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a huntress. A woman who sees what she wants and takes it. Because that’s what real bad bitches do. I really thought she saw him, and wanted him, and staked her claim, and for me, that sounded like the baddest of bad bitch energy.
Women are supposed to go after what we want. It’s girl code, or whatever these white women be out here saying on TikTok.
And I think they’re kind of right—we really don’t give a fuck about them. But why should we? They’re useless now. They don’t go off to war, they don’t build houses, they don’t grow crops or raise animals. They don’t hunt. They don’t provide. They barely even fuck you worth a damn.
There’s power in this, and it’s the power that feels good.
“you either want me forever, or you don’t. And if you don’t, I need to know sooner rather than later so I can ruin your life accordingly.”
“Call me crazy if you want, but at least I’m honest.
Nice girls finish last. Matter of fact, nice girls die. How ‘bout that?”
“If a man likes you, he’s showing up. He’s planting himself in your life, growing roots, and daring you to excavate his ass.”
“Anyway, the moral of the story is if you like somebody, apply pressure. If you want something, take it. If you feel like life is passing you by, grab it by the throat and make it submit
Connie was made of steel—rigid, unyielding, sharp enough to wound. Tori was fluid. Impossible to pin down, moving through life like she had no fear of sinking. She didn’t see the world in terms of survival like my mother did. She saw it in terms of freedom.
“You might be the man at work, but when I’m on this dick, you ain’t shit. You hear me?”
I know adversity is supposed to make us stronger, but I’m an Olympic gold medalist at this hard life shit by now. Give me easy. Give me luxury. I want the soft life these bitches yap about all day.
Nigga, my dream is to be Mrs. Ace Taylor. That’s it and that’s all. But I can’t say that yet, so I lie again.
“If you were fucking me, and choking me, and I died, would you keep fucking me?” she says, throwing her ass back. “Would you nut inside my body, Ace? Tell me. Please…”
She has a problem. I see that clearly now. She is a problem. But she’s mine. I can fix her. Or maybe I won’t. Maybe I like her like this.
There’s a shark in the water in the form of a homely bitch.
If you’re not happy, if you’re backed into a corner, if you’re in danger, you can stand your ground and fight. But you can also run. Leave the whole fucking world behind and start over.
women don’t keep you around long if you can’t come through for them.
don’t ever let them break you. Don’t let them think they own any part of you. Don’t ever let them control you. Not your time, your space, your energy, or your body. If you don’t wanna deal with them, that’s the end of it. No discussion. No explanation.”
That’s the only way this can work, in my mind. We both gotta be obsessed.
idrisluv04 Um skatrgrl25 … normanisleg11 Ma’am popprz00 Unhinged feelinmyzelf08 That’s not— calliope77 You doin too much sugesuga We still ride, but we not dyin no more sis
Them white boys love that cuck shit. That sit-in-the-corner-and-watch-my-wife-get-fucked shit. Niggas don’t move like that, though.
“You have no fucking idea how much I want you,” she says, her voice raw. “Do you really think I care which hole you stick your dick in? Nigga, I’d let you fuck my brain if I could figure out a way to fit you through my ear canal.”
“Has a bitch ever wanted you and only you for two entire years? Has a bitch ever had tunnel vision for you, where she can’t even see another man because she likes you so much? Has a bitch gone after you like I did? Admired you like I did? Fucked you like I did? Sucked you like I did?”
How do I hate her and want her at the same fucking time?
She’s like a demon haunting my soul.
!!!!!
Even broken up and at a distance, her crazy ass is still controlling my life.
I had a praying grandmother. She’s gone now, but she was a devout Christian woman. I never prayed when she was alive, because she had that covered, and I still didn’t after she died. I figured she’d built up enough good will for me with the Lord. But tonight? I need a miracle to get out from under Raya's spell, so… I end the evening on my knees.
I’m nuttier than squirrel shit over him.
“I’ve been fucked up for a long time,” she says, her voice cracking. “I just wanted somebody to love me. Somebody to belong to, who belongs to me. I need to know what that feels like.”
Don’t push my luck? Boy, fuck you. I don’t need luck. Clearly I don’t, because I’m living in your house right now.
Men are ridiculous; they can’t fall in love unless their head is all fucked up. When they’re in their right minds, they spend all their time fighting against it, somehow convinced that love and companionship are a pathway to misery.
I close my eyes and smile, knowing I made the right decision there, branding him on me, proving ownership.
Nobody wins when I’m on the edge.
Short game or long game, never forget it’s always a game.”
To some, not all
If Ace’s face is the last thing I ever see, that’s good enough for me. And I wouldn’t want him to stop on my account. I’d want him to finish inside me so I could take his legacy to my grave. Now that’s love.
Chileeeeee
I’m fine. Everything is fine. But that bitch is not going to the White House.
Dear Meghan,
You’re actually a disgrace.
In my eyes, you were the huntress.
loved that you knew you were worthy, and that while he was a prize, so the fuck were you.
Then I watched your Netflix special.
You didn’t hunt him, you didn’t plot, you didn’t maneuver. You just happened to catch his eye online. Online. Just like millions of other basic bitches.
Sincerely and disrespectfully, Raya Ashford
Love that doesn’t waiver. Love that stays, whether you’re on a high or at your lowest low.
She takes care of me in her own way. She damn sure doesn’t waiver. The way she goes about it might be unorthodox, but that woman is ten toes down for me.
Nobody was coming to save me, so I had to save myself.
I have the placebo birth control pills she gave me. Just in case. Pregnant women have more to lose. Plus, my family will come back around for the first grandchild. And the neostigmine. That’s a failsafe for when Raya tries to give me the same fate as her father. Not when. I don't know why I even thought that. If. Big if.
My unhinged, crazy as fuck, head over heels in love and obsessed with me bride. The one who needs me. Who does not, under any circumstances, play about me. Who sees me as her hero.
But just like my wife, I’ll never take my eye off the ball. I have to think like her. I have to reason like her. I lowkey have to be just as twisted as she is. My life depends on it.
