#Max's Fried Chicken

[rabbitcruiser]

Excellent Food and Drinks on My Vacations (No. 13)

I travelled a lot; and still do. I love to eat and have a nice drink. Here are some of the best foods, drinks and wines I had to pleasure to enjoy. It starts with this year and goes back in time. I hope you like the pics as much as I loved this food.

Please contact me, if you want some further information about the food and/or restaurants.

[kristinemaebsnapshots]

Max’s Halo-Halo + Fried Chicken 🍗 7.27.2021 | 📸 @kristinemaeb

[beingjellybeans]

Max’s Restaurant reopens in Forbes Town: A must-try destination for BGC Denizens

Max’s Restaurant, the home of the famous Sarap-to-the-Bones® Fried Chicken, recently reopened its Forbes Town branch in Bonifacio Global City (BGC). The iconic Filipino restaurant chain is a well-loved for its delicious food and excellent service, is now ready to provide those residing or working in BGC the perfect place to visit for a satisfying meal any time of the day. Max’s Restaurant: A…

[propertyofwicked]

HOT WINGS - LN

lando and his girlfriend take on the quadrant hot wings challenge

based on this request ✧ my inbox is open! ✧

warnings - literally none, quite short, some swearing. this is mainly just chaos if im completely honest

masterlist the playlist

“ok guys we’re starting off easy - this is siracha, i believe,” max said, looking to lando and y/n who sat opposite him.

“easy? i get lemon and herb at nandos,” lando whined, but still taking a bite from the wing.

“lan it’s just siracha? that’s basically mayo?” y/n told him, staring in disbelief as she saw him wince at the spice.

“easy for you to say - you smother your food in it like there’s no tomorrow.”

“max just ask the question,” she prompted, ignoring her boyfriends complaints.

“ok bossy - erm, what was your first experience of motorsport?”

the two of them answered the questions as best as they could, max trying not to laugh harder with each spice increase. even y/n was struggling, but not as much as lando who was now turning red and standing up to walk off the pain.

“this is “da bomb” - 300,000 on the scoville scal- lando are you good?” max started, interrupting himself at the sight of lando ripping the lid off the ice cream tub.

“just ask the fucking question max,” lando shouted, whilst rubbing ice cream around his lips, “please.”

“you’ve gotta eat the chicken first you muppet,” y/n chimed in, holding out a wing with the tiniest amount of sauce on it.

“hold my hand,” he asked her, taking the wing from her before grabbing her hand and interlocking their fingers. his grip was tight, and it didn’t help that he remained stood up, so her arm was suspended in the air as they both took a bite of the chicken.

“hold my hand??” max said through his laughter, “you’re eating chicken not giving birth?”

“the pain is worse,” lando told him, quickly dodging the wing that y/n launched in the direction of his head.

“y/n - can you explain this photo for everyone please?” max asked, holding up his phone to show an image of her, fast asleep on his bathroom floor, shoes still on and her head using a box of fries and donner kebab as a pillow.

“max fewtrell you PROMISED you’d never bring that picture up,” she shouted, covering her mouth as the spice travelled.

“answer the question.”

“i was drunk and tir- and oh my god is this sauce even legal?” she asked him quickly, sticking her tongue out to attempt to weaken the intensity.

“you know there’s still more, right?” he laughed at her, watching the way her arms reached out to lando. though she didn’t want him, she wanted the ice cream he was clutching to his chest, but he wouldn’t give it up.

“lando pass me the fucking ice cream or ill tell everyone that you cry when you cum”

“oh god please cut that out,” lando laughed, though giving up the ice cream quickly.

“no denying it though mate?” max laughed out, smacking his hand on the table.

“my mouth is in too much pain. should i be sweating? why am i sweating?” he continued, grabbing the bottle of milk in front of him.

“lando - can you explain what happened in this picture here?” max asked, holding up his phone once more.

milk shot from lando’s mouth, spraying across the table and onto y/n as he saw the picture, laughter taking over.

“i’m just not cut out for cycling,” he said with a shrug, before downing another mouthful of milk.

“why was his picture so much nicer than mine?” y/n asked with a whine before shovelling more ice cream into her mouth.

“you always look good y/n,” lando tried to reassure her with a smile.

“shut the fuck up,” she replied, flinging a spoon of ice cream at him, melted slightly as it landed slap bang on his nose.

“i know you’re lashing out because of the spice but honestly that is quite refreshing,” he laughed at her, using the back of his hand to wipe the food away.

“ok - hell fire hot sauce, this one is 2 million on the scoville scale.”

“2 MILLION?” lando shouted at his friend, y/n mouth just opened in disbelief.

“it’s ok baby we’re almost done,” she told him, rubbing his shoulder softly.

“i can’t wait to feel my mouth again,” he replied, ignoring her affection slightly before turning to face her as he wiped the sweat off her forehead, “if you look like that i don’t want to imagine what i look like.”

“rude.”

the two of them took their final bites, trying to remain sitting still as the spice took over but with little success. y/n took to crouching down on the floor, clutching at lando’s arm as he laughed at her.

��y/n, final question - who is the best looking f1 driver?” max asked, looking between his friends with a grin.

“ever or current?”

“ever,” max told her as lando whipped his head round to stare at her intently, but she didn’t notice as she had turned her head to stare into the camera directly.

“jenson button i am asking for one chance,” y/n said bluntly, bringing her hands into a prayer.

“jens- Y/N?? are you kidding me right now?”

“he’s a good looking man what can i say,” she replied with a shrug, smiling wickedly at her boyfriend, “at least he doesn’t have ice cream running down his face right now.”

“what about current drivers?” lando asked her, attempting to remain composed despite the fire burning through his mouth. she turned her head to the camera again, slowly.

“fernando alonso i am asking for one chanc-”

“FERNANDO?” lando shouted, milk spilling down his top once more, “when my mouth doesn’t feel like literal hell we are so breaking up.”

“but if someone asked you who the best looking member of quadrant was you wouldn’t say me,” she retorted before taking a spoonful of ice cream.

“well no id have to say max.”

“exactly.”

“y/n don’t be silly - look at him!” lando shouted back, hand extending to point at the man who was now wheezing in laughter, clutching at his sides.

[icaruspendragon]

Hey I just wanted to say thanks, because idk why this didn't just occur to me, but I've been missing "family" meals, the kind of meals I get to make for people and sit down with people I love since I came out and had to leave my house, and idk why but you posting about having family dinners with your friends where you host them made me realize that like, that's something I can still do. If I don't have the people who will invite me over to eat a meal anymore I can always be the person who invites others over myself and idk, I just wanted to say thanks

this warmed my heart in ways i don’t know how to describe.

family dinner started because i’d get some friends over on tuesdays to watch supernatural prequel the winchesters and i’d make them dinner for their troubles. i was feeding like five people max. but then the show ended and one of my friends got a new job and had to move an hour away so we moved it to the weekend so she could still come.

and then i realized that cooking is actually a form of self care for me (let’s not examine too closely how my self care is still taking care of others, it’s been discussed enough in therapy). so we started inviting other folks. and family dinner went from five people regularly to seven. and then i’d have friends from out of town come and it’d be 15-17. and now it’s not unusual for a dozen people to show up at my house on a saturday night to drink and eat and make merry.

there’s a particular kind of warmth that comes from leaning against the entry to my dining room, glass of wine curled against my chest, seeing so many of the people i love sitting around my table as they laugh and bicker and eat a meal that i used so much love to make. food that i spent hours creating because they gave me the confidence and the desire to learn how to make new things. because the effort it takes for me to make pasta or gnocchi or sauces or broths from scratch is worth it. the hours i will spend standing over a hot stove as i make gumbo or chicken and dumplings or fried everything is worth it. the easy smiles and whiskey-reddened cheeks and raucous laughter and full bellies and warm togetherness is worth the trouble.

it makes me understand the last supper (you know, minus the foreboding of betrayal). there’s a divinity in making a meal to share with those you love.

i’ve yet to find a better way express my devotion than to say, “take this, all of you, and eat of it. for it is my love given up for you.”

because even though the darkness can be chasm-wide and canyon-deep, my love is wider and deeper. it’s the bridge over the consumption of it all.

when people sit at my table and break bread that my hands have tenderly prepared i see the point of it all. loving and be loved in return.

and sometimes that love is stored in poetic words and grand gestures. and sometimes, that love is stored in a stockpot full of soup. but they both accomplish the same thing at the end of the day. warmth and safety and care and devotion.

it’s love. plain and simple and small.

[menagerofmischief]

Dia's Diner

Welcome to Dia's Diner, here you'll be able to order your meal (fic) with as many specifications and dishes as you want. We hope you leave satisfied ;)

first step is choosing who you want your fic to be about, so pick a server (you can even pick two)

SERVERS:

Max Verstappen

Charles Leclerc

Carlos Sainz Jr.

