141 – 160 of 167 Works in Dom/sub
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“You lie to yourself, Hollander. Not to me.” “What, because you know me so well?” “Yes. I do. Don’t I?”
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 10,346
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #76358436
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On the Grassy Shore by LadyElspeth
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-23
At the cottage, Ilya Rozanov asked Shane Hollander to practice yoga. Taking another long sip from his bottle of cold beer, Ilya grinned. “Hey, Hollander,” he said in an upbeat voice, “where’s your yoga mat? I haven’t seen it.” Even though Shane was wearing sunglasses in the lazy afternoon light as he leaned down to check out the stove to prepare for dinner, Ilya could bet that Shane was rolling his eyes. “Please tell me you aren’t thinking about that stupid house tour again. Why?” “Why not?” Ilya shrugged. “Learned some new words too. ‘Fortress of solitude,’ am I saying it right?” he pronounced carefully, not wanting to mess up any syllable. “Because I still can’t believe you watched the whole damn thing!” Shane threw a rag resting on the grill’s handle to Ilya, who caught it easily only to toss it aside. “I did. I want to see it.” Shane turned around sharply to stare at Ilya. “See what? Me doing yoga?” A larger grin, almost wicked, was expanding on Ilya’s face. He knew how Shane loved it when he smiled like that—just a matter of time before Shane gave in. “Oh yes. You showed it to the camera crew. You can show it to me.” And Shane was already blushing. “All right,” Shane mumbled, moving his eyes away from Ilya’s face and starting to walk indoors. “I’ll be right back.” Ilya tried to hide his excitement by nodding slightly and drinking the beer again. A minute later, Shane reappeared with the light blue yoga mat, the same one that Ilya saw on his tv in Boston, and spread it on the grass. Ilya shook his head and clicked his tongue loudly. Shane paused, looking up with raised brows. “No, no, it’s wrong. Turn it to the side,” Ilya instructed. “I need the same angle.” Shane chuckled, “Asshole.” Nevertheless, he moved the yoga mat, and Ilya nodded with approval. What happened next was so mesmerizing that Ilya nearly let the bottle of beer slip through his fingers several times. Fucking hell, Shane was taking off his sunglasses, shoes, and socks. Then, he was on his stomach, legs flat as he hoisted his torso with the bulging muscles of his arms. And Shane got on one foot and stretched, his toned arms glistening under the sun. Each pose was meticulous, and Ilya felt like he was in a classroom in a high-end yoga studio. Instinctively, he held his breath and leaned forward in his Adirondack chair, his sunglasses unable to hide the intensity of the gaze underneath. When Shane turned around to face the lake, away from Ilya, and reached down, his tight, round buttocks flush against his shorts were too much. Okay. That was it! Ilya decided. In a flash, he carelessly put down his sunglasses, then the bottle, not caring that it fell and the rest of his drink spilled into the grass. He bridged the distance between them, kicked aside his sandals, and stepped on the mat to stand behind Shane. Shane wasn’t done with the last pose. He sucked in a breath when Ilya touched his stomach, pulling him in. “Want to learn yoga?” Shane laughed, leaning back into Ilya’s strong chest. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t care.” Ilya didn’t want to think about English words anymore. He wanted to pin Shane down on his slutty yoga mat that he dared to show to the whole world and fuck him. Turning to face Ilya, Shane smiled. The light breeze, sweet like lemonade, lifted a strand of hair by Shane’s ear. His hair was a little longer now compared to his look during the season, and Ilya loved it. And the light brown in Shane’s eyes as they reflected the sunlight was as tasty as honey. Ilya leaned in to kiss that adorable strand of hair, eyes taking in the bridge of freckles on Shane’s face. “You’re too cute,” Ilya said. Shane blushed and kissed Ilya back on the lips. But their touches on each other’s arms and chest soon became heated in the summer sun. Shane pulled off his tank top, and Ilya, not wearing anything on his chest to begin with, helped him throw it aside. “Show me more yoga,” Ilya murmured and turned Shane around, making them both get down. When Ilya towered over Shane, who was on his hands and knees, he tried to protest:
- Part 6 of Hollanov
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,788
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76241831
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takes a bit more by idioticthoughts
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-23
An alternate universe in which Shane brings Rose to Tampa. Ilya isn’t jealous. No, really. He’s not. Or, a bit of canon-divergence for the sake of some extra angst and dom/sub Hollanov.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,693
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76248271
