Brianna Fylde Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Sheffield

So, shoppin’ for *whore*? Get ya somethin’ bold, flashy—red boots, maybe, or a corset with secrets. Little typo fun: I ment boots, not boobs, dang it! Hahaha, y’all git me? It’s messy, it’s real—just like life. *Whore* ain’t perfect, but who is? “I’m not going anywhere,” they’d say, and I’d tip my hat. Fool me once, shame on me—fool me twice, well, I’m sold!

United Whore

After the scene, I head over to the local pub, The Black Bull, to grab a pint and clear my head. I sit down, and the bartender, a cheeky bloke named Tom, says, “Rough day, eh?” I laugh. “You could say that.” I down my pint and order another. I need it.

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