#ao3 link

[mini-version]

➽──❥ "His Name Just Fit Right On My Wrist"

Oscar makes Lando a bracelet. Lando makes a confession. Oscar finally makes the connection.

I'm talking about that idea from the quote my brother so casually dropped that made me short-circuit.

[mistylacrimosa]

AO3 is one of the few oases in this capitalist hellscape we leave in. Let's not ruin it.

Fanfic is a free hobby.

It's one of the last few things we can have as a society that's free. You can engage, for free. People give you things (art, stories, etc), for free.

Don't buy into the consummerism just because it's everywhere else.

You don't have to consume everything you interact with. You don't have to use things, just because they exist.

You're allowed (still, for now), to have things that are enjoyable for free.

Do you realise how insane the world is? We don't have many places where we can just be, for free anymore, but ao3 is. Did you notice we don't have ads in ao3? We don't have pop ups? Where ELSE do we not have that?

Where else can you just go and not have to wait for a commercial to be over or for ads to be on the sidelines?

I don't think the younger people understand, but the whole of internet used to be like this. YouTubers would do Youtube for free, just because. You couldn't monetise your internet presence before.

Ao3 is like a little preserved corner of the internet where the old internet used to be, and it's being attacked by people who do not understand that free things are allowed to exist without judgment.

Please don't ruin this for us.

Some of us need it.

[goldenjetpack]

[p0ppys33dmuff1n]

Most common AO3 spam/bot comments:

Art scammers: these comments are purposely vague and don't include specific details of your story. Additionally, ARTISTS DO NOT ASK YOU TO COMMISSION THEM.

People who have been scammed by this person (or is it multiple people running this?) have reported receiving AI generated images.

This is just one example of how they may look of many. Image from WarthogSilent on reddit.

AI bot comments: previously these ai bot comments would just say something like "this is so clearly [insert generative ai name], so disappointing blah blah blah." HOWEVER more recently, these have evolved into "discord blacklist" comments.

Here's mutliple examples from the ao3 subreddit:

These are troll bots to discourage writers.

There is no discord blacklist.

Porn/scary image comments: you won't be receiving any of these since (as of writing) images in comments were turned off. Because of this.

These bots will comment images of porn or ai-generated horror images meant to unsettle you. This seems to just be for the sake of being an asshole.

What can you do about these comments? As always, report as spam. If they show as being from a registered user (like the art scammers), report their account too.

By default works will have guest comments turned off, but if you don't have them off, you can turn them off and/or turn on comment moderation. Locking your work to the archive can also help.

Stay strong authors, we'll get through yet another wave of bullshit 🫡

[spaceblobthing]

For easier access ｡:.ﾟヽ(｡◕‿◕｡)ﾉﾟ.:｡+ﾟ

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53547955/chapters/135540868

Hmmm

Wanna know would be a fun prompt.

So you know those stories where Danny goes all eldritch on a Gotham Rogue (mainly the Joker) after he attacks someone Danny cares for or him.

What if, instead of Danny, it's a deaged Ellie and/or Dan. What if Danny was hit by that one device that Vlad hit him with during that one DP episode where his powers were shut off for like 6 hours or something similar.

Basically Danny can't use his powers, he gets captured by a rogue, maybe it's being live broadcast or streamed, his tiny toddlers are there or while being babysat see the livestream/broadcast and decide to go save their 'Mama' from the 'baddy peoples'.

The Bats and Birds get there just in time to see a (or two) tiny toddlers demanding the 'baddy peoples' to give them their 'Mama' back or else. The Rogue laughs and says back like 'and how do you plan to make us?'

Then the child(ren) go full on (tiny) eldritch beast mode and takes everyone 'bad' out like it was nothing. (The cameras glitch out the moment they go eldritch so no one outside the room sees it happening)

Danny unties himself (he's been tied up so much he learned how to undo them even in his human side) or is untied and runs past the Bats/Birds ignoring them as they try stopping him and runs to his kid(s).

[dbdaweeklycomments]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jenny Green & Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne Characters: Jenny Green (Dead Boy Detectives), Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne Additional Tags: Triple Drabble, Canon Queer Character, Advice, Post-Canon Series: Part 52 of V's Drabble Collection Summary:

“Niko mentioned that you are…” he hesitates here, unsure of the proper words. “I’m gay?” Jenny says, leaning against the counter. “I simply…” he trails off again. “I wished to speak to someone like me.”

(or, Edwin seeks out a queer community outside, post-canon)

@vyther15 / @vyther16

[valeisaslut]

GUYS. GUYSSSS. this is not a drill. after fighting for my life against ao3’s formatting system like it personally wronged me, i finally posted Collide on ao3.

