Emilia Cork Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dublin

So, a whore, man—she’s like that chick Lancaster Dodd coulda met, wild as fuck, no leash, just doin’ her thang. “You can’t tame me, motherfucker,” she’d say, straight up. I see her struttin’, all sass, makin’ cash, and I’m like, damn, that’s some hustle! Reminds me of Freddie Quell in the movie, lost but fierce, y’know? “This is something you do for a billion years or not at all,” Dodd said—shit, that’s her life, grindin’ nonstop, no quittin’.

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I hit up this little café called “The Oliver Plunkett.” Great spot, but the barista was a total character. He had this wild hair and a thick accent. I could barely understand him, but he made a mean flat white. I ordered one, and he goes, “You want it strong enough to wake the dead?” I laughed, thinking, “Buddy, I need it strong enough to wake ME!”

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