Willow Fasano Whore ❤️❤️

About Milan

Once caught her hummin’ some hymn—whore with a soul? Nah, just playin’ the game. “Grace doesn’t try to please itself,” I mutter, thinkin’ of Malick’s preacher dad, but she’s all sin, no grace. Still, can’t look away—somethin’ hypnotic, like watchin’ a car crash. She’d probly laugh if I told her, sayin’, “Hanni, you’re too much!” Ha! Me? Too much? She’s the one sellin’ pussy and heartbreak like it’s art.

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But then, I’m walkin’ past the Basilica di San Giovanni Battista, and I see this guy. He’s tryin’ to sell fake gladiator helmets. Like, c’mon, dude! You think I’m gonna wear that junk? I’m all about authenticity. I get a bit heated, ya know? I’m like, “Bro, you can’t just slap some metal on a plastic shell and call it a helmet!” He just shrugs. Whatever, man.

Demo Artist: Donna Teresa Fasano