It is not unusual that I find myself scrolling through Archive of Our Own (AO3) the night before an assignment is due. But this time, it’s for research — I swear! 

I’m already so close to the deadline when I start leafing through the fics you anonymous freaks sent me to review. Seated at Robarts, I look over my shoulder as I search the meaning of tags such as “mating press,” “typical butt chugging,” and “roping” — seriously, what is wrong with you people? 

If you’ve ever paused mid-fic to ask yourself this question, then I’m writing this for you. As a connoisseur of guilt and pleasure myself (they go best together), I’m here to show you just how far from grace you filthy smut-lovers have fallen. 

Thank you to everyone who partook in providing the nasty material that made this article possible. Though I could only select a few submissions to review, I am indebted to each and every one of your pruning fingers. 

#1 — 

My first review is dedicated to our Dramione fan — we knew you were coming, we were just hoping you’d bring your hotter, Drarry-shipping friend. But this will do. 

This fic screams God-fearing virgin. Only a few paragraphs in, and there are already three mentions of Hermione’s “soul,” and the threat that her “lawless thoughts” about Draco pose to its sanctity.

Not only that, but Hermione exhibits a deep-rooted shame only the devout know. This shame arms them with the self-sufficient impulse to punish themselves faster than you can say “bad girl.” 

Hermione’s voice is “choked” just fine, without the grip of Draco’s “long, nimble-looking fingers.” The muscles she admires from under his “form-fitted suits” are rendered obsolete by the strength of her own mind, with which she “slap[s]” and “chastis[es] herself viciously” out of her aroused state. Apparently, size really doesn’t matter when the intensity of your libido writhing in its cage is massive enough to bring you to tears. 

For the sake of Hermione’s dignity — as well as the pious reader’s — Draco seems to have emerged from his dark past a righteous man. Not only does he love books and hate bureaucracy, but he has also even started a non-profit Apothecary business, where all the proceeds go to charity… If your pants are still buttoned, they won’t be once he asks you about yourself because he’s interested in you — you self-loathing virgins have yet to know such intimacy. 

While Draco is soft on the streets, we can count on him to be hard in the sheets. All Hermione had to do was confess, and Draco would ensure her repentance. And through all the wall-pinning, hair-pulling, and good-girling, we get to take a peek into Draco’s tender feelings about Hermione, and I must admit, it’s kind of romantic. 

This Dramione fic is a beacon of hope for those battling with their innermost desires. This is your sign to ask and receive. And because I know how much you love being told what to do, here’s an order: let your freak go. 

Good. 

#2 — 

This next one, I am reviewing because the person who submitted it wrote: “HEAR ME OUT” — and, well, I’m a sucker for begging. 

This fic is for those of you who are already hot and bothered by the time you’ve logged onto AO3. Your fingers are slipping on your phone screen as your heavy lids and dilated pupils scavenge for the nastiest tags you can think of — that is, if you can think at all, in this sorry state. 

The ship features real people, so the reader must have been on a qualmless quest towards the finish line when they dug deep to uncover this dirt. 

The desperation with which we might imagine the reader’s hasty arrival is projected onto the fic, where racing driver Lando Norris whimpers at the mere hum of a vibrator’s siren song. Like our horny reader, the Pavlovian Lando is on a hungry ascent, and towards a high he’s already reached multiple times. 

Even before this moment, we’re told that Lando’s appetite is so great that he cannot be in the same room as his lover and fellow driver, Carlos Sainz, without salivating at the sight of Carlos’ hands. The power play that made the Dramione fic mildly layered is stripped of subtleties in this overtly sub/dom fantasy. Carlos is relentless with Lando, reducing him to a squirming, sputtering mess — probably akin to the state the reader was in when they came (ahem) across this fic. 

To the person behind this submission: I see you. In this world where you are constantly pushed around, all you can think about is getting screwed. If it’s happening to your GPA, your bank account, and your employment status, why not you? 

Take the advice of your favourite smut — when you think you might only have one more in you, think twice, because you have two. Close your eyes, and listen to Carlos telling you to never give up, and keep pushing forward. 

Come on… just a little longer… there you go. 

#3 – 

Finally, we’ve made it — past the hetero fluff and the abundance of m/m content, to the “lesbian sex,” to the “MILFs.” 

Although the fic claims to be “without plot,” it’s better at building tension than its tag suggests. The story teases us with a scene featuring a breathless Sevika from Arcane: League of Legends, only to be suspended in helpless anticipation by backstory. Talk about a whip lash. 

The tension only builds with the dialogue between stubborn Sevika and her taunting captor, Ambessa. It seems like the two women are equally strong in character, with Sevika’s only disadvantage being that she is bound to a table. 

Enjoyers of this fic want to have their cake and eat it too; to be collared but still keep their pride. For these brats, simple orders won’t do. Like Sevika, they’ll pout and retort, but it’s all an act — really, they’re just begging to be put in their place. Rather than simply being told what to do, they must be made to do it.

Ambessa likes the challenge. She sees herself in Sevika’s loyalty and respects her warriorship. However, she knows that beneath Sevika’s tough exterior, there is a softness waiting to be prodded. And Sevika is exactly where Ambessa needs her to be to open her up.  

Doesn’t it feel good to let go? Now, I know that “no aftercare” tag had you foaming at the mouth, but the burn of those restraints as you struggle against them… If you close your eyes, the heat almost feels like a loving touch. 

This fic is for those who like their lovers mean and at a tantalizing distance. Perhaps you grew up a stranger to warmth, and now the only way you accept pleasure is when it’s cold and demanded of you. 

You’ve feigned strength for long enough; it’s time to admit defeat. Stop resisting, you’re only making it harder on yourself. Surrender, relax, and find comfort without control. Don’t make me make you.