galacticia



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    Shane steps closer, standing between Ilya’s legs. “I guess that explains it, hm? You don’t have to be confident or good when you’re packing that, do you? You just let people use your big,” Shane accentuates the word by leaning down and touching Ilya’s cock for the first time, only it’s not a caress or a stroke, it’s a rude poke that makes Ilya’s cock jerk in the air, “cock, however they want to? Is that it? Just a thick, fat cock for people to ride when you get too fucking stupid to do anything else?”

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    Uni AU, loser, stoner frat bro Ilya, pining after popular, jock Shane

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    27 Feb 2026

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    Rather than give him the joint, Ilya takes it back between his own lips and sucks in a deep breath, the tip glowing as he does so. Then, before Shane can process it, he’s reaching up and sliding one large hand around the back of Shane’s neck, pulling him down so their lips meet.

    Shane gasps softly, and Ilya takes the opportunity to blow smoke into his open and waiting mouth.

    Oh, God. Are you there? It’s me, Shane Hollander. We’ve had our differences, but I think I’d like to convert for real this time. I’m ready. Open the pearly white gates. I’m coming up.

    Shane goes to a house party, gets high, then gets on his knees. bon appetite
    now a multi-chapter saga bc i couldn't help myself

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    25 Feb 2026

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    Staring suspiciously at Rozanov, Shane starts blindly fumbling with the tissue paper. He’s just starting to think that this is a very weird prank and there’s actually nothing in the bag when finally his fingers close around something… silky. Thin and silky. That draws his eyes back away from Rozanov down to his hands — more specifically, to the fucking panties that he’s just untangled from the tissue paper.

    He should probably ask what the big idea is, but his brain has gone all fuzzy and his mouth has gone dry. There are several beats of silence before he manages to speak, and even then, all he manages to croak out is, “Um…?”

    “You have this thing, gifts, in Canada, yes?” says Rozanov. “Is for you. You’re welcome.”

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    25 Jan 2026

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    Shane’s whining beneath him, head thrown back, exposing the long column of his neck and rutting up against Ilya. Ilya licks up his throat, nibbling at Shane’s jaw, before his lips brush the shell of Shane’s ear.

    “Tell me what you want.”

    The reply is instant.

    “You.”

    or: after his drunken confession, shane keeps avoiding ilya. at a student party ilya finally gets the chance to speak to him.
    part 2 to Close to Me

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    24 Jan 2026

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    “Your space is nice,” Hollander whispers back, leaning in, breath warm against Ilya’s chest. “Smells like mint.”

    Ilya stops breathing.

    Hollander’s eyes are half-lidded, dazed, soft in a way Ilya has never seen. “Ilya,” he murmurs.

    And Ilya nearly chokes. The first name. His actual first name. Whispered like something intimate. Sacred. They’ve never called each other by their first name. Always Hollander. Always Rozanov. Ilya is so stunned he almost doesn’t process the next words, almost can’t translate them despite living in the States for almost four years now.

    or: ilya is spiraling about what his roomate could be doing on a random tuesday night. he's not prepared when the night takes an unexpected turn.

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    23 Jan 2026