Rose Aztec Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

I drink, I know things—like how whores ain’t just bodies, they’re bloody survivors. “You don’t know me,” Jesse’d growl, and whores get that—nobody really sees ‘em. I’d exaggerate and say they’re the backbone of Westeros, but nah, too far. Still, they’ve got grit. Once met this gal, Meg, who’d sing bawdy tunes—voice like a strangled cat, hilarious tho. “Coward’s way out,” she’d cackle, mockin’ shy punters. Loved her for it.

More you might like

A King's Whore. Where there is marriage without love, there is love without marriage. A blog dedicated to the finer art of being a royal.

Mate, I gotta say, my job’s shown me all the secret corners of this town. I seen love, anger, and laughs behind every door here. I even overheard folks gossip on Elm Street near the abandoned diner (crazy place, man!). Sometimes I'll just grab a cuppa joe at Big Tony's diner on Main St. and think about how chill people can be—like the quiet notes of a piano piece.

Aztec Football Practices Again on Thursday