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.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Qualityβ Free Actions
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
I fear my visions of tormenting Luca Haas like a cat battering a mouse (psychosexual style) are only going to become more vivid and lurid in detail from here on out, folks
No but for real this could work. Yuna is happily married and despite some exploration before Shane was born it's definitely a closed marriage. She is not going to sleep with this 20 something hockey boy. She raised one of him she knows how they live. HOWEVER. The attention is fun and Yuna is pushing fifty-five--officially senior citizen status. Her son is a two-time Stanley Cup winner and her husband is an important cog in Her Majesty's Canadian Clown Show or whatever they're calling the Canadian government these days. Sue her if she gets a little bit of joy out of this one little thing that's only for her. And David knows--he's standing there watching half the time when Rozanov slinks over (Ilya is more than fine with this) so she's just gonna roll with it.
They become like. Kind of unlikely friends. Ilya is never gross and he's never really even discernably sexual with his advances. It's kind of like holding it your hand to a cat and waiting for it to come to you.
Meanwhile Shane is SEETHING. Leave my mom alone Rozanov. Stop talking to my fucking mom Rozanov. Why is Ilya fucking Rozanov sitting at our table mom. Shane is so fixated on getting Rozanov away from his mom that even he doesn't realize how sexually charged all of their interactions have become. At least not until Ilya realizes that while Yuna is clearly just enjoying watching him dance (And OH how he likes to dance for her) there is something definitely...hungry in her son's eyes.
So yeah Shane gets so jealous of his own mom that he fucks his archrival of right years. πββοΈ
YEsss YESSSSS!!!!! MY ILYA SHAMELESSLY HITTING ON YUNA AS A WAY TO FUCK WITH SHANE AGENDA IS SPREADING!!!!
You're sOooo right about Yunas mindset about the whole thing: it's never actually going to happen, obviously, but Ilya IS incredibly charming so sue her, she's having fun being charmed!!! Even better that it becomes a fun little in-joke between her and David - every time Ilya comes swaggering over, David murmurs in Yunas ear: "Uh oh, my competition is here." When Yuna has to go to some brunch benefit and she gets all dressed up, David's taking one look at her and saying all squinty eyed: "Is this for me or your boy toy?" They're both having fuuuun. And, as you said, Ilya lOoOVes hamming it up, for both of their benefits. He's happy to dance for Mrs Hollander~
You know who's NOT π« having fun? Shane. Oh my god. Shane is in a perpetual state of righteous outrage. He's heard the rumours about ROZANOV and his SICK PERVERSIONS. He can't BELIEVE his mother is INDULGING his ENEMY like this!!!! She hates Boston!!!! She's literally ENCOURAGING HIM!!!! He's going to get the wrong idea and - YES he IS being serious, MOM!!!!! Rozanov is like a SHARK!!!!
Meanwhile Ilya has an internal rolodex of "your mom" jokes running at all times, except they're just earnest compliments about Yuna he shares during face offs: "Your mom looked very pretty at the last awards show, Hollander." "Your mom should wear green more, it's a good colour on her." "Your mom is so passionate about hockey, Hollander. It's nice talking to a woman of such intelligence and class." But he says it all with the most shit eating smirk and it drives Shane BALLISTIC!!!!!!!!
But, as you said, all roads lead to Rome -> Shane DOES fuck Ilya out of some extremely bizarre oedipal-adjacent jealousy complex. All part of Ilya's master plans (or at least that's the way he tells it later. Shane is still extremely suspicious about Ilya's initial intentions towards his mother)
And what if I wanted a Yuna POV canon divergent fic where, by virtue of being Shane's momager and shepherding him around everywhere when he enters the MLH, she keeps bumping into her son's biggest rival, because of course the two shining stars of the hockey world would be invited to the same events.
And, look. Yuna has been around hockey culture a long time. She knows why Shane begged her not to drop him off too close to the rink in juniors so his teammates wouldn't catch a glimpse of her. She knows what half the insults tossed around on the ice are about. She's not an idiot. So when this cocky upstart kid starts approaching her at these shindigs, all adolescent swagger, thinking he's soo slick and subtle with whatever kind of mind game he's obviously playing with her son, she has half a mind to cut him off before he can even work up any steam.