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Slut,” Ilya says, watching Shane’s mouth fall open at the name. “What? Are you not?” Shane opens his mouth again, but no words come out. “Stretched yourself open in here, while your team was just down the hall? Fingered your ass in my bed,” Ilya says, “in a stranger’s bed,” he adds on for effect, “during a party. Is pretty slutty,” he says. Shane swallows. “I guess so.” “Do you like it?” “Like what?” Ilya rolls his eyes. “Being a slut. Prepping yourself for a stranger’s cock? Getting naked in his bed with people in the next room,” he says. Shane chews his lip, and he nods, just the smallest movement Ilya barely catches. “Mm. Of course you do. Imagine if they knew,” Ilya purrs, and he pulls his shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor. “You’ll keep your mask on?” Shane asks. “Da. Of course. Otherwise you’d know who I am.” --- Ilya throws a masquerade party so he can fuck Shane without having to face anything else.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 7,022
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #76241446
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Shane and Ilya came out as a couple and started playing for the same team. They get to travel together now. Ilya wants to have some fun, and Shane can't say no to his boyfriend. That's how he ends up with a plug in his ass on an airplane surrounded by teammates.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,757
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76189266
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“I love you, Shane Hollander. You know that, right?” “Of course. And I love you, Ilya Rozanov.” “Good. Now shut up and come for me like the good little boy you are, yes?” Or, it's their last night at the cottage and Shane comes apart.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,425
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76102146
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Shane’s eyes meet his, and there’s a particular gloss to them that Ilya has come to recognize. He squeezes Shane’s hand before letting it go, keeping his voice quiet so Shane has to really listen as he instructs, “I want you to get on your knees. With your head on my leg. And then you are going to sit there until I tell you to move. And if you can do that, maybe tonight leads to happy endings.” Shane licks his lips. “What if I can’t?” he asks, but they both already know he’s going to. Ilya moves his head from side to side, pretending to mull it over, before answering, “I think you can.” Shane plays terribly, contributing to a 6-1 loss for Montreal. Ilya employs his new skills as the best soft dom in the universe to make him feel better about it.
- Part 2 of Ilya and Shane explore gentle BDSM!
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,390
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76038311
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i'm grateful to you for letting me lose by bluerosebouquet
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-18
He wanted to bury his face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder, to breathe in the smell of him, to touch his skin and give him everything that he could. He wanted to give to him until there was nothing left, until Shane had disappeared into him forever. “Look at me,” Ilya’s voice was quiet, but Shane obeyed immediately, his eyes fuzzy at the corners, “How are you feeling?” Shane intended to lie. There was no reason to complicate things with hard truths that not even he understood. Instead, his lip wobbled, and he found that he couldn’t say anything at all. “Ah,” Ilya made a noise that sounded nearly as devastated as Shane felt, and put a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him forward. Shane went easily, his forehead pressing into Ilya’s shoulder, and breathing deeply through his nose, trying not to cry. Or, Shane drops after leaving Ilya's house.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,075
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75897266
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muscles better and nerves more by bigtimesensuality
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-18
Ilya loved this part best. Not just the sex, though he would never pretend it hadn't been good, hadn't been exactly what Shane needed. What Ilya loved was this: the quiet after, the way Shane went soft and pliable once the sharp edges burned out of him. Once the anger drained away and left something warm and loose behind.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,013
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75965021
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It's the "We didn't even kiss" scene that's all you need to know. The first few hundred words cover scenes we’ve seen (the awards show, the bathroom) and then diverge. (og title was Teach Me How to Love.)
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 13,969
- Chapters:
- 2/2
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75792936
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If this is Christmas, Ilya will start to believe in that stupid man who lives with polar bears and makes toys.
