1 – 18 of 18 Works in Non-Sexual Submission
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is just a plan to fuck forever by Anonymous
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-10-25
It turned out the hockey season was a lot more hectic with a full social life in the BDSM club scene and a fiancé who he could never quite escape from. Not to mention wedding planning? God, Shane was in over his head. All he wanted to do was shut his mind off and be a kitty.
sequel to 'is just ten year plan to fuck'
- Part 2 of kitten shane series
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 317,898
- Chapters:
- 11/?
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #84816636
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Shane Hollander would probably rather die than admit to the world (or himself) that he’s a sub, because all respected NHL players are doms. When years of living a touch-starved, repressed, hockey-focused life finally catch up with him and cause a medical emergency, he’s not scared or sad. He’s fucking angry. And he becomes Ilya Rozanov’s problem at the Behavioral Education & Authority Relationships Services (B.E.A.R.S. for short).
Or: Shane is strong, stubborn, difficult and he bites. Ilya is extremely patient but instantly whipped. A not entirely typical bdsm AU.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 143,646
- Chapters:
- 22/22
- Files:
- 3 versions
- AO3:
- #87558606
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Some secrets won't be kept. by Anonymous
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2026-10-18
Shane Hollander has built himself around routine, his life blood is hockey. Struggling to understand his team off the ice and the people around him, he carves out a few silent hours to himself. It's just him and his skates. But the hard fought peace is fragile, like cracks in too thin ice. It only takes a slight impact to shatter. Shane is fighting to hold his team and himself together as everything comes crashing down around him.
Someone hacks into Rose Landry's phone in a club, they then release the images of Shane's texts online and all hell breaks loose. Shane is left to pick up the pieces. Ilya makes some choices in the aftermath that change everything. Shane decides to stop hiding and Ilya is a possessive asshole who makes it everyone else's problem. With far less reason to hide himself anymore, Shane begins to show more of who he really is behind the polite, media worthy façade. They instead find a team who are ready to fight the world for each other and a found family that has far reaching threads.
Maybe Shane can have both Hockey and Ilya. The world will just have to deal with it.
- Part 1 of Heated Rivalry AU
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,044,316
- Chapters:
- 92/92
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77947336
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Cliff: You want me too break your nose?! (Ilya is on a sex ban and would do anything to get out of it. Anything.)
Yuna: She can't stop herself from peaking, to make sure Ilya can calm Shane down - she see's something else. (Shane has a meltdown and Ilya calms him down through the power of a biting kink)
Scott/Kip: What do you mean i remind you of your brother? What do you mean you don't know your a bottom? (Ilya and Scott finally talk and become friends. Shane and Kip are talking about sex. Kip introduces the concept of BDSM. Kip has regrets.)
Hayden: First he fails at convincing Shane to become his third, then walks in on him getting his back blown out, then Shane gets kidnapped. Oh no.
Svetlana: Plane crash rewrite - somehow this leads to Svetlana following Shane up a mountain in hopeless rescue attempt
Ilya: My dick too big and my bitch too hot (Shane is in SubSpace then the hotel fire alarm goes off, the team finds out something new)
Luca: what’s a BDSM relationship? (Luca sees some stuff that sets of an internal alarm)
Harris and Troy: Recording shit they shouldn’t
Or a collection of one shots of people clocking how unhinged Ilya and Shane are for each.
- Part 1 of Heated Rivalry FanFics
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 132,735
- Chapters:
- 9/9
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #78813551
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Sober or Not, It’s Always You by shanebug_2481
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types
2026-07-11
The room tilted slightly, and Shane’s throat was raw. He swayed there a moment, scanning the spinning room for somewhere to steady himself – for Haas or Dykstra. Ilya had been right; he should have slowed down, stayed with his teammates. He hadn't listened, and now he was alone, 2 Moscow Mules and 3 shots deep, stuck at the bar and lost in a sea of people. Shane just wanted his husband. The alcohol hadn't done anything to soften the effects of the music and lights encircling him. He felt trapped – suffocated – like his skin was fusing itself to his stiff muscles. The room spun faster, and the Canadian wasn't convinced he was standing upright anymore. His heart pounded in his ears as the music rattled his ribcage once more, an insatiable itch beckoning his blunt fingernails. He wanted to scream. He wanted to rip his hair out. He wanted to tear his clothes off. He wanted Ilya.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 10,157
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #88341231
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faded on the fine lines by Anonymous
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types, Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-06-19
If Ilya Rozanov was set to be branded for life in the space above his butt crack, he was damn well going to pay a premium for it.
