So, let's goooo

1. I can't die before Tinubu.

2. I can't die before Donald Trump.

3. I can't die before my wicked grandmother.

4. I haven't fainted from mind blowing sex yet.

5. I haven't gotten my own apartment.

6. I haven't gotten a mirror on my ceiling so that I can watch myself when I come.

7. I haven't gotten the tattoos and piercings I want yet.

8. In haven't had an orgasm while peeing (apparently has achieved this great feat)

9. I haven't sprayed pepper spray in a man's eyes.

10. I have slept with , , or yet.

11. I can't die before Ochanya’s murderers.

12. I haven't met Megan Thee Stallion and Doja Cat In Person.

13. I can't die broke.

14. I haven't learned how to pole dance.

15. I haven't tried stripping at a strip club yet.

16. I haven't opened my women-only boudoir studio.

17. Tinubu is still alive. (In case number 1 wasn't clear)

18. I've not worn a panty vibrator yet.

19. I'm not disgustingly educated yet.

20. And finally, I want to see how this shit ends.

So tell me, why do you want to stay alive?

Byeeee Darlingssss, I love youuuuu 🫶🏾🫶🏾

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Hi darlingsss! Let's get right into it, shall we? 🌚

1. I hate noise

2. I used to really like Mathematics and Physics but I ended up as the best graduating student i n English.

3. I sweat a lot but I prefer warmer temperatures.

4. I can't sleep without covering my legs.

5. My favorite feature on my face is my eyes. They are so devastatingly beautiful, yet so evil.

6. I have idiopathic guttate hypomelanosis (IGH) also known as ‘reverse freckles’ littered on my face and for a very long time I used to be insecure about them. (I low-key still am).

7. I know that I'm slim but I'm scared to death of ever being fat.

8. I have beauty spots on my lips.

9. I like reading so freaking much.

10. I like learning about history.

11. I don't really like people (I don't know how else to explain this).

12. I'm a leaver, I don't believe in wasting my energy for people/things that are not worth it.

13. I easily get headaches.

14. I hope my parents will just separate.

15. I hope something terrible happens to that evil Yoruba boy.

16. I hate sleeping with the lights on.

17. I really love twerking and I hope I learn to pole dance one day.

18. When I make bastard money, I will open a strip club for just women.

19. A woman on this app has seen my nakedness, I'm not even joking.

20. I like my fingers but I hate that my nails break easily.

21. My hair is relaxed (unfortunately 😑)

22. I have terrible anxiety.

23. I'm ready for marriage if you have generational wealth.

24. I will be a graduate by next year. 🤞🏾

25. I like graphic designing, photography, and video editing.

26. I would also love to open a boudoir studio for women when I make bastard money.

27. Sometimes, I feel like I'm gaslighting myself into believing that I'm bisexual.

28. I'm practically blind without my glasses.

29. I wish I was riding a man's face rn but unfortunately I'm not. 🥲

30. My (pen)name is Kisha and you just read 30 things about me! 🌚

I love y'all too!!! Byeeeeeee 🫶🏾💜💜

This post was inspired by , na you dey hot ohhh 🫶🏾🔥🔥

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But you're an ashawo , so you will still read it. This is the a work of fiction, kinda…. 🤧

LISTEN TO THE SONG, TRUST ME!!!

This article is dedicated to because she's an amazing person and mother 🥹🫶🏾

And for no reason in particular, I'm going to tag 🌚

*
*

*
*

“Meet me in room 097 in the next 10 minutes.” Those were my exact words.

*

I shut the door behind me and searched my poorly organized wardrobe for the sexiest lingerie I could find. I chose the brown one that was almost the same shade as my skin tone and threw a robe over it. I grabbed a bottle of baby oil and my rose toy from the drawer and threw them on the bed. I connected my phone to the speaker, clicked play and Arianna Grande’s sultry voice floated through the speaker.

A few minutes later, I heard a knock on the door so I opened it to reveal a 6ft something man of sheer muscles towering over me — Mubarak.

*

Immediately he stepped in, the temperature of the room rose and the tension became thicker. “So do I need to ask how your day was again or do I go straight into the business of the night?”, both of his hands were buried into the pocket of his joggers, looking as edible as humanly possible. “Take off your shirt and sit”, I said, pointing to the chair placed at the foot of the bed. “Yes ma'am”, he said, lowering himself into the chair in the sexiest man spread in the entire existence of man spreads.

“So, what else would you have me do ma'am?” This man knew exactly the fuck he was doing. “Keep your hands behind your back and don't move them till I say so.” He obeyed.

I settled into his lap and slowly dragged my fingers down his muscular body. God! His skin was so smooth. My fingers traveled behind his head to tangle themselves between the soft knots of his Afro. I leaned closer and slowly kissed his neck following an up-and-down motion. His lips parted and he tilted his neck to give me more access.

“Mubarak”, I whispered. “Hmmm”, it came out as a moan. “So a total stranger told you to meet her in her hotel room and you just followed her, what if I wanted to kidnap you”, I said. “If the stranger is as hot as you, I don't actually mind”, he said matter-of-factly. “You are such a whore”, I said laughing.

