down to half would at least help, and if he travels with the team in Montreal, he should be able to do so here too.”
Ilya smiled wryly, relaxing at Cliff’s obvious support. “I don’t know that he’d like Boston. Besides, there’s no way the pay cap would let us both pl—“
Cliff stiffened beside him and Ilya froze. He had not really planned on explaining further, but he had been so ready to joke about it that it had just slipped out. He wasn’t going to deny it though, so he just sat and waited.
Quietly, as though trying not to spook a bear, Cliff breathed “I thought you had a huge crush on Rose Landry. I was just sure that you two had secretly dated or something. I wouldn’t have ever thought…” he paused for a moment of consideration before continuing, “wait, was he fucking cheating on you???” There was a sudden measure of outrage in his voice as he spun to face Ilya.
The tension fell from Ilya’s shoulders for a final time and he started to laugh. It built and built until he was doubled over, laughing so hard he could hardly breathe. He only stopped when he saw Cliff’s face slide into hurt.
“Are you punking me, Rozy? I thought you were being serious about being with Hollander!” Marlow was upset for seemingly the first time in this crazy conversation and Ilya couldn’t allow that.
“No, no. I am not punking you. And he did not cheat on me. I was going to ask him out and he freaked out, ran off, and then started dating Rose Landry. I was furious and hurt, but it was not cheating. Not like that at least.” The hurt had slid back off his face, but Marley still seemed confused. “I just appreciate you being willing to defend my honor, though I think you did enough when you laid him out last year.”
He went chalk white, “Oh fuck, Roz. I could have killed your boyfriend! I wouldn’t have ever known!!! Holy fuck you would have killed me in my sleep!! I’m so fucking sorry holy shit please forgive me it was supposed to be a clean hit, we were just playing like normal!!”
Ilya laid a hand on his arm, “It’s okay, Marley. Shane’s okay, you didn’t do anything wrong. It was shit luck. It happens. It’s not like I don’t check him during games too, and he seems to like me just fine.”
Cliff seemed to relax a little, though he still looked stricken with guilt. Ilya was distracted as his phone buzzed with a text.
Jane <3 : Home! Shower then snack then bed. Can you call in like twenty?
He smiled as he read it. When he looks up, Cliff has a peculiar look on his face. “I’m glad you’re happy, Roz.” Sincerity. Ilya doesn’t see that from Cliff often, but that’s clearly what it is.
Ilya’s smile stays on his face. “Thank you, Cliff.” He pauses for a moment, deciding there’s been enough seriousness for the night. “Now get out of my room I have hot NHL super star to talk to about very sexy hot NHL super star things you wouldn’t know about.”
Marlow chuckles as Ilya starts to shove him off the bed. As he grabs his phone and his shoes he tosses back, “Should have known it wasn’t a trainer. You always shoot for as hot as they come, and no one is as hot as Hollander.”
“No!! I am! I am hottest NHL star! He is second hottest, so I must aim below my level because no one is above me. Do not forget!! And do not tell anyone. This is secret only for friends and you will keep it so that one day I can set you up with third hottest NHL star!” Ilya gestures wildly at Cliff as he follows him.
“Isn’t Scott Hunter already taken?” Cliff asks, grinning as he opens the door.
Ilya makes a sound of disgust, ready to fling another comment, but Cliff is already slipping down the hallway, leaving him alone with a smile on his face and a weight off his shoulders.
Guys Ilya gets so good at knowing Shane’s needs. Like he just finds his way to make Shane comfortable, it becomes his most important job- to make the world more Shane shaped. His Shane, who’s pretty strong shoulders hunch and bundle and band with tension when it’s loudloudloud when it’s too much.
His Shane who can’t do too many noises his shane who finds some textures wrong, sensations sharp, lights overwhelming. His Shane who likes- needs things soft, his Shane who pushes, works, flourishes under fluorescent lights and on a ice cold rink and in skates that pinch, heavy layers of gear, gets pushed and slammed and then asked and photographed and posed. His Shane who needs things soft but lives in hard for so much of his time, for so long because of his passion for hockey, because he wants to fit in, because he wants to be good. Because the world isn’t made to be soft for him and he seems to accept it. His Shane who exhausts himself existing a lot of the time because it’s out of his comfort.
Ilya, however doesn’t think of one thing he wouldn’t try and change with his own to hands to make Shane feel safe, good. To make Shane realise he doesn’t always have to be good, that the world could owe him and accommodate go him to make it better. Ilya would bend anything to his will to make even one thing easier for Shane. And it’s small things at the start, he replaces his sheets in Boston with the ones Shane had at the cottage, at his apartment in Montreal (because he had been listening to Shane explain the high thread count and the softness of them even when he’d been pretending to shrivel up and die on the soft while Shane did laundry, he had been listening because he loves the boring Shane Hollander who cares deeply about the sheets he sleeps on).
