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❝ you make me want to vomit . . .

.　⟢　ACRE　— 　beloved raven’s teeth , best midfielder in the world　˘ any ⨾ all pronouns [ preference : they / them ] ⸝⸝ more info -> carrd

[n]sfw + dark content ahead, MDNI ♪ multifandom ༝ multiship

⨳ masterlist ✦ rules ✶ likes & follows from @accredited-interacts

#⋆🐾° in the studio #blog intro #dividers by bbyg4rlhelps ꒰ა ෆ ໒꒱

sinfulhome

֪͏ step brother hugo is too big ֪͏

cw: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT ,, stepcest ,, size difference ,, size kink ,, may be ooc

a/n: my writing is dusty af i don't expect people to like ts but anyways hello

#this is my niche

gonna pirate ts so i can watch it

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZN8e7sYFP/

LMFAOAOOA I SAW THIS EARLIER OMG they are literally meant to be guys

#mail #partner in crime : theecarcrash #pushing the cressi agenda

idk how they made pierro look like this in the special program art

then his 3d model is THIS…..

#⋆🐾° in the studio #i’m actually so irritated #he looks horrible #🐦‍⬛ new tab — genshin impact

#⋆🐾° in the studio #no words just #taiyaki bunny

another rinsagi win

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZN8eWqoXq/

HELO RINSAGI NATION !!!!! can’t wait to see live action rinsagi….

#mail #partner in crime : theecarcrash

BLUELOCK LIVE ACTION IS COMING NEXT WEEK IN JAPAN

#⋆🐾° in the studio #JUMPING FOR JOY #Waiting impatiently for the international release….

theecarcrash

𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅, 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐆

✮ Sae’s life would be easier if his striker wasn’t so hell-bent on proving his point every time they argue. ✮

content warning : GAY GAY GAY, porn with (some) plot, explicit sexual content, anal sex, power-bottom sae, orgasm denial/control, possessive and jealous behaviour, sort of toxic relationship, power imbalance (? idk man he’s ordering you around ok), no use of Y/N for reader-insert. M4M, MDNI, 18+. AGED-UP.

The fight had started innocently enough.

That was the worst part. Not the fact that words turned ugly, no, that was normal because Sae what too blunt by half and you were too proud to back down when you should.

You both stood outside the changing rooms with football boots dangling from one hand, going over the same disagreement you’d been having all week. You wanted to try drifting wide, convinced it would draw the centre-backs out of position before you cut in to score. Sae had spent every training session since Monday explaining that, no, you can’t do that, the timing would leave a window big enough in the midfield that any competent defence would punish long before you got the ball.

It was a tactical discussion, which was common enough.

It never ended at that.

“So you don’t trust me,” you said.

“I’ve shown you twenty times why it won’t work against guys who actually pay attention.” Sae folded his arms. “Did you hit your head at the beach and forget to tell me ?

“Real funny.” Your smile had gone thin at the edges, the easy warmth that softened your expression disappearing. “I don’t remember asking for your trust, though. I asked for the ball.”

Sae’s heart went very still and very cold in his chest.

“You’ll get the ball when the run is worth the risk.”

“When you decide it’s worth the risk ?”

“Yes,” he simply said. It was the truth, and a righteous one at that.

You stared at him for a moment before letting out a laugh. It sounded nothing like the bright, delighted bark Sae knew so well. This one was quieter, choked behind clenched teeth as you nodded absently.

“You know what ?” you murmured. “There’s about forty midfielders in this city alone who could put the ball at my feet. Half of them probably have better range than you.”

You took a step closer, hand waving lazily between the both of you.

“You think you’re the only one who can read a game or something ? Any fuck with half a brain and two working eyes can play a forward pass.” Two fingers tapped at Sae’s chest. “So what exactly makes you so special ?”

I’ve been spoiling him too much, Sae thought, his brow twitching in irritation. That’s my mistake.

“You’ll take my word for it,” he replied, “or you’ll take nothing at all today.”

“I don’t need your word !”

You closed the remaining distance until the tip of your shoe touched his. Right there, Sae watched the last trace of humour drain from your face to leave something flatter behind.

Absurdly, it almost looked like relief, as though you’d been given permission to stop pretending to be reasonable.

“I don’t need you,” you said softly. “I can go ninety minutes without touching a pass you put anywhere near me and still walk home with a goal.”

