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.

Adoration

You stood in the center of the wrestling ring, the spotlight shining down on you as you took your place at the announcer's table. The crowd roared with anticipation, their excitement filling the air. Little did you know, Bret "The Hitman" Hart had his eyes fixed on you.

As you introduced the upcoming match, your voice filled the arena, capturing the attention of the audience. Your passionate and knowledgeable commentary captivated the crowd, showcasing your deep understanding and love for the sport. You brought a unique energy to the event that drew people in.

Midway through your introductions, you caught a glimpse of Bret. His piercing eyes met yours, and in that moment, time seemed to stand still. There was something about the way he looked at you, a mix of admiration and intrigue, that made your heart skip a beat.

Bret couldn't help but be enchanted by your presence. He was mesmerized by the way you passionately described the backgrounds of the wrestlers and highlighted their strengths and weaknesses with such enthusiasm. Your voice, filled with excitement and authenticity, drew him in closer.

As the match began, you continued to provide insightful commentary, immersing the audience in the action taking place in the ring. Every word you spoke seemed to add an extra layer of intensity and emotion to the match. Bret found himself hanging onto your every word, completely engrossed in your storytelling.

Throughout the night, Bret stole glances in your direction whenever he had the chance. The way you leaned forward, fully invested in the match, made his heart swell with admiration. He was captivated by your dedication and passion, seeing in you a kindred spirit who shared his love for the art of wrestling.

As the event came to a close, Bret found himself unable to forget the moments shared between you. Your voice, your energy, and your passion had left an indelible mark on his memory. In that ring, under the spotlights, you had captivated not just the audience but also Bret "The Hitman" Hart himself.

REBLOG IF YOU HAVE STRETCHMARKS

This way people can see they’re not alone. I have them and this would help me see that.

570K notes View Post

callingallbaddies

1 year ago

Everyone has the potential to fall victim to being indoctrinated into a cult. Anyone can be sexually assaulted. Anyone can become a victim of an abusive relationship. Yes, even if you're intelligent and strong willed. Yes, even if you think you're tough and "don't take shit from anyone".

If you've never found yourself as the victim of a cult, or sexual assault, or abuse, the only thing separating you from people who have been victimized by cults / sexual assault / abuse is circumstance. That's it. Sheer luck. Luck over what family you were born into. Luck over who you were surrounded by when you were emotionally compromised or in any way vulnerable. Ect.

You are not better than people who have been victimized. They didn't do anything wrong to ask to be victimized. Anyone can be victimized by these situations given the perfect storm of circumstances. You are not better than people who have been victimized by cults / sexual assault / abuse.

You need to understand that if you are lucky enough to have never been victimized by cults / sexual assault / abuse, it's very little to do with how smart or strong you are or you doing all the "right" things. Someone can be smart and strong and do all the right things and still find themselves a victim given the perfect storm of bad circumstances.

The sooner this can be understood, the sooner we can do away with victim blaming culture. And the sooner we can do away with victim blaming culture the sooner atrocities like cults, sexual assault, and abuse can stop being so prolific. Victim blaming culture allows these atrocities to thrive. And they will continue to thrive until we shift the blame to where it rightfully belongs.

9K notes View Post

callingallbaddies

7 months ago

DOOMERS ARE FUCKING CRINGE

GET READY TO FIGHT INSTEAD

20 notes View Post

callingallbaddies

2 months ago