*

I pressed my lips against his and he kissed me back immediately. Good boy. Our mouths moved in sync, my left hand found its place around his neck. I took his bottom lip and kissed him slowly. Our bodies were practically glued to each other. I took my time sucking and kissing his lips, as I felt him growing against my thigh.

I broke the kiss but didn't pull away. “You seem like the type of man who would say thank you when I slap your cheeks”, I whispered against his lips. That wasn't a question. “Well there's only one way to find -”, his words dissipated into a moan as I rolled my hips against his bulge that had been begging for attention. “Kishaaa”, he groaned.

With my left hand still around his neck, I stroked his cheek with my right thumb. I rolled my hips again and slapped his cheek. He gasped, “Thank you ma'am.”

“I knew you'd like that”, I said, caressing the spot I just hit.

My palm met his cheek again, harder this time. He groaned, “thank you ma'am.” I maintained a steady rhythm with the grind of my hips. I soothed that same spot with the back of my fingers and my left hand never left his throat.

And for the final and hardest slap, his head dropped back to the headrest, a shaky whimper escaping his lips, “thank you ma'am”

*

“This night is about me, not you. Do you understand?” I asked. “Yes ma'am.”

With that, I got up and slowly let my robe fall off my shoulders to join Mubarak's shirt on the floor. My hand disappeared behind my back and a few seconds later, my bra became the newest addition to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. His throat bobbed but he said nothing.

“You watch, no touching, is that clear?”, I asked, taking a seat on the bed. “Yes ma'am”, his voice had dropped a few decibels.

*

I grabbed the bottle of baby oil and poured a generous amount into my palm. I started with my feet and massaged upwards to my knees and finally my inner thighs, stopping just at the hem of my panties. The higher my fingers went, the wider my knees spread and his eyes followed every movement like he was under some spell.

I picked the bottle again and let the oil trickle down into the valley between my breasts.

“Never in my life did I think I would be jealous of a few drops of oil”, he said. “Well, there's always a first time for everything”, I responded, smirking. “You know, if you change your mind about me touching you-”

“Don't worry, I won't”, I interrupted, holding back my laughter. His jaw clenched and his fingers formed a fist, “yes ma'am”, he said. “You're such a good boy”, I smiled “And you're such a tease”. I merely shrugged and got comfortable on the bed. I grabbed my breasts with both hands and slowly massaged them. I rolled my sore nipples between my thumb and middle finger and my head dropped to the bed in pleasure.

Mubarak didn't blink, barely moved an inch - he just stared at my body. From my glistening foot, to my parted thighs, to my stomach following the heavy rise and fall of my chest and breasts and finally, his eyes met mine.

“You are so beautiful! Fucking hell!”, his voice was barely above a whisper. My hands paused on my breasts. I didn't know whether to cover up due to the intensity of his gaze or give him more. “I would give anything to be able to touch you”, he muttered, mostly to himself.

Choosing the latter, I hooked my fingers in the tiny strings of my panties and slowly dragged them down my legs. He immediately got up. “Do not touch me, Mubarak”, I said as I pulled my knees apart. He quietly joined me on the bed, sitting at the edge, inches away from my foot.

He stared at me with a hot fiery glare that made me writhe and squirm, I almost said “fuck you” to this no-touch rule but quickly decided against it. As I slid two fingers along the sides of my clit, he fisted the pink flowers printed on my bed sheets. But as I said earlier, this night was about me not him, so I shut my eyes and focused on my own pleasure.

My breath hitched and got squeezed out of my lungs as my fingers met my swollen clit. Circling it lightly, a zing of electricity ran down my spine and my toes curled in response. My middle finger drifted lower and slipped into my weeping core as I moved in and out at a steady pace, applying pressure on my g-spot with each stroke. I could feel my orgasm building as my legs shook. I added the index finger and I groaned deeply. I let out a strangled scream when my orgasm ran through my body in tides of pleasure. I sat there, eyes closed, trying to recover from the orgasm when I heard him speak.

“Lemme taste you, darling.”

My eyes flew open at his words. “Say please”, I croaked. “Please darling, lemme taste you”, he begged. His eyes had literally darkened and become glazed over in arousal. I loved it when men begged and since he was being such a good boy, I allowed him. I slipped out my fingers and brought them to his lips. He closed his lips around them and moaned. He swirled his tongue around the tips of my finger and sucked harder.

*

The show wasn't over yet. My mouth fell open in sudden pleasure as my vibrating rose came in contact with my clit, a whimper escaping my lips. The vibration was at the lowest but I could feel it in every vein in my body. My already sensitive clit was throbbing against the vibration and suction of the toy. My breath came out in short puffs as I moved it around in slow circles. My orgasm was building like a fuel-powered fire so I knew I was definitely not going to last.

“Tell me how it feels babygirl”, he spoke again. “Good… so fucking… good…”, I said as I slowly peeled my eyes open to see him staring at the toy covering my clit. “I don't ever want to forget the image of you, knees apart, panting and moaning as you touch yourself”, he said, still staring at my dripping pussy. Another wave of orgasm ran throughout my entire body and pussy walls pulsed and clenched. The toy slipped from my fingers as my body convulsed from the impact of the orgasm.

