241 – 260 of 273 Works in Soft Dom Ilya Rozanov
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i’ve got some regrets (i’ll bury them in florida) by justhockey
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-22
The want tears through him like a hurricane, entirely unconcerned with all the destruction it might leave in its wake. Right now, tomorrow doesn’t matter. Right now they don’t have to consider the consequences of this reckless night they’re about to spend together; a night where all their unspoken rules are being tossed out the window in favour of simply letting their bodies be honest. They can figure all this out later, but now…now Ilya needs Shane naked and writhing beneath him before he combusts. (Or, what happens in the hotel room in Florida.)
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,562
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 3 versions
- AO3:
- #76217236
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Lily: It is too dangerous to be alone with concussion. I will stay at your apartment like nurse. -- Shane goes to Montreal for the weekend during his concussion recovery. So does Ilya.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,496
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76155321
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Poulet Frit Kentucky by Nothing68
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-21
Ilya comes over to Shane's cottage and domestic fluff and smut ensues. Or Ilya really hates French, Shane loves that he hates it
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,153
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76128576
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when a fire starts to burn by HawkinsLocal
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-21
"How long can you stay?" Shane asks when Ilya arrives at his building, slipping in the back door and racing up the stairs. It's always the question, now: how much time, how many hours can they steal, what can they get away with while the world is looking the other direction. When they reach the top Ilya looks Shane in the eye and says, "Long enough." Or, five times Shane comes first, and one time he doesn't.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,473
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76163316
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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 was thinking about what awaited him tonight as he washed his hair in the showers with the rest of his team after the game, and a small smirk graced the corner of his lips. The thought of Ilya pinning him to the bed like he’d pinned him to the boards, seeing him clean and freshly-showered post-game and then wrecking him all over again into a sweaty, breathless mess. Ilya deserved that tonight. Shane would fight back a little, just for the fun of it— but Ilya always got him in the end. Shane was weak for him every time. *** Shane and Ilya meet up after the game at Ilya's penthouse in Boston, and Ilya plays with Shane like putty in his hands. No matter how vicious he was on the ice, Shane Hollander was always so, so good for Ilya Rozanov.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,405
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76055636
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"No," Shane said again, a minute or so later. "No?" Ilya mumbled against Shane's skin. "Not good," Shane said petulantly. Ilya pulled his face away from Shane's shoulders and opened his eyes, though he couldn't make out much. Some horrible realization was building in his chest, and he wasn't sure he wanted to see it clearly. Still, he asked, "You're not good?" Shane sighed like he was in pain. "Not good enough." Or Ilya reminds Shane how good he is. Playing with Shane was electric. Ilya had gotten a taste for it during their All-Stars game in Florida, when they'd finally been put on the same team for the first time in their competitive careers, but that was nothing compared to playing for the Ottawa Centaurs together. Ilya was the captain, but sometimes it felt like they shared the position. Their other teammates certainly treated Shane with enough reverence that he may as well have been their co-captain. "Assistant captain at best," said Ilya when he and Shane talked about it. Shane threw his head back in laughter in that way that showed off the long expanse of his neck. Ilya wanted to bite him. "Fuck you," said Shane through another laugh. Ilya grinned, all teeth like a shark, and gave into his base desires to sing his teeth into Shane's skin, just hard enough to make him yelp. "I don't really think of myself like that, you know that, right?" Shane asked him sometime later, when they were naked and sweaty, and Ilya was already thinking about how much they needed to change their sheets. "Like what?" Ilya asked distantly, his thoughts were still sluggish from sex. "Like a co-captain or an assistant captain or whatever. We all think of you as the captain." Shane pulled him close. "Me included." Ilya's thoughts cleared just enough for him to tease. "Is lie. Otherwise, you would call me captain in bed." Shane's cheeks turned red, his whole face turned red, all the way down his neck. He scrunched up his face like a kitten. "Gross," laughed Shane. "I don't want to think about you like that when I'm on the ice." "Gross?" gasped Ilya, offended. Shane laughed again, this time louder than before. See? Electric. Ilya had never felt anything like it. They played together and practiced together—except when Coach Wiebe separated them because they were being annoying—and went home together every night. They didn't win all their games, which Shane said he expected, but Ilya found annoying, but they won most of them, and every time Ilya was off the ice, he would have to fight the urge to pin Shane down in the showers and fuck him. For the first time, Ilya's life was full. He played for Ottawa with his husband and went home to his husband's family. He spent time with Yuna and David and let himself pretend that they were his parents too. They certainly liked to refer to themselves as such, which Ilya loved and also found unnerving. He'd never realized how scary it was to have something to lose. Things went from the empty to the grey of winter to the bright, stinging