Black Representation - Blog Posts

The entitlement is crazy like is it that hard too see that other races exist cause it must be nice to be the default ლ(ಠ_ಠ ლ)ლ(ಠ_ಠ ლ) shout out to black writers your work should never go unnoticed

please do not comment shit like this on my page. it is not a compliment that you like my stuff but have the black reader tag blocked. if you haven’t noticed MY WHOLE BLOG IS FOR BLACK PEOPLE. Every! Single! Story!!! go read something else if curly hair makes you upset

Beautiful!

Now that we have an official look at Ariel, it’s fun for me to see where I got close and missed the mark in terms of predicting what she would look like! Turns out I wasn’t that close LOL. 

But Halle, as we all predicted, looks and SOUNDS out of this world. I’m gonna have to mentally prepare all the way till 2023 to not ugly cry through the whole movie. ;____; <3

Check out more of my work on other platforms!

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the day i see more sam wilson fics w a black oc is the day imma finally live peacefully. same thing w my girl mj too. i barely see ones with her. like im thriving off scraps yall.

ykw fine I'll do it myself. in fact, i'll kill two birds with one stone and write one with sam's kid and have mj as a love interest.

seriously tho. and when it comes to reading fanfiction as well, i'm constantly having to see the MC face some sort of microagression. not only that but they're portrayed in a way that you can easily tell that they were simply written by a nonblack person — yk what i'm talking about... the racial stereotypes, making us seem "ghetto," or "rachet," all that stuff. and even when i do find a fic with a black author, the MC is purposefully made into a walking stereotype.

shit like that makes me wanna rip my hair out. i'd think that im finally seeing the representation i want, only to be disappointed in the end. there's only like a select few of fics that i find that have a good rep when it comes to writing black characters that i really enjoy.

do you know how exhausting it is being hyper aware of how black people are portrayed in fictional media? I would love to be able to enjoy a show without picking up microagressions and subtle stereotypes and frowning to myself when it happens again and again.

i am quite literally speechless

BROOOOOOOOO!!!!

_peachyypie_ on Instagram

Table Talk

If we are going to be real

Let's talk about how Charles Beckendorf, literally the only black person that was introduced, died and how his girlfriend, Silena also died and get talked trash because of that bitch ass hoe, Drew.

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.

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.

She Keeps Calling

October London - She Keeps Calling

Oh

Baby, yeah

She keeps calling me and I go

Although she takes from me, I follow

She gave me a key to her door

Now she got me coming back for more, more

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the bustling streets of Washington, D.C. Amidst the hum of city life, Kamala Harris found herself lost in thought, her mind echoing with the laughter and warmth of Y/n, the person who had captured her heart. It was a typical day for the vice president, filled with meetings and speeches, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the moments they shared—those fleeting glances, the subtle touches that ignited something deep within her.

Kamala leaned against her desk, the soft music of October London’s “She Keeps Calling” playing softly in the background. The lyrics resonated with her; each word felt like a secret he had whispered just for her, a confession of longing and desire. She closed her eyes, letting the melody wash over her as she recalled the first time Y/n had walked into her life.

Oh

She keeps callin' me, yeah

I tried, but I can't leave, yeah

You got me roped in, sippin' your potion, yeah, yeah

Oh, I swore to myself that this time I'd give you up, yeah

But all I know is you're, oh

It was an unexpected meeting—a charity event where their paths crossed briefly. Kamala was drawn to Y/n’s infectious energy, the way they lit up every room they entered, captivating everyone with their charm. It didn’t take long for her to realize that beneath Y/n’s playful exterior lay a depth of intellect and compassion that matched her own.

As the days turned into weeks, their connection deepened. They would send messages back and forth, sharing late-night conversations that felt electric. Kamala found herself looking forward to their chats, her heart racing whenever she saw Y/n’s name pop up on her phone. Yet, each time she heard the familiar sound of a text notification, a part of her worried about what it meant.

She keeps calling me and I go

Although she takes from me, I follow

She gave me a key to her door

Now she got me coming back for more, more

She keeps calling me and I go

Although she takes from me, I follow

She gave me a key to her door

Now she got me coming back for more, more

“She keeps calling,” Kamala thought, the line from the song ringing true. There was a magnetic pull between them, one that was impossible to ignore. Each interaction left her wanting more, craving the way Y/n made her feel—alive, seen, adored.

One evening, after a long day spent in meetings, Kamala decided to invite Y/n over to unwind. Her nerves fluttered as she prepared her home, wanting everything to be perfect. She set up a cozy living area, candles flickering softly, a light jazz playlist accompanying the ambiance. When Y/n arrived, they brought with them an energy that filled the room, instantly lifting Kamala’s spirits.

Oh, it seems I've gotten deep, yeah (gotten deep, yeah)

And the odds are up against me, yeah (oh, yeah)

Been there and done that, don't know why I come back, yeah

Oh-oh, don't know why I stick around for you

I don't know why, but I do, oh-oh

They settled onto the couch, sharing stories and laughter, the comfort of their friendship enveloping them like a warm blanket. As the night wore on, Kamala felt a shift in the air, a tension that hung between them like unspoken words. She looked into Y/n’s eyes, seeing the spark of connection mirrored back at her.