Then it’s other easy things, tossing shirts and hoodies of his that seem to personally offend Shane. (He figures out quickly that it’s the synthetic and silk fibres that Shane hates most) and really it’s no chore because he loves the way Shane curls up into him like a content cat nuzzling his face into Ilyas shirt when it’s a fabric he likes (or even better, the best when Shane comes downstairs dressed in ilyas hoodie, sweat pants, his smile still a little shy all these years in like he’s getting away with something, like Ilya wouldn’t offer his heart from his own chest for Shane). Easy still to keep buying the body wash that Shane had loved, almost scentless but a clean soapy faint spicy smell, to get dimmers on all the light fixtures in his house in Boston (then in Ottawa). Easy to keep the volume a couple clicks lower on the action scenes in the movies he’s watching, to keep the bedroom cool and to play the games on his phone on mute.
It becomes natural to give Shane squeezes firm and strong on the back of his neck when he starts to get a bit too worked up, hands a little frantic (planning, talking, fighting, fucking). Its second nature to lay on top of Shane when he’s fidgeting while they try to relax (Shane is so bad at relaxing) to press his head to his chest and let his full body weight help sink Shane into the touch. He doesn’t even notice anymore letting Shane play with his fingers, his jumpers, his curls, fingers working soothing circles. (He really loves indulging Shane’s oral fixation, he’d feel greedy if he didn’t know how badly Shane needed it too, how he goes all glossy eyes and pliant and happy, sweet and calm and in his skin so comfortably with his mouth full of fingers or cock or Ilyas tongue. But also sometimes it’s Shane falling asleep after sex with ilyas thumb in his mouth, sucking it for comfort. Ilyas knows Shane won’t let himself have that unless it’s after sex, then he can hide it under being fucked out rather than desire. They don’t talk about it, but Ilya adores when Shane pulls his hand to his mouth just for that. He feels so needed, so good to help soothe shane)
There are bigger things that are harder to change, press conferences, lights of cameras, chaos of photoshoots, award nights where for so long Ilya just has to watch from a distance as his Shane winds up tighter and tighter and tighter because it’s all wrong (wrong sounds sights smells, too much too much) for Shane and Ilya has to wait and wait until they are finally alone and he can undo it for him, bring him back to himself safe and warm and comfortable, Ilyas. When he can be by his husbands side he does what he can to bend these to his will too, to offer the rookies or himself to do press after a long game or when he can see the twitch in Shane’s jaw the quiet of his eyes that tell ilyas he’s already a long way away in his head.
He keeps Shane tucked close to him at awards, gives them breaks away from it outside under the guise of him needing a smoke break. He enjoys it, caring for Shane, being the one to make a place for his boy to shine. To see his laugh soft and genuine with their teammates when they are out instead of it being tight and skittering. Love when Shane is relaxed enough to make jokes or indulge Ilya in a soft kiss, softened by not having to have his protective walls up from being overwhelmed.
It’s so easy, in a club or bar, to pull Shane into him, fit his head to his chest and to cradle Shane’s head in his large palm, hand fitted over his ear to muffle sounds, so worth it for the way Shane melts into him a little more, the way Shane can stay out longer and enjoy himself when Ilya makes it right for him.
And Ilya will never get over having the privilege of making the world more comfortable for Shane, the honour of knowing him so well.
Ok I watched the second video of Connor dancing and like
I am just thinking about playful silly Ilya. Like this boy has sooo much whimsy but he’s always been so grounded in sadness and seriousness from when he was a kid, his fathers strictness, loosing his mother, her sadness- the grief, and then trying to get out make it in hockey and be free, grounded by all his coping mechanisms and depression and his brother and so much responsibility all the time on his shoulders.
And like finally with Shane he can be a little boy again sometimes, he can silly and stupid and carefree and playful. Like I think of the Ilya we saw with svetlana when he playfights with her on his bed, these little glimpses we see but then when he’s finally out with Shane, his husband, living together playing hockey and he’s loved and supported he’s even more free, he has this lightness this ability to be so loose and silly. The ability to be feminine and expressive and flirty while still being the big bad hockey player he is. He gets to be all of it.
I can imagine Ilyas had a couple glasses of wine with dinner, Shane has too because he does now, even in the season, when Ilya is being extra sweet on him about it- making up some anniversary that doesn’t really exist- “oh Shane it’s the anniversary of the first time we held hands” “our first kiss” “the first time you winked at me” and insistence of celebrating (and Shane knows, knows the he’s just making it up so Ilya can convince Shane to order takeout from the place he wants and they need red wine because it’s romantic and it’s stupid but it makes Ilya so happy, every time, and Shane can’t help wanting to make Ilya happy any chance he has to so he kind of can’t not play along with him). So they’ve have had a few glasses of wine and Thai food and they are sprawled out on the big plush rug in the living room, music coming from the homes speaker system, on the rug (glasses of red wine safely on the coffee table out of reach because Shane is tipsy but he is not letting this rug get stained again) because they’d gotten into an argument about who could do more pushups in a row and that had turned into having to settle it because it’s them and they are so competitive, even now.
