141 – 160 of 273 Works in Soft Dom Ilya Rozanov
- Soft Dom Ilya Rozanov ×
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“I had an idea,” Ilya says. He puts his hand on the back of Shane’s head and holds him in place. Shane hums a question and works his tongue into the underside of Ilya’s cock. “Maybe you only come when you are like this. With your mouth on my cock.”
- Language:
- English
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- 4,487
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- 1/1
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- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #77404416
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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
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- 10,461
- Chapters:
- 5/5
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- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #76705541
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"Shane heart reacts to the message. Ilya imagines him taking an uneasy bite from the toast, but still enjoying it. He waits until he’s done getting ready for practice before texting again. Lily: you have eaten it all? The reply is instant. Jane: [image attachment] Jane: I’m still shaking The plate and cup are both empty. Ilya’s heart clenches. Shane is…he’s so perfect." Or: A series of moments centered around Shane's recovery process.
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- English
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- 3,209
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- 1/1
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- 1
- AO3:
- #77398996
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Ilya rails Shane into the headboard (literally) or Shane gets his bell rung - again.
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- English
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- 7,058
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- 1/1
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- 1
- AO3:
- #77370971
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He’s a perfectionist and he will perfect the art of being Shane’s Dom.
- Part 2 of Heated Rivalry One-shots
- Language:
- English
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- 4,871
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- 1/1
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- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #77366271
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Shane presses his forehead deeper into Ilya's body, breathes through his nose when he feels the stretch in the corners of his mouth and his throat closes up from the intrusion. The patch of coarse hair there scratches his nose and chin. He tries to swallow some of his spit, but all that failed attempt does is make him drool even more when he gags, his tongue involuntary pushing up and outwards to clear up his passageway but he would not take Ilya out of his mouth. Instead, he closes his eyes and takes another deep breath through his nose, recalling all the breathing techniques he learned in therapy, in training, in his experiences being intimate with Ilya. It should be easier now than when he's fully hard, but that sinking feeling of failing stings Shane's eyes all the same. It's one thing to fail at something — at being like the other guys, at winning a game, at getting a joke — but it's another thing to feel like he has failed someone. // Shane wants to help Ilya takes his mind off something. Even though he doesn't want to tell him what it is.
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- English
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- 3,523
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- 1/1
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- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #77381076
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let me paint you a picture by beautifullyblue
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-09
Shane wearing glasses makes Ilya unbelievably horny. cue Shane getting his face fucked within an inch of his life.
- Language:
- English
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- 3,064
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #77382046
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Let's pretend that Shane and Ilya's sunset beach scene took place the night before the All-Star game, and Shane's gay confession is slightly overshadowed by Ilya's reaction to an injury on the ice. As the 2017 All-Star game draws to a close, you have to admire Shane Hollander’s leadership on the ice tonight. With the chemistry we are seeing from his team, you would think these players have been training together all season. Notably, this includes long-time rival Ilya Rozanov—and while it may come as a surprise, it’s clear that Hollander and Rozanov’s competitive history is not getting in the way of them working seamlessly together on the ice. It’s also clear that captain Aaron Eriksson is not going to be able to squeeze out a win against this powerful duo tonight. Rozanov with the puck now, with a beautiful pass to Hollander as they move to further solidify their victory, and ouch—Hollander just took a hard hit from Eriksson. That did not look good. There’s Scott Hunter helping Hollander to his feet now. Hollander’s waving away the medics, but you can tell he’s hurt. Looks like a possible broken rib. Who knows what this could mean for Montreal’s remaining season, but It’s safe to say that Hollander will not be finishing this All-Star game on the ice. And here comes Ilya