casserole



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    Rozanov posts on Instagram a lot. Not on his feed, but his stories.

    Every time he lands in a city, he posts a story. Usually it's just back of his seat, or sometimes the view out the window—on the tarmac, never anything exciting, one of just many cities their lives are broken up into—and a location tag. Low effort.

    It’s pretty obvious what it is. Guys laugh about it, call it Rozanov’s Fuck Signal. The easiest way to get the hot girls who follow him to slide into his DMs.

    Easy pussy.

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    24 Jan 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Ilya doesn’t think much of his own impulses. He goes to a bar, he finds a pretty girl, he has sex. He catches Sasha’s eye from across the locker room, and then they’re in the same toilet stall, noises bitten away before they become dangerous. Svetlana invites him over when her father is away, and he kisses her on top of her quilted bedspread, hard from the feel of her under his hands and, a little bit, from the anticipation of the beating he’ll get if the Minister walks in on him. She scratches her fingers through his hair afterwards and he traces letters into the skin above her knee.

    So when he gets the impulse to buy Hollander flowers, he doesn’t hesitate. Maybe it’s because Hollander is so cute with his little freckles. Maybe because he gets irritated so easily, that flush spilling down his collarbones to his chest. Maybe Ilya just wants to reward him for opening the door after that CCM shoot, or for letting Ilya suck his dick after the All-Stars even with Scott Hunter next door.

    OR: 5 times Ilya got Shane flowers, and 1 time Shane got Ilya flowers

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    23 Jan 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Ilya loves being Shane's dog. He hopes he's good enough to earn it.

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    • Part 2 of Dog
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    20 Jan 2026

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    “Hollander. Relax. So you lost one game,” Ilya said. “Big deal. Win next time.”
    “It is a big deal,” Shane said. His hands were clenched tightly into fists. “It’s not just the game. You know I can’t afford to fuck up like this, not this close to playoffs. It’s a pretty big deal. Fuck. And it’s my fault. I wasn’t focused. I can play better than that, and I just… didn’t.” 
    “Okay, your fault, so what?” Ilya shrugged. “You think you should be punished for this?” 

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    16 Jan 2026

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    Shane dropped his gaze. “You’re really going to make me ask?”
    “Yes,” Ilya said. “You ask, maybe you get. So, ask.”
    “Okay,” Shane said. “I want you to fuck me.”
    Ilya started to laugh.
    “Don’t—this isn’t a fucking joke, alright?” Shane snapped. “Shut up. I want it to be different. Or, no—the same, but more. I want you to just make me fucking take it. Shit. I don’t know how to ask you for this.”
    “No, no, is good start so far,” Ilya said. “Go back to the part where I get to make you fucking take it. That’s good. Tell me more.”

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    16 Jan 2026