He'll believe in anything, any God, any religion, if Shane Hollander’s body is its temple.
Or: the sugary highs and lows of Christmas Day through the years, from Ilya Rozanov's perspective.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 10,093
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75911086
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coming undone, sweetheart by lizee
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-16
“Hollander,” Ilya said, voice a low growl, “you, fuck, you smell so...why would you come here? Like this?” Ilya was gripping his arms and Shane nearly let out a whine at the contact. He almost forgot how much he craved touch, how good it felt to be touched by him. Almost. Fuck, Ilya smelled so good. He closed his eyes again and inhaled, resisting the urge to touch his forehead to Ilya’s. To strip right here and let everyone in this club watch as Ilya took him, fucked him right here when he’s wet and willing and wanting. “Like what?” he forced out, realizing he needed to give a response. “Like you’re in fucking heat, Hollander,” Ilya hissed through his teeth, pressing a hand into Shane’s chest and pushing him a little. Or, the club scene from episode 4 but omegaverse.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,457
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75846376
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Shane and Ilya have the day off, and for that day, Ilya has complete and utter free use of Shane.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,846
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75797146
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“I did not … know what happened. You touched over my pants, kissed my stomach. Went into my lap.” Ilya gestures with his free hand like he’s grasping for a word he can’t find, just out of reach. “Something was different.” Shane can’t say he remembers all that in as much clarity as Ilya does – the whole day is a bit of a blur in his mind. “We were having fun afternoon. Sex and naps and talking. And then I touched your hair and you went somewhere. Scared me, a little bit.” Blinking and still not understanding, Shane repeats, “I went somewhere?” Reaching over, Ilya picks up the booklet. One handed, he holds it against his thigh and flips to a page around halfway through with the word Subspace in bold at the top. He taps it with his forefinger. “Went here, I think.” Shane experiences a sub-drop without knowing what's happening. Ilya doesn't know either, so he makes it his mission to find out.
- Part 1 of Ilya and Shane explore gentle BDSM!
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,553
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75733051
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Ilya’s hand wraps around his bare wrist and squeezes. Shane barely stops himself from collapsing to his knees. The pressure lights up every receptor of his touch-starved nervous system, wrenching a small, pained noise from the back of his throat. Every muted sensation comes flooding back so intensely that it almost hurts. He needs Ilya to hold him down until there’s nothing inside him but quiet. He wants to sink into him and disappear. It takes Shane an entire beat to remember where they are. Fighting against the fog in his mind, he manages to drag his gaze up to meet Ilya’s. There’s a slow-dawning horror and understanding on Ilya’s face. * Or: Shane is in subdrop after their encounter in Vegas. Ilya fixes it.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 8,770
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75759461
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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
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“Can you still stay the night?”
“Yes,” Ilya says quickly, nodding into Shane’s neck. “I will stay the night.”
I will stay forever, he doesn’t say. Just ask me, and I will do it.