COLLIDE; ellie williams (86932 words) by Valeisaslut

Chapters: 8/11 Fandom: The Last of Us (Video Games), The Last of Us (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Ellie (The Last of Us)/Reader, Ellie (The Last of Us) & Reader Characters: Ellie (The Last of Us), Dina (The Last of Us), Joel (The Last of Us), Reader, Jesse (The Last of Us), Original Female Character(s), Original Female Human Character(s) Additional Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Shameless Smut, Popstar!Reader, rockstar!ellie, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Use, Recreational Drug Use, References to Drugs, Lesbian Sex, Lesbian Character, Series, Mutual Pining, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Ellie Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel is Ellie's Parent (The Last of Us), POV Reader-Insert, AFAB | Assigned Female at Birth Reader-Insert, Joel Lives (The Last of Us), Hurt Ellie (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Choking, Spanking, Hair-pulling, Strap-Ons, Nicknames Summary:

Rockstar!Ellie Williams x Popstar!Reader 𖥔 ݁ ˖ A pop princess on the rise. A rockstar on the edge of collapse. Your world is all polish and perfection, hers is chaos and self-destruction. You and Ellie Williams were never meant to cross paths. But when the industry sees an opportunity, it spins a story neither of you can escape: a headline-making, career-saving fake relationship. You need edge. She needs damage control. It should be simple—play the part, sell the history, survive each other. But Ellie is unpredictable, fame is unforgiving, and somewhere between staged appearances and real fights, the harder it is to tell where the act ends and something real begins. And in a world where everything is manufactured, the most dangerous thing you can do is feel. 𖥔 ݁ ˖ Follow me on tumblr: @valeisaslut

i’m gonna be so real with y’all… i had no idea what i was doing. NONE. ao3 is like a beautiful but extremely complicated spaceship. i was pressing buttons like i was diffusing a bomb. i almost published it with the tags “help” and “what am i doing” by accident.

but!!! i somehow pulled it together!!! SO. if you wanna go show Collide some love over there — leave a comment, kudos, or just yell into the void about your feelings — i would literally sob and kiss your forehead. i’m so proud of this story and of this little chaotic fandom we’ve built here, and seeing it get some love on ao3 too would make my heart explode (in the good way, not the medical emergency way).

thank you for always being so insanely kind and supportive 🥹💘 now go forth and wreak havoc in the comment section like the little menace army you are. i love you.

(also if you see any mistakes… pretend you didn’t xoxo)

[domm1etae]

sent to tempt me - chapter eighteen

chapter eighteen: click. play. regret.

chapter summary: It was supposed to be research. Educational, even. But now Yunho’s heart is racing, his body is reacting, and he can’t hide from what it means.

pairing: yunho x mingi

genre: smut (not yet but there will be eventually), angst, fluff, romance, m/m, non!idol!ateez, sub!yunho, dom!mingi, drama, coming of age, collage, religion

rating: 18+ (for the whole series bc there will be smut eventually) | mdni

word count: 3.8k

warnings under

collage, roommates, sub!yunho, dom!mingi, bad boy mingi and religious church good boy yunho, same-sex attraction, m/m, teasing, dark themes, homophobia, self discovery, pet names, strangers to lovers, religion and religious topics, aaaand more will be added soon hehehe

previous chapter | next chapter | AO3 | this fics masterlist

author's note: hello my precious ladybugs! it’s been a while, hasn’t it? sorry for disappearing — i was dealing with a lot of stuuuuuffff, but i’m okay now, don’t worry. little life update: i’ve been super stressed with studying (boo), BUT i got my driver’s license!! so i’m officially a beast on the streets. also treated myself to a new phone and i’m so happy about it 💖

ANYWAYS, BACK TO STTM — mama cooked u something special today: a DOUBLE UPLOAD featuring our first ever explicit content!! yaaaaay 🎉 hope you enjoy it, and i can’t wait to read your comments as always 💌

Yunho slammed the door shut behind him like he was being chased, fingers fumbling against the lock until it clicked into place. He stood there for a moment, chest heaving, before letting out a shaky exhale and letting his full weight collapse against the wood. The cool surface pressed against his back as he slowly slid down, legs folding under him until he was crouched on the floor, head tilted back, eyes wide as though he’d just escaped some kind of wild animal.

Except it hadn’t been an animal. It had been Mingi.

Or rather—whatever Mingi was. A menace, a demon in human skin, a tease of biblical proportions. Yunho couldn't even begin to categorize him properly anymore.

His palms came up to press over his face, dragging down slowly. His skin felt hot. His breath wouldn’t slow. “What… What the hell was that,” he whispered aloud, like maybe saying it would help him believe any of it had been real. “What just happened?”

His mind kept replaying it in painful loops—the way Mingi smirked, the tattoos, that damn smirk again, his hand on Yunho’s knee, the suggestive tone, the way he said Doctor like it meant something else entirely. And then that final blow—that last line, paired with the not-so-subtle pat to his crotch. Yunho nearly choked again just thinking about it.

“I don’t understand anything,” he muttered under his breath, voice muffled by his hands. “Why is he acting like that? I know he wanted to become friends but… friends don’t act like this, no?”

He hesitated, frowning deeper.

“But I guess that’s just how Mingi is?”