Booking with one of the most exclusive tattoo studios in North America was the easy bit.
Having his brain melted into oblivion by Shane Hollander’s steady hands and even steadier voice was decidedly not part of the plan.
Or, the one where tattoo artist Shane is very good at giving instructions.
- Part 1 of HB Ink
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 17,778
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #86331121
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5 times people believed Shane is trapped in an abusive marriage and the 1 time Shane sets the record straight ft. misunderstandings, good intentions and a bisexual Russian menace who loves his boring Canadian husband
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 21,982
- Chapters:
- 5/6
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #81709466
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is just ten year plan to fuck by Anonymous
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-05-06
Shane fucking Hollander. Hockey’s Golden Boy. Long-time crush of Ilya Rozanov. Long, looooong time. A decade of being a fucking simp for this man. God, he was in trouble.
It should be pretty much illegal to go from their only contact being at face-off across the ice, to suddenly hosting Shane in his exclusive club—during a fucking event, no less. Ilya’s event.
He would never admit it, but he’s been stealthily trying to get Hollander to show up at his club for years now. Hell, Shane was the whole reason he invested in the club in the first place. Bought a fucking house here. Maybe that was an insane thing to do, but he didn’t care. Ilya was insane. Insane for Shane.
- Part 1 of kitten shane series
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 354,905
- Chapters:
- 26/26
- Files:
- 3 versions
- AO3:
- #80376461
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Shane Hollander knows he’s not a small guy. Years of hockey and workouts have built up his muscles, and lucky genetics from his father’s side places him just shy of six feet. He’s checked hockey players half a foot and several pounds more than him, knocked Scott Hunter into the ice in the one fight he’s ever actually thrown hands in. But as much as Shane loves the game, the fast movements, passes, and team camaraderie, there were times where he could only feel regret at following the path of athletic fame. He puts on the media smile he practices in the mirror as he brushes his hair each day, uses the bright lights of press conferences to erase his view of the audience, and keeps his answers simple and focused on hockey.
The number of people outside the arena still makes him feel crushed in on all sides, small. Eyes trained on his face, cameras flashing, pens and cell phones being passed into his hands. The itch of it all settles under his skin.
@OttawaPoliceDispatch: Police have been dispatched to a house alarm in Galetta, On. Possible break in, destruction of property.
@OttawaOfficialPoliceDepartment: Recent Missing Persons Report filed for Shane William Hollander at 9:25 pm
Epilogue: 3/1
- Part 1 of 1100200's Hollanov Fanfics
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 81,009
- Chapters:
- 9/9
- Files:
- 3 versions
- AO3:
- #76566541
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Shane punishes himself after the Voyageurs lose a game. Ilya saves him from himself. Shane liked to punish himself. He liked order. Rules. And when all of his strategic planning didn’t go his way, he punished himself. It was the only way to repent. It was one of the rules. Tonight, the Voyageurs had lost. Shane was the Captain, so it was his fault. Another reason for his punishments was Shane’s reaction to things that were out of his control or did not go according to plan. He tended to spiral, which also made him angry at himself. He should be able to handle things like a normal person, by bending instead of breaking. However, he’s never been like that, as far back as he can remember. Tonight, after his subsequent spiral after the game, his punishment is a cold shower. A freezing shower. He sits in the bottom of the walk-in shower at the Montreal apartment building he rents out, the one he usually meets with Ilya at. He didn’t deserve to go back to his real home. He’s been sitting here for a while, staring at nothing and letting the cold pellets of water pelt him over and over. He can barely feel it anymore. “Hollander. Shane.” A voice says. Shane looks over, through the glass door. Oh. Ilya is here. The shower door opens and he reaches in, then recoils when the water hits his arm. “Hollander, this water is freezing!” Ilya looks horrified. He hurriedly turns the handle to off and cups Shane’s cheek. “Why are you in freezing shower?” His palm is big and warm, and Shane doesn’t deserve it. However, he’s also not quite present enough to resist. He also hasn’t found his words quite yet. They’re locked up tight somewhere between his brain and his mouth. Ilya’s hand smoothes his soaked, chilly hair back. “How long have you been here?” He asks. Shane doesn’t answer, he can’t. Ilya pulls him up gently by his elbows and tugs him out of the shower. Shane can’t be bothered to be embarrassed by his nakedness, besides, they’ve seen each other nude and in compromising positions many times by now. A fluffy towel is grabbed off the hook on the wall