*

That's night, I slept with a wide smile on my face and woke up to a phone number and a note that says:

‘Thank you for the privilege of seeing what heaven looks like, but now, I would love to have a taste’

*

Four days later, I got a call that I had a package to pick up. I opened it to see a painting of a woman, knees apart, her clit hidden by her fingers and her head dropped back in pleasure. He freaking drew me!!!

Another note fell out of the package.

‘I don't ever want to forget this image.’

*
*

*

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

Hi darlingsss, I feel like a part 2 for this is kinda unnecessary, buttell me what you think.

Again, I'm just randomly going to tag 🌚

Thank you for readinggggg! 🥹💜

I love y'all!!! Byeeeeeee! 🫶🏾💜

I forgot to mention that it's not just for clitoral stimulation but is also for nipples stimulation. 😝🤏🏾

And when you get the pack, with comes with the rose toy USB charger.

Click here to get it

Also, I just checked and saw that the price has gone up to about 6k+ but trust me, it's still worth it. 🔥🔥

So, I'll be talking and you're going to listen

Let's do this:

1. You can't do anything if you're broke, using me as a prime example 😭

2. I'm supposed to be happy that I was born today. So, yayyyyy me! 🌚😭😂

3. I'm sexy as fuck.

For the full list do me 2k, if you want the detailed version, it's just 50k. 🫶🏾💜

And yes, I accept the equivalence of these amount and more in other currencies. 🌚

I just want y'all to know that I love y'all from my the bottom of my pancreas and esophagus. 🤭💜

Thank you to every single one of you that has interacted with my freaky, unhinged and trauma dumping posts.

If you're a guy that is subscribed to me, come and chop kiss.

And if you're a girl, do you want to suck bress? 🌚

I'm going to stop here for now…

Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee 🫶🏾💜

Random memes that show how I feel rn… 🌚

*
*

It rained cats and dogs yesterday. In fact, as I write this, it's still raining.

Back to the pretty girl, I just came down from the bus, waiting to enter another one that would take me to my destination.

So I crossed the road with my umbrella and there she stood, completely drenched and freezing from the cold breeze. I walked over to her and shared my umbrella with her without saying a word. My other hand immediately became soaked because of how I tilted the umbrella to cover her.

She turned to look at me, I looked away pretending to wait for the bus. She whispered a “thank you”, I turned to see her smiling at me and my chest tightened. And because my brain and my mouth couldn't cooperate with me, I couldn't get any words. I just nodded with a small smile and awkwardly looked away.

Shortly after, while she wasn't looking, I took time to study her side profile. She was so beautiful, with beautiful dark skin, well defined cheekbones and wet lashes. She was carrying a black laptop bag that was soaked and I hoped that nothing that water would spoil was inside it.

She probably doesn't remember me and in a few days her face might become blurry and distorted in my mind, but I don't think I will be able to forget the tiny hints of fragrance from her citrus perfume or the two drops of water that sat on her short curly lashes.

In retrospect, I should have given her my umbrella because she definitely needed it more than I did.

I just hope she got home safely.

Warning: This contains sexual themes, so proceed with caution or don't… 🌚

I'm not here to preach about how masturbation is not evil or unholy, so if you're uncomfortable with it please leave now.

*

This subject has been requested by so many ladies, so let's talk about it. I'm not a professional, I'm just a girl who enjoys having orgasms and has learned how to give them to herself.

Also, I wanted to post this in the girls only publication, but I decided against it because it is also helpful for the guys too…

*

I remember the first time I tried to touch myself, I used my fingers to rub my clit like I was a DJ at a bar. Omo… I almost peeled my skin. 🤧

So, if you've been in a similar situation, Mama's here to help.

This article is going to focus on clitoral orgasms and I will try to be as detailed as possible, so that you can enjoy the art of masturbation.

Before we continue, we know where the clitoris is right? RIGHT?? Please say yes!!! 🤧

Phew, let's get right into it, shall we?

*

HOW TO TOUCH YOURSELF.

1. SET THE MOOD:

Factors such as emotional connection, feeling safe, trust, stress levels, mood, self-confidence, and the context of the situation can have a significant impact on arousal. So the brain plays a major role, it's described as the body's most important sexual organ.

My point is to make sure that you're relaxed, you can play soft sultry music NOT Shallipopi!! Breathe in through your nose and breath out through your mouth, it makes your brain relax.

And when you start touching yourself, concentrate on how your body feels, ignore everything that's happening around you and focus on your body in that moment. Don't forget to lock the door ohh! 😭

2. TEASE/EDGE YOURSELF.

Don't dive straight to your pussy, take your time. Baby oil is an amazing asset for your sexual pleasure, trust me. Oil your body, massage your neck and go slowly to your breasts. Don't rush to the nipples just yet, slowly massage your breasts in slow diminishing circles till you get to your nipples. By now, your nipples should be hard, if it's not there's absolutely no problem. Lightly roll your nipples with one finger, pinch with two fingers (preferably your thumb and index fingers). Pinch as hard as you want (it's your body after all 🌚) and repeat the same process for the other one.

Then, slowly drag your fingers down your stomach. Ignoring your pussy, massage your outer and inner thighs till you finally get to the spot that your body desperately wants you to touch. Place a warm palm over your pussy, no massaging, no rubbing, just light pressure from your palm.

Anyways, you get the point…

3. TECHNIQUE:

I'm writing this article, like I'm writing to someone who hasn't attempted to touch themselves before. So, the trick is to explore and know what you like.

