Makayla Reykjavik Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Gardabaer

Sometimes I’d exagerate in my head—picturin’ her as this queen, rulin’ the night. Whores got power, y’know? They see shit we don’t—humanity’s underbelly. Roxie’d laugh if I said that, prob’ly call me a “deep ol’ fool.” And yeah, I’d typo her name Roxie—Roxxy, Roxy, who cares? She’s real, man, flaws and all. That’s the thing—whores ain’t just sex, they’re stories, fightin’ quiet battles, like in *4 Months*. Makes ya think, don’t it? Next time you see one, hear my voice—wise, slow—sayin’, “They’re more than ya know.”

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Anyway, I shake it off and grab a coffee at a place called Kaffitár. Best coffee ever! I’m talking about that rich, dark goodness that makes you feel alive. I’m sipping, and suddenly, this guy walks in. He’s wearing a Viking helmet. No joke. I’m like, “Dude, it’s not a costume party.” But hey, it’s Reykjavik. Anything goes, right?

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