He didn’t sound convinced. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t know. I don’t understand this person at all.”

He groaned out loud, dragging himself to his feet with effort, legs slightly unsteady. His room felt stuffy all of a sudden, like the air itself had changed after what he’d just experienced. He stumbled to his desk and collapsed into the chair like gravity had suddenly doubled.

His head dropped into his hands, fingers threading into his hair in frustration as he whispered to no one but himself, “Hopefully, I won’t ever have to play the doctor again.”

But then he paused.

Because… what was that, exactly?

Doctor? Roleplay?

He sat up slowly, furrowing his brow. “Wait,” he muttered, blinking into the dark. “Thinking back to it… I still don’t even think I know what roleplay is.”

He knew the dictionary definition, sort of. Something about pretending to be someone else? That was what Mingi said earlier. Something about getting into character. Playing a part. But why? What for? Was it just for fun? Some weird performance thing?

“Ugh,” Yunho groaned again, rubbing his face with both hands like it could scrub the thoughts out of his brain. “Do I even want to know…?”

And yet—despite the question, despite the way his stomach twisted in embarrassment and confusion—he was already moving. Already leaning forward and reaching for his laptop, the cool keys of the keyboard familiar under his fingertips. He didn’t even turn on the light, choosing instead to sit in the dark, the screen illuminating his face in a soft blue glow as it came to life.

The browser was already open. The cursor blinked in the search bar.

He hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip for a second.

Then, fingers moving slowly across the keys, he typed:

“Roleplay”

And hit enter.

“Okay, let’s see…” Yunho whispered under his breath, fingers hovering over the trackpad as the search results loaded.

Right at the top of the page, a bold blue link to Wikipedia caught his eye. “Amazing,” he mumbled, clicking it instantly. “Wiki always shows up first. I’ll definitely get my answer there…”

His screen blinked as the page loaded, and his eyes scanned the first few lines:

“Role-playing or roleplaying is the changing of one’s behaviour to assume a role, either unconsciously to fill a social role, or consciously to act out an adopted role. Also used in games, such as RPGs—role-playing games.”

Yunho stared at the sentence like it had just spoken a foreign language to him. His head tilted slightly.

“Oh wow… yeah, RPG. I didn’t even think of that,” he murmured, blinking slowly as his brain finally made that connection. “That’s like… video games. Like fantasy stuff. Characters and stats. Leveling up. That kinda thing.”

But his lips pressed into a line as his thoughts quickly doubled back.

“…But I don’t think that’s what Mingi was referring to.”

No, definitely not.

The way Mingi said it—“roleplay, Yunho,” like it was supposed to be obvious—but then brushed it off with a “sort of.” That meant something else. Something more.

And even if the definition fit—pretending to be someone else, acting out a character—it still didn’t explain why Mingi had looked at him like that. Or touched his knee like that. Or said Doctor in that tone.

So… no. This Wikipedia article wasn’t it. It wasn’t that.

“Let’s look more,” Yunho mumbled, scrolling quickly past the text and down through the rest of the search results.

A few more articles. A Reddit thread. Some forums.

A Buzzfeed listicle. “Top 10 Most Awkward Roleplay Fails.” He grimaced and kept scrolling.

A YouTube link popped up in the sidebar. A song? Weird. Another search result pulled up something about Dungeons & Dragons. “Ugh…” Yunho sighed, slumping back slightly in his chair. “Hold up…”

His fingers hovered over the keyboard again. He frowned, then backspaced the previous query.

“Roleplay… two people,” he typed. “That should do it.”

And wow.

It really did.

His entire screen changed in an instant—an explosion of thumbnails and suggestive titles lining up like dominos, one after the other. His heart immediately jumped into his throat.

Videos. So many. Too many. Weird…

The top one had bold text under it that read: “Teacher and Student Roleplay — Detention Is Not That Bad After All”

Yunho blinked. Once. Twice.

“Well… it’s not doctor and patient,” he muttered, cheeks already flushing as he squinted at the image. “But I think it’s… the same thing?”

He didn’t even let himself think past that. His finger moved almost on its own.

Click.

The video started loading.

The room remained pitch black except for the faint, cold glow of the screen, casting a pale blue light across Yunho’s face as the video began to play. He leaned forward a bit.

And then instantly leaned back.

The girl on the screen appeared in frame—someone who, in Yunho’s mind, was very inappropriately dressed for school. Her skirt was barely covering anything, and her blouse was tight enough to make him instinctively glance away. He wasn’t judging. Not really. But still…

Wasn’t this supposed to be detention?

She was alone in a classroom, tapping a pen against a desk. A moment later, a man walked in—tall, wearing glasses, holding a clipboard. Clearly supposed to be the teacher.

It felt like watching a low-budget drama. The camera angles were weird, the lighting was too bright, and the acting…

The acting.

“Oh no…” Yunho winced as the first line of dialogue hit. It was so stiff. So fake.

The girl said something about how she got detention for sleeping in class, and the teacher responded with something about “punishment fitting the crime.”