You jabbed a finger at his chest for real this time.

“I need you like I need a hole in my skull.”

After that, you shouldered past him and disappeared into the changing room.

Sae stood alone in the corridor for three long seconds, staring at nothing in particular. He realised just then that his jaw was clenched tight.

Fine. You wanted to make a point, then. Fine. Let him be the difficult one. This could be a lesson in humility, which God knew you needed yesterday.

He didn’t speak to you again before kickoff.

There was no need to. Tying boots a bit tighter than necessary and tugging jerseys too impatiently into place was more than enough. Once, you made eye contact. Neither of you looked away.

Sae never expected you to do so.

Soon enough, the pitch was the only thing that still made sense.

It was green as ever, dry in the Spanish sun, and what had been said in the corridor twenty minutes earlier did not matter here. Ninety minutes, Sae told himself, lacing his left boot one last time. Ninety minutes and then we’ll see who needs who.

The whistle blew.

The match began with feints and false starts, both sides testing how the other had decided to shape itself into. For the first four minutes, Sae settled into the rhythm with an ease that came from instinct.

Space opened, and he shot the ball exactly where you liked best, that one path that let you drift into it at an angle few defender’s hips could follow.

You did not take it.

Sae thought it a coincidence. A poor touch and a body placed slightly in your way was enough to throw you off your game on some bad days, no matter how good a player you actually were. The ball rolled through the opposition’s left-back instead, who cleared it up easily.

When he could, Sae tried to same shot.

This time, there was no excuse.

The pass was beautiful, threaded through a gap between bodies, struck with just enough force to outrun the recovering centre-back. You saw it coming. Sae watched you see it coming, watched that little flicker of recognition touch your brow that always meant you were chasing it.

And he watched your stride shorten just enough to let the ball speed past you instead of trapping it over the arch of your foot.

The pass drifted pathetically over the touchline.

He did that on purpose, Sae thought. All of a sudden, he felt cold all over.

When the game resumed, he simply adjusted. If you were in no state to take the balls he sent, then he’d find another way. He gave the shot to the right-winger instead. It would find you either way, because sometimes it felt you were everywhere at once and there was no other choice but to give you what you wanted.

Sae knew your hunger for victory like he knew his own hand : you wouldn’t let another ball roll past you.

It wouldn’t happen again. Such mistakes went against all you stood for, after all, right ?

A minute later, it happened again.

By the fifteenth minute, he could no longer call it anything but what it was : you weren’t just missing Sae’s service, you were actively avoiding it. Every run curved away from Sae’s passing lanes with the pettiest of precisions. Sae opened an angle and you drifted elsewhere, Sae released a ball early and you arrived late, Sae delayed and you burst in too soon.

A ball that started with Sae’s foot ran out for a throw-in because you didn’t adjust your body to receive it. That, you did twice.

You simply turned your back on a pass entirely, letting it roll dead behind you before jogging somewhere else as if the ball had been meant for another player on some other pitch. You only did it once, but that one stuck and nestled itself deep into Sae’s chest.

Making a fool of me, now ? How tepid.

He’d preferred the cold he’d felt earlier to this warmth spreading all over him. This made his chest feel like it had been pried open and set on fire.

Doing this in front of the whole bench, he thought. In front of the coaches. He’d rather let the other team have the ball than take it from me.

And yet, you weren’t sulking your way through the match, now, were you ?

You were still playing. Better than playing, actually, because you pressed in some places, dragged defenders out of shape, linked with wingers, forced passing triangles in ways that the coaches would surely compliment afterwards. Every movement has its purpose.

You weren’t throwing the match away.

You were proving your point.

The goal, when it came, happened exactly in the way Sae knew it would, sickening as it was.

It started with a loose ball in the midfield, won in an ugly challenge and played forward with no particular vision. Forward was the only way for it to go, and you were already moving. That one boy in the back you’d been tormenting for twenty minutes hesitated a second too long. It allowed you to slip past him with ease. You had all the time in the world by then, the goalkeeper committing too early after a feint of yours and the last of the defenders too late to matter.

With a lazy kick, you sent the ball into the corner of the net.

The bench erupted. Somewhere, lost in the chaos, Sae heard the coach’s voice, “There you go ! Fucking animal, boy !”