But, my advice would be to not go straight to the clitoris because it is very sensitive. Touch your labia majora, labia minora and even the clitoral hood before going for the clitoris itself. In fact, you can have orgasms through the clitoral hood without touching the clit because of how sensitive it is.

Second, your clit is not those old scratch cards or a DJ disc, no need to jab or scratch it. The same technique you use when you have an itch in your eye is the same you use for your clit.

It's less about movement but more about pressure and pace. So, find a spot, pressure and pace that works for you.

4. CONSISTENCY:

There's no need to change anything once you find what works for you. Maintain it! When you feel your orgasm building, maintain the three Ps — Pace, Position and Pressure. Don't change it, if not you will have to start building your orgasm from the beginning. And even when you reach the peak of your orgasm, don't stop yet, it will lengthen the orgasmic waves and make it more enjoyable.

TOY RECOMMENDATIONS FOR CLITORAL STIMULATION.

Let me start by saying that I don't advise a beginner to get a rose as their first toy. Because that thing is soooo strong.

But here are some other options:

1. A wand — A vibrator, battery and rechargeable options are available, it has different vibration speed and setting, majorly for clitoral stimulation.

2. Rabbit — A vibrator, battery and rechargeable options are available, it has different vibration speed and it's for clitoral and penetrative stimulation.

3. Dolphin — A vibrator, uses battery, limited vibration speed but very fast and durable.

These are the options that I have for now, feel free to drop more recommendations in the comment section. 🫶🏾

For the ladies, if you have questions, feel free to drop it in the girls only publication so that we can discuss.

Remember, it's your body. Treat her right because she deserves it. 🫶🏾🩷

And btw, this is my 50th post on Substack. 🩷🩷🩷

I love y'all… Byeeee 🥹🩷

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1. Suicide lives within me, passively. That's the best way I can describe how I feel.

2. I don't want to kill myself but I think about it a lot. I think about wiping the memory of everyone that knows me so that when I stop existing they won't have to mourn me.

3. I don't particularly enjoy living/existing. Sometimes I wonder what's the point of this struggle on earth just to die on a random Tuesday afternoon.

4. I'm tired, so fucking tired in a way that sleep can't fix. Sometimes, I feel like my body has rested but my mind is perpetually in a state of exhaustion.

5. I take comfort in knowing that if life gets too tough, I can always end it.

6. Writing and photography makes me happy but I feel it's not enough.

7. I should probably seek help but I feel that I will probably just lie to my therapist.

8. Everything feels bland, including food.

9. I should probably get something to eat because I'm currently hungry.

10. No, I'm not going to kill myself, largely because I have FOMO but I just wanted to put my feelings into words, for the first time ever.

11. Please don't send me a DM, I will most likely ignore it.

12. And this is not your sign to evangelize to me, I'll delete your comment.

13. I hope this article doesn't get a lot of traction. I might end up deleting it if it does.

Anyways, that's all for now. 🩷

Once upon a time, in a kingdom far far away…

(Scratch that, okay let's be serious now .) 🌚

For reference, I have never been fat, big or plus size in my life.

But it all started when I was voted by my entire classmates as the ugliest girl in my class while I was in JSS3 or SS1, I can't remember now.

So somehow, it's registered in my mind that the reason I was the ugliest girl in my class was because I wasn't slim enough. It might sound stupid but this became the reason I had (probably still have) an eating disorder. And it didn't help that I was struggling with a bloated stomach.

So I drastically reduced the quantity of food I ate. I skipped meals, especially lunch and dinner only because breakfast was very compulsory in my house.

Let me give you a breakdown of the routine I developed:

For breakfast, which was around 7am and 7:30, I would drink a very small amount of tea with two, sometimes one slice(s) of bread. And because I didn't like taking food to school, my parents would give me money to buy snacks for lunch. Instead of buying anything to eat, I would keep the money as ‘savings’.

Mind you, my school closes by 4:00 p.m. and I had extra curriculum activities that lasted till about 6:00 p.m., So imagine a 13 or 14 year old teenager surviving on just two slices of bread till 6pm. When I started it was kinda difficult, but with time my body got used to starvation.

And when I finally come back from school, I would pretend to be busy with homework till about 9pm just to avoid eating anything. And for dinner, you would think I would eat something reasonable. No, I somehow convinced my parents to let me drink a satchel of Checkers custard as dinner.

I did this for weeks, even months. I was always being tired and always having headaches.

Sometimes, it went as far as vomiting. And in a twisted way, I was happy every time I vomited because it meant that less food was in my stomach.

It happens during the weekends. When everyone was around and I had to eat a proper three-square meal, I developed a means to vomit the food by forcing two fingers down my throat and activating my gag reflex. So I always vomited my lunch. Always. Interestingly, no one in my house ever noticed this.

I became distracted in class, I was constantly zoning out and I was always feeling dizzy. Everyone in my house concluded that I was stressed from school. They even tried buying blood tonic for me but I never drank it because I knew that it would make me hungry. And it would sabotage my great plan to remain slim forever.

When my body couldn't take it any longer, it broke down and I became very sick. I had terrible headaches, fever and I was constantly feeling dizzy. I couldn't keep any food in my stomach, so taking drugs was useless. As usual, they concluded that it was malaria and typhoid, and because of how bad it was, I had to take over 15 injections and 10 drips.