Yunho’s eyes widened.

Three minutes in, and it was all just awkward close-ups, wooden conversations, and stiff body language.

He sat through it anyway, out of sheer determination to understand. Maybe they’d start talking about the “roleplay” part more clearly soon. Maybe it would all make sense.

But the cringe only deepened. Every line made his toes curl in secondhand embarrassment.

“Who talks like that…?” he whispered to himself.

Another minute passed.

Then another.

And finally, with a groan, Yunho threw his head back and slapped his hand across the trackpad to stop the video entirely.

“I guess I’ll just have to live with not knowing what roleplay really is,” he muttered, thoroughly defeated.

He pushed back from his desk, the chair creaking slightly under him. Then, with a tired sigh, he stood up, stretching his arms above his head.

“I’m done,” he said to himself, already walking over to his dresser. He pulled out a soft, oversized tracksuit—the only comfort that made sense right now—and started peeling off his clothes. But just as Yunho slipped one arm into the top half of his tracksuit, something tugged at his attention.

His gaze, uninvited and unstoppable, drifted sideways—right back to the computer screen. The soft hum of the fan. The faint blue glow. The paused video window now minimized in shame.

He stared for a second. Then two.

Did I really give up that easily?

A wave of frustration swelled in his chest. God, I hate my brain. It just wouldn't let him leave things alone. Not when there were still questions. Not when there was still something he didn’t understand. Before he even finished scolding himself, his body was already moving—tracksuit top hanging loosely from one shoulder as he padded barefoot across the room.

Back to the desk.

Back to the screen.

Back to… whatever the hell this was now.

That video was… awful. He cringed just thinking about it. Whatever that was supposed to be.

The acting had been unbearable. The story made no sense. And the ads—he shuddered. Pop-ups he wished he’d never seen, tabs that opened without permission, and a number of blinking banners that had burned themselves into his retina forever.

Alright. Let's just backtrack. Simplify.

He retyped the query with more precision this time: roleplay 2 people doctor and patient

Search.

And… jackpot.

Oh. Okay. That looks… promising.

Actual results popped up. One of the links stood out immediately—it was to a site he’d never heard of before: xnxx.com.

Weird name for a website, he thought, tilting his head slightly. Is that supposed to be like… a code for something?

He hesitated.

Do I trust this? Absolutely not.

But that curiosity—that damn curiosity—won out. Again.

Okay, I shouldn't expect anything fancy anyway.

He clicked the link. The page loaded quickly, the screen bright against the dark of his room.

Right.

He pressed play.

The screen blinked to life. A soft instrumental hum underscored the opening shot, clinical but pleasant—framed carefully like the start of a real short film. Yunho adjusted the volume slightly, squinting to catch every detail. A man sat on the edge of a bed, posture nervous, bare legs dangling just slightly over the edge of the mattress. His hospital gown was tied loose at the back, collar sloping off one shoulder. He looked young. Vulnerable. His hands twisted anxiously in his lap.

Then another man walked in.

The door clicked shut softly behind him. He was older—late thirties, maybe. His hair was neat, voice calm. Confident in a way that felt familiar. He wore a white coat. The name tag read: Dr. Seo.

Yunho sat up straighter. His eyes darted over the frame, taking in the careful set-up, the staging, the soft lighting. It felt real. Professional. Almost like a drama. His hands folded in his lap as he leaned a little closer. This must be what Mingi meant. Maybe it was an acting scene or an indie film clip with a more mature tone—he had said it was “educational,” right? Maybe there was something to learn in the subtext, in how the characters handled intimacy or awkward situations. Yunho’s brows pinched slightly as he focused harder.

Dr. Seo asked a simple question about the boy’s chest. Something about tightness. Trauma, maybe. Yunho nodded along to himself, mentally tracking where the dialogue was going. Okay. A nervous patient. A concerned doctor. A moment of trust. It made sense.

Then the doctor stepped closer, and his hand brushed over the boy’s shoulder.

Yunho’s brows lifted just slightly, but he didn’t look away.

The patient’s breath hitched.

“You’re shaking,” the doctor said softly, voice almost gentle.

“I get nervous when people touch me,” the boy whispered back, eyes lowered. “You’re very… close.”

And the doctor leaned in.

“And I think you like it.”

Yunho blinked once, twice. Something about that line tugged at him—jolted him ever so slightly out of the thoughtful zone he’d been in. His head tilted a bit, unsure. It was strange. A little on-the-nose. Oddly forward for a doctor-patient exchange. Was it meant to be like that? A power imbalance thing? Maybe this was still an acting clip, just stylized. He swallowed and leaned back slightly. Okay. That was… weird. But maybe there was more context coming.

But oh, he didn’t know what was coming at all.

The scene moved fast. Too fast. Dr. Seo crouched down until they were eye-level, and the camera followed with cinematic intimacy. The patient flushed, stammered something about thinking of him—all the time. And Yunho, with wide eyes now and a tight throat, could only sit frozen as the doctor gently placed the boy’s hand against his chest, then guided him to lie back.

