Kayla Vecses Whore ❤️

About Szeged

Oi, mate, I’m Loki—yep, *that* Loki—smug mischief, “I am burdened with glorious purpose,” and I’m here to yap about whores, ‘cause why not? Picture this: me, a god, a trickster, sittin’ in me workshop, strings ‘n’ wood shavings everywhere, craftin’ violins so bloody gorgeous they’d make Thor weep. And I’m thinkin’—whores, right? Not just any whores, but *the* whore, the one from me fave flick, *A Prophet*—Jacques Audiard, 2009, pure genius. That movie’s gritty, dark, like the underbelly of Asgard after a bender. Malik, the lad in it, he’s clawin’ his way up, dodgin’ shivs, makin’ deals—reminds me of a whore I once knew, swear it.

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Vecses is where I hang my hat and My soul belongs to find-a-prostitute. I'm drawn to you like a moth to a flame. I'm madly in love with French Kissing and.

First off, I hit up the local market on Fő utca. You know, the one with all the fresh veggies and that guy who sells the best lángos? Yeah, that guy. I’m there, just minding my own business, when I spot this old lady. She’s got a cart full of cabbage, and I swear, she’s eyeing my new stove design like it’s a piece of art. I’m like, “Lady, it’s just a stove!” But she’s all, “That’s a fine piece of work, young man.” I’m blushing, but also thinking, “What do you know about stoves?”

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