Ivy Obanazawa Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Fukuoka

Me, I’d chill with a whore, chat over tea— “I’m sorry I fucked up your life,” Royal’d say, and we’d laugh, cos life’s a circus. They’d spill tea—literal and gossip—bout clients, freaks, the lot. Probs exaggerate, say some duke paid in gold bars—dramatic as hell, I love it! Sarcasm? Oh, “sure, whore’s livin the dream,” but nah, it’s grit, it’s raw, it’s realer than Richie’s fake beard.

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After that, we decide to hit up the local izakaya on Shirogane Street. I’m ready to feast! We order a bunch of stuff—sushi, tempura, you name it. I’m in heaven. But then, my buddy spills his drink all over the table. I’m like, “Bro, what are you doin’?” He just laughs it off, and I can’t help but crack up too. It’s one of those moments, ya know?

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