The shift was instant, impossible to ignore. No more pretense. No more subtlety.

Clothes were pulled away slowly, hands ghosted over bare skin, and the boy—Hyun—trembled under every touch. His eyes fluttered shut. He moaned the man’s name.

And that’s when Yunho felt it.

His stomach dropped. Like a trapdoor had opened beneath him and he was falling, limbs numb and heart pounding, not because the scene was arousing—he wouldn’t even let himself name it that—but because it felt like something else was about to break inside him.

It was porn.

Pornography.

And not that Yunho had never watched something like this before. He had. Maybe four or five times, never more, and each time was followed by endless prayer and guilt. A kind of mental self-flagellation that left him feeling hollow and unworthy. Because in his world, pornography wasn’t just a bad habit—it was a crack in the soul, the beginning of a spiritual rot. Lust was equated with sin. And sin, with eternal consequence.

Matthew 5:28, the verse practically tattooed in the back of his mind, rang through him like a hammer blow:

“But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart.”

Adultery. A glance that became damnation.

And yet the most terrifying part of all—what made the back of his neck burn and his hands go clammy—was the fact that the verse didn’t even apply. Not in the way it was written.

Because Yunho wasn’t looking at a woman.

There were no curves on screen. No soft moans from a female voice. There was only the sound of a boy gasping, arching, whispering please. There was only the image of a man easing between his legs like it was worship, like it was something holy.

And Yunho had watched it. He had not looked away.

The room felt tighter now. Smaller. Suffocating.

Maybe the reason Yunho hadn’t looked away was because he was seeing things he had never seen before—at least, not like this. Not with such… intensity. There was no awkward music, no fake moaning, no pixelated distractions or rushed fumbling like in the handful of videos he’d dared to glimpse in the past. No, this felt different. Real. It was filmed like something intimate, something powerful. The way the men touched each other—how they moved with purpose, how they whispered encouragements and exhaled each other’s names like prayers—it wasn’t just about bodies. It was about want. About longing. About claiming something you thought you weren’t allowed to crave. And maybe… maybe Yunho couldn’t stop watching, not because he shouldn’t, but because something inside him wanted to understand what this was. Why this held him so tightly. Why it made his body heat like a fever.

He sat, unmoving, nearly trembling in place as the minutes passed. Every breath, every moan, every low-spoken phrase between the two men carved itself into his memory like scripture—except this time, it wasn’t the kind he had studied in church. It was a different kind of gospel. A worship of touch. A rhythm of gasps and give and take, where submission wasn’t weakness and dominance wasn’t sin, and Yunho had never realized how utterly captivating it could be. He wasn’t even thinking about the word “roleplay” anymore, the academic curiosity that had started this rabbit hole long forgotten. All he could do was watch as the doctor gripped the boy’s hips and moved with aching deliberation, as Hyun’s fingers curled into the sheets, as both their bodies trembled, slick and flushed, in the low light.

He should’ve closed it. He should’ve clicked away the moment things began. He should’ve panicked, or prayed, or done anything other than this. But instead, Yunho watched them fuck like it was the most interesting film of his life. Like it was art. Like it was truth. His mouth had gone dry from all the quiet swallowing he was doing, trying to keep himself from reacting too loudly. He barely blinked. He didn’t move. He was completely entranced.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the video ended.

The screen blinked back to stillness—soft gray, a thumbnail screen offering “related videos” in little curated rows, each with a paused frame full of sin.

Yunho sat frozen.

He had just watched the whole thing. Not a second skipped. Not a tab closed. Not even a single flinch or gasp of shame that had been strong enough to tear his eyes away. He’d let it play. From start to finish. Every minute.

His mouth parted slightly, like he was trying to breathe around the weight pressing against his chest. His hands hovered, uncertain, before darting for the trackpad with clumsy urgency. He slammed the tab shut. Then another. Then quickly opened his browser settings, wiping the history, clearing the cache. Every click felt like scrubbing at a stain that had already soaked too deep.

“Gay porn,” he whispered under his breath, like confessing it would make it less real. “I just watched gay porn.”

A quiet, choked laugh bubbled in his throat. Not because it was funny. Because it was horrible. A quiet, choked laugh slipped out of him—shaky and breathless, more like a gasp trying to disguise itself as something casual. But it wasn’t funny. Not even a little. It was horrifying. A disappointment in the worst, most personal way. What would his parents say? His pastor? His old Sunday school teacher who’d always told him God saw everything, even the things done in secret? What would they all say if they ever found out that Yunho had watched something like that—with boys, no less—and hadn’t even stopped himself? Hadn’t even looked away? They would be horrified. Maybe they’d cry. Maybe they’d pray harder. Maybe they’d finally understand why God sometimes “gave people over to their desires,” the way Romans 1 said.

