I don't think I'll be able to draw tonight, but it's Thinking About Fat Shane Hollander hours:)!!!
Ilya getting his ass eaten but still being mean dom about it…
Mocking Shame for humping the bed with a slight tremble in his voice.
“God, you’re so desperate is hilarious.”
He grabs Shane by the hair and yanks him up, looking at his ass-drunk face drenched in his own spit. Shane’s eyes are half closed, his mouth is hanging open as he breathes heavily. He whines when he loses contact with Ilya’s hole. “Aw, you want more?”
“Yes, sir, please, Ilya, taste so good.” Shane is slurring the words together.
“Even on my birthday I’m giving you presents.” Ilya rolls his eyes and Shane nods eagerly. “Well, what do you need to say?”
“Thank you. Thank you for letting me eat your ass.”
Ilya nods, the grip on Shane’s hair is still tight and painful. Ilya spreads throws his heavy, thick-thighed legs on Shane’s shoulder, giving him a slightly better access and Shane’s already laser focused on his opening, wet from before.
“Well? Get in there. And use more tongue. If you manage to make me cum, you’ll be allowed, too.” Shane already forgot about how hard he was, his only goal was to make Ilya finish and a crumble of his mean praise.
Ilya finds an odd picture of Shane in a photo album at one point. He's maybe three, he's sitting on the massive purple sofa that Ilya has discovered the Hollanders owned when Shane was born. He's frowning, red-cheeked and he's got a strange plastic case on his thumb.
"Yuna," he says, shifting his elbows on the table to point at it. "What is this on his hand? Was broken?"
Shane's head snaps up from across the table, where he's pretending that Photo Album Time is very boring to him and not worth paying attention to. He hasn't scrolled on the article he's pretending to read for over five minutes.
"I never broke a bone as a kid," he says, brows furrowed. "Not until U13, when that fucking kid from Guelph--"
Yuna and Shane both inhale quickly through their noses in what Ilya has learned to recognize as a moderative measure, lest they start yelling about something that everyone else on Earth has forgotten about.
"No," Yuna says, once her face looks a little less intense. "No, it wasn't broken. It was this...contraption that the dentist gave us to correct his thumb-sucking. He was so mad about it, we only put it on him a few times."
"Oh, Jesus," Shane mutters, eyes going back to his phone.
"Aw," Ilya says. "Poor baby Shane." He taps his finger against one little red cheek and laughs. "You really do look so mad, sweetheart. How did you make him stop?"
"Hmm...you know, I don't remember," Yuna sighs, tilting her head. "I guess he just stopped by himself eventually. Do you remember, Shane?"
"No," Shane says, shortly.
"Of course, that didn't get rid of the oral fixation," Yuna sighs, adjusting her reading glasses as she flips the page. "The things you used to chew on, Shane. Pens and straws and--"
"Mom," Shane snaps, while Ilya vibrates beside him. "Can we not?"
"I was afraid to give him popsicles because I thought he would gnaw on the sticks until he got a splinter in his stomach."
"Mom!"
"Well, honey, it's true! And you did outgrow it eventually, so it's not as if you have to be embarrassed."
"Oh, you did?" Ilya says, shoulders shaking. "You outgrew the, uh, oral fixation?"
"Stop," Shane hisses.
"Mm. Excuse me." Ilya stands from the table and sweeps out onto the back porch, though the sliding door does nothing to prevent the sound of his guffaws from floating back into the kitchen.
"You know," Yuna says, "I'm just going to assume that this is some kind of language barrier thing--"
"Please stop."
now i'm fucked up, and i'm missing you (he'll never be like you) - ao3
An alternate universe retelling in which Jane Hollander and Lily Rozanova are pageant queen rivals.
...
Jane nearly slams onto the floor, sitting against a rack of weights. She can feel herself drenched in sweat, the water crawling uncomfortably between her breasts. Lily sits across from her with a hot pink water bottle, sweat mostly collecting on her upper arms. Jane watches through her peripheral vision. Once Lily looks head-on, Jane does too.