βAll this talk of Hollander, Hollander, Hollander but I did not know he had big sister" is the kid's opening line.
And she shouldn't laugh β that's obviously the reaction he's aiming for β but he's really selling it, is the thing; his performance deserves at least that much recognition.
βI'm his mother,β she says, playing along.
And oh, he's good β his sharp eyebrows immediately jump into his thick tangle of curls, mouth dropping open in shock that, for all intents and purposes, looks utterly sincere.
βBut this cannot be true β you are much too young to have teenager, Miss Hollander.β
And God, this kid. He really is laying it on thick. βI think you'll find I definitely am old enough β and a son your age, no lessβ that last part she says a little pointedly. She can lay it on thick, too. βAnd it's Mrs Hollander, actually.β
And Rozanov's eyes are glittering, all mischief when he says, βAh. Your husband is very lucky man," and no, that is quite enough of that.
And even though she shoos him away, he always comes to circle her skirts at every event they both attend, playing up the simpering flattery, and Yuna, despite herself, is reluctantly charmed. If this is what the kid is like at nineteen, she can't even begin to imagine him when he was younger - he must have gotten away with everything.
Honestly, she finds herself thinking, exasperated, every time she spots him approaching with that impish grin, where is this boy's mother?
And then she finds out. And suddenly, she's asking David if they can invite Rozanov out to lunch because, well, he's going to be in their son's life for a long time, it's good to build rapport with Shane's peers, even if they're competitors.
And that's how Yuna Hollander tucks Ilya Rozanov firmly under her wing long before she ever twigs that he's fucking her son on the dl.
Okay but seriously we need to talk about Ilya's mommy issues manifesting as various torrid affairs with much older women. He was fucking other players moms, I know he was
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.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Qualityβ Free Actions
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
ALSO!!! Slightly different ghost Ilya au for you: I was listening to Wuthering Heights by Kate Bush and picturing Ilya's spectre banging against the windows calling for Shane to let him in, it's cold, he's so cold, can't Shane just let him in, please my love it's me it's me I'm home just let me in? (Ilya died in the Centaurs plane crash)
He wouldn't even have to beg is the thing. Shane would follow the sounds of scratching, see it was Ilya and throw open the door. And creature!Ilya who came back wrong is appalled. For one he had this really good bit of begging planned where he would show Shane his abs and tell him his abs were freezing, and for two Ilya literally came back wrong and Shane's not even gonna act suspicious??? What if Ilya was gonna eat him??? Shane you cannot be doing this, opening your door to any random man back from the dead.
I do think we should circle back to situationship-era Shane's increasingly convoluted baby trap fantasies. Sometimes, the dick does drive a man to madness
My Cliff Marleau truth is I think that him and Ilya got absolutely plastered after the 2014 cup win, I mean black out wasted, and they're both riding the high of winning the fucking cup and they're at their like sixth club of the night and Cliff and Ilya kind of end up grinding up against the same girl - Cliff likes dark hair, Ilya likes freckles, in this case their tastes overlap - and it's wild and awesome haha Roz is fucking crazy man. Eventually Ilya leaves for a smoke and Cliff stumbles after him for some fresh air and he ends up bumming a fag from Ilya and cliff just can't stop grinning and okay yeah he's a little chubbed up, that chick was hot and also oh yeah THEY WON THE FUCKING CUP!!!! Anyway, Ilya notices Cliff's situation and does this exaggerated little eyebrow thing that makes Cliff laugh and shrug. And then Ilya is blowing smoke and leaning over and saying "need help with your little problem" and Cliff says "excuse you it's a plenty big problem" and Ilya goes "yeah? You gonna show me how big?" And Cliff is laughing and shaking his head - seriously, Rozzy is a fucking riot - and he's slapping a smirking Ilya on the shoulder and going back into the club to see if he can get another drink.
Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that years down the line, Cliff Marleau's singular unscrambled neuron is going to fire and he is going to wake up from a dead sleep because Holy fuck Ilya Rozanov 100% offered to blow him that one time and, if recent events are of any indication, he was serious about it!!!
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.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Qualityβ Free Actions
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
Outraged Shane voice oh my GOD you can't just - just try to shut me up and fuck me like that will magically make me forget that I'm angry at you!!! (Ilya can. He will. And he does)
if youβre still taking prompts- matching tattoos
Shane had been four Modelos in up at the lake when he told Ilya he would consent to a matching tattoo for Ilya's birthday if he could beat Shane around the trail. The loop is just shy of six ks and every single morning without fail Shane laps it in about twenty-two minutes, Ilya hot on his heels. When Ilya pushed past him the following morning to get a foot over by the trailhead marker he let out an ear-splitting yawp that Shane found very unnecessary.
Yes, he should have factored in the Modelos. Yes, he suspects sabotage. Yes, he is shitting himself.
Now they have back-to-back appointments with an artist in Hintonburg who Bood likes, because Ilya's preferred guy returned to Denver after some visa trouble. Evidently paperwork was not his forte.
"This style is called American traditional, very classic," Ilya says, "but I don't know, maybe we like fine line better?"
"Stop fucking sending me these," Shane snaps. "You can literally just pass me your phone."
Shane obviously has no problem with pain. That part actually - well, he had Ilya jab a fingernail into his forearm with his best approximation of force, and it was a non-issue.
"But it really doesn't feel like that at all," Ilya told Shane when he said this.
"Then do it the way it feels," Shane had said.
Ilya shrugged. "Don't think I can. It's like. Buzzing. Moves around, but it stays with you."
"Yeah?" said Shane, shifting on the couch.
"Like if sunburn is made of bunches of needles, and they're all pressing down into you."
"Yeah," said Shane again, suddenly unable to feel his feet. "Can you, um. Can you do that nail thing again."
Anyway.
When they pull into the parlour ("Do not call it that, it's not 1949.") parking lot, Shane realises that the concept of "chattering teeth" isn't, as he had always thought, a wimp's hyperbole. Ilya's hand's stayed glued to his thigh the duration of the drive. He's kept the final designs under close wraps. Shane thinks he might puke. He's never felt this pathetic in his life. He didn't tell Yuna they were doing this - she's never much liked Ilya's tattoos, and it's possible this is the straw that breaks the camel's back. Forget gay son. Forget gay son gay marrying gay rival. Forget gay married gay son leaving Montreal. It's going to be the sight of her only child sporting a tarantula with Megan Fox's face on his elbow that does it. Or knuckle tattoos that say SOFT CORE. Or --
Ilya taps him: time to get out. Not once has he said anything to the effect of "You know, you don't actually have to do this." And why would he. Or should he. It is a beautiful June day in Ottawa and Shane is letting Ilya choose a permanent infection to shove under his skin.
When he thinks of it this way he is able to glide into the shop as though carried by travelator.
It's quieter in here than he expected. Shane's chaperoned many a plastered Metro into places like these trying and failing to appeal to their better angels or at least common sense and they were clubbier in feel, blasting bad alt playlists and echoing with laughter and an off-brand kind of locker room banter. There's none of that telltale buzzing machine noise, either. Shane looks at Ilya.
"What, Hollander? You were the one who wouldn't let me bring Andrew to the house."
"I just think it's probably more sterilised here," mutters Shane. "You booked the shop out?"
"Well I wasn't going to let anyone else see you like this," says Ilya.
Shane swallows. Andrew emerges, says hello. He's a bald guy in his thirties with gold wire aviator glasses. This relaxes Shane ever so slightly. Neither of their type.
"Come on down," says Andrew. "Pick a table, any table."
Ilya chooses the middle right. Not that it matters. He sits down on it. Shane hovers. Ilya glances to his side. Shane hops up next to him so they're sitting shoulder to shoulder. He's wearing a loose tank but he's sweating into it in ways he's never sweat before.