Yunho shifted in his seat, posture stiff with shame, every muscle trying to pretend he could go back to how things were ten minutes ago—before he clicked, before he stayed, before his body started wanting things it shouldn’t. But the moment he adjusted, trying to relieve the tightness in his spine, something stopped him cold.

His eyes dropped down. Slowly. Warily.

And there it was.

Hard. Painfully hard. Straining against the front of his sweatpants like it had been there the whole time, waiting for him to notice. A thick, pulsing bulge stretching the fabric, outlined so obviously it was impossible to ignore. And the worst part was the heat still coming off it—this dull, aching pressure that pulsed through his thighs and belly, low and heavy and wrong.

“Oh my God,” he whispered, barely audible, as if saying it any louder would make the shame too real to survive.

He had a boner.

A full, throbbing one.

From that. From two men. From the video he should’ve never clicked on, much less sat through like it was the best thing he’d ever seen.

His face went ice-cold. He didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink. Just sat there and stared at himself like the proof of his own damnation was written in his lap.

It wasn’t like he’d never masturbated before. Of course he had—he was human. A man. It happened. Maybe not often, maybe not even regularly, but… three times? Maybe four? He wasn’t sure. It wasn’t something he liked to remember. He tried not to think about those nights, curled up in bed with guilt already simmering before it even started. Technically, he knew how to do it. Knew the logistics, the mechanics, the motion, the breathing. He’d figured it out the same way everyone else did—quietly, shamefully, alone. But every time he finished, it never felt good. Not in the way people described. There was no rush of release, no satisfaction, no sleepiness. Just guilt. Guilt so loud it drowned out everything else. Lust was a sin. Lust meant impurity. Lust meant failure. And he had failed. Willingly. Every single time.

That’s why he stopped.

It wasn’t healthy, not really. He knew that. Men his age usually had… routines. Habits. And maybe they were lucky enough to not feel ashamed about it, but Yunho had learned early that natural didn’t mean acceptable. That getting hard was just part of being alive, sure—but what you did with that feeling was what mattered. Cold showers worked, sometimes. Deep breathing, distraction, late-night prayers whispered into the ceiling while he clenched his fists and begged God to just take the desire away. And most of the time, he didn’t even have to do anything. If he ignored it long enough, the ache passed. Faded into nothing. Like it had never been there in the first place.

But this time was different.

This time, his dick felt like a problem. It wasn’t just hard. It was throbbing, insistent, heavy with something that felt way too alive. Like it had its own pulse, its own need, its own desperate will. It hurt. Actually hurt. And it wasn’t going away—not with a breath, not with a distraction, not even with shame digging itself deep into his chest. The ache in his gut was sharp now, restless, twisting like a muscle pulled too tight. Like every year of resistance had just built up and chosen now to snap.

Hmm… it was…five years? Maybe, yeah.. It had really been that long.

Five years since he last touched himself. Five years since he let himself even think about it for longer than a second. And now he was here. Panting quietly. Boner pressing like a curse against his sweats. Heart pounding with a mixture of dread and anticipation that made him feel sick.

He hated this. He hated that he was even considering it.

But what was he supposed to do? Sit here until it faded? Wait out the pain as he always did? Hope his body just magically forgot it was aroused?

No. Sadly he could not do that today.. This wasn’t going away on its own.

And he hated to admit it—despised it—but…

He had to jerk off. There was no way around it.

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[livelaughbuck]

UPDATE: I WROTE IT

Fic idea.......Tommy was friends with Maddie in high school and Evan was OBSESSED with him. He thought he was the coolest guy ever. And Tommy of course gave Evan attention and would play video games with him. Maddie would roll her eyes but secretly loved that Tommy would play with with little brother.

Maddie had a crush on Tommy, but he came out to her one night and she was like "oh, yeah that makes sense why you wouldn't kiss me."

At graduation Tommy says he's going to be into the military to get away from his dad. Maddie tells Evan and it wrecks him. He's inconsolable. Tommy tells him he'll write Evan while in basic and it's only a few months of training and he'll be back to visit.

Evan holds him to it and every week writes to the man. He gets a couple of letters back. Tommy sends him a photo of himself in a uniform, a little wallet size photo that Evan takes with him every where.

Tommy comes home after months, and surprises Evan by picking him up from school. Evan won't leave him alone. They spend all weekend together.

Tommy gets stationed a few states over, but Evan still writes to him. Everything is fine...then 9/11 happens and the war starts.

Tommy goes back to training to learn how to fly helicopters and ends up stationed in Iraq. Communication wanes and Tommy loses connect with Maddie, then Evan.

Years later, in LA Tommy's called to help out the 118 and he's shocked when this tall, dorky guy with legs for days and the familiar birthmark on his left eyebrow shows up.

"T-tommy?" the man, Evan, stumbles.

"Evan?" Tommy questions back.

He doesn't get to say much else because arms are being wrapped around him and he's breathing in that familiar scent that is Evan Buckley.

They end up saving the day and they start hanging out. One twisted ankle later, Evan's confessing he was jealous and wanted Tommy's attention then Tommy's kissing him and asking out on a date.