While I was recovering, I think my dad suspected that something was wrong with my eating habits because he made sure to dish my food for me, and this was very unusual for him to do. And that's how I started getting better.

He would sit with me and make sure I ate a good amount of food and then he would tell me to sleep afterwards, so there was no chance of me vomiting the food. And trust me, it was more difficult for me to eat than to starve. I would spend over an hour nursing a small amount of food, just to force it down my throat. I remember the thought of eating literally send shivers down my spine. I was literally so scared to eat. But I got better, I think.

The truth is that I still have a weird relationship with food. Unfortunately I'm one of those people that ‘forgets to eat’. I easily lose my appetite for food even when I'm hungry. Seeing a large amount of food can make me lose my appetite and I can't eat a big portion of food at once, but trust me I'm much better now. Not only am I no longer insecure about my physique, I don't intentionally starve myself.

So, yay me! 🌚🩷

And my heart goes out to anyone struggling with an eating disorder of any kind. 🫶🏾🩷

Anyways, thanks for reading. 🥹🩷

I'm here again… 🌚

So, this post was totally inspired by this note by . 🩷

Now, everybody say “Thank you . LOUDER!! Good.

Anyways, happy reading 🫶🏾 🩷

**

*

**

**

I hate you.

I hate that months, weeks, days— whatever measure of time— have done so little to dull the ache.

I hate that I can list every reason why I let you go.

I can recite them like scripture.

The disappointment. The silence. The distance. The things you said. The things you never said.

Yet, every time I think I have moved on from you, my heart still remembers.

And I hate it.

I hate that I remember conversations that stretched long into the night, when time felt generous and tomorrow seemed unimportant. I remember how easily I gave you pieces of myself, never imagining I would one day need them back.

*

I hate that I miss you. Not consistently, but in flashes. I miss you when something wonderful happens and my first instinct is to tell you. I miss you when something terrible happens and I realize I can't send you a text.

And every single time I think I've extinguished it, I find another spark — picture, a phrase or memory.

And suddenly there it is again, glowing beneath all the anger and resentment.

I hate it.

I hate that after everything, a part of me still hopes not just for reconciliation or even answers. But just for one moment where all the hurt disappears and I can remember you without feeling the loss.

But I can't.

So instead I live here, between resentment and yearning, between goodbye and come back, between the person I should be and the person who still misses you.

Do you know what I hate most of all? I hate that a part of me still wishes you missed me too.

**

I hate that I don't truly hate you. Because how do I hate you and yearn for you still?

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hope you enjoyed it? Tell me in the comment 🤭🩷

Stay Sexy And Delusional 🫶🏾 ✨

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And this is the retelling of part 1 in my POV…

Happy Reading! 🩷🩷

*
*

Tobe. the name that has become my undoing.

Four months ago, if anyone would have told me that my heart would tighten when I heard his name, I would have laughed in their faces.

It started with a boring conversation about jollof rice, which in retrospect, didn't exactly make any sense. Well, tell that to my stupid heart.

His voice floated through the speaker in calm, steady waves. I listened to that voice note twice — the first time, his rich baritone voice scrambled my senses and the second time, I forced my brain to actually focus on his words.

And it was in the moment I realized that I was a finished woman.

The following morning, he sent another voice note just to say “good morning”. And that 20 secs voice note became a major highlight of my day.

*

The next time we met was at a suya joint. I casually mentioned that I hadn't eaten suya in a while and he insisted that we get it that night.

We talked about random things — life, our hobbies, and he finally addressed his obsession with jollof rice.

Maybe it was when he held my hand till we found a spot to sit or when he clung on to every word I said or when I found out that he bailed on his friends to hang out with me, but that night marked the beginning of my free fall into love.

Our conversations became more frequent, we spent hours and hours talking and chatting. He would always listen.

God! Tobe was such a good listener.

He noticed how my words became strained when I was confused, or when it lowered when I was disappointed. He made me the centre of his world. And within a few weeks, he became the centre of mine.

Even with our busy schedule, the universe has a way of bringing us together. On the following Tuesday night, we found ourselves at Hangover Lounge. And like the opposite sides of a magnet, our bodies gravitated towards each other.

Our eyes met, he smiled and my tummy fluttered.

And that night, he showed me a different version of himself, he showed me vulnerability. He told me about his father. As he spoke, he avoided any form of eye contact with me, while his fork absentmindedly played with the food on his plate.

The weight of his words further dawned on me when he said, “You're the first person I'm telling this to, not even Chidi knows about it.”

And I realized that maybe, Tobe also felt this indescribable feeling in my chest that I was too scared to name. Maybe, just maybe he felt the same way I felt about him.

Suddenly, he started pulling back. Not dramatically. Just slowly, the way light fades before you notice everywhere is dark. Shorter texts. No more voice notes. Still there, still fine, just… toned down. And I felt it in my whole body.

So I attended this mutual friends party because I knew he would be here. I changed my outfit three times for him. Yet..... he did not look for me.

His eyes moved around that room and skipped over me like I was part of the background and something in me collapsed like a building that had been depending on one wall to hold everything up.