So they are on the rug and Shane is half curled on his side, shirt tucked up around his hip from how he’d flopped down, pouting in defeat because Ilya had gotten him (by two and he’s seen the shake in Ilyas arms after so it’s basically a tie) Ilya is leant back on his hands, bare legs sprawled out in front of him, in shorts far too small for the middle of winter (for the rain pelting down on the windows of the home, the roof) he’s in some big cosy hoodie to compensate and his hair is still drying in it’s pretty ringlets from the shower. He’s so handsome and Shane is red wine horny, a happy pretty throb in his lower stomach and toes and wrists. (He can feel it, the draw of their sex later in the way Ilya is watching him, had served up his plate of food for him, sat with his hand on the back of Shane’s neck through most of dinner, the way Ilya had stacked the dishwasher for him before they spilled onto the couch to finish the wine).
Anyway he’s so handsome and breathless from the pushups and leaning back by Shane’s feet and his husband is so gorgeous and his and he smiles and watches Ilya as he scrolls on his phone, no doubt bragging about his physical prowess on the teams group chat. He rolls more onto his back, lets his legs part and rubs his socked foot in little circles against the rug, bites into his bottom lip and just waits for Ilyas attention to come back to him because it always does, and catches his fill, watching Ilya his gorgeous boy soft and cosy in their house on their way to wine drunk, watching him happy and warm and his his his and he has loved him since he was seventeen and his shoulders were more slight, the skin by his eyes unwrinkled, and he loves him even more, shoulders filled out and their laughter marked by his blue eyes.
Shane’s chest squeezes with the ache of affection, and he thinks about crawling into Ilyas lap, watching the surprisedhappyhornylonging look chest grow in Ilyas eyes. He thinks about tackling him down onto his back and biting at Ilyas neck and poking his fingers into his sides until Ilya has enough and pins him. He thinks about crawling between Ilyas legs, pushing them open further to make room and pressing his face to Ilyas crotch and breathing him in, getting his guard down and shoving his face under Ilyas hoodie to blow a raspberry on his stomach instead, hear the squeal of Ilyas laughter, loud and bright and booming and warm and his his his, his boy his man the love of his life.
Shane thinks he’s had too much wine, and lets himself flop back onto the carpet, loose limbed with slow deep breaths. He thinks he’ll let Ilya come to him instead, likes knowing Ilya will, come to him, look for his body with hungry hands and mouth because he’s never stopped being hungry for shane. Shane thinks about Ilya crawling over him and getting his hands all over Ilyas thighs, his strong legs have been distracting him all afternoon, he wants to suck marks into them. He will, he decides.
But then the music kicks up- louder than it has been all night, half way through a song and a happy gasp from Ilya and Shane props himself up on his elbows, eyes on Ilya. “I love this song” he beams, phone now abandoned behind him. And then he’s performing, lip syncing and grinning and ? Gyrating? And Shane is giggling, he’s hard and he can’t look away, he watches and goes hot from his head to his toes and thinks of stone faced walls up teenaged Ilya of angry sad Ilya in his twenties and watches Ilyas face open and happy and warm and bright bright bright and that’s his baby, spinning and dancing and radiant. That’s his man the muscles of his thighs shifting and strong and delicate and the body of a fucking athlete. His expressions bright and emotional and over the top and he is breathless with the energy he’s putting in, pauses to laugh as he shifts to be on his knees, paused for a second to swipe the back his hand over his mouth. He’s so fucking pretty and so fucking hot and Shane loves him so fucking much.
Then one knee rises his hand goes down onto the carpet in front of him and Shane is laughing like a little kid, his cheeks ache from him and he wants his husband so bad he feels dizzy for it, feels clammy handed like the first time before he ever touched Ilya, ever had him like this and then Ilya is crawling towards him, dark eyes, wolf smile, mouthing “you know I’ll take you there” as he brings his body over him, warm warm warm bright bright bright and kisses wine tannins and the taste of berries and the rest of life hot and wet into his mouth.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
what shane means: i can never love a woman in any way resembling the way i love you and when i tried she called my shit IMMEDIATELY so what im trying to say is i can't sidestep whatever we are the way you can, i will never ever love anyone but u
what ilya hears: somewhere along the line of our multi-year situationship that began with me immediately sucking ur dick, i have determined that i like men.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
germansingergirl
prguitarman
tangentwithtanner
