cool_lime_fizzio



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    NHLers return to the Olympics after twelve years. Shane Hollander leads Team Canada with grace and discipline. Ilya Rozanov leads Team Russia with sunglasses and audacity. They are absolutely not sneaking off to have sex in every unsupervised corner of the Olympic Village.

    Spoiler: Ilya Rozanov nearly gets frostbite on his dick.

    (Or: The Olympic Village runs out of condoms in three days. Ilya Rozanov treats it as a personal challenge.)

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    26 Feb 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    It was no secret that Ilya had been the bane of his father’s existence since the moment he was conceived. Finally presenting as an alpha was supposed to fix everything, to make Ilya worthy of being the king's son, but the only thing it ended up accomplishing was setting in motion the downfall of King Grigori Rozanov, all because he went and ripped a nameless omega off of Ilya's knot, mid-rut.

    ...

    When he emerged from the throne room, he looked to the side of the heavy doors, where Boodram stood guard. Boodram glanced down at the blood covering Ilya from head to toe, then at the severed head in Ilya’s hands and nodded once. “The remaining palace-goers are gathered in the main foyer,” he reported. “There were a few casualties. None from our side. We were forced to put down a few alphas who fought back.”

    Ilya began walking the familiar hallways, towards the sound of a confused crowd, the smell of fear permeating the air even from where they were. 

    “Let us hope that they were not the ones with knowledge of where Shane Hollander is being kept from me,” he murmured. “Or there will be hell to pay.”

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    4/5
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    26 Feb 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    5~

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Under the leather coat Ilya had shrugged off and above his missing shoe was a familiar glass plaque, familiar because he had the same trophy at home in his trophy room, First Draft Pick for the NHL. Shane felt stomach acid churning in his gut and something close to panic seemed to claw up his insides.

    “Tell me you’re not Ilya Rozanov.” Shane demanded. “Tell me I didn’t fuck a rookie.”

    Not just any rookie, but the rookie Shane had avoided looking at, thinking about, or researching for the sole reason that they called him "Hollander Come Again.” Shane hadn’t even left the ice yet and they were already trying to replace him with a younger model, apparently an unparalleled talent from Russia whose scores in the Juniors had kissed Shane’s records in a way that a rookie hadn’t in the almost decade since Shane set them. He was going to be sick.

    “You did not fuck rookie, rookie fucked you.” Ilya Rozanov said and Shane moaned, this time in a growing despair because not only was his replacement maybe better than him, he was also a fucking asshole about it too.

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    23 Feb 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    Four times people assume Shane is lying about his husband.
    And one time they’re proven wrong.

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    23 Feb 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    Shane trembles harder, overwhelmed by the praise, the possession lacing Ilya’s voice. Heat coils tight in his stomach, pressure winding. He clings to Ilya like he might float away. “Ilya,” he gasps. “I—”

    Ilya cards fingers through Shane’s hair, pushing damp locks off his forehead. “That’s right. You’re perfect. So pretty for me.”

    Shane’s face flames. The insecurity is still there, but it transforms into a desperate need for reassurance. Voice shaking, he stammers, “P-pretty… I’m—prettier?”

    Ilya’s thrust stutters for a heartbeat, then he groans, burying his face in Shane’s neck. “The prettiest,” he growls, words vibrating against Shane’s skin. “All mine.”
     

    It's bad enough that Shane has to do warm-ups in a giant bunny suit. It's worse that Ilya's stunning ex-boyfriend picks that exact moment to visit. It's a catastrophe when said ex starts offering unsolicited advice about what Ilya likes done with his cock.

    Shane’s about two seconds from losing it.

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    19 Feb 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    ♥️