Lily grins triumphantly, even though they’d unofficially tied on the bikes. “Big day, hm?” She lifts her water bottle to her lips, eyes not leaving Jane’s.
“Yeah,” Jane echoes, “big day.”
“It’s what you wanted?” Lily asks.
Jane has to smirk. The nerve of this girl. “Close. Almost.”
“I’m so sorry,” Lily purrs, her Russian accent strong in the roll of her R.
“You aren’t,” Jane is still smiling.
Lily runs a hand through her golden curls, no longer hairspray frozen. “We will see one another often. Big titles.”
“We will,” Jane agrees.
Jane’s eyes fall to Lily’s legs, clad in tight, tiny sport shorts with rhinestones along the hip hem. She’s tan, smooth, and slender, but carries a nice tone in her thighs that balances out her overall physique. Jane had noticed it when Lily was on the runway, but it’s pleasing up close.
↓↓↓ <3
hung - hollanov - @taylorswiftmicrofic - implied NSFW - word count: 332 - click here for my hollanov microfic archive on ao3
It was quiet. A rare moment of calm peace between good-natured bickering, emotional conversations, and forays to the bedroom, where Shane and Ilya were just relaxing, basking in each others' presence. At that moment, they were in the kitchen–Shane preparing dinner for that night and Ilya playing games on his phone–when Shane's eyes drifted to a long-forgotten object on the counter.
A tape measure.
He'd left it there a while back, meaning to put it away when he'd hung up a new photo before Ilya'd arrived. In all of his anxiety and anticipation, he must've forgotten to put it back in the drawer. But now, it sparked a memory. So, eyebrows furrowing and lips quivering, he abandoned the meat he was in the middle of seasoning, washed his hands in the sink, and picked it up.
Then, slowly, he extended the tape, eyes narrowed in focus as he looked closely at the numbers corresponding with the length.
"Shane."
He jumped. The tape snapped back into the metal holder. "What?" he asked, trying very hard to sound innocent.
Ilya was staring at him, amusement all over his face. "What are you doing?"
"None of your business," he insisted, which of course made him sound even more guilty.
"Shane."
But now he was determined. Clenching his jaw, he pulled the tape out again until the notch that read '9 inches' was visible, holding it out in front of him to appraise the length. Tilting his head, he grinned a little, then looked at his boyfriend. "You liar," he murmured.
The other man's eyes widened for a split second, and then he burst out laughing. "Ah. Maybe I wanted to impress you a little," he murmured, sliding off of the stool he was perched on and walking over to meet him. He curled his hand around Shane's fist that still held the tape measure, smirking. "Want to take measurement? Make honest man of me, Hollander?"
Shane laughed, already reaching for the button of Ilya's pants.
anyway shane has an office at the irina foundation HQ in ottawa bc he can never get any work done at home and its important to him that hes Somewhat Involved even if he doesnt get to spend much time there. ilya comes by to pick him up so they can go to dinner post-outing and gets five seconds into a joke about sexy mr hollander and his big fancy desk before he notices there’s a framed picture of him just. sitting there. on the big fancy desk. shane framed a picture of him and keeps it on his desk, in public. it’s not even that good of a picture, it’s just ilya sitting on the couch in sweats and smiling at the camera. probably one of the many pictures that shane has sent to his parents over the years, proof of life after an injury or something equally inane.
but it’s there, in a nice frame. and ilya stops mid-joke and points at it and says “this is me?” as if it could be anyone else. shane’s shrugging his jacket on and doesn’t even know what he’s talking about, not really, until he looks over to where ilya is pointing. and he looks between ilya and the desk a few times, confused, because… yes? obviously?
“you have a picture of me on your desk?” ilya asks, and he’s trying so hard to play it off like it’s nothing, something to tease him about, but. but.
shane shrugs. “well, yeah. i like that picture of you.”
“is a bad picture, hollander.”