and wrapped around Shane. Then a smaller one is used to scrub his hair. Ilya wraps his arms around him after, pulling him tight into his chest even though he’s still wet and freezing. Shane shivers violently against him. “Is okay. Is okay now.” Ilya murmurs. He pulls Shane out into the bedroom gently by the hand. Sits him down. Takes the spare clothes out of the closet and dresses him in them with care. Socks. Boxer briefs. Sweatpants. A plain t-shirt and then a hoodie. Shane doesn’t think he deserves any of it. He’s not sure if he finished his punishment sufficiently. Ilya kneels back down in front of him and rests careful palms on his knees. “Hollander.” Shane looks at him. “You should not ever do that again.” Ilya doesn’t understand that he has to. He gets up and Shane can hear him moving around the kitchen. He stays put, staring down at his socks. Ilya returns with a blender bottle filled with water and one of Shane’s electrolyte packets. He shakes it overzealously and then hands it to Shane. “Drink.” Shane drinks it diligently. He doesn’t want to disappoint Ilya more than he already has. He’s already been so bad today, he can do something right.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,263
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #78124326
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He thinks of Ilya’s commanding tone: “Hollander, here”, “take it for me”, or Shane’s personal favorite, “kneel.” Shane, through all these years, has been amazed that to Ilya these little commands are so casual, just a part of fucking for him. To Shane, these words are all consuming. They shut off the hyperactive part of his brain and he can just… enjoy. Ilya takes over, makes Shane feel good, uses Shane to feel good, and Shane goes gooey for it every time. He’s never known peace like getting railed by Ilya Rozanov. Shane knows you can't eat your cake and have it, too. He knows that asking too much of Ilya would be plain selfish. Knows that asking to be told exactly what to do so he can shut his brain off isn't normal. And Ilya... well he doesn't think Shane knows shit.
- Part 1 of Today I Fell, and Felt Better
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 10,461
- Chapters:
- 5/5
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76705541
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Shane figures going on a run despite explicit orders from his doctors and his dom can't hurt. He finds out rather quickly that it really, really does.
- Part 2 of Heated Rears
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,012
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77207481
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you are god over the storm, and i am yours by justhockey
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-30
He learned how to play the role they all wanted to see him in - learned how to wear the mask. But not with Ilya. Shane has never had to tone himself down for Ilya, never had to make himself smaller or quieter or more palatable. He has never had to shrink so that he is easier for Ilya to hold.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,606
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #76730636
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Such a Pretty Crier by Bruja_oscura
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-29
Shane is still learning that he doesn't have to be perfect in his own relationship. Ilya is still learning the rules of Shane's bad days. So when Shane tries to push him away after a crushing loss, it leads to a tense argument. But ten years of rivalry are no match for Shane’s tears; the second he starts to cry, Ilya folds like a house of cards. Or: Shane tries to starve himself as punishment for losing, Ilya tries to feed him, and it turns into a very soft night of pampering because Ilya is legally incapable of staying angry at a crying Shane.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 10,302
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76626856
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Being around Ilya is good—better than nearly any other time, because he knows Shane better than anybody else. He can belong around Ilya. He belongs to Ilya, in a way, and Ilya belongs to him. Shane likes to express that belonging in unconventional ways. Most of all, he loves being on his knees for him.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,103
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #76498106
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Learning Curve by GreenGirl11235813
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-19
“You’re wearing a hole in my floor,” he says. “Sit down.” He expects pushback. A look. A quip. Instead— Shane stops." or Shane is anxious and overwhelmed, and has a meeting with Ilya near the beginning of their not-relationship, and it doesn't go as expected. Ilya is surprised to discover just how quickly and easily Shane goes under for him, when he isn't really trying, but is more than happy to care for him.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,823
- Chapters:
- 3/3
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76011691