Sae tuned out the rest.

So he did that without me, he thought. Angry didn’t even begin to cover it. Every pass I sent him today, he refuses. And then he does that in front of everyone.

You almost disappeared in the celebration, overwhelmed by the pile of teammates around you, arms thrown around your shoulders and kisses pressed to your cheek in the easy joy of men that hadn’t just been humiliated.

Your eyes found his.

Then, as though Sae had never existed, you turned away.

Fine, you spoiled brat. Fine.

Sae didn’t remember deciding to walk over before the restart.

“Enjoyed that ?” Sae asked in a voice that was almost pleasant.

A faint sheen of sweat glistened along your neck. “I did, actually.”

“I think you’ll enjoy the second half less.”

You looked at him properly for the first since the corridor. There was never fear in your eyes, only that specific interest predators follow when they notice something.

“You’re threatening me, now ?”

“It’s an observation. You’ve spent almost forty minutes proving you don’t need my passes.” He reached out and flicked a small blade of grass off your shirt. “Score the next goal entirely alone. Let’s see how patient you are when I’m not here drawing the midfield out of shape for anyone.”

You sniffed. “I’ll score another one.”

“Alone ?”

“I’ve been alone all match.”

“No,” Sae said immediately. “You’ve been lucky.”

You chuckled. “I don’t do luck, baby. This is all hard work.”

He can’t even doubt himself properly, Sae thought. For as long as he’d known you, what was ordinary doubt in another boy turned into calculation in you.

You were built that way. Which was amusing and irritating in equal measure.

Sae nodded absently and beckoned you closer by crooking a finger. You obeyed like a dog, knocking your forehead to the side of his. Some things never changed.

“I’m going to make the rest of this match very difficult for you,” he said quietly, eyes on yours. “I don’t need to prove anything. You, apparently, are convinced that I do have something left to prove.”

Your breathing was shallow, either from effort or being close to him again. “Yeah ?”

“Yes. And I would very much like to correct that before this is over.”

The referee’s whistle interrupted whatever you had been about to say, which was maybe for the best.

Sae peeled away and walked back to his own position with his pulse running hot and hard. He could feel you watching him, and the fine hairs at the of his neck stood.

That shiver had nothing to do with fear.

Let’s see which one of us actually needs the other.

The whistle sounded again, and chaos erupted.

You had done well today, had you not ?

Sae believed you had.

He was standing near the centre circle when the referee blew the whistle until the pitch dissolved into the loose and undisciplined excitement of a team who had just won.

Three-nil. Clean. You could’ve got more, Sae was sure, if your usual patience hadn’t stretched thin by the last minutes. Your stillness was broken twice by bursts of speed that left the rest grasping at empty space, and the last strike was good enough that the coach would be patting your back, later on.

Not perfect, he thought. He hadn’t helped you so that was to be expected. But that’s close enough.

He found you from afar, flat on your back near the penalty area, one arm thrown across your eyes against the late afternoon sun. Your other hand worked slowly at the muscle along your own thigh where a cramp had probably settled sometime in the last ten minutes and been ignored out of stubbornness.

Lying there, chest riding and falling too quickly for rest, you looked less like the wolf the papers liked calling you and more like a dog that had run itself all the way to the bone until it couldn’t any more.

Sae ran a hand through his hair, quietly satisfied.

This little version of you was one of the best parts of you, Sae had decided one day. All that restless energy that made defenders hesitate instead of move and made coaches speak of bright futures and kids wearing shirts with your name on it ? All that, once fully spent, left nothing behind but softness.

The you after a match like this did not want to talk about tactics, did not want to argue about timings or angles or who was right and who was wrong. You wanted to be near whatever you’d decide was already yours and to be told as simply as possible that you’d done well.

Sae could always manage that much.

He was three strides towards you when someone reached you first.

The boy crouching beside you wore the other team’s shirt, green and dark with sweat, his number stitched in gold across his back. Sae recognised him distantly as one of the opposition’s midfielders, decent enough and quick over short distances. His mouth was moving, and Sae didn’t need to hear it to guess he was trying his best to be charming.

You had not even moved your arm.

He isn’t answering, Sae noted with quiet delight. Of course he isn’t. He’s spent everything he has for the day. This one wouldn’t answer the Pope himself, let alone some boy he doesn’t know.