[propussyslayer]

[gdinthehouseee]

Nicknames: KANG DAESUNG x READER

summary: after becoming more comfortable around your boyfriend's friends, you accidentally slip up and call him an embarrassing name only meant for him...

word count: 1398

tags: tooth-rotting fluff, kinda new relationship (???), teasing - day 28 of the BIGBANG APRIL WRITING CHALLENGE

ao3 link

Movie night at Daesung’s apartment was, as usual, complete and beautiful chaos.

You, Daesung, Ji-yong, Seung-hyun, and Youngbae were all squeezed into the living room, surrounded by towers of snacks, half-folded blankets, and three different remotes nobody knew how to work. Every time a movie trailer ended, someone (usually Ji-yong) would interrupt with a wild playlist of K-pop girl groups, much to everyone's amusement.

"I’m just saying," Ji-yong was insisting dramatically, waving a bag of crisps, "we should at least consider a horror movie."

"You can't just force everyone into trauma for your entertainment," Youngbae laughed, grabbing the crisps out of his hand.

"Especially not when some people are scared," Seung-hyun added innocently, glancing not-so-subtly at Daesung.

"I’m not scared!" Daesung immediately yelped, sitting up straighter and nearly spilling his drink. His ears turned a little pink, as if already bracing for teasing.

You grinned mischievously, poking Daesung in the side with your toe from where you sat under the shared blanket. "Sure you’re not, pookie."

It slipped out—bright, teasing, affectionate—before you could stop yourself.

And then... silence. The worst kind of silence.

You blinked.

And slowly realized you had said it out loud, in front of every single one of them.

"Pookie?!" Ji-yong practically screeched.

Youngbae let out a shocked little gasp—then immediately burst into a fit of laughter so pure and delighted you almost wanted to cry. Seung-hyun, meanwhile, was practically falling off the armchair, holding his stomach as he howled with laughter.

Your entire soul left your body.

Daesung groaned and yanked the blanket over his head like it might shield him from the sheer humiliation radiating off the room. "Nooo…" his muffled voice whined.

You clapped both hands over your face, utterly mortified. "I— I forgot you guys were here!"

"You called him pookie," Ji-yong gasped, gleefully losing his mind. 

"I heard it too," Seung-hyun wheezed. "Clear as day."

"Pookieee," Youngbae sing-songed teasingly, his eyes sparkling with mischief even as he patted Daesung’s blanketed head sympathetically.

"Hyung, we need to respect pookie's privacy," Ji-yong said with mock-seriousness, wiping fake tears from his eyes.

"I'm deleting all your contacts," Daesung grumbled miserably from under the blanket.

You were laughing so hard you could barely breathe, even through your own embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, Dae.”

The man in question peeked out from under the blanket just enough to glare at you — but it wasn’t a real glare. His cheeks were flaming red, and even though he looked betrayed, the corners of his mouth were twitching like he was trying not to laugh too.

"You’re gonna pay for this," he said dramatically, voice cracking halfway through.

"You’re lucky you're cute," you whispered, leaning closer under the blanket.

His eyes softened instantly, and he melted against you with a grumpy little grumble. "Still mad," he mumbled, but he didn’t move away.

"And you’re lucky we were here to witness the greatest moment of our lives," Seung-hyun added solemnly.

You buried your face in Daesung’s shoulder, wishing for the couch to swallow you whole—and laughing just as hard as the rest of them.

However, the incident hadn't left his mind. No. He was patient, waiting for the perfect time to get his sweet revenge. And it came one lazy Saturday night, now that it was your turn to host the group hangout, so you invited Daesung, Ji-yong, Seung-hyun, and Youngbae over for another movie marathon. Your living room was a disaster of blankets, snacks, and half-finished cups of tea. Everyone was in sweats and socks, sprawled around like it was a family reunion.

You had just flopped down next to Daesung, stealing the blanket draped across his lap, when he casually slipped an arm around your shoulders.

"You cold, princess?" 

You stiffened.

"What did you just call me?"

Seung-hyun, sprawled across the beanbag, slowly sat up, his eyes gleaming. Youngbae muted the television mid-sentence, sensing a moment. Ji-yong didn't even bother hiding his huge grin, practically bouncing where he sat cross-legged.

"I said," Daesung repeated, squeezing your shoulder affectionately, "Are you cold, princess?"

You slapped a hand over your mouth to stop the noise that almost escaped—a half-scream, half-laugh of pure, mortified betrayal.

Seung-hyun gasped dramatically. "Did... did Daesung just debut a new nickname?!"

Youngbae grinned so wide you thought his face might break. "Princess! Oh, it suits you!"

“I knew it,” Ji-yong began lovingly. “You guys are disgusting.”

You groaned and tried to bury your face in Daesung’s hoodie. "You're evil."

Daesung just smiled sweetly, running his hand through your hair. "I'm just giving you the title you deserve, princess."