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Shane doesn’t say he’s overwhelmed. He never does. He shows up instead—later than planned, jaw tight, movements clipped like every second is being audited. His bag lands by the door with more force than necessary. He stands there for a moment too long, as if waiting for instructions he hasn’t been given. Ilya clocks it immediately. “Hey,” he says gently, already closing the distance. “Come here.” Shane shakes his head once, sharp. “Just—give me a minute.” Ilya gives him thirty seconds. Then he takes Shane’s wrist—not tight, not demanding—and guides him further into the apartment. “Shoes off,” he says, voice calm, certain. “Jacket too.” or Ilya takes care of an overwhelmed and overstimulated Shane by letting him float away into subspace for a bit. Shane doesn’t say he’s overwhelmed. He never does. He shows up instead—later than planned, jaw tight, movements clipped like every second is being audited. His bag lands by the door with more force than necessary. He stands there for a moment too long, as if waiting for instructions he hasn’t been given. Ilya clocks it immediately. “Hey,” he says gently, already closing the distance. “Come here.” Shane shakes his head once, sharp. “Just—give me a minute.” Ilya gives him thirty seconds. Then he takes Shane’s wrist—not tight, not demanding—and guides him further into the apartment. “Shoes off,” he says, voice calm, certain. “Jacket too.” Shane exhales, something brittle easing. He does as he’s told. Good. Ilya takes the bag, sets it aside. He steers Shane toward the couch, presses him down with a hand on his shoulder. “Sit.” Shane sits. It’s small. It’s nothing. But it’s also everything—permission to stop managing, to stop anticipating, to stop being the one who has to decide what happens next. Ilya disappears into the kitchen and comes back with a glass of water, sets it in Shane’s hands. “Drink.” Shane does. His hands shake just a little. Ilya sits beside him, close enough that their thighs touch. He doesn’t ask questions. He doesn’t ask Shane to explain. He just starts grounding them back into the same room. “Phone,” Ilya says, holding out his hand. Shane hesitates. Then he hands it over. Ilya puts it face‑down on the table, out of reach. “Good.” Shane swallows. His shoulders slump, just barely, like a structure being allowed to fail safely. “I didn’t realize how loud it was,” Shane says finally, staring at nothing. Ilya nods. “It gets like that.” He shifts, pulls Shane gently but firmly against him, Shane’s back to Ilya’s chest. He wraps his arms around Shane’s middle, solid and warm. Shane stiffens for half a second out of habit —then melts. Ilya rests his chin on Shane’s shoulder. “You don’t have to think right now,” he murmurs. “I have you.” Shane’s breath shudders. “I don’t know what I need.” “That is okay,” Ilya says without hesitation. “I do.” He adjusts the blanket over them. Turns the lights lower. Presses a slow, steady rhythm into Shane’s side with his thumb, counting breaths Shane doesn’t realize he’s following. Minutes pass. Maybe more. Shane leans back fully now, trusting the weight behind him. “You’re good at this,” he says, voice soft, almost surprised. Ilya smiles into his hair. “You let me be.” Shane is quiet for a long moment. Then, barely audible: “Thank you.” Ilya tightens his arms, just a little. “Anytime.” Later—much later—when Shane’s thoughts have slowed and the world has shrunk back to a manageable size, Ilya asks one more thing. “Stay?” Shane doesn’t hesitate this time. “Yeah.” And for once, he doesn’t feel like he’s choosing. He feels like he’s being taken care of. Ilya doesn’t move for a long while. He waits until Shane’s breathing has evened out, until the tension has fully drained from his shoulders. Only then does he speak again. “Okay,” he says quietly. “Next thing.”
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,208
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75848601
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After a high-pressure game, Shane Hollander is a live wire of anxious perfectionism, desperately insisting he's "fine." Ilya Rozanov knows better. He can smell the oncoming omega crash. When Shane's brittle control finally shatters, Ilya must use every ounce of his firm, grounding alpha presence to guide his omega through the collapse—from frantic resistance, to overwhelming relief, and finally, into the safe, quiet space of total submission and praise. (Or: The one where Shane falls apart, and Ilya is there to catch him.) Collapse Into Me __________________ The hotel room door clicked shut behind them, sealing out the roar of the arena, the flash of cameras, the echoing chants of both their names. Shane’s name had been chanted louder tonight. He’d been perfect. Flawless. A machine on the ice. And now, inside the quiet, opulent suite, he was methodically coming apart at the seams. Ilya watched him from the doorway, his own gear bag dropping to the floor with a soft thud. Shane had already marched across the living room, his movements sharp and economical. He placed his own bag by the closet with military precision, toeing it into a perfect parallel line with the wall. He shrugged out of his tailored dress jacket, folded it once, and laid it over the back of an armchair. His tie came next, the silk whispering as he pulled it loose, but instead of discarding it, he looped it neatly around his knuckles, over and over, a tight, anxious coil . To anyone else, he looked