GUILTY AS SIN || MASTERLIST

god she is beautiful

MEGAN THEE STALLION performing at Coachella — April 13, 2025

I still cant believe people were trying to say this was a vampire concept

Pinata

You know what the problem in the fandom is? You know, and you do know already.

It's racism, it's always been about racism.

You'll see white writers ready to die on their hills over certain tropes that cater to the young white masses, but when it's pointed out that the moodboards are mostly thin white women, or that even though it says 'x Reader', you'll find a silky haired, pink cheeked fmc within the writing 9 times out of 10? Crickets. So silent you can hear a pin drop.

If its x Reader, then everyone is supposed to be able to relate, and that doesn't mean blank slate either because that's where the racists can slip in to the role comfortably, blank slate can still be white coded. What does it mean if you come across an 'x Reader' fic that specifically states that reader is BIPOC but you don't read it because you 'can't relate'? You don't have to think too hard about it honestly, because you already know.

So why is it the norm that people think it's okay the other way around? BIPOC readers have had to acclimatize and adapt their way of reading for years in order to be able to absorb themselves in a fic. Accepting it when it states 'readers hair can be put into a messy bun', 'ran his fingers through your hair' 'pink stiffened peaks'. This shouldn't have ever had to happen, but it did and its still happening to this day in the big 2025 when the world is on fire and the governments are dividing people into 'us and them' once again.

This place is supposed to be an escape from all that.

Why can't you relate to an x Reader fic where it clearly states that reader is BIPOC or at least coded as such? Think about it and sit in that discomfort.

Where is the same energy from months ago where people were reblogging anti racism resources and making statements about making their blogs inhospitable to racists? It's gone. You'd rather not upset your white moots and treat your Black and brown moots as disposable, over what? Over fanfiction? Okay then.

It's not 'policing what people can and can't write' that's dismantling the fandom. If you don't like it, don't read it, first and foremost and someone having a differing opinion on a trope isn't censorship or 'bootlicking the patriarchy', by the by.

It's racism, but you already knew that.

i think the reason a lot of men are screaming, puking, and crying about this is bc it forces them to acknowledge that the reason they can’t get women to like them is not actually bc of their physique but bc of their shitty personality

fuuuuuuuuuuck

Dear Toxi,

At your suggestion, I used Resistbot to contact my congress people and representative and asked them to vote “no” on the SAVE act. If you can, I would love for you to write something about Raider Joel and Sweet Pea. They are my favorites. Thanks for all your great writing and your activism!

Thank you for your activism and ask. glad to provide raider. 🫡🖤 SAVE act | 5calls | resistbot | ask event: blorbos for democracy

Feast

raider!Joel x f!reader | 1.9k words

WARNINGS: 18+ PWP, 🐱 eating extravaganza, a little forceful, dubcon overstim, PIV, cockwarming, dark fluff, a bit of angst, light somno, Raider Joel needs a permanent hug. NOTES: Morning after Bodies / The Kiss but can read alone. Ty @iamasaddie for the gorgeous pic, ty @milla-frenchy for listening yrs before i write it sometimes, ty @dark-scape and everyone who supports me 🖤 🖤 Joel miller masterlist

You begin to wake up with Joel's hair tickling your breast as he works his way down your body, dragging his lips over your skin. After spreading your legs and resting them over his shoulders, he presses his open mouth to your hip, then inner thigh. 

His inner thigh kisses get closer and thirstier, sucking at your skin, capillaries bursting with pleasure as they rise to the surface to be seen by only him. Marked for no one but Joel. He noses your cunt and dips his tongue for a taste, then his tongue presses hard into your warmth. You moan quietly, feeling everything, but you're still so tired. It was a peaceful night, restful, but hard to shake the heavy slumber. 

You want to be in his arms, but his big hands holding your hips while he plunges face first into your cunt… It's so good, his arms can wait. The day can wait. The morning light filtering through the clouded window can wait as long as need be while Joel Miller takes his time. 

