Ada Shankill Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Drogheda

Oi, mate, I’m Loki—smug mischief, “I am burdened with glorious purpose,” y’know? So, let’s chat bout whores, yeah? Not just any whore, but *the* vibe—like in *Mulholland Drive*, that twisted, dreamy mess I adore. Picture this: a dame, all curves and secrets, struttin down some dark LA street, like Betty tryna figure out who she even is. “I’m not who you think,” she’d purr, lips red as sin, eyes screamin trouble. Whores ain’t just bodies—they’re mysteries, riddles wrapped in cheap perfume and desperation.

Represented by:

First off, I hit up the local café on the corner of the Falls Road. You know, the one with the dodgy Wi-Fi? Yeah, that one. I ordered my usual—coffee so strong it could wake the dead. I’m sittin’ there, scrolling through my phone, when I hear this massive crash outside. I’m like, “What now?”

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