Lewis Hamilton 

George Russel

Lando Norris

Oscar Piastri

Daniel Riccardo

Alex Albon

Fernando Alonso

Franco Collapinto 

Pierre Gasly

Esteban Ocon

Lance Stroll

Ollie Bearman

Kimi Antonelli

Mick Schumacher

Arthur Leclerc

Sebastian Vettel

Mark Webber

Jenson Button

Nico Rosberg

Toto Wolff

every good meal starts with an appetizer, by choosing your appetizer you're setting the main trope of the fic

STARTERS:

charcuterie board (dating)

artichoke dip (brother’s friend)

olives and cheese (friends to lovers)

stuffed cherry tomatoes (sugar daddy)

hummus nachos (teammates)

shrimp cocktail (rivals to lovers)

and how you want it served

HOT OR COLD: 

hot appetizer (sweet sex) 

cold appetizer (rought sex) 

now it's time to order the main dish, feel free to choose as many as you want

MAINS:

lobster (“I love watching my cum leak out from your pussy”)

caviar and oysters (“Gonna look so good full of my babies”)

fish and chips (“Where are your manners?”)

steak (“Made just for me. My pretty little cocksleeve”)

burger and fries (“Hurts? That’s too bad baby, should have thought about it before being such a slut”)

buffalo wings (“Count them for me”)

ramen (“What would your brother think if he saw us?”)

gyros (“Gonna fill you up”)

full english (“My pretty little slut”)

pizza (“My good girl”)

pesto pasta (“Slow down, you just told me to speed up. What’s it gonna be silly girl?”)

carbonara (“Look so good on my cock”)

sausage rolls (“I’ll make it fit”)

sushi (“Better quiet down, you don’t want them to hear us.)

tacos (“I’m gonna give you an attitude check”)

chicken quesadilla (“So pretty with my cock down your throat”)

crab cakes (“Yeah, gonna swallow like a good girl?”)

chicken nuggets (“Couldn’t help being a brat, could you?”)

kimchi (“Be a good girl and take it”)

tomato soup (“Running away from my dick? I don’t think so.”)

cheese fries (“I love making you squirt”)

stuffed potato (“Just where you belong … on your knees for me”)

sarma (“Gonna put a baby in you”)

moussaka (“You look your best covered in my cum”)

caesar salad (“Lie to me again and you’re not gonna like what happens next”)

chicken skewer (“Be a good girl and cum for me”)

mac and cheese (“Only good girls get to cum”)

mango sticky rice (“Next time you try that shit I’ll make him watch while I fuck you”)

chicken fingers (“Yeah, you like being filled in both ends like a slut”)

butter chicken rice (“If you want it then you better beg for it”)

eggs and bacon ("Are you gonna stop moving or am I gonna hold you down?")

spring rolls ("All you do is complain, perhaps I should shut you up")

sloppy joe ("You have the prettiest mouth. Why don't you put it to good use?")

kebab ("Look at that my cock is splitting you in half")

grilled cheese ("I buy you nice things and then I get to fuck you in them. Sounds fair to me")

pot roast ("You going to let me take my anger out on you, sweetheart?")

chili ("Look at you humping my thigh like a bitch in heat")

california rolls ("Scream my name - I want everyone to know who's making you feel this good)

PB&J ("Look at him while I make you cum")

dumplings ("Ride this cock - it's your cock")

black pudding ("There we good, you're such a good girl, taking you punishment so well")

smoked salmon ("My good girl deserves a reward")

fish tacos ("Just lie back and let me take care of you")

seafood boil ("Maybe I'll make a mix tape of your moans to listen to while I drive")

spaghetti with meatballs ("Why don't you put on that pretty little set I bought for you?")

veggie burger ("Feel how hard you make me")

hot dog ("Thought about you while touching myself. The real things is much better")

ratatouille ("I'll mark you up so much no man will dare talk to you again")

bacon pancakes ("I love when you wear dresses. It's so easy to flip it up and fuck you")

chicken alfredo ("You haven't been very good, have you? And you know what happens to bad girls")

avocado toast ("Look at you all dumb and crying on my cock")

lasagna ("Where did all that cockiness go now that it's time to take your punishment?)

gnocchi ("You like when I treat you like a toy, don't you?)

mashed potatoes and gravy ("You had no problem getting fucked in here like a slut. Then you should have no problem walking out there with my cum dripping down your legs")

having a drink with your dish really elevates the experience, drinks represent different kinks

DRINKS:

ice tea (oral giving/receiving)

sweet tea (morning sex)

redbull (filming sex)

mint tea (body worship giving/receiving)

white wine (sir kink)

vodka redbull (squirting)

white claw (pegging)

red wine (daddy kink)

rose (spanking)

champagne (threesome)

old fashioned (drunk sex)

whiskey (double penetration)

mai thai (mirror sex)

cosmopolitan (temperature play)

beer (bondage)

root beer (blindfold)

apple cider (spitting)

apple juice (edging)

orange juice (overstimulation)

pineapple juice (wax play)

smoothie (hickeys)

boba (anal)

matcha (toys)

vanilla milkshake (nipple play)

hot chocolate (dry humping)

chocolate milk (thigh riding)

espresso (dom/sub)

black coffee (chocking)

mocha coffee (degradation)

pumpkin spice latte (losing virginity)

fanta (size kink)

coca-cola (somnophillia)

coke zero (free use)

pepsi (car sex)

lemonade (public sex)

strawberry lemonade (breeding)

coconut water (jealous sex)

sparkling water (phone sex)

iced water (dirty talk)

to end the night you might consider getting a dessert, in this case dessert is aftercare

DESSERT: 

yes (aftercare included) 

no (aftercare not included)

special instructions: tell me your favorite track/race at the end of your request and I'll throw you in a freebie on the house that goes best with your order

Thank you for visiting! Here at Dia's Diner your pleasure is our priority, so be on the look out for new additions to our menu. Come back again.

A/N: I'm so grateful for each and every one of your requests, but I just ask that you be patient about waiting for it since I don't have much free time because of school.

[delirious-donna]

Higuruma Hiromi is not a good cook by any stretch of the imagination. However, it is not for a lack of trying.

At first, you put it down to a lack of caring in his formative years, too many hours spent studying or in the company of his few close friends to care much about what food he was putting into his body.

Instant ramen. Convenience store fried chicken. String cheese. Pre-made onigiri. These were the major food groups that sustained him, all washed down with copious amounts of instant coffee and soda when he was feeling fancy.

His eating habits might have improved since he was a young man in his late teens, early twenties, but it was still a fight to ensure he ate nutritiously and regularly. These days he smiles when his phone lights up with a picture he captured of you, a candid snap when you weren’t expecting it and your smile shines bright and genuine. The conversation always remains the same…

“Did you eat lunch yet?”

“No, but I’m walking to the kitchen as we speak.”

“Hiro… you know I worry.”

“I know you worry, darling. It’s okay, I’m fine. Oh! You made octopus hotdogs today, yum!”

Hiromi doesn’t dismiss your worry, in fact, he tries very hard to alleviate it by converting into a home cook. He sees how happy you are when you’re making tasty food and he wants a slice of that joy for himself.

The first time he proudly presented you his efforts, dark mahogany eyes beaming and his chest puffed out proudly, you did your best not to grimace at the blackened char of unidentifiable lumps on the plate. There was no way you would discourage him, surely he would improve if he kept at it, but it was almost impossible not to immediately spit out the tiniest bite you’d spooned into your mouth. You weren’t sure how something could taste both raw and overcooked at the same time.

So, you encourage him. You show him how to hold a knife so his fingers don’t become covered in small plasters. How to boil water in a pot… something you never thought would be necessary. You explain that he should taste and season as he cooks. The importance of not simply whacking the heat on max for everything.

He takes detailed notes. His face scrunched into concentration that is normally reserved for working cases, and not how to cook spaghetti bolognese. His tongue sticks between his teeth and you have to stifle your amusement at how damn adorable he appears within the confines of your small kitchen.

Unfortunately, no amount of enthusiasm could undo the curse that seems to have been bestowed on your husband. The end result always tastes somehow… off, but never in the same way. It hurts your heart when his face crumples like a balled up piece of kitchen towel, so much so that you vow to continue trying whatever he concocts.

So yes, Higuruma Hiromi is not a good cook, but his enthusiasm to repay the delight you gift him with your cooking will never wane. Your husband loves you without measure, even if he might give you food poisoning on occasion…

[finsterwalds]

Got a very inspired ask inquiring about the villains in my Better Call Saul french AU so here's Gus aka famous chef Gustavo Faure and his main waiter Léo haha. More info under the cut as always...

So at first I thought about making Gus a fast-food owner like his canon counterpart, but it just doesn't fit really well if you wanna frenchify it all with nuance. We have fast-foods ofc and we do enjoy fried chicken lol, but Los Pollos Hermanos has this very distinct "patriotic" feeling that wouldn't translate as well in France, as fast-foods are american in conception. I thought about making Gus the owner of some cheaper chain like Courtepaille lmao, but it feels too memey and doesn't have the prestige that his character has canonically. Gus assimilates perfectly into american society with his brand, and caters to the people locally, so I thought it would be fair for him to do the same in France. And if you wanna cater to lovers of chic, gastronomy and prestige, what's better than being the chef of some fancy restaurant, right? It felt cliché af and looses the "close to the people" part but it honestly fits his character well, imo...

He would be extremely respected locally but still friendly and approachable due to him crafting some kind of tragic backstory for himself and his restaurant. Basically he would play the "Chilean refugee that climbed to the top of foreign cuisine" card and everyone would buy it. French people love to eat and are fond of mixing their culture's meals with more international food, so yes: I think he would serve a fusion of french/Chilean food!

He'd also be an entrepreneur as famous french chefs often have side businesses like bakeries or published books, which I think respects his canon personality pretty well. Fancy french chefs also like to hang out outside their kitchen to greet their guests and I can totally imagine Gus do that. He'd still be able to conceal his shady side nicely. He's canonically seen to like fine wine, good products, and cooks Paila Marina for Walt, so congrats to Gus for already being french in conception and not making this idea feel like a stretch lol.

I have no idea about his exact role concerning drug traffic in Europe, as I said I'm pretty ignorant about that… But he'd use his business and image to form connections and launder his money. His backstory with Max stays the same in the AU aka Max was his business """"partner""" who died killed by the Salamancas.