Rozanov— boy, he is not happy. He’s confronting Eriksson now. This looks like it could get ugly. There go the gloves... And ouch, that is a powerful right hook from Rozanov. With three minutes left in the period, Hollander’s injury won’t prevent his team from clinching the victory, but it looks like Rozanov is going to be watching the remainder of this game from the penalty box. Later, when Ilya knocked on his hotel room door, Shane pulled him inside looking furious. “That was so fucking stupid, Rozanov, what were you thinking?” he hissed. Ilya just smirked. “Was thinking Eriksson would look pretty with less teeth.” In his deep voice it almost sounded sensual. “You can’t—that was so obvious, people are going to talk—” Shane said, eyes wild and anxious. Ilya looked at him like he was an idiot. “And they say what? I hit him, so this means you and I are fucking?” He rolled his eyes, but there was a fondness in his expression that never failed to make Shane feel breathless. “I need your permission to throw punch, now?” “It was reckless,” Shane argued. “Eriksson had it coming. I would have done same thing if he came after any teammate.” It was a lie, and they both knew it. “Only asshole would play dirty in stupid All-Star game.” “It was a clean hit.” “Was not. His elbow—” “I watched it back, Rozanov, it was clean,” Shane interrupted him, voice firm. “And so what?” Ilya sounded exasperated. “Is hockey. Sometimes people get punched. You never play before?” “Fuck you.” A smile was tugging at Shane’s lips despite himself. Ilya smiled back at him for a moment, but then his eyebrows drew together in concern. “How are your ribs?” “They’re fine—that’s not what I’m worried about right now.” “Is what I worry about. Show me,” he demanded. As always, Shane’s first instinct was to obey his order without question. He managed to keep himself from immediately raising his shirt, because Ilya couldn’t have everything he wanted from him all the fucking time. “Ilya.” “Shane,” Ilya said mockingly, and he stepped forward, crowding Shane against the bed until he was forced to sit down on the edge of the mattress. “Show.” With a heavy sigh, Shane lifted the hem of his t-shirt to expose the purple bruises starting to bloom over the right side of his ribcage. Ilya reached down to trace his fingers along the mottled skin, and Shane hissed at the sensation. “Is not so bad,” Ilya said appraisingly. You will recover before playoffs.” “I know that, you asshole. Which is why it was fucking stupid of you to deck Eriksson over nothing.” Shane felt a tiny bit of satisfaction from being right. But mostly he still felt mad at Ilya for risking everything because of his stupid temper. “It looked worse on the ice.” “I don’t care!” Shane snapped. “I don’t need you fighting my battles for me, Rozanov.” Ilya stared at him, looking deeply unimpressed. “Ah, so you were going to punch him, then?” he said pointedly. “It was a clean hit—” “So you say.” “Do you want me to pull up the clip and show you?” Shane said, tugging his phone out of his pocket, ready to do just that. “No, no, no. I do not want to watch you get hurt again.” There was something tender in Ilya’s expression, but it quickly shifted back to the cocky arrogance Shane was used to. “But you would like to see my punch again, da?” he teased. “Definitely not.” Another lie. Ilya was grinning now, and it was almost terrifying how much Shane wanted to kiss him.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,027
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- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #77391531
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Shane needs a break at a charity gala, luckily Ilya knows exactly what he needs.
- Part 2 of hollanov’s filthy escapades
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- English
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- 5,092
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- 1/1
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- 1
- AO3:
- #77401501
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Cumbersome and heavy body by Sweettree
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2026-01-08
God, he was having a freak out and it was gonna be a bad one. “I can’t do this I can’t do this. I can’t I can’t. why?! I can’t! I can’t.” Shane was sobbing. He could breathe he couldn’t hear. His whole body was burning. Not like on fire, but it was tingling. Like an energy was trying to escape him from all directions. Like anxiety was trying to seep out of every pore in his skin. Or Shane has a really bad meltdown during a game.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,331
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77324576
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floating in awe (and wonder) by brokencomatose
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-08
“when we finish breakfast, i want you to go back up to our room. you will wait for me to take anya out and then I will come to you. you have choice- sit on edge of bed or sit in middle of bed. whatever you think will be most comfortable. okay?” shane pauses in the process of finishing off his second piece of toast, the bread halfway to his mouth as he blinks at Ilya a few times. “but-” “no,” ilya’s voice is low but firm, and he reaches his free hand out to nudge shane’s towards his mouth and waits until the other takes another bite before he continues. “you want to be good, yes?” shane nods almost immediately, the flush on his cheeks darkening to a deeper pink as he does so. “of course. but we need-” “to be good boy, that means that you will listen. you trust me to take care of you.”