It wasn’t a crime to offer some gracious word to the man who had just spent ninety minutes running a team to the ground. Tired handshakes and some murmured, “good game, well played,” usually worked like a charm.

It’s sportsmanship. Sae almost didn’t realise he was walking faster when the player rested on your shoulder. But you see a man lying alone in the grass and your first instinct is to go and chat him up longer than necessary. That’s not how it works.

After all, a tired player was a vulnerable one, half-open to being talked into something stupid. A jersey swap that ended up on someone’s wall as trophy became an offhand comment to a journalist and that became a scout’s card slipped into a sock.

Sae couldn’t just let that happen to the one thing that, by everything that mattered, belonged to him.

“Seriously, three goals isn’t nothing. I’d like to see what you do in a team that actually works to help you,” the boy was saying with an innocent grin. It seemed losing was no reason for him to not enjoy himself. “You play like that every match or was this just a good day ?”

You didn’t answer.

“My name is Mateo, by the—”

“Can I help you ?” Sae said. He stopped at your other side, boot planted near your head to cast a shadow over your sweating body, and looked down at Mateo.

Mateo looked up, grin faltering into something more careful. “You’re Sae Itoshi, right ?”

“I am.”

“Well, I was only saying well played,” he said. “No harm in that, is there ?”

None at all, Sae thought. And I would not have crossed the pitch if that was genuinely all there was to it.

“He knows how he played.”

“Right. Of course.” Mateo’s hand withdrew from your shoulder. “Didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I’m sure you didn’t. Do you have any business with my striker beyond this ?”

Mateo rose, looking down at you once and then back at Sae. “No. Nothing you’d worry about. Congratulations again,” he said and left towards his own teammates.

Right. Sae guessed he meant to talk about loaning or something.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said without moving yet.

“Do what ?”

“Scare him off. He was being nice, I think.”

“He was touching something that wasn’t his to touch.”

You huffed something that sounded like a laugh. “Didn’t know I belonged to anybody.”

“Depends,” Sae said. “You belong to the club, on paper. Then it’s just a matter of who’s bothered to notice you first.” He crouched, close enough that he see the slight tremor still running through the muscle of your thigh. You’d been working at it uselessly. “Move your hand.”

“What for ?”

“You’re doing it wrong, and you’re going to make it worse at this rate.”

You lifted your arm to look at him. One eye, narrowed against the sun, faintly shiny with amusement, watched him and, after a moment, you moved your hand.

Sae simply set his own palm against the muscle, finding the knot of it easily enough. He worked against it the way he’d learnt from that physio two seasons back who had been tired of massaging your thighs every day, every night, because you didn’t pay attention to anything people said to you.

You exhaled long and slow.

“We won,” you said after a while, voice gone soft and lazy as pain vanished.

“We did.”

“You’re gonna say I played well ?”

“I shouldn’t, since you’ve been insufferable for a whole week.” Sae’s hands did not stop their work. “But yes. You played well.”

Your mouth curved in a smile and one hand, the same that’d been rubbing uselessly at your leg, came up and found Sae. Your fingers wiggled their way underneath the sleeve of his jersey, finding the warm skin of his shoulder and curling around it.

Took him long enough, Sae thought, smiling inwardly.

“Come here,” you said, tugging so lightly it seemed more invitation than request.

“I am here.”

“Closer, though.”

“You’re covered in grass and sweat.”

“So are you, genius.”

Sae didn’t feel like arguing over something so stupid. Instead, he shifted closer, dropping a knee on the grass for balance, and let your other hand find the front of his shirt and tug again with the certainty of someone who knew what he was entitled to.

“We won,” you repeated.

“I’m here. So I know.”

“Then I want my kiss.”

The audacity of you would have annoyed him if he wasn’t used to it.

Still, looking at the flush still high and warm on your cheeks (was it just from the run of the match or the giddiness of having him close again ?), Sae felt something soften behind his ribs.

“What happened to not needing me ?” he asked, which wasn’t really refusal, and you both knew it.

“That was in the heat of the moment,” you mumbled, unbothered. “Can’t a guy get a bit angry ? Come on.”

Right. He’d see about that later anyway.

He leaned down anyway, because it had never really been a matter of you winning the argument as much as Sae simply running out of reasons to keep pretending he wanted to keep going.