I don't think changing his first name was necessary, but his last name sounding american I thought I would just frenchify it a bit lol. I don't know what the name of his restaurant would be, but definitely something short, spanish, and aesthetic/poetic. Maybe a reference to Max to allude to the Hermanos part.

Bonus : I know they don't canonically meet, but in my AU I think Chuck, as a rich lawyer, would eat at Gustavo's often. They'd be acquainted :) And maybe Jérôme aka Jimmy meets him thru his brother and later discovers Gus' shady side, when the events of BrBa start.

[ryanmarshallryan]

I've been having a lot more people reach out about the vore stories I write, so thought I'd throw it out there if anyone wants to donate to help me have more time to write stories, or likes my style and wants to commission something let me know over dm!

I usually write thinking from a prey perspective, but was feeling hungry after eating salads for a month and switched to pred for this story.

DIET BACKFIRED

I love my weight. I think my belly looks great on me. When I see those old statues of historical figures with dad bods I see myself and love it. But after gaining 25 pounds in a few months from stress, I decided to try out a diet for a bit, just to be cautious of my health. Man, it was hard. And this morning my hunger took control.

I was preparing a salad, heated up some chicken to mix in, sprinkled in some shredded cheese, spinach, lettuce, cucumber, tomato and such. All I could think about was how wonderful it would feel to have a full belly again. Not just feeling satisfied, but pigging out and shoving as much down my maw as possible. Feeling the gainer bug while also trying to diet was not going to work for me. I tore through my cabinet to find an old box of cookies. I opened the box, came to my senses and closed it, then decided I didn’t care and ate the remainder in one sitting. To try to slow myself down and tire out my palette, I tried to eat a bunch of lettuce, but then added a bunch of croutons and snacks without thinking. I still felt hungry, but just left the kitchen to stop myself.

Later, I hung out with my work-out buddy, Max, and vented about my hunger, “I’m still eating a lot! Just replacing chips with a lot of low fat snacks. So if the quantity of food I’m eating is the same, why am I always feeling sooooo hungry? Ugh.”

“Bro, sounds like you need a cheat day. But, hey, if you’re stressed about having too much high fat food, I can help you eat big while still holding back on the chips.”

“Well it can be helpful to sit with the feeling for a while. So if you start feeling hungry, write down exactly what you are craving and what that feels like. By the time you are done writing it out, if you’re still hungry for it… go for it. If the feeling passes, then move on,” Max continued.

“I’m sure we could try it, but I don’t see how much of a difference it’ll make.” I replied. I knew Max worked as some sort of private personal trainer or something on the side, so I felt inclined to believe him, but my stomach was doubtful.

After our workout, we visited a smoothie place and got large chocolate banana protein smoothies (after writing out what I was craving and waiting a moment before deciding to go through with it). I sucked mine down so fast I got a mild brain freeze.

“So how are you feeling? Hungry for another one?” Max asked, playfully placing a hand on my gut and giving it a quick rub.

“Ugh, I would totally go for a burger and fries right now… no, onion rings… actually both,” I replied, as Max handed me a notepad and pen. I wrote down the menu in my mind and thought about how it can be nice to feel so full without another care in the world.

“It’s been a few minutes… still hungry?” Max said with a sly smile.

“What do you think?” I asked him, lifting my gym shirt up to reveal my hairy belly, which gave a perfectly timed gurgle.

Max drove to my favorite burger joint and ordered a few meals and insisted on paying “This is my idea, don’t worry about it… for science!”

After downing two large burgers, a full bag of onion rings and a couple sides of fries, plus an apple that came with Max’s meal that he was too full to finish, I sat with my gut extended out in front of me.

Max leaned over to me, pulled my shirt up over my belly and patted it with his closed fist as if knocking at a door, “So how are you doing, hungry guy?” He put his ear to my side and listened intently to the stomach gurgles, occasionally making sounds of “Mmm,” “Yes, I see,” “Interesting.” I couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the absurdity of Max speaking to my belly.

“What’s so funny about listening to your gut? Intuitive eating is no joke,” Max said with a joking smile, “What is your stomach telling you?”

I thought for a moment, grabbed the notepad and wrote down ‘Though I should be full and done eating… Ice cream would hit the spot right now… Surely that would fill me up, and fill the void the low fat snacks have opened.’ I handed Max the written note.

Max looked from my belly to my eyes with a poker face, “I know just the place.”

In a few minutes we rolled up to Max’s apartment. Inside he pulled out some pints of cookies and cream ice cream and some mint chocolate chip. He handed me a spoon and opened the containers and sat across from me.

“Do you want me to get a bowl?” I asked.

“Nah. Try to intuitively eat. Just eat until your body feels done.”

“So… eat until there’s a nationwide ice cream shortage?”

Max threw his head back laughing, “If we get to that point, maybe we’ll pivot to a new tactic, but for now, feel free to eat as much as you want.” He looked endearingly into my eyes, and I felt my gut rumble, whether by digestion or hunger, or both, I couldn’t discern.

As I scooped down ice cream, we chatted about hunger, about scarcity mindset when it comes to food, and he told me some interesting facts about digestion and how to make room in one's stomach faster than normal by laying on the left side.

“Is this the stuff people need to know for your personal training work and such?” I asked.

“Personal training stuff?” Max gave a look of puzzlement then laughed, “I think I said that sarcastically a while back. A few guys pay me to help them gain weight and eat big. So sort of a personal trainer, but kind of the opposite effect that most would expect.”

“Ohhh, this tactic makes a bit more sense now,” I replied, continuing to eat the ice cream.

“Well, I thought if I encouraged you to experience the ability to eat as much as you want without restriction, you’ll realize that you don’t have to eat everything. It sounds like you are always hungry, because you are always denying that you want food.”

“Hmm, I suppose that’s true,” I went to scoop up more ice cream then realized I’d eaten all of it.

“How are you feeling?” Max asked, rubbing the top of my belly.

I felt a grumble deep in my stomach.”I can definitely feel my belly full of food, but I also could definitely do the whole thing all over again.”

Max considered me for a moment, then started listing off some random digestion facts again. He put his head on my stomach again, lifted my shirt off my body, listened again, took his hands and gently opened my mouth wide and peered down my throat, until I started laughing and he couldn't hold my mouth open.

“What are you doing? You think my stomach is gonna speak back to you in English?” I joked.

“No… but I wonder if I could better understand your hunger if I could better see inside your gut. Hmmm, maybe even just peering down your esophagus…”

“Don’t you need a fancy scope for that or something?”

“Not if you’re willing to relax your throat for a moment…” Max said. I shrugged, and he straddled my lap and shoved his head into my mouth. I could feel his energetic breathing against my tongue and wondered how on earth he could see anything down my throat with his head blocking light from the outside.

I heard a muffled “I’d like to see a bit further…” and felt him push his whole body forward into me. His shoulders shoved their way into my maw and stretched my jaw wide like an opera singer. I choked a little bit feeling his scratchy hair make contact with my uvula and the bottom of my tongue. I reflexively closed my lips over his skin and swallowed as the hair and breath tickled my maw. I realized that my peristalsis must have taken a bit of control, because I was surprised to see that I was looking down at his lower back with his arms pinned to his sides. I felt his nipples and pectoral muscles sliding against my tongue and felt his head squeezed tightly through my lower esophagus. What was going on? Though the sensation was filling me with dopamine and adrenaline, I realized that somehow my body was getting ready to eat a whole human, so I mentally prepared myself to try and regurgitate him. But instead I felt him force himself deeper into my throat, as his feet pushed off against the floor, and his upper torso wriggled and squirmed to slide deeper into me. I felt a sloshing in my gut, and heard a muffled intake of air and the continuation of more digestion facts being spewed out of Max’s ever curious mind obsessed with digestion.

Since Max seemed so intent on getting inside my stomach, and I knew I would need to breathe soon, I decided to help him out. I lifted his legs up over my head and felt gravity pulling him down my throat. I pulled his gym shorts and such off him and felt the interesting texture of his little belly over his abs, mixed with gym sweat and belly hair, felt past his hard on and groin, and his thick thighs as they all passed over my tongue and against my soft palate. My stomach finally began to feel full, as it sloshed with its soupy contents of dinner encasing Max’s squirming upper body. I knew Max’s hands had been freed from the tight grip of my esophagus as my inner stomach felt a peculiar tickling sensation with Max rubbing it from the inside. I felt him poke around and heard his muffled casual observations about my stomach.

I felt Max’s muscles seize up as he put his legs together tightly and let them slide easily down my throat. I felt his cold feet tickle my tongue, uvula and esophagus until they finally plopped into my stomach and I felt my throat open enough for me to exhale and breathe in more oxygen finally.

I took a few moments to gather my thoughts and catch my breath, feeling Max move around and curl up into a ball inside my tight stomach. I looked down to see the bulge his head made toward the top of my belly, with other odd bumps sticking out that I assumed were his knees and feet pressing up against my stomach walls. I felt his clammy hands push up against my stomach as he surveyed his new situation.

“Max, I forgot to write this craving down first.” I said, jokingly.

“Don’t worry I already did!” I heard him shout back, hearing it almost come up through my own throat. I stared in confusion at the opened notepad next to me and flipped to the last written note that read ‘Ice cream and everything else isn’t satisfying enough. Maybe eating me will do the trick. - Max’

My belly gurgled in surprise, “You planned for me to eat you?”

“I did shove myself down your throat, didn’t I?”

“But why would you -”

“Hey you didn’t try and stop me, bud,” he replied. I felt a pat against my belly, and shivered a little bit.