It's the permanence.
"So, this is quite the honour," says Andrew. Tattoo artists must be contracted to speak like this, thinks Shane. Somewhere between carney and a person who writes poetry on a typewriter. "I understand this is your first piece, Shane?"
"It is," says Shane, voice compressed and run through an anonymiser. To his ears. He concentrates on Ilya's breath.
"I'll go first, Andrew," says Ilya. Shane glares at him. What the fuck? He wanted to go first. Now he's going to have to--
"You can wait, ΠΌΠ°Π»ΡΡ," says Ilya, in Russian. He rolls down his shorts. "I want it here, on my hip," he says to Andrew.
Shane's mouth falls open. They hadn't discussed location. Hipbone is. It's pretty hot.
"Sure," says Andrew. "Let me just get...." he wheels himself over to a desk, grabs a sheet of transfer paper.
On it, reversed, in stark black gothic looking figures: the number 24.
Shane barks out a laugh.
"You like it?" grins Ilya. "I love even numbers," he tells Andrew, who laughs a bit.
"Oh my god," Shane says. But then--
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Shanya," says Ilya. "Watch."
Shane barely breaks eye contact as Ilya gets his jersey number tattooed onto his body. Looks at Ilya's face as he lies down, and Andrew shaves him. Transfers the stencil. Turns on the gun. Ilya smirks at him when the whining starts up.
In Russian he says to Shane: "Sounds like you."
Shane isn't sure how he gets through the next half hour. He starts getting hard about half a dozen times, and it's only by picturing his parents dead in a car crash Γ la Bruce Wayne that he kills it every time.
Andrew seems to be quite thorough. He bandages Ilya up. 24 marked up 2.4 inches high. It's.
"Now you," says Ilya, smirking. Shane levitates.
Andrew grabs another piece of paper. Same font. Shane's nothing but gamma waves. Mirror image 81, like he thought. But. It's--
"A temporary tattoo?" Shane all but yells.
Ilya is laughing to himself in the way that Shane really fucking hates. Like that dog from Wacky Races. Shane hits his chest hard.
"No," he says.
"No?" says Ilya, a cherub lifted from church. He's giving Shane an easy way out. Which makes it so much worse.
"No! I didn't-- no." Shane turns to Andrew. "I want it for real. As big as his."
Ilya raises his eyebrows.
"Okay," says Andrew, uncertain. Shane doesn't know how Ilya coached him, but he probably didn't think he was getting in the middle of a marital spat today.
Wait, wait wait. No. This is ridiculous. He cannot get a tattoo out of spite. Ilya's not saying anything, just looking at him with curiosity and amusement. Shane thinks hard.
"Sorry. Actually, I know this is kind of-- could we maybe make it fit on one knuckle? Like on my ring finger. Would that be too small?"
"What," says Ilya, quietly.
"That's good, right?" Shane asks him. "I've always been pissed I can't wear your band."
Ilya answers by kissing him. It's chaste by their standards. Shane smiles big and stupid.
"Give me just a sec," says Andrew, who's elected not to see any of this. Shane likes him, he's decided.
It really doesn't take long, in the end. When the gun makes contact with his left hand Ilya's gripping the right one even tighter.
shane hollander giggling and blushing and squirming while his big boyfriend talks russian in his deep low voice directly into his ear, mouth moving across the side of his neck
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.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Qualityβ Free Actions
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
Hollanov loOOoVe kissing oh my god they love it soso muchhhh. Now that they're actually together and they have this incredibly valuable resource called time, they just spend hours and hours making out, long lazy stretches of time where they're just exchanging indulgent kisses back and forth. It's insane. They emerge from their little necking love nest with their hair all fucked up, lips swollen and spit-shiny, mouths BRIGHT red almost bruised, all dreamy and dazed. I think they could both get off just from kissing, I really do
jimmyeatworldofficial
prguitarman
kianamaiart
gracieabrams
titsay
2087
dailybridgerton
