Sofia14



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    "He saw the corners of Ilya's lips curve up ever so slightly in that infuriating, tiny hint of a smile. “Goodbye, Shane Hollander.”

    Shane could only ogle as Ilya walked away. Fuck. His ass was fat. This was so bad.

    Shane Hollander, star athlete, D1 hockey team captain, campus heartthrob, was being completely undone by a brooding Slavic art major that he would probably crawl on his fucking knees and bark for."

    --

    Shane is ready for another boring semester where he has to pretend like he cares about anything other than hockey. Until he sits down next to a mysterious Russian art student who also happens to be the hottest guy Shane has ever seen.

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    03 Aug 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Four months ago, when Shane Hollander agreed to tattoo a tramp stamp on Boston’s star center, Ilya Rozanov, he certainly wasn’t expecting to get an almost-boyfriend out of the ordeal.

    Good thing Ottawa is just a short drive.

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    09 Jul 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    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.

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    09 Jul 2026

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    His ears roared with static, his brain stuck on one gnawing, clawing question: Why did Hollander didn't tell him that he's going to be a father? The answer was obvious—because Shane Hollander didn’t need him, never had. The realization burned like cheap vodka in his throat, bitter and suffocating.

    Some alpha reporter with slicked-back hair and a smirk dripping condescension leaned forward, microphone poised like a weapon. "Shane, what happened to all that talk about never bending for an alpha? Seems like someone finally put you on your back."

    "And how are you so sure I'm the one who bent?" Hollander's voice cut through the noise like a blade, smooth and lethal. The room fell silent instantly. Hollander arched one eyebrow, lips curling in a smile so cold it could freeze hell over. "Not that it's your business, but for the record—it was me who rode my sperm donor’s dick to get myself pregnant."

    Ilya froze. Sperm donor? The unfamiliar English phrase buzzed in his skull like a trapped wasp. Behind him, Connors snorted into his protein shake. "Oh Jesus fucking Christ," he muttered, wiping his mouth. "He just called his baby daddy a walking ATM for cum."

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    08 Jul 2026

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    When Rose asks to come over the second week they are in the cottage, Shane and Ilya have no idea how much their lives are going to change. For better or for worse... that's for them to decide.

    --------------------------------------------

    “You said both times were terrible.” Here, Ilya side-eyes Rose, “No offence.”

    She snorts, “None taken.”

    “Then how did you say… make baby?”

    They both look at Shane, who fidgets under their gazes. He splutters. He sighs. He runs his hand through his hair. Then, he sighs again.

    “The first time when I managed… to…” He talks to the cushion in his lap as he says this, “I was thinking of Ilya. It worked too well, I guess.”

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    24 Jun 2026