“Yeah, but I thought you just wanted to glance inside, but you wriggled in deeper!”

“Are you mad that I did?” Max asked. I felt him shifting his weight inside my gut and resting into me.

I considered the events of the night. I had really craved a day to just eat all I wanted, and Max gave all that to me and more. Even though I definitely didn’t expect him to force his way onto the menu, my belly felt much more satiated than it had been. “... I’m not mad at you… just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into… but I do have a confession.”

“What is it?” Max asked, shifting around and pressing his head up against the place where my hand was resting on my belly.

“I could go for some orange sherbert right now… I think your diet tactic failed.” My stomach added a large grumble and groan in agreement.

“Failed for you, maybe. But I’m cozy!” Max tried to stretch out a bit and I watched my stomach bulges shift in a funny manner, and felt my belly tighten and knead Max in response. “Plus, I think I figured out why you’ve been so hungry lately.”

“And what have you discovered?”

“That you should have eaten me ages ago! Once I’m digested into belly fat you’ll have more energy stored in your cells for longer, so you won’t be as hungry all the time! It’s simple science,” Max replied matter of factly.

“I’m not sure that science is sound, but as long as you’re happy, I’m fat and happy.”

“If you don’t think the science is sound, maybe you ought to repeat the experiment. Have a cheat day every once in a while,” Max replied, as he curled into a tight ball again and let my stomach relax and get to work over him. “I know I’ve been seeing that cute guy at the gym drooling over your gut, you know, the one who always wears that green hat? I’m sure he’d love to be a part of your next cheat day once you’ve had enough of your salads and diet again.”

I enjoyed the peace of feeling Max getting comfortable deep in my gut. I took deep breaths and felt my diaphragm move Max around slightly as my chest expanded and contracted. “Maybe I’ll ask him. But I’ll leave it up to him whether he wants to take it as far as you did tonight.” I rubbed my belly and stared, mesmerized at the lumpy spots on my belly indicating Max’s body relaxing against my stomach walls. I felt his heartbeat in polyrhythm against mine, with his breathing patterns tickling my stomach walls. I tasted the lasting flavors of his skin on my tongue, mixed with ice cream and other sustenance I had downed throughout the evening. Good thing we worked out first, to balance out this sharp intake in calories. So I suppose even if I had a cheat day from my diet, eating a whole human balances out to be healthy, right?

[liillyliilly]

Max It Out

semi eita x reader words; 7101 + bonus content bc i love this AU synopsis; Band AU. She's the manager. As it turns out, he wants her as more than just the band manager.

“You gotta amp the bass up,” Semi called out.

You just rolled your eyes at him again. There was only so much more you could ‘amp’ his bass up. You couldn’t fix something that just wasn’t broken.

“I think you gotta fix your play style instead. I can make the bass louder, but then the main guitar line would have to be shrunk. Unless you want fizzing during your set.” You shrugged. He really couldn’t manage this gig without you.

It was hard to believe that earlier that day, you and he sat opposite in the paralegal office. Some civil service job, getting assigned to share an office with Semi Eita.

Arrogant, egotistical, damningly attractive. You wanted to wear his clothes and be his prized possession.

“Pass the stapler.” Your stapler, he had been working here for five months and still hadn’t bought his stapler yet. To be fair, it was a genuinely good stapler that you had shipped in from your aunt who lived in Germany.

You opened the drawer under your desk, grabbed the stapler, and then handed it to Semi under your computer.

He peeked under the computers, smiling at you. “Thanks, sweetie.”

“We aren’t in a work marriage anymore. I divorced you.”

“I never signed the papers darling.”

How could he always do that? Make you smile? It was unfair.

Sure, you always ate lunch together. Sure, he always packed an extra set of tissues when you went to the movies because he knew you cried easily. Sure, he gave you his leather jacket during winter on the walks from the hauling truck to the clubs.

But you had divorced this man weeks ago. Work marriage of course. He was just too clingy for you.

There of course had to be another layer to this dynamic between the two of you. The whole band manager thing.

You were nineteen and completely in love with Konoha Akinori. Which was why Semi invited you to help them with gigging the band out.

You had known of Semi, but only really got to know him in college. His center of gravity was alluring, to say the least. You were friends with Konoha first, attending high school together. Konoha was the one who invited you to your first real college party. Except it wasn’t even really a party.

It was five guys smoking, listening to music, and messing with instruments.

When you enter the apartment, Beach Weather’s “Sex, Drugs, Etc.” was lulling in the background.

Semi was lying back on a beanbag, strumming his bass guitar gently. Two boys in the opposite corner were blowing puffs of smoke into each other’s mouths, between what looked like extremely wet kisses.

“Issei, Hiro, do you have to do that here?” Futakuchi Kenji, a fellow class member of your advertising supplemental class, was faking being sick. He had drumsticks and was hitting an empty container of fried chicken.

“You can join in whenever you want Jiji.” The pink-haired one smiled, using his head to motion Futakuchi to join them on the sofa.

“Issei’s breath reeks of mango.”

The one with short cropped black hair, wearing a One Piece shirt spoke up, “Mango-licious. That’s the exact flavor, there’s some strawberry in the pod as well.”

The one referred to as Hiro shoved the one called Issei off the sofa. “Song’s over.” Issei just shrugged, taking another hit from his blue e-cigarette.

Konoha explained that Matsukawa Issei and Hanamaki Takahiro had been best friends for essentially their whole lives and that there were a select few songs that they just always made out to. He said he just got used to it, and that you should too.

You decide to make conversation, “So how do you all know each other?”

Semi chimed in, “Konoha and I used to work together at a tutoring place. Before he ditched it to deal drugs.”

Konoha worked in a pharmacy.

“You worked at a tutoring place,” Shock was evident in your tone of voice.

“It’s not hard to help seven-year-olds with their math homework.” Semi continued, “I know Issei and Hiro from competing in the same volleyball circuit in high school. I don’t know when Kenji got here though.”

“Ass.” Futakuchi rolled his eyes, “I joined this shoddy group of friends when we were all struggling to pass the intro math course. And when I found out we were all decent at music.”

Your raised eyebrow at the music comment made Semi smirk.

“If we play for you, you gotta join our cult.” He minced no words.

Konoha assured you that it wasn’t actually a cult, but it did feel like one.

When Matsukawa had finished hooking up all the proper chords to an outlet machine, Konoha had shoved some bean bags out of the way, and Hanamaki downed several glasses of water, you realized that they were good at music.

The song they played was “Lavender Sunflower” by Tory Lanez. When you asked why they would play a song from someone who was in jail, Semi just said you should separate the art from the artist. Futakuchi said it was because Hanamaki liked to say the word ‘sexify’.

They did a few more covers, ranging from Steve Lacy to Cautious Clay.

You gave them a round of applause when Matsukawa slid his fingers across his keyboard to end their mini-concert.

“I meant it. You’re in our cult now.” Semi had come up from behind you, speaking into your ear and resting his hands on your shoulders. The shiver down your spine didn’t go unnoticed by you or Semi.

Electric Guest; the five young adult boys turned into a decently popular alternative indie band. Semi Eita, on the bass. Konoha Akinori, on the guitar. Matsukawa Issei on keyboard. Hanamaki Takahiro, on primary vocals and autotuning. Futakuchi Kenji on drums. Plus you, the mastermind behind it all. Kind of.

All you did was everything else besides play music.

The first time they played at the Battle of the Bands, you sweat so much that your white shirt was permanently stained in the pits. At least they won the prize money, just enough for a team dinner, entrance fees to the next competition and a new shirt for you.

It was a learning curve for you, learning the lighting, the sound management, and the coordination of schedules as you all got busier. Making a Google calendar helped as the years went on.

The whole band thing became so lucrative that all of you could’ve quit your day jobs and been perfectly comfortable, but Futakuchi claimed that the band was never supposed to be their whole lives. Just a part of them. So, in addition to your band manager role, you also ran the charity on the side.

A cross between cancer research, volleyball advocacy, and music education. The holy trinity of causes Matsukawa claimed.

Electric Guest was never supposed to be the reason for you to stay friends with people from high school, and college. But that was how it ended up. Just a group of boys with their girl on weekend nights playing live music.

Initially a cover band, but it turned into original works.

Semi was always a little too clever to just play others' words. “This Head I Hold”, Semi’s first song that he had written had charted on the IONIC Alternative chart in the Top 100 for seven weeks straight, never falling below the top seventy.

Was he humble about this feat? No.

But did he sheepishly make a toast to how your marketing carried the song to where it was? Yes. So it leveled out in your mind for him to be prideful of his music, of their music.

“Amp it up.” Semi stomped his feet again.

Konoha shoved Semi’s arm. “She just said that she couldn’t do that. Do you just have selective hearing for praise? Maybe she should throw in her opinion on your ass in those jeans between the clarification of why increasing the amp would be bad?”

“Screw you, Aki.”

“Meet me in the bathroom in five?” You could practically see the way Konoha’s eyebrows raised in a jokingly seductive way.

“Semi, I could try to reduce the vocals slightly. I just don’t know why you want your bass to be so highlighted tonight?”

Semi just waved his hand in the air, brushing away your comments.

Rolling your eyes, you sipped on your water, reviewing the setlist for tonight.

“Hey, I thought we cut “Get Out” for tonight? And we never play it as the last song?” You did a double take at the setlist, Semi had scribbled the song in right after their typical closer of “Basic- Acoustic Version”

Hanamaki slid into your booth, downing his demon juice, a mixture of Redbull, Monster, and a shot of tequila. He grimaced, then shook his face, smiling at you.

