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Ilya’s hand wraps around his bare wrist and squeezes. Shane barely stops himself from collapsing to his knees.
The pressure lights up every receptor of his touch-starved nervous system, wrenching a small, pained noise from the back of his throat. Every muted sensation comes flooding back so intensely that it almost hurts. He needs Ilya to hold him down until there’s nothing inside him but quiet. He wants to sink into him and disappear.
It takes Shane an entire beat to remember where they are. Fighting against the fog in his mind, he manages to drag his gaze up to meet Ilya’s.
There’s a slow-dawning horror and understanding on Ilya’s face.
*
Or: Shane is in subdrop after their encounter in Vegas. Ilya fixes it.
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Bookmarked by fourwalls (boydaegu)
05 Jan 2026
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tried to call you off (like a bad habit) by sushiwriter for kneeinjury
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV)
11 Dec 2025
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Ilya grins, a glint in his eye that sends a spark down Shane’s spine. “Better than him on worst day. Ask him about my Stanley Cup.”
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Shane sees Ilya three months after they don't kiss.
Bookmarked by fourwalls (boydaegu)
04 Jan 2026
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His father would accuse him of being weak, of letting his heart lead him to stupid places. But for once in his life, Ilya can’t bring himself to care about this. He wants Shane. He wants to coax his boyfriend into ordering takeout from that place they like around the corner from Ilya’s apartment and cheating on his diet a little. Then he wants to blow him on the couch, and he wants Shane to ride him. They can shower afterwards and put some highlights on the TV before falling asleep and ignoring Shane’s alarm the next morning. He wants the peace they had at the cottage during the season, to steal those moments and get to exhale.
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Inspired by this tweet by @paulasoldestson: ilya actually love having a strict boyfriend. like no his bitch do not let him have friends NO he not allowed to be out past 11 and NO U CANNOT SIT HERE!!!- Language:
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Bookmarked by fourwalls (boydaegu)
04 Jan 2026
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He nuzzles against the exposed skin of his neck, inhaling the scent that clings to his suit jacket collar. It’s perfect.
“...Hollander,” He hears Rozanov say, urgent like it’s not the first time he’s said it. “Shane,” he follows it up with, and that snaps him out of it. He’s never called him that. Shane, reluctantly, lifts his face a little, eyes glazed over as he meets Rozanov’s eyes.
“What?”
“You stink,” Rozanov says, concern dripping. “No, you—fuck. You reek. What is—” Ilya’s fingers lift up, tugging at the scent patch, revealing more of the spot beneath it. Even Shane can smell himself at that point. He does reek. Reeks of heat, of Omega, of honey and sweetness, of something that would melt on your tongue.
Shane reefs himself back. The Omega inside him aches, mourns, whimpers at the loss of contact. It’s needed, though. He scrambles back, hand slapping at his neck to force the peeled patch back down over his scent gland. He backs up till his spine knocks against the bathroom stall.
“You are in heat at award show? Why would you hide this? Why would you not call out sick? Are you—are you insane? You care this much about trophy?”
OR Shane goes into heat in Vegas
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Bookmarked by fourwalls (boydaegu)
02 Jan 2026
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He didn't like you on principle. He hated your job. But also he couldn’t stop thinking about you. It was deeply inconvenient.
Deaf!Reader (PTMC Ethics Director)
Bookmarked by fourwalls (boydaegu)
29 Dec 2025