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,175
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #77337546
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olive trees by anincompletelist (soldouthaz)
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-08
When his absence and abrupt reappearance causes Shane to drop during the NHL awards, Ilya realizes he has more power over Shane than he thought he did.
- Part 1 of i'll believe in anything
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,136
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77314231
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“So,” Ilya interrupted, holding up a finger. “You believe I am not strong enough? That your boyfriend, who lifts you against walls and carries you to bed, is too weak to handle you? That my face would break under the glorious weight of your perfect ass?” Shane blinked. (or, Shane refuses to sit on Ilya's face and Ilya takes personal offense to it.) Tag to be covered: Ilya Rozanov Has a Thigh Kink
- Part 2 of Crashing out over Hollanov
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,349
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77326571
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Pretty Boy by skargasm
Heated Rivalry (TV), heated rivalry - Fandom, Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-08
Whatever Shane is to the outside world, here he is Ilya’s pretty boy.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,089
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77334306
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Then Ilya’s mouth was there. Right on the spot. His lips pressed a soft, lingering kiss to that exact patch of skin below Shane’s navel. It was a combination of the location, the tenderness of the gesture so at odds with Ilya’s usual aggressive passion, and the sheer accumulated sensitivity of weeks of focused attention that broke the dam. or, that picture of Ilya kissing Shane's lower belly broke my brain.
- Part 1 of Crashing out over Hollanov
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,653
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77267376
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spin silence into gold by Marleycat
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-07
“Boston captain Ilya Rozanov is coming off an impressive game versus Pittsburgh with two goals and two assists. Will he be able to maintain his momentum as the season goes on, keeping dynamic Metros’ Captain Shane Hollander under him?” If they only knew how wrong that was. ---- Ilya's plan to get Shane to stay over had been going so well until a scared Shane ran away. Ilya tries to deal with the fallout when he is left alone, realizing how deep he is falling for Shane. When he makes it to Shane's cottage, nothing will keep him from shedding a tear or two over shopping lists, shared clothing, dental hygiene, and having someone be the one to take care of him again, finally.
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- English
- Words:
- 2,338
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77242796
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Ilya dug deeper into the bag and pulled out a sturdy, leather dog collar, dark brown and buckled. Quick as a wink, he held it up, dangling it directly at Shane’s neck. "You make cute puppy. Shchenok Shane."
Shane glared, his face heating up instantly, and slapped Ilya's hand away. "Stop it!"
Ilya advanced closer, his stance casual, yet dominating. "I am serious. Consider this gift. It says, 'I belong to Ilya Rozanov.'... Come on. Put it on. Be my good boy."
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 32,145
- Chapters:
- 5/5
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #74771191
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Ilya realises that Shane doesn’t just respond to his needs during sex. He's taking orders – and getting off on it. They both are. Get on your knees. That had been the first time Ilya had tested Hollander's boundaries directly. He had noticed during their first couple interactions that Hollander seemed to like the guidance that Ilya gave him. Ilya relished in it; Hollander was the first person who seemed to actually listen to him and do what he was told to do. It was thrilling. But Ilya didn’t realise the depth of Hollander’s submissive streak right away. The first time he had invited him to drink more water, that day in the hotel gym, Hollander had done it immediately. Ilya had figured that Hollander had just had permission to take more than what he thought he was allowed to and didn’t think anything of it. When Hollander had admitted that being with Ilya was his first time being with a man, Ilya assumed that he was shy and nervous, his brown eyes docile and timid. Ilya was determined to make it as easy as possible for Hollander to explore – whatever this was. He remembered being nervous with Sasha, and how Sasha had coached him patiently in how to fuck men. Ilya had been so focused on being good in bed that he hadn’t had too much time to be truly terrified, which was great for him, but Ilya could tell that wasn’t Hollander’s motivator. And that first night in Hollander’s hotel room had left Ilya