“Semi-Semi has a surprise for tonight, it’s supposed to knock your socks off.”

“I do like a good “Get Out” moment.” You mused.

“A little more than just a good moment supposedly.”

Hanamaki was always one of the guys from your friend group who could manage to make anything sound more important than it was. He was the lead singer after all. You’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about the way some very specific words would sound coming from him to you.

That was another element to this Electric Guest thing, the touch aspect. Once they had integrated you into the friend circle, they became your humans. Your people. You all began to function as a single unit. Where one goes, the rest follow.

The Twitter comments on official posts did love to get a little explicit when they posed theories about how all five of you were in a polyamorous relationship.

That time you and Matsukawa got seen with your hands in his hair and his hands on your ass created a good portion of those theories, especially since Matsukawa still openly liked to lick Hanamaki’s neck between songs.

The touching thing just became second nature, to be close to each other was to be genuine.

Futakuchi threw a plastic water bottle at Hanamaki, “You drunkard, come set up your autotune before you’re too far gone. Please chew some gum before you start singing too, your breath reeks on that stuff.” Futakuchi was referencing the aforementioned demon juice.

Semi had started working at the same place you were working after he had aced his civil servant exam with flying colors.

He had gotten bored of lazing at his shared apartment with Futakuchi for entire days on end. He claimed to need social and mental stimulation. You thought it was because he just wanted to have another reason to get to know you better, which was also true.

Semi was strange when it came to you, freezing up in touch before easing into it. Sometimes you and him could just sit in your apartment for hours on end talking about the band, movies, the best hangover food.

He just understood you on an unparalleled level.

You were all friends, of course, Issei, Hiro, Jiji, Akinori, Eita, and you. But you clicked on what felt like a multidimensional plane with Semi Eita.

He knew what you would say before you said it. He always managed to mitigate your problems with simple, clear solutions.

He also always looked a little too deep into your eyes. You felt like he was inspecting your innermost self when he locked his eyes on you.

No judgment, just assessment. No confusion, just curiosity.

“We can always carpool you know,” He swung his keys on his finger as he walked you to the bus stop, “Save you an hour in commuting.”

“As appealing as that is, I wouldn’t be able to do my share of driving, you know, due to the whole, I don’t have a car thing.” Grateful, you rubbed his shoulder in thanks.

“When I say carpool I mean, I’ll drive and you be my live-in car DJ.”

“Am I being used for my amazing playlists?”

“I love using you.”

So you began to carpool. He would pick you up at your apartment 30 minutes before work started, and then you would sit in the parking lot together for 10 minutes listening to your new underground finds before clocking in.

Semi was a great co-worker, truly. He just always used your stuff and spent way too much time going through your computer search history when you took a break.

“I swear I was going to find some kind of band groupie orgy porn on here this time.” He scoffed when you began shaking your office chair with him still sitting in it.

“At work? You’re kidding me”

“Maybe it was just for future reference,” He licked his lips, looking up at you. “You know, for tonight.”

“You’re revolting.”

“You’re an angel.” He reached a hand up and tugged on the front of your shirt, pulling you down to him.

“You make me sick.” You tried to escape his grasp without damaging your new button-up.

“Lovesick.”

There were only a few more hours to go before their show tonight. You had taken several photos of your boys preparing for the show, posting them on all the social media sites.

Using captions such as, ‘ETA: When Semi Eita gets around to it.’

‘Matsukawa’s forgotten mango vape pod.’ (You thought that one was funny because the vape pod was shown to be almost negatively drained more than it could go, he had sucked all the Mango-licious nicotine out of that poor vape pod)

‘Real or fake? I guess we’ll never know’ Attached to a shot of Hanamaki looking at himself in the mirror, moving small hairs around. The fan-favorite think piece was about his hair, genetically strawberry blond or just dyed.

‘Jiji on that beat’ Futakuchi’s head resting in his hands, his knees bouncing up and down in a short video clip. He always got anxious before shows, despite being one of the relatively more popular members of Electric Guest.

‘Akinori’s Asshole Agenda, task one: hide all the free promotional stickers’ Your box of stickers was shown to be empty, but you had another one in the hauling truck that you would go and grab in a few minutes. The ushers at the clubs helped hand the stickers out when getting people into the building.

Futakuchi called you over to the stage. You put your phone back into your pocket and meandered over to where he was inspecting his drum kit.

“The skin on my drum is getting too thin.” Futakuchi traced a white line that stuck onto the kick drum.

“What do you want me to do?”

He pulled out a fresh skin from his satchel. “Help me reskin this bad boy please.”

“It’s not real animal skin yeah? Just synthetic?”

“Yeah, it should go on fairly easily, I need to polish my cymbals.”

You tilted your head in slight anger. He was going to make you reskin his drum?

Semi had finished messing with his bass settings, resting his instrument on the large case he had brought out to the stage.

“Lemme do it.”

“I can re-skin it, it’s fine, Eita.”

He took the material from your hands, “Let me skin the stupid drum.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly. That tone of voice subtly said, “Don’t test me” and overtly said, “I want to do this for you.”

You let him reskin Futakuchi’s stupid drum.

Joining Electric Guest was one of the best decisions in your life, and you owed it all to Konoha Akinori for bringing you to that ‘college party’. Semi liked to argue that he was the one to thank for getting you involved, but Konoha always pulled up the text receipts of him asking you to officially be a part of the band.

All your firsts had been with Konoha. First kiss, first boyfriend, first hickey.

A high school crush that turned into a decently long relationship at the beginning of university. Konoha was a great boyfriend, dates were amazing, and he was the one who introduced you to all of his friends, who became your friends as well. He was the one who took care of you when you were sick.

He was the one who cried with you when your cousin died.

You truly loved him. But the piece in your heart for him and the piece in his heart for you just didn’t fit together once you hit 20 years old. It was an amicable break-up, but it still hurt.

Best friends with a rich past was how you defined your relationship with Konoha.

Semi was getting increasingly anxious about the fallout when Konoha and you broke up. That’s how it made the most sense to you anyway.

Why else would he have punched Konoha? The fate of the band was at risk.

Semi would’ve rather died than admit why he had to physically express his anger. Screw the band in that moment, what about you? Were you doing alright?

They hadn’t told you about the punch until nearly a year later when you were all either high or sleep-deprived in your apartment, celebrating another competition win.

What they hadn’t told you was louder than what they did tell you about that night, three days after your break-up with Konoha.

Matsukawa had to hold Konoha back, and Hanamaki along with Futakuchi pulled Semi back from throwing another punch. Konoha’s lip was cut and bleeding, so he spat the blood on the floor of the recording studio.

You just sat in the beanbag in the mixing office, none the wiser, headphones on, clicking away at audio files to make promotions.

The night of the breakup, you called Semi and had him at your apartment. It was raining that night. When he arrived at your place, he was soaked through. You asked about it since a short walk from the road to your place wouldn’t have yielded such a damp appearance.

As it turned out, his car had run out of gas, so he took Futakuchi’s moped. When you wrapped him in a towel and gave him tea, he complained that he should be the one soothing you.

That comment triggered you to start bawling. What if it was all a mistake to break up with Konoha? Maybe he was your best option. Semi said that Konoha wasn’t worth shit compared to other guys out there for you.

You told him that that was cruel to say. Semi tried to backtrack, explaining that maybe better options were still around for you. When you just kept talking about how much you loved Konoha, Semi stopped trying to fight the idea of Konoha and focused solely on comforting you and assuring you of your decision.

Two days later, after Semi witnessed your shattered state, the punch occurred during band practice. He saw Konoha’s phone screen saver was still Konoha and you kissing.

“You asshole, she was crying!”

“I already told you Eita, it was an agreed upon break up!”

“The bruise on her neck then? Explain that you dick!” Semi snarled. Hanamaki was shaking in his Doc Martens, but Futakuchi just kicked Hanamaki and told him to keep holding Semi back.

“The bruise? You mean the HICKEY?” Konoha wasn’t mad anymore, just annoyed, “You know sometimes when people break up they have break-up sex. It’s in the name, you oblivious coward.”

Matsukawa finally let Konoha go. Konoha just rubbed his arms where Matsukawa had grabbed him. Konoha had come to several realizations when he had talked to you about breaking up.

Kissing hadn’t felt right for some time, and you both hardly ever tried to be romantic in any sense. Instead choosing to send memes to each other and joking around. It was being best friends under the label of a relationship.

You agreed to split, letting both of you let go of your long-winded high school crushes.

“Coward? You’re calling me a coward? Breaking up with the best girl in your entire life wasn’t a cowardly thing to do then?” Semi was panting, arms shaking, but he was still kicking his feet.

Konoha knew Semi would throw a fit. So he decided to say what everyone else in the friend group wanted to say.

“You love her more than I do,” Konoha sat down, legs sprawled on the floor. He told Hanamaki and Futakuchi to let Semi go. “Did you know that? You love her more than I do. Which is utterly baffling to me because I love her with my entire heart.”

Semi stood for a moment, a slight sway from all the tension in his high-strung body. Semi crouched down before laying on the floor. Looking at the ceiling, he pressed his lips into a tight line.

Hanamaki, Futakuchi, and Matsukawa had left the band space, choosing to let the two friends talk out whatever they needed to.

They too knew that this conversation needed to occur, primarily for Semi.

Semi sniffles then laughs. A genuine laugh. “I guess I am a coward.”

“Damn straight.” Konoha continued, “I always thought you’d get to her before me. Not sexually, or anything like that. But in terms of love. You know? You just always had her first thing in mind. Whereas I, well, I never cheated and I never considered it either, but I always wondered if I was the right person for her.”