“fuck you. it’s my desk. i can put what i want on it.”
and maybe ilya would say something like oh i’ll put you on the desk in a minute if he wasn’t suddenly feeling very raw. a few years ago he would’ve said it anyway, but he’s so stuck on the fact that shane has a picture of him on his desk. after a decade of deleting pictures and messages, being so careful not to be photographed anywhere near each other, not even being able to have pictures in their own homes— now shane has a soft, domestic, printed fucking photograph of him framed on his desk in his office. in the headquarters for the charity they share. named after his mother. named for his mother, a name that shane chose, for everything she went through.
“baby, oh my god,” shane is panicking, dashing over the few steps to ilya and wiping the tears from his cheeks with the sleeves of his jacket, “ilya, if you don’t like the picture i can change it.”
“no, no,” ilya tries to wave him off, feeling silly, feeling vulnerable, but shane doesn’t let him go. eyes so wide, so earnest and worried. “no, i like it. i like you. i like you a lot. fuck.”
and shane laughs, but it isn’t mocking or mean or anything ilya would expect from anyone else who might catch him crying. it never is, not with his shane. he just smooths his thumb over ilya’s cheekbone and presses closer to him and says, “i like you too. it’s a good job we’re married, ‘cause otherwise it’d be, like, embarrassing how much i like you.”
They never planned to fall in love; it just happened that way. When Ilya saw him that faithful day, he already knew nothing would ever feel the same, and deep down, Shane knew that too.
That love wasn’t malicious, no matter how much pain it brought to both of them. Ilya never knew he’d find a place in Shane’s heart. Become the reason Shane lost sleep. They’d appear in each other’s lives sporadically, just often enough to keep the hooks in each other’s bodies.
And when they finally found a way to entwine their lives together, Ilya would often bring Shane’s palms to his face and compare the lines there to his own, saying it was always meant to be. He’d known no greater happiness in life than finally calling Shane by his name in the quiet of their shared home. The sound of it from his lips was reverent.
Shane was around 36 when Ilya quietly and unexpectedly died. He didn’t even get to call him one last time, his easy phone number forever etched into his memory. It was the first time he’d brought him flowers, bright white lilies, only two, following one of the few Russian traditions he could remember. It was his way of telling Ilya that no one else had ever called him by his name like that.
He barely turned 76 when he left this world. He’d never been afraid of death; some days he’d even dream of it. He’d sit in front of a window, keep staring at the sky as if trying to say, ‘when I die, I’ll meet him there and once again he’ll call my name’.
Какая, в сущности, смешная вышла жизнь // What a funny life it turned out to be.
Хотя, что может быть красивее // Although, what could be more beautiful
Чем сидеть на облаке и, свесив ножки вниз // than to sit on the cloud swinging your legs
Друг друга называть по имени // and say each other's names?
[this is fully inspired by the song Лучшая песня о любви by Високосный Год]
Happy Suck Him Off Sunday and Happy birthday, Shane! You get an orgasm as a treat.
“Ilya, Ilya p-please. Ilya, you promised,” Shane says, rolling his head back against the pillows as Ilya takes Shane’s cock into his mouth again.
It’s Shane’s birthday, and they have a deal. Shane can cum today, if he is good. If he gets up and does his workout with Ilya (check) and eats the breakfast Ilya makes for him (check) and gets out of the house so Ilya can set up his “surprise” party (check) and doesn’t disappear during the party itself (mostly check, except for a 20-minute spell for Shane and Rose to sneak off and admire the gifts Ilya got him, which Ilya does allow), then Shane can cum.
There exists a video somewhere of Shane Hollander standing in the parking garage of Censplex wearing a backwards snapback and althetic shorts with an inseam that is probably quite literally just listed as 'slut' on the tag as he stares down whoever is holding the camera. In his hands is a beautiful and perfectly spherical watermelon. In his eyes there is nothing.
"You want me to do what?" he asks.
"Crush it," says Harris, too loud and close to the camera.
"Like, with my hands?"
"The challenge is to do it with your thighs."
Shane, his face and his watermelon do not move.