He laps at your pussy, then sucks at your clit. He flicks his tongue and feels you squirm. He reaches up and palms a breast as he eats your pussy like he hasn't had a meal in days and this might just sate him for the week. 

You throb, and pressure builds in your front, in your blood. His lips and tongue possess your pleasure center. His beard scratches your inner thighs, and you spread your legs further, beginning to squirm slightly under his touch. He looks up for a moment, but his eyes are behind a haze of pleasure, and yours are still closed. 

“Ugh,” you moan and your hips lift into his mouth. 

“Mm,” He grunts into your pussy and continues to play with your clit. He flicks his tongue, sucks hard, and listens to you unravel, closing his eyes, losing himself in the primality of consuming you for his pleasure and yours.

“J-joel,” you breathe, not loud enough for him to hear.  Need to feel his lips on yours again. His lips on… your other lips. The ones on your pretty face, the ones that whimper his name, this time asking, “Joel?” with no reply, only a crescendo of pressure swelling in your core. 

You drift back to the night before, the moment your mouths connected…. you float there with the swelling pressure as your buoy, until the riptide pulls you under, into the ghost of his mouth taking yours, and the pleasure breaks in a crashing wave. Tumbling over your senses, it rolls you onto the shore of his bed, soaked and trembling, gasping for breath with his head between your legs as he swallows your peak. 

The taste of your pleasure, your climax only makes him more voracious. While you're bathing in the high, he licks at your entrance, sucks and swallows. Plunges his tongue into you, searches for more. He tilts his head, fucking you with his tongue from different angles.  He’s a starving canine licking marrow out of bone. 

He brings his thumb to your cunt and holds it there on the spot that makes you whimper with the slightest pressure.  He fucks you with his tongue, then flattens his fingers and rubs at your clit, rolling it it in short quick strokes, building another fire in your belly with his tongue in your core. His thick fingers work you like a tap, drawing more of your arousal to coat his tongue. 

“C'mere,” you whimper, and he doesn't let up. His tongue thrusts into you. He laps over your entrance, up your slippery seam, before plunging his tongue in again, with his hand still aflutter. You squirm and he sucks, and then you're coming against his face, and he moans against your throbbing clit, then nudges it with the strength of his tongue and seals it with an open kiss.  His mouth breaks away to gush, “good girl.” 

Your legs tremble over his shoulders like a gelatin dish carried by heavy steps to the kitchen table where a hungry mouth waits. He holds one thigh, thumb and fingers pressing into the soft flesh over your muscle, and gives it an aggressive kiss, lips smacking as he pulls away and sets his eyes on the feast between your legs again. 

“Can you come here?” You ask, and he glances up at you with his mouth planted between your legs again. 

“It's, it’s too much. I can't,” You whimper. It feels like you could pee, like you could lose complete control. Does he hear you?  

“Joel, Joel,” you repeated. 

He sucks below your clit, flicks his tongue up against it before sucking again. He closes his eyes hard, and his hand comes to your breast.

“come here,” you echo and it comes out strained, stretched by pleasure, pulled apart by him.  You try to sit up, try to use your lower body to nudge him toward you, toward the pillow, but he forces you down, holds you firmly in place. You begin to lift his hand off your breast to break the spell, to get his attention, and his hand seizes your wrist.

Your resistance only makes his mouth more aggressive in its quest to swallow you again. 

You give in.  

He feels you relax, glances up, then interlaces his fingers with yours and it feels all better. The tension leaves your back and legs, your neck relaxes, your head sinks into the pillow. All the tension melts, flowing down to your center where it builds in your depths for a third time. 

His lips break away with a rumbling breath. 

“One more, baby,” he pants, “one more.” 

His tongue runs through your folds, up one side and down the other, circling your juicy hole, then giving it a suck before returning to your clit. 

His hand tightens its grip on yours, so large and commanding. Tight and firm, his palm flexes, his fingers press into the slopes between your knuckles.

His hips rut against the bed as he fucks you with his face. The movement of his ass, the telltale. rhythm of his hips and his tongue together, it tickles something in your solar plexus, opening you with a desperate need to be filled.

