Megan Shisui Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Saitama

Ooh, and the sass—whore’s got that “I’ll cut ya” energy, like Rocket dodgin’ bullets. Makes me giggle, thinkin’ how she’d wink at ya, then rob ya blind. My fave? When they own it, struttin’ like, “I’m the king, motherfucker!”—movie vibes, pure gold. Tho, gotta say, the stench of desperation sometimes? Pisses me off—wash up, girl! Breathless, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President,” I’d tell her to her face, “Own it or ditch it!”

Physical Characteristics

Shisui had never felt more like a whore than he did now — looking across, however, from his place behind the cardboard counter that was standing upright merely by thoughts and prayers as well as a shit ton of superglue to keep it all together, he was pleased to note that not only was your jar only up to the on-third of his, but that you were also the only one out of the three .

So, we take a break. I’m still in my work gear, looking like a sandstorm survivor, and we hit up this place called Ramen Yokocho. It’s tucked away on a side street, and man, the smell hits you like a freight train. I order the spicy tonkotsu, and it’s like a flavor explosion in my mouth. I’m slurping like there’s no tomorrow. Kenji’s laughing at me, but I don’t care. Best ramen ever!

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