"It's for charity."
Smash cut to Shane sitting on a parking block, face bright red as he reroutes every bit of strength in his entire body towards his thighs. He is utterly silent, straining, and he only makes a sound when the watermelon finally gives up and crumples under the onslaught.
The sound he makes is high, long and deeply inappropriate. It also echoes throughout the entire parking garage for what seems to be a preternaturally long time.
"What the fuck is--" Ilya, who heard that shit through an open window all the way in the team offices, careens out of the propped-open side door just in time to see his husband bite a hunk of watermelon from the dripping remnants. There is juice on his thighs.
"Hey," Shane says, and then squints at the camera, deadpan once again. "I nominate Ilya Rozanov for the watermelon crushing challenge. Or whatever."
Harris, luckily, has a second melon handy.
forever - hollanov - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 474 - click here for my hollanov microfic archive on ao3
“I didn’t mean to look,” Shane said awkwardly, shoving Ilya’s phone into his hands as soon as he stepped out of the bathroom, towel slung low around his hips.
Immediately, a suggestive smile formed on the other man’s lips. “You can always look, Hollander,” he said with a wink, moving to remove the offending fabric.
“N–no,” Shane sighed, holding back a little laugh. “Um. No. Your phone. It went off and it was in the blankets. I looked for it, just to move it to the side table, but you had your notifications on so the messages popped up. You should really…change that…” He trailed off, waiting for Ilya to look down at the screen.
Sveta: держу пари, я могу догадаться, почему это так!!! Как обстоят дела с Jane?
Ilya blinked, obviously realizing. “Ah. Yes. We are talking about you,” he said unnecessarily, with no guilt.
Shane nodded, stomach sinking a little. “I didn’t mean to look,” he said again, feeling more nervous this time. “I trust you, I–”
But luckily, Ilya didn’t seem angry at all. Instead, he smiled, tapped a reply into his phone, then held it out to Shane. “You can look,” he said with a nod. “I understand. This is…we are new, being…what did you call it? Exclusive? And Svetlana and I have…a past. And, of course, you and I…we have not always been honest about emotions. You are allowed to feel unsure.” He pressed a kiss to Shane’s head, making relief flood down his spine. “But I promise, malysh, I am only saying good things. Go on and see. You can translate.”
Hesitantly, a bit scared about what he would find, Shane took the phone and looked at his boyfriend’s latest messages to Svetlana, copying them into a translate app.
Sveta: I miss you. I hope you’re well, you deserve a vacation. Are your ribs healing?
Ilya: I think I am better than I’ve been in a long time.
Sveta: I bet I can guess why that is!!! How are things going with Jane?
Ilya: Is it stupid to say I want to be with him forever?
Sveta: Not stupid. Sweet. I am so happy for you.
Shane looked up, biting back a huge grin. “Forever?” he asked, feeling dizzy with happiness.
Ilya was already flushing lightly. “You see what happens when you look at conversations not meant for you, Hollander?” he muttered, smiling as well. “You see all of my secrets.”
“Hey, you told me I could look!” Shane protested, giving him an affronted look.
But the other man just grinned. “I do not remember that. Now. I have to punish you for looking at my top-secret, very embarrassing conversation. How will I do that, I wonder?” His hands were already on Shane’s hips, guiding him back to the bed.
“Guess you have forever to figure it out.”
Jane reading in bed in her glasses, sheets brought up to her hips.
She's trying to focus, reading the same words over and over on the page.
But the head bobbing under the covers between her thighs is trying even harder to get a reaction.
Lily is working rapid flicks of her tongue against Jane, followed by gentle suckles and kisses. The squeeze and shift of Jane trying not to start rutting against her mouth is only driving her hunger more.
When one of Lily’s hands grips Jane’s waist, effectively pinning her down to stop her from her micro shifts away from the pleasure offered to her, Jane knows she’s in trouble.
Lily’s other hand comes up to slide a finger in, and it’s welcomed easily, accompanied by a solidly flexed tongue. Jane drops the book to her side and pulls the sheet down to reveal the culprit of the choked breath stuck in her throat.
