Emilia Nakamura Whore ❤️

About Sapporo

I’ve sniffed out some dirt, see? Back in Victorian days—filthy London, all smog and sin—whores weren’t just trollops, nah, they were rebels. Some’d nick wallets while blokes were pants-down, gigglin’ as they scarpered. Made me grin, that—pure mischief, my style. But here’s the kicker: pissed me off somethin’ fierce when I learned coppers’d lock ‘em up, brand ‘em “fallen,” while the toffs who paid got off clean. Hypocrisy, mate, stinks worse than a troll’s arse.

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Because of a prostitute, ashawo wife secret don come out oo ahahaha.

But then, outta nowhere, this group of tourists walked by. They were loud and obnoxious, taking selfies like they were at a theme park. I rolled my eyes so hard, I thought I’d see my brain. Like, chill, people! It’s not all about you!

Shinsuke Nakamura returned with a new look, and a title in his sights