didaverseend



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    Ilya hums, playing the card he's been considering for this entire conversation. “We could make more interesting, yes? A bet.”

    “A bet,” Shane repeats, eyes flashing. “Like what?”

    The reporter cuts in. “What about wearing the other player’s jersey?”

    They both turn to her, and Shane says, “Like, the loser wears the winner’s jersey?”

    “Maybe at the next game in a couple of months?”

    “Is a good idea,” Ilya muses, nudging Shane’s elbow. “You will look better in my jersey than in Montreal jersey.”

    Shane makes a low noise, his eyes holding a bit of a spark when he looks back to Ilya. It’s what Ilya was hoping for—the tiniest crack in the mask. He can see a hint of exasperated affection around the corners of Shane’s eyes, a little bit of fire burning just beneath the surface. It sends a thrill down Ilya’s spine, and he wonders if Shane will be snarky when Ilya gets him naked tonight.

    “That’s not happening,” Shane replies, shaking his head. “Because you’re not winning.”

    ---
    Ilya should have known better.

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    07 Feb 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Subs don’t play in the MLH, but Shane Hollander will.

    (Or, Shane Hollander falls into subdrop at World Juniors. Ilya Rozanov brings him back.)

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    25 Jan 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Ilya and Shane are roommates in college. They both try to pretend it doesn’t mean anything when Ilya comes home to Shane randomly nesting in his bed after a few months of barely speaking, but when Shane presents as an omega, they can no longer deny their connection.

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    22 Jan 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    “So,” Ilya says at last. “Why do you hire a professional Dominant?”

    Shane is grateful for Ilya’s timing. If he’d been drinking just then, he probably would have choked and spat tea all over the pavement.

    “I don’t know. I liked the idea, I guess.” He swallows and risks a quick sideways look at Ilya. “Why do people usually hire you?”

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    17 Jan 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    “You like these touched, don’t you?” His hand slid up, palm covering Shane’s left nipple, thumb circling, teasing. Shane’s eyes crossed, mouth opening on a ragged keen, body arching forward to offer more. “Do you play with them at home, hm?” Ilya taunted, pinching the tight bud. “Do you twist them under your sheets while you think of me? Does Mommy ever walk in on her sweet boy tugging his little tits and moaning?”

    A sob-half-laugh burst from Shane, mortifying and incandescent. “N-no, Father, oh God, n-no, she—ahhh—she’d—” His hole clenched around Ilya’s cock at the mention, involuntary, lust flaring hotter. The priest caught it, chuckled.

    “She’d be horrified to see her precious son like this,” Ilya murmured, nails scratching lightly over the right nipple now, making Shane shudder. “Socks on, slut naked, riding his priest’s cock right in the house of God.”

    In the house of God, Ilya found his most devout worshipper not in the pews, but bent over the altar, begging for absolution with every thrust.

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    15 Jan 2026