A grinning Lily with shiny drool and wetness down her chin looks up at her,
"I win."
Jane rolls her eyes and bites her bottom lip, still dangerously sensitive to the finger lazily hooking in and out of her.
"Whatever."
Jane lets out a content sigh and hums as her hands find a bundle of blonde curls to push back down between her quivering thighs.
"My father is police. My brother is police."
"And your mother?"
And your mother? What about your mom, Ilya?
Because for Shane, his mom has had his hand in hers since the moment he was born. She signed every deal and every contract he has. He plays for her favourite hockey team. He brings her up in almost every interview. She's there for him in every step of his career. If he ever got in trouble she'd be the one to fix it. So maybe if Ilya got in trouble in Russia his mom would fix it, right? Because Yuna is ready to fist fight the government if it means keeping Shane safe. Yuna is so present in Shane's life that it's suffocating sometimes. His mom is so caring and protective that he has to hide parts of himself from her. His mom would be okay with him being gay. His mom would keep him safe. His mom would protect him. And your mother?
"Dead."
laughing about the idea of ilya doing one of those puppy buzzfeed interviews and then anya sniffing him when he gets home and feeling SO betrayed
and shane meanwhile is having a great time pressing the accelerator on this guilt trip
cuddling anya and just, "i know, huh? papa left and played with WHO KNOWS HOW MANY other dogs, and the whole time you were here missing him"
ilya, who is lowkey devastated: "hollander, this is not a joke."
"no, it isn't, huh, anya? you're so, so sad now."
"...hollander PLEASE. anya, i am sorry-"
"it seems like he's saying something, but we can't hear cheaters, can we, anya?"
"HOLLANDER"
smile - hollanov - @hollanovmicrofic - word count: 385 - click here for my hollanov microfic archive on ao3
Hayden's scoff could be heard all the way from the kitchen, causing Shane to pause as he got them both a drink from the fridge. "What?" he called, frowning, wondering what'd caused his best friend to be annoyed this time.
"Just can't believe it."
Confused, Shane grabbed a ginger ale for himself and a stupid energy drink for Hayden (but don't tell Jackie!) and padded back into his living room. "What, that we got our butts kicked? Because s-"
"No, that you're dating him," Hayden corrected, glowering at the TV screen.
And of course, there Ilya was, completing some interview, smirking and making lubricous comments about how Boston would wipe the floor with everyone else that season. He was in rare form, boasting about every goal he'd scored, every assist he'd made, chirping about Montreal and New York and any other team that dared get in his way. Shane, of course, felt a familiar curl of hot attraction light in his stomach, the desire to prove Ilya wrong just as strong as the desire to kiss him senseless. But still, it was hard to argue that Ilya was the sweet, thoughtful man he knew when he acted like this on TV.
But an idea occurred to him.
"No," he murmured, standing and moving to his bedroom.
He walked quickly, fishing in the back of the drawer in his bedside table for the lone polaroid shot, a risk he'd taken because Ilya just looked so perfect in the photo he'd managed to capture. It was an image of Ilya sitting by the lake, a carefree, boyish smile on his face. The angle was such that Shane's legs were visible in Ilya's lap, and Ilya's expression towards the camera was adoring, a clear reminder that for some reason, Ilya Rozanov was so in love with Shane Hollander that sometimes it burst from him like sunshine.
Shane treasured that picture more than anything.
He threw it towards Hayden, jaw set. "I'm dating him," he said firmly, gesturing.
And for a moment, Hayden's face changed. He took in the shot, the clear difference between Rozanov, star hockey player on the TV, and Ilya, Shane's boyfriend in the picture.
He softened just a little.
"Fine," he muttered, rolling his eyes and reaching to change the channel.
It was enough for now.
fic: illiquid assets (hollanov, M, 1k)
#jewelry, ginger beer, expensive lube, doritos
Shane never spent money on things that made it look like he was spending money.