i've got red in my ledger.

I’m sorry atp Jo drouin is kinda the only free agent signing I’m actually paying attention to… like unless something deeply crazy happens w/drysdale and zegras we kinda know how that’s gonna go. but I honestly have no clue what drouin’s gonna do, and that decision could really make or break certain portions of the hrpf scene going forward… like if he goes back to Colorado OR if he manages to have a good season not playing with Nate. either way they’re rocking one of the most lowkey toxic love stories in the nhl I think

Tonight I'm thinking about Shane getting anxious and overwhelmed in a social situation – not enough that it's noticable to most people, but Ilya can see that he's Freaking Out – and Ilya just slowly running his hand up the back of Shane's neck until his fingers are tangled into his hair, and tugging just hard enough that it hurts a bit, like holding a kitten by the scruff of its neck. The message is clear: even if you don't feel like you are, I'm in control and I've got you. Shane instantly relaxes.

When Shane gets traded to Ottawa, Harris posts a pic of itty bitty toddler Shane in an Ottawa Centaurs jersey that he is absolutely drowning in (it‘s David‘s) cheesing like there is no tomorrow, next to a pic of current Shane in his new Centaurs jersey with the caption: welcome home, Shane.

ilya pulls his softening cock from shane's hole, watching it emerge, appreciating how shane stretches a little more around the widest point, how the tip hangs onto shane's rim for a moment before slipping over the edge and letting ilya fall heavy between his thighs. ilya sighs in satisfaction. he sits back on his heels and presses his thumbs to either side of shane's hole, which is glistening at the edge and gaping around the space ilya left behind. ilya hums low and says, "show me how good your hole made me feel, kotik" and shane moans, indistinct in that way his sounds always are after a hard fucking. ilya watches shane's hole clench weakly—then takes in the sight he started imagining the moment that fucker in the ball cap attempted to buy shane a drink at the bar earlier: ilya's release, white and thick and slow, drooling from shane's hole. tracking the curve of his gorgeous ass down to the hotel sheets. something in ilya's chest purrs happily. finally. the visible sign of commitment around shane's ring finger is normally enough to nip ilya's possessiveness in the bud. but sometimes, when even that fails to deter shane's most helpless of admirers, ilya craves a more visceral reminder of his claim. there's nothing like this. ilya swipes two fingers through the trail of white and shane's mouth opens without prompting. ilya shudders. he hovers his coated fingers above shane's lips, asks, "who is this, malysh" and slides them in. shane moans. tastes. around ilya, he says, "you."