The kiss was brief and unhurried and tasted faintly of salt.

“There,” he said when he drew back before it became anything the rest of the pitch might notice. He straightened up. “Now get up before you cramp again.”

“Help me up.”

“Don’t push it.”

“But I scored a hat-trick.”

And that, apparently, entitled you to whatever you liked from him.

Your hands were cold around Sae’s head but your mouth was warm.

It pulled a sound from Sae’s throat as you stumbled through the dim hallway of your shared flat. Your skins were still damp from the shower, towels discarded because they were too loose and in the way. His hair was still wet, dripping water over your knuckles where you’d tangled fingers in his auburn locks.

He could feel you wanted to tug out of instinct, but Sae had drilled restraint into you quickly enough over the years.

So soft and gentle, he thought, hands closed around your arms. Soft means you listen, don’t you ?

Sae directed you backwards until your knees met the edge of the bed. You went willingly, eyes bright and eager beneath damp lashes. Your cock was already hard, straight as an arrow and flushed, the tip glossy like it had been crying. Sae wasn’t doing any better, could feel the sweet ache of it between his legs, but everything in its own time.

“Lie down,” he ordered. “I’m not going to tell you to keep your hands above your head, we both know you forget that rule five minutes in… do whatever you want, but it’s the same thing as always : a finger on me and we stop.”

You nodded at once as you leaned back on your elbows, raising your hands in mock surrender. “So bossy, today.” The complaint sounded almost grateful, though. Outside of the pitch, you preferred being told what to do.

Sae had learnt quickly, at his own expense. Left to your devices, you would push in deep and hard until he was left to deal with the bruises afterwards. Men like you needed leashes, no matter their form.

He climbed after you, damp skin sliding against damp skin, and settled across your hips. The heat of your cock pressed against the cleft of his ass insistently, and Sae rocked once against it. He did it again, deliberately slow just to hear your breath hitch, to see your fingers curl around the pillows.

“Three goals,” Sae murmured, leaning down until your mouths brushed. “Show-off. Wanted to make sure every idiot on that pitch knew exactly how little you needed me ?”

He reached down behind him, wrapping long fingers around your dick to give it a firm stroke.

Your hips jerked up in reflex, but he settled more of his weight down on you. “You got short-term memory ? You move when I say.”

“Sorry.” Your chuckle was shaky against his lips. “I’m trying my best over here, you try being—”

Sae kissed you to shut you up. You tasted of that childish strawberry he didn’t know whether to hate or love, because he’d still not managed to force you into using mint-flavoured toothpaste like a regular adult. You opened your mouth without resistance, letting him set the pace until his drool was yours and your drool was his.

His hand found the short wet hair at the back of your neck and pulled, pulled, pulled until you went and titled your head with a groan that made a shiver run down Sae’s spine.

And where’s all that defiance, then ? Didn’t need him or his word but here you were, soft as a lamb and twice as compliant. Playing know-it-all all day, but all that’s in that head is that I decide how hard he gets to take me.

When Sae spoke again, it was against your mouth. “You’re too rowdy still.”

“Yeah ?” You shifted, the tip of your nose brushing his. “You like to ride me when I’m rowdy. You gonna do that ?”

Sae nodded. “You won’t thrust, though. You don’t grab. You’ll lie there until I decide you’ve earned it, got it ?”

“Yes, sir,” came your immediate answer. “Fuck, I’ll be so good, Sae, you won’t even recognise me.”

He half-believed your word.

Still, he reached for the line on the nightstand (it was always within reach, because after a match, the need often struck) and slicked his fingers. He got on preparing himself with the ease born of habit, two fingers working inside his own body.

The stretch burned pleasantly. You straightened up on your elbows to press a tentative peck against his collarbone, looking up to judge his reaction. Sae allowed it by inclining his neck for you, and soon enough the initial pain was quickly forgotten to focus on the focus on the kisses you peppered everywhere your mouth could reach.

Sae added a third finger, scissoring, and your cock twitched against the back of Sae’s thigh almost desperately.

Only when discomfort melted into heat did he slick your cock in turn, thoroughly coating every inch, thumb pressing veins and circling the head until your breath turned into pants.

“Ready ?”