“You think that person is me?” Semi scoffed. “I can hardly call myself an adult compared to you.”

“I know right.” Semi kicked Konoha with his outstretched leg.

“You gotta tell her, or else someone will take her from you. Not everyone can see you’re the best person for her. Hell, even I had a mental breakdown when I realized it.”

“So you’re saying-”

“I don’t want your bullshit, Eita, I want you to tell her.”

“I can’t.”

Konoha told him that he’d be stuck then. So, stuck Semi became.

It was almost an hour before opening the doors to the long line outside Club Karazaki.

You still needed to help the boys with their hair. So you grabbed your comb from your bag and made your way backstage.

“Hairstylist in the house, I take 50s and 100s only.” You patted your jeans’ back pocket, “I need a new phone so this is how y’all will contribute.”

After finishing Matsukawa’s quick retouch on his taper, you took the fiver he handed you.

“You know, I think tonight is going to be one of our best performances.” Matsukawa lifted his mango vape to you, you declined it, and he took another hit. “Semi outdid himself for tonight.”

“Ya’ll overhype that man.”

“Nah, we hype him just enough.” Matsukawa held your hand, “You ever get another date with that dude from a week ago?”

You shook your head, explaining how it just didn’t feel right. Lately, your romantic exploits had all crashed and burned quicker than Semi could begin a riff.

Several of the adventures in romance had ended with an upset Semi, which in turn made you upset. The most recent ‘discussion’ between the two of you had occurred just a week before tonight, about the same guy Matsukawa had brought up.

The band left Semi and you in your apartment, and you offered to let him crash on your futon. Futakuchi refused to let a drunk Semi back into their apartment. Claiming that he would puke all over the new rug he bought.

“I just don’t get you.” He was tugging on his sweatpants’ drawstring and lying on your couch. His shirt had ridden up to his mid-stomach, showing off a trail of dark blond hair that snuck under his sweatpants.

“What don’t you get.” You sat on the end of your couch, freshly showered. He put his feet in your lap. You obliged, scrolling through channels on your TV.

He smelled like the expensive wine your label had dropped off to celebrate a bronze ranking on the new album. You asked how much he had drunk, only now realizing his whole face was flushed. He mumbled, so you lifted the bottle, only to find it completely empty.

“You’ll get alcohol poisoning from doing this.” It was only a mini-sized bottle, but it was expensive and aged perfectly.

“Better than how I’m living now.” He took off his shirt, too warm to continue with the material on him.

He didn’t quite have abs, but he was strong. Broad, tan, and wide. The difference between Konoha’s so-called, “slutty waist” and Semi’s toned torso was striking.

You clarified that he actually wouldn’t even be living if he got serious alcohol poisoning.

“That dude,” You said your one-off date’s name, “Yeah him, he looked like my doppelganger don’t you think?”

He did look a lot like Semi.

At the same time you both added the addendum that his fashion was way worse than Semi’s. Semi just laughed, not even a laugh, he giggled. A 22-year-old child, giggling about how you were insulting your date. Shirtless, drunk, and now rubbing your back.

He had shifted, laying his back on the back of the couch, lightly kicking you so you would sit on the floor in front of him.

His hands were warm, due to the alcohol flowing through his veins. When he dug his thumb between your spine and shoulder blade you moaned. He asked if you felt good, and you nodded.

You didn’t expect him to slide your shirt up, your bare back exposed to the cold air of your apartment. In no time, his hands were soothing down the goosebumps.

“Make your little noise again.”

“Hm?” You turned your head to Semi.

“I want you to moan again.”

Your eyes widened. There was no teasing this time, he was dead serious.

Something was definitely wrong with your best friend, especially when he started to kiss your shoulders, moving to your jawline, attempting to move his lips wherever he could reach. He had slid down the couch, using his hands to pull your back against his chest. Skin on skin.

Your shirt was still bunched up at the back of your neck, but with the way that Semi was slowly sliding hands over your stomach, he had a plan to remove the purple sleep shirt. His maneuvers were snake-like. His intermittent hisses were reactions to your scent, your warmth, and the way your skin tasted on his tongue.

When he cupped your chest with one hand and had the other hand in your hair, you had to stop him. Quickly you stood up, and he cussed at the loss of touch.

“Eita, I think you need to sleep.” You tugged him up from the floor, and he just kept cursing. Incoherently, no rhyme or reason for what he was so mad about. You could hardly understand many of the words, a few distinct ones hit your eardrums: Konoha, coward, sex, music, the band. The most frequent word was your name.

You let him sit on the floor, going to grab a glass of water for him. When you reached into your fridge for a Gatorade as well, Semi was standing at the entrance to the kitchen. Brown eyes just watching you.

“One kiss.” He clearly stated.

You laughed, but he only got irritated.

“I’m serious. Just one.” He reaffirmed.

“You’re drunk. I’ll say it twice, Eita. You’re drunk.”

“I’m a better kisser when I’m drunk.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

You handed him the water. He downed it. You handed him the Gatorade. He sipped it. He probably had a reason for asking.

“Is it for a song?” You touched the bottom of the Gatorade bottle, lifting it closer to his mouth so he would take another drink. Semi angrily rolled his eyes, why would that be his only reason for asking to kiss you?

“If I say yes will you kiss me.”

You shook your head no. He was clearly inebriated. You didn’t know how he would feel about this in the morning, and you knew the alcohol was altering him.

It had been two years since you broke up with Konoha. You had promised that you wouldn’t date another member of your friend group. It just wouldn’t work. Plus with the new label intervention as well, they tried to subtly say that dating within the band could cause some scandals.

But they were an alternative indie band, so the label let a lot of the little things go.

But openly dating? Ruining the image of attainability? They just told everyone to keep relationships to a minimum, and if they did want to date, then you should be off limits.

Semi had never seemed more pissed at a formal organization, he ranted to you about how as soon as the three-year contract was up that Electric Guest should go back to being entirely independent.

You agreed, for the most part, just letting him consider how much easier it was for him to get creative licensing protection on his songs. He just said that working at the paralegal office would be enough skill to get legal protection on the music.

Semi cleaned up the Gatorade, tossing it into the trash can. You found yourself in a corner, the sink to your right, and the fridge to your left, Semi in all other directions.

Never had you seen his eyes so blown out. Not even after one of the longer smoke sessions, Matsukawa liked to cook up.

“If you can tell me you don’t love me then I’ll let it go.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Eita, what? Of course, I love you. What are you talking about?”

“If you can tell me you haven’t thought about me when you were touching yourself. If you can tell me that you haven’t thought about my lips on you. If you can tell me that you never considered me as an option. If you can say that then I’ll drop it. Otherwise, please let me kiss you.” You paused your breathing. He looked at you. “And don’t use my blood alcohol content as an excuse.”

“I need a minute.” You gently pushed your hand on his bicep.

“I have time.”

You glanced at the microwave clock.

1:28 AM.

He started kissing you at 1:29 AM.

You didn’t stop him.

It was slow at first, gentle even. He started at your neck. Biding time before he got to where he wanted to go. He nipped along your jaw. Your hands were resting on his chest, your breath baited.

When he picked you up and sat you on the counter, you knew you were a goner.

He guided your hands to his hair, his shoulders, and his hips, telling you to just touch him and not stop. He gave himself 15 minutes. You didn’t know this, but he was only using 15 minutes. From 1:29 AM to 1:44 AM.

When he starts to rub his hips against yours, you wish you could’ve stayed like this for hours. You could feel the outline of his body through the sweatpants, and each time you made another sound, his hips just stilted before rubbing again with more pressure.

His first lip-to-lip kiss with you was dry. He just pressed your lips together. He paused, just letting the touch process in his mind. When you pressed back, he smiled into the kiss.

He could immortalize the kiss later, he still had 7 minutes left.

He wanted to reach his hand down into the front of your pants but knew you would draw the line there. His alcohol solution became the one barrier he wished he didn’t have at the moment. Especially when he could feel the way your thighs were shaking slightly, anticipation was a bitch.

He gently, lightly, wrapped one hand around your neck. The other hand was under your shirt doing things you couldn’t quite make sense of because his tongue was in your mouth. His thumb was distinctly writing the letters of his name over your nipples.

When the clock turned to 1:40 AM, he turned ravenous. He pressed his lips everywhere on your face, forehead, nose, chin. Dry turned to wet, and he knew you were covered in his saliva. You groaned slightly when he gave in and cupped the front of your shorts. Before he removed his hand in favor of just grinding against you again.

He was panting when the clock finally ticked to 1:44 AM. Semi tucked his head into the nook between your shoulder and neck. His arms under your shirt hugged you tighter, making you feel like a boa constrictor was attempting to cut off your oxygen supply.

“I’m tired.” You ran a hand through his hair. Telling him to let you go so you could get his futon. He shook his head, pieces of hair tickling you. He wasn’t tired physically, he was tired mentally. To hold back from someone you were magnetized to, spent all his energy. Until his willpower to fight the pull force was just entirely gone.

“Second door on the left?” He spoke right into your skin. If he had gotten this far, one last ditch attempt to feel all of you might just be his lucky opportunity. The second door on the left was your bedroom.

You nodded.

In the morning, you woke up to Semi tracing shapes on your thigh that was laid across his stomach.

He spoke first.

“We can talk about it after the show at Karazaki.” He had begun running his hand on your head, starting at the top of your head before sliding down to your nape. He repeated the soothing caress so many times you lost count.

“Ok.”

