Fellas, Fellas

Let It Burn

In the heart of Washington, D.C., the air was thick with tension as Kamala Harris sat in her office, surrounded by the memories of a life once filled with laughter and love. The walls, adorned with accolades and reminders of her achievements, seemed to close in on her as she awaited Y/n’s arrival. Today would change everything.

Y/n entered the office, the subtle clatter of heels echoing in the quiet space. Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, Kamala saw the familiar warmth that had first drawn her to Y/n. But today, that warmth felt distant, replaced by an air of resolve that made Kamala’s stomach twist.

“Y/n, I—” Kamala began, but Y/n held up a hand, cutting her off gently.

“Kamala, we need to talk.” The strength in Y/n’s voice silenced the room, bringing the weight of impending heartbreak into stark focus.

As they settled into the plush chairs opposite each other, Y/n took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us...about our family.” There was a tremor in Y/n's voice, one that didn’t go unnoticed by Kamala. “The kids...they need stability, and they need both of us, not just parts of us.”

Kamala’s heart sank, knowing this conversation had been looming for some time. Juggling her role as vice president and being a partner and mother had become increasingly challenging. “I know things have been tough,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m doing this for our future.”

Y/n shook their head, a sadness etched across their features. “Is that really what you think? That your job comes before us? Before them?” They reached into their bag, pulling out a manila envelope. “I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay when it’s not.”

With trembling hands, Y/n slid the envelope across the table towards Kamala. The gravity of the moment struck Kamala like a physical blow. She opened it slowly, her eyes scanning the pages. Divorce papers. The words blurred as tears threatened to spill. “Y/n, please… let’s talk about this.”

“There’s nothing left to discuss. I can’t raise our kids alone while you’re consumed by your career,” Y/n said, their voice heavy with emotion. “They want to live with me. They need more than what you can give right now.”

Kamala felt her chest tighten, the reality of the situation crashing down on her. “You know how much I love them. I’m doing this for our future!” she pleaded, desperation creeping into her tone.

“But at what cost, Kamala?” Y/n’s voice cracked, the pain evident in their eyes. “You’re here, but you’re not really here. The kids feel it, and so do I. I need to prioritize them, and I can’t do that if you’re always chasing a dream that takes you further away from us.”

The silence that hung between them was thick and suffocating. Kamala wanted to argue, to fight for her marriage, but deep down, she knew Y/n was right. The late nights, the missed family dinners, and the increasing distance had created a rift that felt impossible to bridge.

“Please don’t do this,” Kamala finally whispered, her voice breaking.

Y/n looked at her, a mixture of sorrow and determination in their gaze. “I have to, Kamala. For the kids. For my own sanity.” They paused, taking a deep breath, trying to remain steady amidst the turmoil. “I hope one day you can understand.”

As Y/n gathered their things, preparing to leave the office—and the life they had built together—Kamala felt the weight of her choices pressing down upon her. In the pursuit of her ambitions, she had lost sight of what truly mattered. As the door clicked shut behind Y/n, leaving her alone in the silence of the office, Kamala Hart bordered on the edge of her career and her heart, caught in the painful realization of what she had sacrificed.

In the coming weeks, the impact of the divorce would echo through her life, a reminder that no amount of success could fill the void left by the love and family she had taken for granted. And as she sat in solitude, staring at the framed photographs that once brought her joy, she understood that this was just the beginning of a long journey of healing and reflection, one that would test her in ways she never anticipated.

oh, so you wanna 'make america great again' but only for the cishet white men, right? only for the people who can afford to pay for taxes and healthcare with no problem, right? only for people who can support themselves and their family, right? spoiler alert: america isnt just the people you want it to be. its everyone in this country. you cant pick and choose who you want to represent yet thats exactly what donald trump is doing and it needs to stop

BLOODLUST

The office was quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the city outside. I sat behind my desk, surrounded by walls that held secrets darker than the night sky. My heartbeats were steady, unwavering—much unlike those of a mortal. I am Kamala Harris, Vice President of the United States, but tonight, I felt more like a creature of the night, an ancient being tethered to desires I had long buried.

When Y/n stepped through the door, everything changed. The air shifted, electric with the promise of something forbidden. I watched them as they approached, my gaze lingering on the gentle curve of their neck, the pulse beneath their skin—a tempting reminder of life itself. It was intoxicating, the way their blood sang to me, calling out in an unending serenade, stirring an insatiable hunger deep within that I fought to keep contained.

“Kamala, I thought we could go over the briefings for tomorrow,” they said, holding a stack of papers, their voice smooth and warm—a stark contrast to the chill that often surrounded me. But I hardly heard their words; all I could think about was how close they were, how their presence enveloped me like the darkness outside.

“Let’s put that aside for a moment,” I replied, my voice low and deliberate, cloaking the urgency that bubbled just beneath the surface. I leaned back in my chair, feeling like a predator watching its prey, my instincts teetering on the edge of control. The moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating Y/n’s features and casting an ethereal glow around them, making my resolve waver.

Desire coursed through my veins, more potent than any political ambition I had ever known. It was as if the centuries I had lived had led me to this very moment—the pull between us undeniable, magnetic. Could I dare cross that line? The thought sent shivers down my spine, awakening a part of me that longed for connection, for companionship beneath the vast cosmos.

I stood from my chair, closing the distance between us, the scent of Y/n’s blood wrapping around me like a silken ribbon. “You’re more than just my assistant,” I confessed, every word heavy with meaning. “There’s something about you I can’t resist.”

Their eyes widened, surprise mingling with an awakening awareness—a spark that ignited the tension in the room. “Kamala…” they began, but I didn’t give them a chance to finish. The moment hung thick, filled with a potent mixture of fear and longing, and I knew I had to have them, to claim what was mine.

With a sudden, primal urge, I reached out, brushing my fingers against their wrist, feeling the warmth radiating from their skin. Everything in me screamed to take, to indulge in the primal desire that surged within—Y/n’s blood would not only satiate my thirst but bind us in ways that transcended time.

“Y/n,” I murmured, leaning closer, my breath fanning across their neck, intoxicating and overwhelming. “I want you to understand what this means. You are my mate… and once you feel it, there’s no turning back.”

The world outside faded, leaving only the two of us suspended in this moment, caught between light and darkness—a powerful connection waiting to be unleashed under the watchful gaze of the moon.

This sounds like something from The Handmaid’s Tale, ffs.

I really want to write about poppy playtime right now, if anyone has any requests!

Writing an smut Headcanon

Hey guys I am writing a smut headcanon for Kamala. Also please send me some requests. I know I’ve been lazy with posting imagines but at the same time I’ve been busy with work and just be too damn tired to do anything. But yeah I may post the headcanon later tonight or tomorrow morning. I think you guys will love it though. Just if anyone wants me to write something for Kamala just send it to my requests page that is linked on my master list.

ok people, where are the Beldam!gp fics? I'm in need of this~

Obviously the idea that Chinese people are some “others” and only realizing after downloading Xiaohongshu they’re Just Human Beings is bad, but I think the fact that people are learning is more important. Embarrassing, sure, but did you want them to live in a bubble forever? Is directly interacting with Chinese people on an unlocalized app not such a beautiful and fun way to learn about the world, free of American propaganda?

And it all came about because the US Government is banning TikTok due to fear of """Chinese spies"""… and now, faster than ever, Americans are forming friendships with Chinese folks. Amazing stuff, truly.

I’m Back!!!!

So yes I’m back to writing imagines again. So send your requests. I am completely heal and surgery went great. So yeah that’s all I have to say so you can send in your request and I will write them for you.