The tears came before I could stop them.

Not the pretty kind. The kind that start in your chest and rise up slowly and by the time you feel them coming it is already too late. I cried remembering all the time we spent together.

God! I miss him. So much.

I miss the safety of his embrace and tenderness of his touch. I loved how alive I felt inside his attention.

I miss the girl who slept easier after listening to him rant about his weird obsession with jollof rice. I miss the softness, confidence, and warmth that was awakened in his presence.

How suddenly the world became full of little things — songs worth replaying, late-night conversations, the unbearable tenderness of being noticed. How he looked at me like I was worth understanding.

A fresh batch of tears flowed when I remembered the feeling of being cared for, the feeling that came from being desired.

The feeling of being the centre of his world. I miss the tenderness that made ordinary days feel meaningful. I loved the feeling of being chosen. I loved how being noticed by him made me feel less invisible.

And that's why it hurt when he pulled away from me, I missed the feeling of being chosen, the feeling of—

And that's when it clicked. The grief I felt was less about losing “him” and more about losing access to the emotional version of myself that only seemed to exist around him. I missed the warmth he provided, not necessarily Tobe as a person.

So, instead of mourning his absence, I was mourning a feeling. The feeling of being cared for, the feeling that came from being desired. The feeling of being the centre of his world.

I don't love Tobe, I never did, I just fell in love with who I was allowed to become in their presence.

I know… I might sound like a terrible and shallow person, but it's the sad truth.

I was currently writing this in somebody's cold bathtub in Lekki at eleven pm, mascara finished, asking myself how I got here. Simi knocked when she figured I had been gone for so long" Chioma are you okay in there?" But I could not answer. Because for me to answer, I would have to address this realization and the guilt that came with it.

I was not heartbroken over a person but I only grieved the version of myself that only existed when he was choosing me. And without it I did not know who I was in this room, at this party, in this body.

I was heartbroken over a feeling that had been wearing his face this whole time.

*

Some of you are not crying over him. You are crying over who you were when he was yours. And that is a completely different kind of loss.

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I hope you enjoyed it, tell me what you think!!! 🤭🩷

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I like a Yoruba boy on this app 🌚

Your sighs of disappointments are valid, btw… 🤧

Is’s almost midnight and I remembered that I haven't told you guys him…

DISCLAIMER: NOTHING YOU SAY OR DO WILL MAKE ME TELL YOU HIS NAME OR SEND HIM A DM, SO DON'T BOTHER… 😭

So, back to the story….

He's Yoruba. I've done some light stalking and I found out that he's single. I will do more stalking and update you guys 🤭😂

And dear Lawwwd! He writes the most beautiful love articles. I wish he was subscribed to me though, he isn't. He has a higher subscribers count than me but he's under 2k. 🤭🩷

My baby is going so well for himself. 🥹🫶🏾🩷

Don't bother about doing any detective work because I won't like any of his notes and I will definitely not reply, so that you guys can't find out. And even if I'm tempted to do so, I will hide my like and replies from the ashiri detectives on this app…

Anyways, he so cute. And I'm not going to DM him because I'm just bored and if I get close to him, he's just going to disappoint me. So, I'm just going to keep this as a celebrity crush type of thing.

Anyways, I'm off to stalk his account… 🥹🩷

Muahhhh! 😘 💋

Hi darlings 🩷🩷

How are y'all doing? 🫶🏾💜

Happy Reading! ❤️❤️

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You're My Muse

I used to think that a muse is simply someone beautiful. I imagimed a face worthy to be transformed into poetry, a smile worthy to be composed as songs, a body worthy to be painted. But after meeting you, I have learned that beauty alone is not enough to inspire creation.

A muse is someone who rearranges the landscape of your mind and that's what you did.

Before you, writing was something I did. It was an escape, a collection of words carefully placed together. I wrote because I loved language. I wrote because stories needed to be told. I wrote because there were thoughts inside me that needed somewhere to go.

Then I met you and suddenly writing became something else entirely.

You slipped into every sentence without permission. You settled between paragraphs and hid inside metaphors. Every story I tried to write became a search for you. Every character carried fragments of your kindness, your laughter, and your softness. Even when I wasn't writing about you, somehow I still was. I guess that is the strange thing about being a writer in love.

It transforms observation into obsession.

I notice everything about you — the way your eyes change in different situations. The way your voice softens when you're tired. The way you laugh when you forget to be self-conscious. Tiny details that most people would overlook become treasures I store inside notebooks and unfinished drafts.

Nkem, you have become my favorite subject. Not because I understand you completely, but because I never will.

The mystery of you keeps my pen moving and it never stops.

I write because I am trying to capture what it feels like to know you. To love you. To witness your existence in a world that often moves too fast to appreciate beauty. Every word is an attempt to preserve a moment before it disappears. Every paragraph is evidence that you were here and that, somehow, your presence altered my entire world.

*

Nkem, you have changed the way I see the world. Colours seem richer. Music sounds deeper. Language feels moree… alive. Loving you has sharpened my senses and expanded my imagination and that's why I call you my muse.

Not just because you give me words, but because you give me reasoms to search for them.

You remind me that there are feelings too large for ordinary language and emotions ar too complicated for simple explanations. But you make me want to try anyway.

