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  1. Rec *

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    “This is hard to talk about,” is all he says, though he knows it will amount to nothing.

    Shane’s fingertips are feather-soft on his chest. “You have to.”

    He has to, because Shane and Ilya have this thing, now, this agreement. Nothing is too hard to talk about. Nothing is off limits. They have to be bare, have to surrender the deepest crevice of their soul to one another. And Ilya, for whom this is easier said than done, whose chest carries a perpetual weight, an immovable mass, it’s all worth it – worth the relief smoothing over Shane’s features, the reassurance that he’s not worried anymore, that Ilya can give him this peace, albeit only a fragment of what Shane gives him by just being there when he wakes up. He would never say it, but he thinks that what he has to offer to Shane amounts to nothing – nothing compared to what Shane does, what Shane is, by simply nuzzling into his chest and sighing into his sleep, late at night when all Ilya can do is lay awake and just feel.

    “I need more,” Ilya says. “And is nothing you can do. I need you inside me, and it feels terrible.” He swallows, with great difficulty. God. “I need to– I need to eat you.”

    or, Ilya never knew love can hurt this good

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    08 Jul 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    fuck fuck fuck i love them so much and i love how much they love each other IM GONNA PUKE THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH IM GONNA KMS

  2. Rec *

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    God, Shane wants. Shane wants so much that it hurts, makes his whole body ache with emptiness, and what he wants more than anything after to be held and pushed into – by Rozanov – is to listen and submit – to Rozanov. He wants Rozanov, and it should be scary, but all he feels right now is a want, an impenetrable need that makes him swallow around glass shards stuck in his throat and slowly put his palms flush on the floor in front of his knees, watching Rozanov like he’s in a trance.

    or, being the best might be starting to take its toll on Shane, and Ilya knows how to help

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    07 Jul 2026

  3. Rec *

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    There’s something else troubling Shane now, Ilya knows. He can wait; with Shane’s weight on his front, his face so close to his own, and the sun setting, he can wait forever. “You think she’d like me? If she’d met me?”

    The weight is still on his front, their faces are still close, the sun is still setting. There’s a new weight now; Mama’s cross, suddenly so heavy that he thinks he’s having trouble breathing, although that cannot be true. He doesn’t need to think about it, and he knows what he should say, knows the answer that would keep that hopeful glimmer present in Shane’s big, blinking eyes. But he also knows that Shane would see right through him. And they promised not to lie, not here.

    So, Ilya does. “I don’t know,” he whispers, barely whispers, and the admission burns his throat. He doesn’t know what it is, after that; the pre-existing knot constricting his throat, the ray of light that catches the edge of his crucifix and causes it to glow, like an agreement, or, most likely, the way Shane’s eyes widen just a fraction, before he conceals the shock and schools his features into something more neutral.

    or, Shane is curious, and Ilya tries to reconcile with his faith

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    07 Jul 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    fuck i love yhis so much im crying

  4. Rec *

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    03 Jul 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    😭❤️

  5. Rec *

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    Shane and Ilya run into a popular Instagram interviewer with predictably adorable results.

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    18 Jun 2026