composed. Collected. The consummate professional finishing his post-game routine. But Ilya smelled it. Under the sweat and the sharp, chemical scent of the arena ice, Shane’s omega scent was thin. Wispy. Like burnt sugar and over-steeped tea, pulled too tight until it was about to snap. It was a scent Ilya knew intimately—the prelude to a crash. It was in the air between them, a frantic, fading sweetness that made the back of Ilya’s teeth ache with instinct. “Shane,” Ilya said, his voice deliberately calm. Neutral. He took a single, casual step into the room, not wanting to crowd him yet. “I’m fine,” Shane replied instantly, the words clipped. He didn’t turn around. He began to move, not toward the bedroom or the shower, but in a tight, precise line from the sofa to the window and back. Pacing. His dress shoes made a soft, relentless shush-shush on the carpet. “Just need to wind down. The second period, that turnover by the blue line—it was a misread. I saw Tremblay cutting in, but I thought he’d go wide, and if I’d just pivoted half a second sooner, taken the inside lane instead of committing to the boards—” “It led to a goal,” Ilya finished for him, staying where he was, leaning against the wall by the door. He kept his body loose, non-threatening. He unbuttoned his own cuffs, rolling his sleeves up slowly, an attempt to project normalcy. “You won, Shane. 4-1. You had two assists. You were the best player on the ice.” “It was a preventable goal,” Shane shot back, his voice tightening, rising a half-octave. The pacing quickened. Six steps to the window, a sharp pivot, six steps back. His hands flexed at his sides, the coiled tie cutting into his palm. “A stupid, careless— I knew their forecheck pattern. I knew it. I told Hayden to watch for it, I diagrammed it in the locker room. And then I fell for it. Like a rookie. They’ll see that on film. They’ll all see it.” His scent spiked, souring with the acid tang of anxiety. Ilya saw the fine tremor in Shane’s trapped hands before he shoved them into the pockets of his suit pants. He was still in the uniform of the public captain, the tie a little too tight, the crisp white shirt straining across shoulders held in rigid, defensive formation. Every line of him was vibrating with a energy that had nowhere to go but inward, turning toxic. Ilya pushed off the wall. “Come. Shower. The steam will help. We will order food.” He kept his tone practical, a lifeline of simple, physical next steps. “In a minute,” Shane dismissed, veering away from Ilya’s approach as if burned. He ended up at the minibar, staring at its glossy door as if it contained the answers. “I just need to think it through. Map it out. So it doesn’t happen again. If I can see the sequence, where the decision tree branched wrong, I can lock it down.” “You can think in the shower.” Ilya took another step, his voice layering with a gentle alpha rumble, a coaxing note meant to soothe, to pull him gently back from the edge. It had the opposite effect. Shane flinched, actually flinched, and took two rapid steps back, putting the bulk of an armchair between them. His eyes, when they finally flicked to Ilya’s, were wide and glassy with suppressed panic. The beautiful hazel was almost all pupil. “Don’t. Just— don’t, Ilya.” His voice cracked on the name. “I’m fine. I need space. I need to process. I can’t— I can’t think when you’re…” He gestured vaguely at Ilya’s entire presence. The ‘fine’ was a brittle lie, shattering even as he said it. Ilya could see the cracks spreading, a web of fine fractures across the perfect ice of Shane’s composure. Shane’s breathing was all wrong—shallow sips of air that didn’t reach his lungs, the rise and fall of his chest too quick and high. His knuckles were white where he gripped the back of the chair. The beautiful, controlled omega who commanded the ice with a whisper was being devoured from the inside by a frantic, scrambling thing, an animal caught in a trap of its own spinning thoughts. Ilya’s own instincts, usually kept on a firm, civilized leash, began to stir and then rise. A low- grade alarm pulsed through him, syncing with his heartbeat. His omega is in distress. He is not safe. He is not grounded. He is hurting himself. The analytical part of his brain, the strategist, concurred coldly: Shane was spiraling, his thoughts looping into a self-flagellating frenzy with no exit. He was seconds from hyperventilating, minutes from a full, shuddering omega crash that would leave him feeling raw, sick, and vulnerable for days. The time for gentle coaxing was over. The time for patient waiting had passed. Shane was too far gone to reach for the lifeline himself. Ilya would have to go in and get him. Ilya shifted. It was subtle, but in the charged, silent room, it was as loud as a thunderclap. He straightened to his full height, rolling his shoulders back, his spine aligning into a posture of pure, unassailable authority. He let his own scent bloom—not an aggressive challenge, but a deep, anchoring, deliberate wave of cedar, old leather, and steady, warm earth. An alpha’s scent of stability. Of claim. Of here, and now, and me. He poured it into the space, a tangible force meant to counter the thin, panicked sweetness choking the air.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,409
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75628616