His head between your legs dips and pushes his mouth harder in rhythm with his hips against the bed. Tongue, hips, tongue, hips, suck, hips, suck, harder. With a pit opening in your center, you beg, “I need you inside.”  

You find yourself jealous of the mattress, wishing you were the fitted sheet that he was rutting against. Nevermind how many hours you were treated to the same push of his hips. How many nights. Nevermind that his face is buried in your cunt. You want him inside you. 

 A tear rolls down your temple.

You whimper his name, and he takes a breath to promise, “One more and you can rest, baby.  One more.” 

You can do it. You can do it for him. With tension coiling in your depths, with one hand in his, and the other in his hair, you watch his eyelids hover half open, then close with the soft rake of your nails across his scalp. 

Your hips lift with his hungry touch and he moans into your cunt. 

A growl escapes his chest; warm, damp air against your lower mound. The coil winds so tight you fear the snap as you begin to crest. But when the tension breaks and springs you open, the rush of release makes you glad he hadn't stopped. It floods every inch of you with a sizzling buzz.

It makes your body dizzy, and it makes you sleepy. He laps up all your arousal, all your release, everything he can, his hips still moving in rhythm. He slowly fucks the goddamn mattress with you quivering against his tongue. 

And then, finally, he’s done. He licks his swollen lips swallowing more of your taste. His neck and face are pink, the lower half is shiny. His breath is heavy, and so is yours as you recover. 

“I'm comin’, sweet pea,” he assures you. He lets go of your hand to prowl up your body.

He hovers you, and you glance down at his stiff, leaking cock, angry with so much blood and need it can hardly contain. It bounces heavily against your belly, right where you want it inside. 

He reaches down, aligns your bodies, and your breath hitches as he slides into you with a powerful thrust, plunging nearly all his length through your soft walls. He packs you full, just like you wanted. You're tired, so tired, and your face becomes peaceful as you're made whole. 

“You can rest now, baby,” he pants. With his length sheathed in your soft warmth, he slides a hand under your shoulder, pulls you against him, and eases you back into how you were sleeping - on your sides, facing each other. With a grunt, he hikes your leg up so he can bottom out fully with a sigh. 

An aftershock squeezes his shaft, making him shudder. He strokes your face, possessively cups the back of your head, with his thumb on your temple, then he brings his face to yours and kisses you once again.  With your mouths joined, he breathes through his nose, kissing you deep, letting his tongue slide into your warm, soft mouth, feeding you your own taste, collecting more of you for himself. Another spasm echoes from your walls, and his hips jerk. His lips break from yours with a groan, and his cock throbs, erupting warm and heavy.

Deep, so deep.

His pelvis tilts trying to inch ever further into you like he could fill your whole body up if he tried, and maybe he could. But he remains almost completely still as his balls empty into you through the twitch of his cock. 

He interrupts his shaky breaths to kiss you for a few seconds, lips clinging to yours. Then he pulls back to look you in the eyes and asks, “You okay sweet pea?”  

“Yeah,” you whisper with a nod. He holds you, and the rhythm of his breathing feels like a lullaby. 

“Let's stay in bed,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” you whisper in agreement. 

You're wrapped in his arms, full of his cock, almost back asleep when his arms twitch and tighten around you.

“Are you okay?” You ask. 

He takes a deep breath. “Yeah. ‘Course I am, sweet pea.” He kisses your forehead.  But unease grows beneath the peace he feels, slow as cordyceps and just as real.

The truth is, each time your bodies are joined, he’s less sure how to separate them. He's not sure how to get out of that bed without you physically attached to him. Like a limb or a second skin, the thought of shedding you, even for a moment, makes his oxygen drop, unsettles his gut, has his pulse thrumming in his neck. 

“Just... always need more of ya, baby,” he mutters with a shift of his hips, then another deep breath. 

“You have all of me,” you whisper. 

"Yeah," he whispers and nestles your head under his chin where you can feel his thick swallow. 