- Part 2 of Мой сладкий мальчик
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,011
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75633226
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Shane's shorts got Ilya actin' up by hollzy81
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-11
A quiet afternoon turns dangerous when Shane wears the shorts he knows will ruin Ilya’s self-control. Shane and Ilya were home, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the room. Ilya was sprawled on the plush couch, resting on his back, his eyes glued his phone. The scent of rain-soaked earth drifted in from the open window, mingling with the faint aroma of Shane's cologne, a familiar and comforting presence. Shane emerged from the shower, the steam still clinging to his skin, his hair damp and tousled. He walked downstairs, the soft thud of his bare feet against the wooden floorboards the only sound breaking the silence. He was wearing shorts, but not just any shorts. They were the kind that Ilya knew, the kind that made his breath hitch, the kind that screamed, "Fuck me." They were a faded, soft denim, riding low on his hips, the waistband barely concealing the curve of his ass. Ilya's mouth watered instantly. He couldn't help it. He’d been captivated by Shane since the moment they met, and even after years together, the man still had the power to render him speechless. Shane seemed to notice his husband's reaction, a shy smile playing on his lips. He turned and headed into the kitchen, leaning against the counter, his back to Ilya, offering the perfect view of his ass. Ilya couldn't take it anymore. He rose from the couch in two swift strides, crossing the room and pressing himself against Shane's back. He wrapped his arms around Shane's waist, his hands finding purchase on the soft denim. "These shorts," Ilya murmured, his voice husky, "will be the death of me." He started grinding his half-erect cock against his husband's ass, the friction sending a jolt of pleasure through him. Shane moaned, pushing back against his husband, his body arching slightly. "Wore them just for you," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "Fuck," Ilya breathed, the word a prayer, a promise. He started squeezing Shane's ass, his fingers kneading the soft flesh. Shane groaned, his body trembling. Ilya trailed kisses along Shane's neck, his lips and teeth finding the sensitive skin just below his ear. Shane closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against his husband's shoulder, and whimpered softly. "Does that feel good?" Ilya asked, his voice a low rumble. Shane moaned and nodded, his breath catching in his throat. Ilya started touching Shane's nipples through his shirt, twitching them between his fingers, teasing them with a gentle touch. Shane moaned out loud, the sound a raw, desperate plea. "Fuck, Ilya... more," he begged, his voice laced with need. Ilya, already on the edge, was completely turned on by everything, the feel of Shane's body against his, the sound of his moans, the way his eyes were glazed with desire. He couldn't help himself. He slapped Shane's ass, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Shane moaned, pressing closer to his husband, his body seeking more. "Again," he pleaded, his voice barely a whisper. Ilya cursed under his breath. "Fuck, Hollander. You’re perfect." And he smacked Shane's ass again, harder this time. Shane whimpered, the sound a mixture of pain and pleasure. "Ilya... fuck..." Shane's cock was leaking furiously, his shorts and boxers soaked in pre-cum, the evidence of his arousal undeniable. He couldn't take it anymore. He ground his ass harder against his husband, his hips moving in a desperate rhythm, and moaned, "Please." Ilya grabbed Shane's hair, pulling his head back, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Words, Hollander. What do you need?" Shane moaned. "I need you to fuck me... on this counter, fuck, Ilya." He started grinding harder, his body writhing with anticipation. "As you wish," Ilya said, his voice a low growl. He reached down, his fingers finding Shane's front. "Spit." Shane obeyed instantly, his eyes locked on Ilya's, and spit on his fingers. "Good boy," Ilya murmured, a possessive edge to his voice. Shane's eyes fluttered at the nickname, his body already trembling with the promise of pleasure. Ilya shoved Shane's shorts and boxers down in one swift movement, revealing his wet, throbbing cock. He started circling his hole with his fingers, his touch slow and deliberate, preparing him. Shane moaned desperately, his body arching. "Please... Ilya..." Ilya smacked his ass again, the sound sharp in the air. "You take what I give you, understand?" "Yes... Fuck... Ilya, whatever you say." Ilya groaned, his own control slipping. He pushed a finger in, slowly, deliberately, stretching Shane's hole. Shane moaned out loud, his body tensing. "This hole is so fucking tight," Ilya whispered, his voice thick with anticipation. "Can't wait to get it all loose." Shane moaned at the words, his hips bucking. Ilya added another finger, scissoring them, his touch becoming more insistent. He moved closer to Shane's lips, hovering over his ear. "Do you want that... want me to ruin your hole and make it mine forever? Ruin you for everyone else?" Shane's eyes rolled back, his head lolling against Ilya's shoulder. Ilya's fingers found his prostate, and he began to stroke it, his touch precise and relentless. Shane moaned, a long, drawn-out sound of pure pleasure. "Yes... fuck... yes, Ilya... ruin me."
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,721
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75604546
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At the secluded cottage, Shane and Ilya's intimate evening takes a turn as Ilya proposes something new.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,161
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75594731
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“I am going to fuck you,” Rozanov said, pressing kisses to Shane’s neck, “and if you are very, very good, maybe I will unlock you.”
Shane has been in chastity for two weeks and is desperate for release. Ilya makes him wait a little longer.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,106
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #75481496