negativethots



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    Shane Hollander is the youngest Commander in ISS history; straight-backed, closeted, and so tightly on his own leash that seven months in orbit with Ilya Rozanov have not produced a single crack in his composure.

    Ilya Rozanov is the Russian cosmonaut who should have had his job, won’t stop bouncing a tennis ball off the walls, and is still looking for a fissure. Thankfully, a solar storm finds it for him.

    or: Near-death, zero gravity, and the wrong man’s hands in exactly the right places.

    A Cosmonaut!Ilya x Astronaut!Shane AU 🚀

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    50,239
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    3/3
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    26 May 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    “Listen to me, Hollander,” Ilya’s voice is commanding, intense. That same tone that he uses to make Shane turn liquid in his arms. “You are going to do exactly as I say—”

    Shane nods furiously, now desperate to get behind the privacy screen of the limousine.

    “We are going to get in the car together, you are going to put your filthy mouth to work, and I am going to use your throat to keep my cock hard until we get back to the hotel.” Shane makes the only echoing sound in the hallway: a pitchy whine that has Ilya’s cock throbbing. “When we arrive, we are going straight to my room. Understood?”

    Shane nods, but Ilya wants to test his teammate to see just how much he can push tonight.

    Ilya swallows. “Answer me, Hollander.”

    “Y—yes,” Shane rasps, quiet but determined as he looks at Ilya like he could break Shane in half and he would thank him. “Yes, Ilya.”

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    19 May 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    “And why is a Russian prince inviting me to his matchmaking party? Do they need gentry chaperones or something?”

    “No, no, and it’s not a party, it’s a whole series of affairs, it’s…Shane, you’re invited as a candidate. A marriage candidate.”

    Shane pulls the phone away to make sure the line’s still connected and he hasn’t accidentally started watching Downton Abbey or something.

    Prince Ilya Grigoryevich Rozanov meets Shane Hollander, Duke of Montreal.

    Language:
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    01 May 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    “So,” Ilya says, dragging the word out. He’s swiping at non-existent crumbs on the counter, avoiding his eyes. “You have dinner at parents on Christmas, yes?” 

    “Yeah.” 

    Ilya nods. “I can house-sit while you are away. Make place pretty, if you have decorations. Make it less boring.” 

    Shane’s eyebrows fly up. “What? You don’t want to come with?” 

    Finally, Ilya looks up at him. Hesitantly, he asks, “You want me to come with?” 

    Frowning, Shane says, “I– yeah. Yeah, of course. You think I invited you here just so you could spend Christmas alone?” 

    Looking away, Ilya shrugs. “I am intruder here, Hollander. You have family. I do not. Makes situation… difficult, maybe. You forget the world thinks we are rivals.” 

    “Not difficult,” Shane says immediately. “You want to come, you’re coming.” 

    Or: Ilya's in Montreal alone during the week leading up to the Winter Classic. Shane doesn't let him spend Christmas alone.

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    26 Apr 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    “Fuck, that’s good. You feel so good,” Shane moans above him.

    He pulls him down again, and this time he holds him there, his hands firm on Ilya’s head. Instinctively, Ilya fights it, his throat spasming around the intrusion, and he tries to pull off, but Shane holds him there.

    “Ah, ah. No. That’s not how you say it’s too much. You tap my leg, remember?”

    ---

    Immediate sequel to 'I Keep Telling Myself, I'm not the Desperate Type'
    Stoner frat boy Ilya x cool, jock Shane

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    11 Apr 2026