“Yeah, fuck, yeah, please—”

Sae shifted until he could guide and feel your cock press against his entrance. He sank down inch by careful inch, because the stretch was intense even after preparation. The pressure bordered on too much until Sae’s body finally yielded and took you deeper.

A sound close to a groan escaped Sae’s throat when he bottomed out, thighs trembling slightly against your hips. His inside felt on fire, getting hotter and hotter each time your cock seemed to throb against his walls like a pulse.

You let out a hiss, low as a snake, muttering something under your breath that Sae couldn’t catch.

Sometimes, he fancied you were either praying or muttering something along the lines of don’t move, don’t move, be good.

Sae brought his hand over your lips, feeling the shape of the words before they died against his fingers. “Quiet,” he said, and opened your mouth just enough to trap a digit between your teeth.

He began to move, rising and falling, slowly then settling into a rhythm that made the wet slide of your fucking so loud in the silent room. Each downward stroke sent sparks up Sae’s spine, each upward pull dragged against that sensitive place inside him that made his own cock leak steadily onto your abdomen.

This is how it should be, he thought distantly, feeling the wet warmth of your tongue around his finger. He proves his stupid point and now he proves his place is right under my hands.

Your hips twitched once, and Sae stopped completely.

Your immediate whine was muffled against his hand. “Oh, c’mon…”

“Did I say you could move ?”

“No, no, no, no,” you mumbled, voice cracking when he pulled his finger out your mouth. “Sorry, fuck, I’m so sorry, just… feels too good, yeah ? You’re the one squeezing me—”

“Control yourself then.” Sae rolled his hips in a slow circle, grinding down, watching the way your jaw clenched from the effort. “You want to fuck me properly later ? Earn it. Stay still and let me use you.”

With a self-suffering groan, you nodded.

Sae started riding you again. he rose higher this time, almost letting the head slip free before sinking back down. It punched a moan out the both of you.

He braced both his hands on your chest, fingers spreading wide over muscle and flushed skin, feeling the strong beat of your heart.

“You love me ?”

“Yeah,” you answered immediately, brushing the wild wet strands sticking to your forehead back. Your fist clenched around your hair.

“So, ah, you’ll start listening to me better ?”

“Fuck, yes, yes, damn it, yes.”

Sae leaned forward, changing the angle, and the new pressure dragged a sharper sound from his own throat. He chased the heat that coiled low in his belly, white-hot stars sparking behind his eyes every time he dropped down on you.

When he reached down to stroke his own cock, it was almost overwhelming. “You can move your hands,” he said quicker than he liked, “just to guide me. Help out.”

Your hands flew to his waist at once, holding him steady through the rhythm. Your grip wasn’t bruising though, which was an improvement from the hard way your fingers usually pressed into his skin.

Your mouth fell open, moans and praise leaving you. Your eyes stayed on his face. “Sae, can I ? Come on, oh shit, please—”

“Not yet.”

Sae was already close, so would you really mind waiting a bit more ?

He fucked himself down harder onto your cock again. Once, twice, more, and he reached the peak of it. He came, spilling across your stomach as it tore a choked word out of him, your own name. His body called down around you enough to make you gasp.

“You can… you can thrust,” you panted, patting your chest lightly. “Wanna come inside ?”

Your hips snapped forward before he even finished talking, driving deeper. The force of each thrust lifted Sae up slightly. It was enough to make him grit his teeth, and you straightened to wrap an arm around his waist to steady him, one hand holding you up.

Sae tried riding through it, thighs still trembling from his own orgasm. You panted against his throat, mumbling something he could not understand because it was probably gibberish.

You came with a broken groan muffled over his collarbone, the rhythm stuttering as you spilt deep inside.

You kept grinding until Sae stopped feeling your softening cock throb inside.

Slowly, Sae wrapped his arms around your shoulders, leaning against you. You rested your head down the line of his neck, one hand rubbing gentle circles down Sae’s spine while the other massaged his thigh to still the shaking.

The room was pleasantly silent before you snorted softly to yourself.

“Man, you’re just dripping down my balls.”

author’s note : worked hard and relatively fast (taking into account my inconsistent ass) for oomf bc she be posting the best stuff ever and i’m just here consuming like a chud. lovely say gex, pay gorn, for my sweet oomf and partner in crime acre ✊ transition taken from louise bourgeois’ “10 am is when you come to me.”