with questions. The way Hollander had immediately dropped to his knees once Ilya had pressed his thumb into his mouth was...something. Like he’d been given some sort of unspoken permission to do something Ilya would have never told him he couldn’t do, and once he got it, he came alive. Ilya had never experienced someone become so dazed before, so lost inside sex that the outside world didn’t even seem to exist anymore. His eyes...it was like Hollander wasn’t truly in his body. The way Hollander hadn’t asked for reassurance, for guidance, the way he needed to know if what he was doing was good but refused to ask Ilya outright was surprising, but Ilya could feel that he needed it. He'd praised him, of course – Ilya had never come so quick in his life, and he was sure Hollander would have known from that alone that he was good at sex, despite his inexperience. Or maybe in spite of it. But when he stared into those big, sad brown eyes, surrounded by the prettiest freckles he’d ever seen, Ilya could tell that Hollander was less worried about the sex being good, and more worried about Ilya feeling good. It was an important distinction to someone like Ilya, who spent most of his free time bringing people to orgasm because watching the exact moment they fell apart because of him was better than any drink or drug he’d ever taken. Knowing that he was responsible for someone losing control like that, crying out his name, was powerful. He felt powerful in those moments. Useful. And somehow, none of those moments felt anywhere near as heady as when he had made Hollander cry out for him, his strong hands buried in his hair, desperately trying to yank him off his cock as he came, unable to push Ilya off of him because his body was completely at Ilya’s mercy. Nothing had ever felt as good as watching Hollander’s eyes become faraway, filled with unshed tears, red rimmed and desperate as he stared up at Ilya, waiting to take whatever he would give him. Because Hollander didn’t need him. He wanted him. Ilya could feel the difference. He needed more. And he was certain Hollander needed more, too. Ilya tested the boundary again the next time they hooked up. He gently requested Hollander get on his knees, just to see what he would do, and Hollander dropped to the floor so fast Ilya couldn’t believe it. He'd half expected Hollander to tell him to go fuck himself, or to get on his knees instead. But Hollander had hit the ground so hard Ilya had flinched at the sound of his knees hitting the floor, barely able to breathe as Hollander desperately pulled his sweatpants down and suckled at his cock so fast Ilya nearly came right then and there. So, he’d been curious. More than curious. Fixated. Obsessed. Unable to stop thinking about what Hollander would let him do to him. He found himself wishing the women he would meet in every city would somehow reveal themselves to have the same quirks so Ilya could indulge himself with them, and stop thinking about fucking Hollander. But he couldn’t. Ilya couldn’t stop thinking about Hollander, and god knows he’d tried not to think about him. Tried not to think about when he’d ordered Hollander onto his stomach, how he had flipped over immediately for him, despite being nervous. He'd tried not to think about how when Ilya had asked him if he’dbeen fucked before, Hollander had tensed, but when he pressed a finger against his hole, he’d relaxed completely under his touch. How when Ilya had tried to find out if Hollander was a virgin, he had offered up that he fucked himself with a dildo. How when Ilya had pressed two fingers inside him that night, Hollander had scoffed and said he could take more than that, but refused to tell Ilya how big his dildo was. How when Ilya fucked him, Hollander’s eyes would become wetter and more intense, how all he could do was stare at Ilya through heavy breaths and frantically touch every part of him, moaning his name. The more Ilya tried not to think about Hollander, the more he became consumed by him. Ilya needed to know what else he could instruct Hollander to do. Within reason, of course. Ilya just wanted to give Hollander everything he didn’t know he needed.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 7,471
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77253946
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Drastic Measures (go back to standing in the corner, Hollander) by JulianHartley
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-07
“What are you doing?” Hollander asks, even though he is well aware that he has caused an avalanche. “I'm going to show you what can happen to boys like you when they forget their underwear.” OR: Shane comes home drunk and says he was at a bar with a man who repeatedly hit on him. Ilya resorts to drastic measures. It is a late December evening. It is already completely dark outside, and the snow-covered road leading to the cottage seems to disappear into the darkness, unlit by any of the motion- activated lamps. The temperature outside has dropped by a good dozen degrees compared to what it felt like in the morning, and Ilya feel that his home is not any warmer. He is terribly cold, his numb hands are shaking uncontrollably, and his legs, wrapped in a blanket, seem to be shaking as