heat of summer after Shane joined his team, after they got married, after they moved in together and didn't have to sleep in separate beds. Every day, even in the frigid Canadian cold that came late in the year, felt like that first summer at the cottage to Ilya. But it wasn't all sunshine, as much as Ilya had hoped it would be. It was pretty close, almost perfect, but there was something that Ilya couldn't ignore. "Fuck Montreal," Tanner said, a sneer in his words. They trashed Montreal more than they did any other team, which was to be expected from Ottawa, but had only gotten worse following Shane's leaving the team. "They're not all bad," Shane said with a sigh, needlessly diplomatic. "Oh?" Tanner asked with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. "Should we let them win then?" Shane shook his head. He looked like he was smiling indulgently, but Ilya didn't miss the way the muscles in his neck strained slightly. He hadn't slept much leading up to this game, and Ilya could see the dark circles under Shane's dark freckles. He didn't like them. "Fuck no," Shane said with a soft laugh. They won their game against Montreal, unsurprisingly. They were a better team. Shane had carried Montreal for years, and they were finally learning what it meant to be without their star player. Especially considering that Hayden was across the ice looking at Shane like a kicked puppy. Ilya left the rink with vindication clinging to his teeth like blood. He slapped Bood on the back roughly, and the two of them grinned at each other. The other players were congratulating Shane, who was smiling politely at each of them. Not one of the smiles touched his eyes, and something unnerved grew in Ilya's stomach. “Going out tonight?" Luca asked with that chipper grin that made every like him. "Sure," Shane agreed first, which was more worrying than the lack of sleep. Ilya's eyebrows furrowed, but when Luca turned to look at him, he nodded enthusiastically. "You heard him," Ilya said with the brightest grin he could manage. The bar they went to felt more like a club for how packed it was, and despite Ilya's latent desires to be out among people, loud music blasting in his ears as he swallowed down a few shots of Vodka, he'd never wanted to head home more. He nearly told Shane as much, nearly pulled him aside, and pressed his lips to Shane's collarbone to get what he wanted.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,653
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76059946
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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’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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Ilya tutted. “Uhm like Father Christmas- Santa Claus, yes? Only, on New Year. Old man visits home, walks through front door, and greets children with present. Less creepy than Santa Claus.” Shane furrowed his eyebrows. “You think Santa is creepy?” “Listen to song, Shane. He sees you when you’re sleeping- knows when you’re awake..” Ilya waved a hand and scrunched up his face as he gently leaned over to inspect the small Christmas village people. “He watches like some pervert.” Shane surprises Ilya by decorating for christmas....Shane gets railed....and Ilya makes the Hollander parents cry.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 9,354
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75950871
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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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“More,” Rozanov grunts in English, but Shane is transfixed on the bead of sweat rolling down his temple, down to his tense jaw. “Say more, Hollander.” “Mm, more–” “No, more– Блять–” “No more?” “Ни хрена себе– Say more Russian, Hollander.” or, Shane knows how to say about four words in Russian, and Ilya loses his mind
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,246
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75944821
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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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Post-sex, Shane wakes up nonverbal and floaty in Ilya’s arms at the cottage.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,380
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75833131
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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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“I want you to fuck me, Rozanov,” is the first thing Shane says as soon as the door closes behind him. “Hello to you too, Hollander. It’s good to see you. Want some coffee?” — After a bad game, Shane seeks out Ilya to relieve some tension in a purely physical way. Or at least that's what he tells himself. It's not that he wants to be comforted. Definitely not.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,943
- Chapters:
- 2/2
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75668901
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It was two rings and then his thick accent and smooth voice washed over Shane like a slow molasses. “Hollander,” Rozanov sighed. “It is late. I thought you had date, no?” “I fucked up,” Shane whispered biting back a sob. Shane drops after he sleeps with someone that's not Ilya, so naturally he calls Ilya to take care of him.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,532
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75670246
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Ilya’s hands stay planted firmly at the curve of Shane’s hips, thumbs pressing into the edges where the stretch marks rise like faint ridges under his skin. “So pretty, Hollander. Stretch marks, yes?” “Yeah, had them… for as long as I can remember,” Shane gasps as Ilya’s grip tightens, thumbs circling the stretch marks as he fucks into Shane over and over again. OR: Shane rides Ilya, and Ilya is obsessed with Shane’s stretch marks.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,600
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75684011
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Shane is hiding an injury. Ilya notices.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,282
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75647081