gala23



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    In 2025, the NHL dropped the mandatory suit and tie on game day as a part of the league’s new collective bargaining agreement. Let’s imagine this happened in the MLH about ten years earlier, and that Shane Hollander fucking hated it.

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    02 Oct 2026

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    The steady, persistent pressure of Rozanov’s thick cock sinking into him is unlike anything Shane has ever felt before. He feels impossibly full, impossibly exposed, but more than that, he feels good.

    Fuck, it’s good.

    It’s so good that he forgets to feel awkward as he begins to rock back into Rozanov’s thrusts. He forgets to feel ashamed as Rozanov draws sounds out of him he didn’t even know he was capable of making. As Rozanov drives him out of his mind and deep into his own body, holds him there, forces him to feel everything and think nothing at all—

    Shane forgets to feel anything but good.

    (In which Shane has a dirty fantasy, and Ilya runs with it.)
     



    “Ah,” Ilya says softly, brushing a finger along the column of Shane’s throat. “Is that what you want, Hollander? To be humiliated?”

    “Yes,” Shane says, the word a guttural moan. “No? I don’t know. Maybe. Fuck.”

    “To be put to good use? To be told what to do?”

    “Yes,” Shane gasps, relieved to be asked a simpler question. “That’s what I want.”

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    05 Sep 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    He should just forget about Rozanov. Forget about Rozanov coming all over his own stomach as Shane watched, transfixed; forget about Rozanov’s hand curving possessively around Shane’s jaw to pull him in for a kiss. Forget about the dizzying, red-hot bolt of shame and anticipation and fear and arousal that had shot through him when Rozanov stroked two fingers down between his ass cheeks and pressed there—a question, an offer. A promise.

    (In which Shane responds to Ilya’s texts between 2011 and 2013.)
     



    “Stop saying dick pic,” Shane hissed. “This is harassment.” He glared at the bulge in his pants. “You are harassing me.”

    “I do not know what this word means.”

    “How fucking convenient for you.”

    “Aw, Hollander,” Rozanov said, but he sounded a little contrite. After a beat, he asked, “Do you want me to stop?”

    “Don’t you dare stop,” Shane said through clenched teeth, surreptitiously palming himself to take the edge off. It didn’t help.

    “So do you want my dick or not?” Rozanov asked after another beat.

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    27 Aug 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    a collection of less/not safe for work artworks ive done that would get me nuked in real time if i posted them on certain socials

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    16 Aug 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    I am in hell, Ilya thinks. He's awkwardly hard in his cup and layers of gear. He can't focus. How the fuck is Hollander functioning like this? Is he actually so gifted at hockey that he can play at this level and still have space to let the sex demon in his brain run rampant? Is this what he's like all the time? (Now with bonus ch 2!)

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    18 Jul 2026