The doors finally shut, and all the people at Club Karazaki were finally ready to be blessed with the music from none other than Electric Guest.

The two-hour show went off without a hitch.

Konoha’s guitar solo got the most bras thrown at him. Futakuchi’s reverb of Arctic Monkeys’ “Knee Socks” had the most phones recording him, his drum set and single verse got more viral video and editing clips than you would know how to manage. Matsukawa and Hanamaki’s duet singing “Oh Devil” from the new album almost made you scream for them too.

It was finally time to close off the show, with Semi’s addition of “Get Out”. You couldn’t help but get thrilled at the idea of hearing your favorite song one more time before he planned to officially cut it from the setlist.

Instead of Hanamaki, Semi cleared his throat, thanking the audience for their time, and that the last song was going to be a crowd favorite.

Hanamaki stepped back. Now, the main singer of a band did not just simply step back and out of the primary light. You fidgeted with the system, getting equal lighting on everyone. The red slow strobe was always a good default, especially since you had no idea what was going on.

“I’ll max it out one time for you.” Semi sang.

This wasn’t the revised ending song. It wasn’t even “Get Out”, the song you had believed to be Semi’s bonus on the setlist. You clicked into your headphones, trying to contact Konoha. Radio silence on your end. Standing up in the back of the club, you waved your arms rapidly. Trying to get Semi’s attention.

What the hell was he doing?

“You should never worry, you’ve been here a long time.” His bass guitar was strumming to the beat of your pulse, just fast enough to keep you alive, but steadily increasing in speed. Matsukawa’s keyboard was playing perfectly in tune. So at least you knew they had practiced this song before.

Maybe more than one practice though, because the flow of the music was just too smooth. You sit back down, and instead of leaving the blaring red strobe lights, you cool it down. A light blue focal light on Semi, with grays and whites on the other band members.

It matched with the RnB edge this song had.

“Now you’re in a hurry. Feels like a long way home.”

He moved up more, tugging on the chord connecting his guitar. He stood in the center of the stage.

His vocals were stunning. Usually, it was Hanamaki singing, with Semi doing the backing vocals. But this was all Semi’s scratchy, deep, resounding, pleading voice. He sang like he was begging for a lifeline.

“You’re just the light I follow.” He wasn’t closing his eyes, he was looking straight at you. You looked behind yourself, only seeing the black wall. You checked in front of you to see if any girls you were familiar with were standing in front of your systems booth. But no, the crowd was just packed with dedicated fanboys and fangirls tonight.

“Right now you just can’t see. I’ll feel the same tomorrow. ‘Cause a good thing is falling on me.”

So this is what all your boys had been talking about. Semi’s special show.

“I’ll max it out one time.”

What a nerd.

“And I know they go on and on and on, I know you’re growing tired of me.”

You’d never get tired of him. And somehow you knew that he knew that.

“And even when you're nervous, or you’re feeling out of order”

Hanamaki had joined in, singing the backing lyrics at this point. Semi just kept looking at you.

“I’m somewhere right next to you, singing you the chorus.”

He’d always been clingy.

“I’ll max it out one time for you, ‘Cause I know it’s overdue.”

Hell yeah, it was overdue.

“So, I raise my glass to you.”

He raises his bottle of water.

An uncontrollable smile erupts over his face. The crowd is in shambles. People were screaming, some were off in a tucked away corner kissing, and someone was getting pulled off the gate to the stage by security.

He doesn’t sing anymore. He mouths the words to just you.

“I love you.”

So there they were, Electric Guest. Sitting in a run-down 24/7 diner laughing and throwing fries at each other.

So there they were; Semi and you. He had his arms around you, chin resting on your shoulder, joking about the time Konoha had spilled his weird mixture of mayo and ketchup all over a borrowed white shirt.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa were pinching each other under the table.

Futakuchi and Konoha were arguing about who got more tagged posts on Instagram.

“I think we should adopt a baby or something.” Hanamaki waved Matsukawa’s vape in the air.

“You would be arrested in like two seconds. You can barely function as a human being Hiro.” Futakuchi ate another fry, starting to list off all the reasons Hanamaki would make a horrible parent figure. Matsukawa kept trying to get another hit from his vape, but Hanamaki just kept waving it around.

You turned to face Semi, but he was already looking at you.

“Max It Out?” You brought up the title of his Not Confession, confession song.

“I wanted to title it your name, but no, that would be too on the nose for some people.” Semi glared at Konoha.

Konoha shrugged, “Eita, you always go on and on about increasing your bass, I thought that ‘Max It Out’ would just click better with the average audience. You know, the same audience who wasn’t exactly there to witness you groping on our friend here last week.” Konoha patted your thigh.

Futakuchi dropped his fry. Complaining that he was always the last one to know what was going on with his friends.

“I wouldn’t call it groping, maybe loving, but not groping.”

“That could be a good lyric for our next song,” Matsukawa brought his hands up to motion them in a rainbow shape, presenting an idea, “we could call it, ‘I Had Sex With My Best Friend Who I Pined After Since I Was Nineteen, I Also Passionately Care About Her And Ended Up Punching Her Ex-Boyfriend Who Is Also My Other Best Friend’ I think that has a real ring to it for a song title.”

Semi rolled his eyes, “Not looking like that title would fit with the rest of our catalog.”

You consoled Matsukawa by handing him back the fiver he gave you for trimming his hair.

Futakuchi, still upset at not knowing about you and Semi’s incident, posed a question, “Well if Aki, Eita, and I have all kissed you, where does that leave Issei and Hiro?”

Semi’s mouth dropped open, “When did that happen?”

“Our kiss? Uh, I can’t remember. But we did.”

You shrugged, it wasn’t your best moment. But Futakuchi had been a very good kisser. “After advertising class ended. I was having a moment about where my life was going.”

“I still think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve kissed so far.”

Semi groans. “This is so unfair. I waited over four years, but Jiji and Aki got to kiss you before me?”

“Slow your roll Eita, if we keep this up, maybe we will end up in a polyamorous relationship.” Hanamaki analyzed, and you knew all about his thoughts about that situation occurring. He had told you several times that if a six-person relationship did exist, then it still wouldn't be as amazing as the dynamics between all of you.

“No more kissing other people,” Semi rubbed your elbow, “You’re stuck to me now. Might as well stay with the one with the best dick.”

You nodded. Semi grinned, waiting expectantly.

“This is the part where you start listing off other good qualities about me.”

“Nope, I think you listed them all.”

Konoha stuck his tongue out and mocked Semi’s claims about genitalia.

After a copious amount of french fries, and enough jokes about everything that had happened the last few years, Semi and you walked hand in hand to his car.

“I got a new bass booster in my car.”

“Why exactly?” You buckled yourself, before reaching over and buckling Semi in as well.

“So I can blast our favorite songs while making you scream.”

There he was, your flirting, egotistical, arrogant, loving best friend. You nixed the best friend part in your head, writing ‘soulmate’ in place.

“Also, can you rescind the whole work-husband divorce claims?” He rested his hand on the back of your seat while backing up his car. Flexing his arm on purpose.

“Sure, there’s a few things you’ll have to do before I officially call you husband again.” You listed off chores, errands, and body parts.

Semi licked his lips, “I can do that.”

---

BONUS:

Playlist for all the music nerds out there: (aka my headcanon of 'Electric Guest's Latest Album)

"Max It Out" - Electric Guest --- The main song from this fic, Semi's confession fic. It was not the only confession song he wrote though. One day, all the lyrics he wrote became less about teenagerhood and fun and genuinely about love.

"Get Out" -Electric Guest --- Our main character's favorite song, it's about exceptionalism. If you can't handle the heat, don't play in the arena. Also about gambling and not going back to toxic people. MC is an icon for sure for having this as her favorite song (Max It Out is her actual favorite, but would rather die than tell Semi)

"This Head I Hold" - Electric Guest --- Matsukawa's favorite, he gets to start the song off with his keyboard. Also Matsukawa's favorite because it's about getting high. The druggie energy is strong with him.

"That's What Happens" -Kid Bloom --- An unreleased Semi song, depression hit him hard when he and Konoha had their heart-to-heart. He kept it locked away until this very specific album release. When he went into detail telling our main character about why he wrote the song, she had to wipe tears from the corners of Semi's eyes, give him love please.

"Window Pane (Pretty Little Thing)" - GSoul --- Hanamaki's favorite song off their newest album, mostly because he helped to write the lyrics, but he'll still love to sing "Lavender Sunflower" because no words sung will ever top "sexify" for him.

"Hold Me" - Hojean --- Futakuchi's favorite song from the new album because the drums are the most heavily featured at the core. And because the autotune is heavy enough to let him pretend Hanamaki isn't the one singing.

"Wake" - Jiwoo --- When Semi wrote this one, Konoha had spent hours trying to figure out who it was about. To Konoha's shock it was about his ex-girlfriend turned into lifelong best friend. Konoha almost got revenge by punching Semi and telling him that it had already been two years, and that someone would make a move soon. Semi then explained his idea for his confession. Konoha realized his friend may be an actual genius.

"Oh Devil" - Electric Guest --- Konoha's favorite song off the new album, he spent the most time in the recording studio practicing this one, he even picked up some additional instruments to help produce it to its highest potential.

"Basic" - Electric Guest --- Semi's hate-piece to the label and to other bands who had been calling out Electric Guest's unconventional style choices. The label thought this one would be the least streamed, jokes on them because it got TikTok famous (courtesy of Semi's newly shown off girlfriend making hot edits for each of the band members)

"Charismatic" - Hailey Knox --- Hanamaki's only duet with a woman. The singer loved what they were doing, and asked to be the main vocal on a b-side song. When all was said and done, Hanamaki and Matsukawa finally had another person to blow smoke with when listening to "Sex, Drugs, Etc."