"Oh my god," you mumbled into his chest.

"You started it," he teased back, voice low so only you could hear. His fingers traced lazy, feather-light patterns against your arm under the blanket, making it very hard to stay mad at him.

You kicked weakly at his leg under the blanket, but he was too busy looking like the most pleased man on the planet.

"Princess," he sing-songed once more, leaning closer so your noses almost touched. "Will you honor us by choosing tonight’s movie?"

You stared at him.

He stared back. So proud and so infuriatingly cute you couldn’t even stay mad.

"...Fine," you muttered, grabbing the remote with the gravitas of someone about to declare war. "But I'm picking the worst rom-com ever made."

"Whatever my princess desires," Daesung said immediately, deadpan.

And somehow, despite wanting to bury yourself alive from embarrassment, you also felt a little bit like you were glowing. Because even if he was teasing you mercilessly, Daesung’s hand stayed tangled with yours under the blanket the entire night.

The chaos finally died down around midnight.

One by one, the guys yawned their way out the door — Youngbae giving you a dramatic bow, Ji-yong shouting “goodnight, your highness” over his shoulder, and Seung-hyun promising to commission a royal portrait of you soon.

You laughed them off, cheeks sore from smiling, and closed the door behind them with a relieved sigh.

When you turned around, Daesung was still there — standing barefoot in your living room, hoodie slightly rumpled, hair a mess. His duffel bag sat by the couch.

You raised an eyebrow. "You’re staying?"

He smiled sheepishly. "You said I could crash if it got too late."

You had — half-joking earlier — but now your heart did a ridiculous little flip at the idea of him staying. One of the many things you’re still getting used to in this relationship.

"Right," you said, suddenly shy. "Of course."

Daesung grabbed his bag and followed you into the bedroom like it was the most natural thing in the world. You handed him a pair of extra sweatpants and a loose shirt to change into, and by the time you both finished getting ready for bed, a cozy quiet had settled between you.

You flipped off the light and crawled into bed, the mattress dipping as Daesung got in beside you. For a moment, you lay there in the dark—inches apart, pretending to be casual even though your heart was thudding so hard it practically shook the sheets. You felt him shift closer, the warmth of his body bleeding into yours under the covers. Then, just as you were tucking yourself deeper into the blankets, you heard it — soft, low, right in your ear:

"Goodnight, princess."

You froze.

There was no teasing in it this time. No smugness. Just his voice, a little rough with sleep, filled with a kind of quiet tenderness that made your chest ache. You turned your head slightly, finding his face silhouetted against the faint light coming through the curtains.

"You’re really not gonna let that go, huh?" you whispered, trying to sound playful, but your voice came out too soft, too fond.

He smiled a small, sleepy grin you could barely see, but somehow felt all the way down to your toes.

"Never," he murmured.

You swallowed thickly, suddenly overwhelmed by how close he was, how warm he felt, how safe.

Without thinking, you shifted even closer, resting your head lightly against his chest. He immediately wrapped an arm around you, holding you like you were something precious. His hand found yours under the covers, fingers lacing through yours without hesitation. You could feel his heartbeat under your ear. Steady, strong, familiar.

"Goodnight, Dae," you mumbled, your voice barely audible against his shirt.

"Sleep well, princess.”

challenge taglist: @wcnderlnds @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten @loveesiren @sevendaysummer @gdinthehouseee @eru-vande @bluesunss @emmiesoverthemoon @petersasteria @currentloser @makeitworse @berfgrimm @aizshallnotbefound @sherxoo

my taglist: @emmiesoverthemoon @mirahyun @riddlerloveb0t @onyxmango @sherrayyyyy @seunghyunwifey @mattsturniolosbabymama @redhoodedtoad @bettelaboure @cinnamonbear22 @xxxicddbr88 @infinetlyforgotten @babygirlewis @loveesiren @tulentiy @babyrvis @ldydeath @wcnderlands @eru-vande @breakmeoff @petersasteria @aizshallnotbefound @sevendaysummer @ttturnitup @mashtatosworld @ilovethe141

[desperateknot]

It's convenient being both an artist and a fic writer because you can now draw promos for your fics

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64767877/chapters/166428448

[emmasmoke8]

Another fanfic for @shoophise ’s HyperDark AU

stars fall from the sky (and from my eyes)

Dark Sonic is tired. He makes a decision. Hyper Shadow must reconcile with that, but the only way is to let himself feel everything he’s let the chaos emeralds take from him.

—

Inspired by shoophise's HyperDark AU on Tumblr

Trigger Warning: Suicide/death (resurrection), blood, graphic description of injury, unhealthy relationship, codependency

[very-gay-poet]

YO YO YO MY FIC IS OFFICALLY ON AO3 I REAPEAT I HAVE FINALLY POSTED ON AO3 :D

Its called You Pop That Gum One More Time (And He Did) by Very_Gay_Poet on ao3!!!!!!! SEE YA THERE ;DDDD

[pikamusume]

the fun one.