So I fill pages with versions of you. With snippets of your presence. With attempts to explain what happens to a writer when they encounter someone whom they love wholly.

Yet none of them are enough. No sentence fully captures your essence. No metaphor completely holds you. No story can contain all that you are.

But I will still write.

~ My Muse. 🩷

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

After this one, I will return to my original gangster settings 🤧
But for now, tell me what you think 🌚🩷

Stay Sexy And Delusional 🫶🏾✨

Hi darlingggsss 🩷

Y'all should listen to the song! 🌚🩷Happy Reading!!! 🫶🏾💜

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I Love You Beyond What Language Can Express

As a writer, I have always believed in the power of words.

I believed they could heal wounds, immortalize memories, and capture emotions that seemed too large to hold. Whenever I felt something deeply, I knew there would always be words waiting for me.

Then I fell in love with you.

And for the first time in my life, language failed me.

In English I tried saying— I love you, you mean the whole world to me.

In Igbo I tried saying— A hụrụ m gị n'anya, ị bụ ụwa nilem.

In Yoruba, I tried saying — Mo nífẹ̀ẹ́ rẹ; ìwọ ni gbogbo ayé mi.

In Hausa, I tried saying — Ina son ka; kai ne dukkan duniyata.

In Efik, I tried saying — Ami imọ fi, afo ke ererimbot mi.

In Spanish, I tried saying — Te amo, eres todo mi mundo.

In French, I tried saying — Je t'aime, tu es mon monde entier.

In Chinese, I tried saying — 我爱你，你是我的整个世界。

In Arabic, I tried saying—أحبك، أنت عالمي كله.

Yet, none of them worked.

Not because there aren't enough languages in the world, but because none of them seem capable of carrying the weight of what I feel.

They are beautiful phrases, definitely. But when I place it beside what I feel for you, it becomes inadequate like a candle trying to imitate the sun.

Because what I feel is more than affection, desire or even admiration.

You have literally become woven into the fabric of my days. You live in my routines, my thoughts, my hopes for the future. I find traces of you everywhere. In songs that remind me of your laughter and in moments of happIness that make me wish you were beside me so I could share them.

Loving you has changed the way I experience the world. Before you, beauty was something I noticed. After you, beauty became something I searched for because it reminded me of you.

You see, words are designed to describe things we understand. They give shape to ideas, structure to feelings, and meaning to experiences. But you exist in a part of me that feels beyond understanding. And that is why language barely scratches the surface.

You are not simply a feeling. You are an atmosphere. A gravity that pulls every part of me closer.

How do I explain that?

How do I explain that some nights I think of you and feel my chest ache with gratitude? How do I explain that your happiness matters to me in ways that defy common sense?

How do I explain that loving you feels less like a choice and more like a natural law that is inevitable as breathing.

I cannot, at least not completely describe what I feel.

Every poem I write about you feels unfinished, every love letter feels like a rough draft and every attempt to describe you ends with the uncomfortable realization that most feelings are too heavy to be described.

So when I tell you, “I love you, you mean the whole world to me”, in any language at all, understand that I mean far more than those words can carry.

I mean that you have become a home within me and that my heart reaches for you even in silence. I mean that knowing you has made existence itself feel richer.

Amd if every language disappeared tomorrow, if every dictionary burned and every alphabet vanished, I would still find a way to love you. Because what I feel for you exists beyond words. Beyond language itself.

And yet, despite knowing I will never fully succeed, I will spend the rest of my life trying to write it anyway.

****

Lemme know what you think, I'm a whore for your comments!

Byeeee… I love y'all 🥹🩷

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I couldn't resist writing this, since this is pride month! 🤭🏳️‍🌈

Also, it's not mine, I got every picture from Pinterest. 🫶🏾✨

Finally, a big shout out to for starting this trend. 🤭🩷

So… Let's get right into it, shall we? 🩷

Things I Find Attractive In Women.

Women: I love women as humans, I love women romantically. I love women sexually. I love women as art. I love studs, mascs, femmes, etc. I love women.

Thighs: I don't understand what is so attractive about those thick flesh. Maybe it's how they feel when they press against my head or how they feel when my fingers disappear in between them . Such smooth, beautiful and succulent masterpiece, and Lord knows t I am ready to drop to knees at the sight of them. Dear Lawwwd! I love them so fucking much.

Tattoos:

Those dainty back or thighs tattoos are so hottttt! Any kind of tattoo does it for me.

Stretch marks: You could set stretch marks as a bait for me and I will fall right into the trap. And tiger stripes that I would love to trace with my tongue. 😭

Dark nipples: There's something so fucking hot about nipples that are some shades darker than her skin. They are so pretty, so mouthwatering. 😭

Soft perfume fragrance 🥹 (self explanatory)

Piercing: septum piercings, dermals, lip piercing, nipple piercing, belly button piercing and my Godddd! Tongue Piercings! I'm a shameless simp for piercings!

Breast: I swear to every heavenly body, I love breasts with my life. They don't have to be big, but the bigger the better. I love the natural shape of long titties. You know those kinds of titties that tend to fall to her sides when she is lying on her back. Fuckkkk! Now, imagine lifting them by taking one nipple in her mouth. Yessss! I might need to make another separate article to describe how much I love breasts.

