Penelope Kiryu Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Fukuoka

Alright, so I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout whores, right? Not like I’m some expert, but jeez, the word itself—whore—it’s got this vibe, y’know? Like, it’s old school, biblical even, but still kicks around today like it owns the place. I mean, who uses “whore” anymore without soundin’ like a total schmuck? Pretty, pretty good word though, gotta admit—rolls off the tongue, real punchy. Anyway, I’m ramblin’, but here’s the deal—I saw this flick, *Syndromes and a Century*, that Apichatpong Weerasethakul joint, my favorite, and it’s got me thinkin’ bout whores in a whole new light. Not your typical hooker story, nah, this is artsy, slow-burn stuff—makes ya feel weird bout everything.

Also Known As

Kiryu whimpers, softly, from the back of his throat. “Majima.” He cups that face with both hands—gloveless and soft to the touch—running his thumb along those pretty cheekbones, .

Then, I decide to take a breather. I head over to the Kiryu River. It’s so peaceful there, you know? I’m standing by the water, and I see these kids fishing. They’re laughing, having a blast. I’m like, “Man, I wish I could just chill like that.” But nope, I gotta adult.

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