“Y/n,” Kamala started, her heart pounding. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Before she could continue, Y/n smiled—a knowing smile that sent butterflies spiraling in Kamala’s stomach. “You don’t have to say anything, you know. I feel it too.”

Relief washed over Kamala, mixed with exhilaration. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Y/n replied, their gaze unwavering. “It’s like… no matter how busy our lives get, you’re always on my mind. I can’t help but be drawn to you. It’s as if you call out to me, and I just can’t resist.”

Kamala felt a rush of warmth flood her cheeks. “I thought it was just me. You keep calling to me too, and I’m so hooked on you, Y/n. You make everything brighter.”

As they spoke, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them, their hearts racing in sync. The lyrics of the song echoed in Kamala’s mind again, highlighting the undeniable truth of their feelings.

With an impulsive move, Kamala took Y/n’s hand, intertwining their fingers, and felt the electricity surge between them. They share a moment of silence, soaking in the realization that they were on the cusp of something new—something powerful.

“I don’t want to be just friends anymore,” Kamala admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n’s eyes sparkled with joy as they squeezed her hand gently. “Me neither. Let’s see where this takes us.”

And in that moment, Kamala knew she was ready to embrace whatever came next, fully aware that Y/n was the one she wanted by her side. They shared a shy smile, a promise of something beautiful blooming between them—one that would surely thrive amidst the chaos of their lives, echoing the sentiment of the song that had brought them both to this very moment.

As the night went on, Kamala and Y/n fell deeper into conversation, the boundaries of friendship fading as they explored the uncharted territories of their hearts. Time slipped away, and for Kamala Harris, the woman who held a tremendous position of power, it felt wonderfully liberating to simply be vulnerable with.

She keeps calling me and I go

Although she takes from me, I follow

She gave me a key to her door

Now she got me coming back for more, more

She keeps calling me and I go

Although she takes from me, I follow

She gave me a key to her door

Now she got me coming back for more, more, more

Smut Headcanon

Past and Present Kamala

When it comes to you and Kamala you guys sex lives are great. Especially since Kamala is the dominant one in the relationship.

She’s love your body ever since her college days in HBCU. The first time y’all had sex she was obsessed… and still is obsessed almost 20 To 30 years later.

The way she loves how you cum on her tongue and how the way you scream and moan her name. Omg is crazy for facesitting as well.

She loves that you take care of her as well. But she mostly pleases you. Basically more of a giver and not a receiver.

She gets off when you gets off. When you try to give back she stops you because she basically cums off your moans and knowing its going to put you to sleep.

Oh and speaking of dominant Kamala does not like it when you become bratty. You have rules to follow and if you break them you will punish.

She have all kinds of different sex toys. From whips to butt plugs to dildos and much more. Oh you hate orgasm denial very much. That’s a big part of how much you hate that she does that to you.

You are her good girl and you better act like it. Or else you will be spanked. Good girls cums while bad girls don’t. But don’t worry you do get your get back at her though.

She gives you a look that tells you don’t act up.

Fucks you hard with the biggest strap-on that she knows you can barely take. The belly bulge and the cum ring around the based of the fake cock. She loves it.

Kamala loves you very much soft or hard dom she will always take care of baby. Don’t get it twisted though, she will fuck up your pussy and asshole. Leaving you gaping for her and her alone.

The Baby’s Coming!!!

Request by anonymous pt. 1

As the day of their son's birth arrived, Y/n felt a mixture of excitement and nervousness. But they were grateful for one thing - the unwavering support of their loving partner, Bret. He had been by/n's side throughout their entire pregnancy, attending doctor's appointments, birthing classes, and providing constant encouragement.

As Y/n's contractions intensified, Bret took charge, ensuring that the hospital bag was ready and everything was in order. He held Y/n's hand tightly, offering words of reassurance and love. The room became a sanctuary of calm amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

Y/n clung to Bret's presence, finding solace in his steady demeanor. He anticipated their needs before they could even voice them. Whether it was a comforting touch on their back or a cold compress on their forehead, Bret was always one step ahead, providing the perfect support at all times.

As the labor progressed, Y/n's pain grew more intense, but Bret never faltered. He remained a pillar of strength, offering soothing words during each contraction. His voice encouraged Y/n to breathe through the pain, reminding them of the beautiful outcome waiting at the end.

When the time came for Y/n to push, Bret was right there, holding Y/n's hand firmly, never letting go. With every push, his unwavering support gave Y/n the strength to continue, reminding them of their incredible journey together.

And then, finally, their son entered the world, a tiny bundle of joy. As the cries filled the room, tears of joy streamed down Y/n's face. Bret leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on Y/n's forehead, his heart filled with overwhelming love and pride.

In that moment, Y/n realized how lucky they were to have Bret as their partner. He had been their rock, supporting them every step of the way, and now, he was holding their precious son in his arms.

As they gazed down at their child, Y/n felt a rush of gratitude for having such an incredible partner. Together, they had welcomed their son into the world, and they knew that their journey as parents would be filled with love, laughter, and the unwavering support of each other.