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Thank you for reading 🖤 I have terrible anxiety with this series sometimes, there's so much I've scribbled and not shared. Your comments help a lot.

Please also consider sharing this fic - it's a great way to help resistance efforts by spreading the ask and links and enticing people who might otherwise scroll past this kind of information.

love the final architecture series but i refuse to acknowledge the ending. solace and idris go on to live happily ever after and idris becomes a sleepy princess like me to make up for all the sleep he missed out on in the past

Dave

There’s this guy,

His name is Dave.

He doesn’t know me and I don’t know him.

But I do know a little about him.

What little he’s shared - anyway.

He seems nice and lovely and kind.

He works hard and puts effort into what he does.

But we all know - those of us who’ve heard his songs - that the man we know hasn’t always had it easy

He has a dark past - a sunken place.

He has dark thoughts and sometimes they suffocate

him to the point where he needs to scream to let it out.

But he never lets that get to him.

I admire Dave,

because we’ve both been through some things.

I admire Dave because he’s had it worse than me,

but he’s still going.

I admire Dave because as far as I know he’s an admirable guy.

I hope one day I can meet him,

I hope one day I can be him,

but that’s probably not going to happen

Some of my favorites of the night …. I love black women

Ok Idk who needs to hear this but Steve Rogers was just *the first* Captain America. He was legitimately never meant to be the only one. Phillips WANTED an army of them. Steve Rogers was not the icon of Cap that the government wanted him to be. They DISOWNED him because of this.

Sam Wilson served as a soldier far longer than Steve Rogers ever did, and not simply because you can't count the time that Steve spent CAST as a dancing monkey (based on his own interpretation).

Steve Rogers is the only Steve Rogers. We called him Nomad, too, since there was a time he WAS NOT Captain America.

The role was recast, by the government, several times.

I don't give a shit about Captain America as a concept. I love Steve Rogers and I love Sam Wilson because of who they are despite what 'America' or Phillips or John Walker or any other forces want.

If you think their title was the important part, you missed the point completely.

Claim : Alpha!Johnny

⇢ Synopsis: When a pack offers up you, an omega, to Johnny as a show of ‘good faith’, he knows he needs to get you out of there. The tricky part is introducing you to his all alpha pack and making it clear that he doesn’t have a claim on you and that you’re free to choose any mate you’d like. As your first heat living with Johnny looms, tensions rise. 

⇢ Pairing: alpha werewolf!Johnny x omega!reader ⇢ Genre: smut, slow burn, crack.  ⇢ Warnings: a/b/o au, abo class systems, power dynamic focus, mentions of werewolf men being creepy to omegas, arranged ‘union’, sugar daddy Johnny, fingering, oral (f receiving), sex, overstimulation, mentions of oncoming heat, mentions of masterbation, general shenanigans, size kink, big dick Johnny, virgin!reader, etc… ⇢ Word Count: 18.4k ⇢ Tropes/AU’s: werewolf au, a/b/o au, alpha nct, 

a/b/o NCT masterlist can be found HERE

Your bed is cold but you can’t find the energy to do anything about it. All you can do is stare at your ceiling, words repeating over and over in your mind: today’s the day.

You’re leaving one world of confinement to enter another. However, instead of a pack knocking you down and reminding you over and over again of your inferiority as an omega, you’ll have an alpha mate doing it. And the largest alpha in his pack no less.

Your pack had said they chose him because of his size. Strong babies, strong lines they’d insisted, as if it would have anything to do with them. You doubt you’ll see any of them again seeing as your new ‘mate’ lives in the heart of the downtown of your city, whereas your pack prefers the space of a manor house on the far outskirts. Besides, do you ever really want to see your pack again?

Today at noon, as a show of good faith and unity, your pack will all but gift you to an alpha who you’ve never even met. An alpha from a pack of alphas. 

You don’t even know what that entails and you don’t want to think about what it might mean in terms of your heat. Some packs adopt a more polyamorous lifestyle, throwing omegas around like a joint at a bonfire, is this what you can expect for your life?

Burying your face in your pillows, you fear the worst.

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