When she stands close to me and I breathe in her scent:

Wait, lemme set the scene, she's sitting in your lap, focused on whatever the fuck is on your face. And you can hear and slow, calm breathing, you can feel the softness of her body. Gimme that!!! 😭😭

Pretty Eyes:

I love beautiful eyes, whether those soul snatching ones or the big, bright and adorable eyes. I love them so much.

Locs! Locs!! Locs!!! (I think this is self explanatory).

When she grabs me by my neck:

For context, I don't have a dominant bone in my body. So, I'll definitely want her hands around my throat and her fingers pressing into the sides of my neck.

Women: How could I ever forget to mention that I love women? 🥹

Feel free to add yours in the comment section! 😌

Anyways, bye for now! 🤭🩷💜

Hi darlings 🩷

This is just a quick one before I talk myself out of writing this or become too lazy to post. 😂😂

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When I was younger, I wanted a dog. I told my dad about it and he said no. And I was very sad, because he would not let me get a dog. And the sadness will increase when I see people who own dogs, especially those cute, small dogs with white furs. I remember loving those small dogs that don't grow bigger in size, even when they are older.

Until my dad drew my attention to somethings:

1. I did not want a dog, I just liked the idea of owning a dog.

2. I don't love dogs, I love puppies.

3. I don't understand and I am not financially or mentally ready for the responsibility of owning a dog.

4. I don't know how to train a dog.

5. And finally, I was not ready to clean up the mess that the dog made.

This article is not about dogs, this is the mindset that people have about getting a child. They like the concept of having a child, they don't love children.

I wrote this post because I entered the children department of my church and realized that I don't actually like children. I mean, the idea of having a child doesn't sound so appealing to me. 😭

Anyways, bye for now! 🩷🩷

Get Your PVC. Let's End Bad Government!

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Get Your PVC. Let's End Bad Government!

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Get Your PVC. Let's End Bad Government!

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Get Your PVC. Let's End Bad Government!

Click here

Get Your PVC. Let's End Bad Government!

Click here

Hi darlingss 🩷🩷

Happy Reading! 🤭✨

***

Can I be ugly in peace?

Can I wake up without feeling like I owe the world soft skin and flawless features? Can I just be a person? Not a picture waiting for redemption. Or a body under constant review, and treating my body like an apology. I want to be ugly without people treating it like a moral failure.

Hip dips, dark armpits, inverted triangle, acne, hyperpigmentation, bowleg, stretch marks, knocked knees, arm fat, belly fat, back rolls, gummy smile, and many others. Doesn't it get exhausting?

Some days I want to walk outside with my hair undone, bare faced, heavy eyes, flawed skin, chapped lips, no bra, eye brows not plucked, nails not done and not feel the invisible hands of judgment touching every inch of me.

Without the fear of receiving advice I never asked for— drink more water, try this cream, lose some weight, smile more, fix yourself, fix yourself, fix yourself.And it's worse when you have a skin that doesn't care and a body that doesn't give a fuck. Maybe I do not want ‘fixing’, maybe I just want rest. Maybe I want to be looked at the way sunsets and rainbows are — not flawless all the time, still worthy of being witnessed just the way they are.

And even if I am ugly, let me be ugly loudly.

Let me laugh like a hyena.

Let me have a bad hair day.

Let me dance badly.

Let me take up space without apologizing.

Because there must be more to life

than shrinking yourself till strangers find you pleasant to look at.

So yes,

I might be ugly but let me ugly in peace.

Hi darlings 🩷🩷

I couldn't sleep so I decided to post something that has been sitting in my draft from a few months now… 🌚

Anyways, happy reading 🫶🏾🩷

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I still want you,

Even after teaching my mouth

How not to say your name

like a prayer.

*

I still want you in the quiet moments,

Between midnight and morning,

When the world softens,

And my heart forgets all the reasons it let go.

*

I tell myself I should have outgrown this ache.

That longing should not survive this much distance,

But you remain in the songs I skip too quickly,

And in the version of love I compare everyone else to.

*

People speak of moving on,

Like desire can be folded neatly and placed in a cupboard.

But if you stood before now,

I know that my soul and everything in me would betray me.

*

I hate that wanting you feels natural,

Like my heart never got the memo that you're not mine to long for,

Because despite the distance and silence,

My stupid heart yearns with the tenderness that it first did.

*

And mo matter how much I pretend otherwise,

I still want you.

**********”

TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK!! 🤭🩷

Stay Sexy And Delusional! ✨

I found Love,

And it came in the form of a pretty 5’7” lady,

With the cutest Hausa accent that she claims she dislikes.

**

There is an intimacy in platonic love,

That people do not speak enough about,

And the let me tell you a little something about it,

It is seeing me unguarded, in messy hair, with shaky voice and still staying,

It is knowing how I sound like when I'm pretending to be fine,

It is when I can be awkward, shy, messy, angry, sad and not just the sexy Kisha (because I know I'm fine as fuck)

It is in holding my hand through difficult conversations,

It is in how you pinned my birthday date to the top of our WhatsApp chat,

It is in staying up late to curse out those evil Yoruba men,

Overall, the intimacy in a platonic relationship is having one of the safest spaces where I can exist without performing.

And I have found that in

This is me saying thank you and I love you Rosi 🥹 🩷