he nervously looks out the window. For a Russian, he does not tolerate the Canadian winter very well and has already fallen ill in the second week, which has ruled him out of training and matches until he finishes his course of antibiotics. This is hopeless, because he feels fine, is not contagious, has not had a fever for several days, and yet he will have to stay at home for another four days. He tried to calm his nerves in various ways: he prepared lunch boxes for Shane, watched a replay of the match, played a silly game about hockey, on the cover of which he once accidentally found himself, tried to finish reading a book, but it didn't help. He was still distracted and, above all, terrified. It's almost midnight, Shane finished playing the home game, which he lost about four hours ago, but he still hasn't come back. Ilya had sent several threatening text messages and even more messages saying, where the fuck are you, hollander, finally ending with a desperate sweetheart, im worried, and had called dozens of times, but Shane still wasn't answering. Ilya wasn't the type of boyfriend to panic and call as soon as his beloved was late. He probably wouldn't have considered the delay to be anything terrible, had it not been for the events of the past: that nightmarish night when he found his mother, that one terrible match during which he stood paralysed on the ice, watching as the semi-conscious Hollander was carried away on a stretcher. In addition, Shane was never the party type who would go to a bar after a match, whether they won or lost. He only celebrated big wins, usually for an hour or two, sipping ginger ale, already planning his escape to his quiet home in the back of his mind. Ilya tries to rationalise that there was no accident during the match and that the situation with Irina Rozanov is not something that could happen again with Shane. At least, that is what he hopes. Despite everything, the fear remains, and that voice is louder than the rational part of Rozanov's mind. He could have had a car accident on the ice- and snow-covered streets. The man is about to call Yuna, or even the police, when the door opens and a flushed, laughing Shane bursts through the door. His cheeks are red from the cold, and his eyes are shining with joy, and although the weight lifts from Ilya's heart, he immediately notices that Shane is drunk as a skunk. "Ilyaaaa!" he shouts from the doorway, throwing himself into his arms. "I missed you!" The man returns the hug and all the fervent kisses that Shane begins to shower him with after a moment, but he knows that in the situation they find themselves in, he has to talk to the man. "You've been drinking." Ilya states rather than asks, looking at his red cheeks and glassy eyes, his distracted smile and exposed neck. "It's fucking December, where's your scarf?" Shane's enthusiasm wanes a little when he sees Ilya's reaction. "Are you angry?" he asks, lowering his head like a scolded child. "I'm angry that you didn't text me to say you'd be late. I was worried," he says, letting Shane hug him again, while trying to warm his numb hands and shoulders. "I swear, I was only at the bar with Wilson for a moment, I didn't drink much, you didn't need to worry," Shane assures him, as if alcohol was the cause of Ilya's concern. And although Rozanov had been more worried than angry until now, the name hit him like a slap in the face. The man had repeatedly tried to flirt with Shane, indiscreetly suggesting a meeting at his place, ignoring Ilya's existence, and once brazenly tried to kiss Shane in Ilya's presence, so, well, the man had a right to feel jealous. "With who, excuse me?" Ilya asks angrily. "With Wilson, you know, the hockey player from..." "I know who Wilson is. Did it ever occur to you for a single fucking second that he was trying to get you drunk in the hope that you would become easy?" Shane is still standing between the hallway and the sofa, his eyes wide open, now bewildered by the man's anger. He can't remember the last time, if ever, Ilya was so jealous and angry during their relationship.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,193
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77257941
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Ilya tuts, clearly he hadn’t unlocked the magic words, using his free hand he points downwards, again Shane needs a few seconds to process what is being requested of him before it finally clicks; hesitates, but not long enough to regain any dignity because he’s sinking to the floor just inches from the couch. Crawling towards Ilya on all fours, driven only by that desperation for another man. Thinks he’s going to get it, thinks he’s going to be rewarded - to be comforted over such a brutal loss by getting to feel that soothing weight on his tongue, couldn’t be more wrong. the text exchange earlier has unlocked something sadistic within the Russian, usually a couple of well timed whines, lots of eye contact and a few pleases is enough to get Ilya to give in. Not today however, today he’s p*ssed. or Ilya finds a new way to humiliate Shane much to Shane's enjoyment (and despair).
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,785
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77279001