[louthesawgirl]

What each Saw character would get as a Tesco meal deal (scientifically accurate)

Hello everyone, I decided as my debut long Saw shitpost, I thought I would decide what meal deals different Saw characters would opt for if they stumbled into a Tesco and were a bit peckish after setting up a few traps.

If you’re not from the U.K. or Ireland and are not familiar with the British & Irish institutions of a meal deal, it’s basically a packaged sandwich, pasta pot, salad, bit of sushi maybe alongside a snack item and a drink for a fixed price (it used to be around £3/ €4 but the shops are taking the piss now). Meal deals are considered a treasured institution here and are an indication of your personality. People judge your character based on what you get between two slices of cheap bread.

Here’s what different Saw characters would get for a Tesco meal deal:

Adam (Faulkner) Stanheight

1. Southern fried chicken chipotle mayo sub

2. Doritos cheese flavour

3. Vimto still drink

Judging on how we know Adam is quite an unorganised adult struggling to adult most days, I would assume he opts for high energy foods to keep his tastebuds happy. Cheese, spiced chicken and fruity drinks seem up his street. Plus, Vimto is a very Mancunian thing and if Saw was set in the U.K., there’s no way Adam would not be from Manchester.

Dr Lawrence (Larry) Gordon

1. Eat Your Greens Feta Salad

2. Apple & Grape snack pot

3. Chilled Iced Latte

I feel like because Larry is a doctor, he prioritises convenience but also eats healthily. I also imagine him to be meat free/ vegetarian so that explains the feta & greens salad (I don’t think he’d be vegan though, he seems like he loves proper cheese too much). Larry seems like he’d always be carrying breath mints or tictacs to minimise the cheese or coffee breath- nobody needs a waft of that when being told they’ve got 6 months left to live.

Amanda Young

1. BLT sandwich

2. Walkers Thai Sweet Chilli Sensations Crisps

3. Monster Energy drink (chosen based on packaging colours to match mood)

Amanda is a busy lady planning traps and building contraptions designed to almost certainly kill people. She seems like she enjoys a bit of spice along with classic comfort combinations.

John Kramer

- Chicken & bacon sandwich

- Egg snack pot

- Green smoothie

John seems like he’s mindful of what he puts into his body considering he’s consistently a salt & vinegar crisp away from death with the cancer and all. He’s also a very smart man so he would know the best value for money combination with a meal deal is getting an overpriced fruit smoothie for a drink.

Mark Hoffman

- All Day Breakfast sandwich (triple)

- Walkers Max Salt & Vinegar crisps

- Red Bull

Mark seems like he can’t get enough of bacon & sausage, even though it’s cold and not exactly very fresh. Maybe he’d even have a bit of HP brown sauce with it. Mark would also probably make immature jibes towards vegans and vegetarians because he’s that kind of man. Considering Mark works overtime setting up traps and evading capture, all he’d be drinking by the events of Saw 7 would be energy drinks.

Jill Tuck

- Egg & Cress sandwich

- Arla strawberry protein yogurt

- Bottle of water

Jill is a bit… bland. I’m sorry but I just have to say it. Egg & cress perfectly summarises Jill’s personality as seen in movies 4-7 between two pieces of bread.

Peter Strahm

- Deli style cheese & pickle sandwich

- Smoked salmon sushi pack

- Pepsi Max

Strahm made some good decisions, some regrettable ones and one very very dumb decision during his time in the Saw universe. Just like his track record with making poor decisions, I’d guess Peter would get some supermarket sushi as a snack with his meal deal- not very fresh nor authentic and will leave you wondering why you couldn’t have got a pack of reliable crisps or a chocolate bar instead.

Lindsey Perez

- Feta & sundried tomato pasta

- Propercorn sweet & salty popcorn

- Fanta orange

Perez is a great character and so she would get a meal deal to reflect that. Why do I also imagine Lindsey being veggie?

Eric Matthews

- Meatball marinara sub

- Walkers Monster Munch Pickled Onion crisps

- Red Bull

I feel like this choice accurately reflects Eric. It’s a combination that’s maybe reflective of an immature palette, maybe even a sort of guilty pleasure combination. I wonder if he’d put the monster munch hands (or feet) on his fingers and eat them like that.

Hope you enjoyed my incredibly British saw shitpost x

[magicalrocketships]

It is my beloved @andwegogreen's birthday, and as such, here is a little birthday gift ♥️♥️

It is an unconnected story from this verse (Max/girl!Daniel), set after the 2025 FIA gala.

1.3k of Max eating Daniel out ->

When Daniel wakes up and checks her phone, she finds that–rather than the red carpet pictures of her and Max going into the FIA gala last night–the internet is full of another set of pictures instead. They're from later in the night, when they were trying to leave to come back to the hotel. She hadn't known they were being taken. Max hadn't either. He would have said. He would have shielded her from the camera if he'd known. He always does.

The pictures show her sitting on the carpeted stairs away from the ballroom, with Max a couple of steps below. He has her feet in his lap, and he's carefully focused on undoing the buckle on the thin, delicate ankle straps of her high heels. Then he's taking off her shoes, opening the little bag they'd left in the cloakroom at the start of the evening, helping her on with her checkerboard socks, and after that, her leopard print Vans trainers. He laces them up carefully. Slips her extremely expensive, boringly uncomfortable high heels into the bag her trainers came out of, and hooks the bag over his wrist. 

The last picture is of him kissing the inside of her wrist as he helps her to her feet. 

The comments section is a fire pit. Daniel thinks the pictures are lovely. 

She saves each of the pictures and closes the comments without reading any of them. It's better that way. 

She locks her phone, rolls over, and snuffles her face into the side of Max's chest. He's still almost entirely asleep, but his hand goes around her shoulders, holding her close. Neither of them had showered last night when they'd got back to the hotel, so he smells sleep-warm and a little stale. She does too, probably. Her dress– pink, with little capped sleeves, a flared waist, and absolutely no back, designed entirely to show off her tattooed back piece of cascading white flowers– is discarded on the floor next to the chair she'd attempted to throw it over when they got in last night. It's on top of Max's suit jacket, his trousers, crumpled up tie and discarded shirt. They'd eaten fried chicken and chips in their underwear on the hotel sofa before bed, Daniel's bush curling around the edges of her high waisted knickers, Max eating one-handed as he petted her cunt through her underwear. He'd promised to eat her out before they went to sleep, but Daniel remembers leaning her head on his shoulder as he finished eating, and nothing after that. 

Max had obviously carried her to bed. She's still in her knickers. She licks at his ribcage, little kisses until she can close her mouth over his nipple and kiss him there. He groans a little, starting to wake up. 

She kisses up his throat, under his jaw, over the patchy stubble until she can lick her way into his mouth. He's awake enough to kiss back. 

"Hello," Max says, as she kisses his cheek and shuffles down until she can rest her face against his shoulder. 

"Hello," Daniel says. "Did I fall asleep before you got to eat me out last night?"

Max isn't as quick to wake up as Daniel is. He rubs his eyes. Yawns. "Yes, Daniel," he says finally. "You were snoring very loudly. I couldn’t wake you up at all."

Daniel grins. She's a snorer when she's not curled up on her front. Max seems to find it relatively cute, which is a hundred percent an improvement on her last boyfriend, who'd called her an embarrassment. She doesn't think about him anymore. "So you put me to bed."

"I did," Max agrees. His hand slips down to cup her pussy. "Without getting to eat you out."

"Tragic," Daniel says solemnly. She rolls her hips up to grind against his hand. "If only there was something you could do to fix that."

"There is nothing," Max says, frowning. "It is very sad, Daniel. No more pussy licking."

God, she loves him. She kisses him on both cheeks. Lets him roll her over onto her back. She pulls her knickers up so that they're sitting higher on her hips and more curls escape around the edges of her underwear. She hasn't waxed in ages. She'd be happy if she never had to have a bare pussy again, and Max seems extremely supportive of her decision, given how hard he always gets and how often he likes to bury his face in her cunt. 

He strokes the tip of his finger up the centre line of her underwear. He kisses her big nipples, first one, then the other. She parts her legs and he presses the tip of his finger a little deeper in. 

"You're very wet, Daniel," he tells her, still touching. She always is. She gets hopelessly wet for him. Always has. "You've leaked all through your knickers."

God. She stifles a moan. He touches her again, over her knickers, stroking her until she can't wait any longer. She wants his mouth on her. Wants his face wet with her. Wants to come with his tongue pressed to her clit. 

He helps her off with the knickers, and then settles himself between her legs. She pulls her knees up, spreads her legs a little wider. He parts her with his thumbs, stroking her wet curls out of the way. 

"Your cunt is very beautiful," he tells her, like he hasn't spent literally hours of his life staring at it before today. He touches her with the pad of his thumb. "It is beautiful here, and it is beautiful here–" her clit, and she trembles, and makes a noise, "–and where you are so wet here, Daniel, and how I can just touch you inside here. So very lovely." He leans in and kisses the inside of her thighs, first one, then the other, and then proceeds to kiss her everywhere he's just touched. By the time he gets his mouth on her clit, she's making noises that would probably have had the people in the next room calling hotel reception, except this is a suite and in a suite this big, nobody can hear your boyfriend taking you to fucking pieces. 

He stops licking her to tilt his chin up and meet her gaze. He's wet from nose to chin. He's wet with her, god. God. 

"Very lovely, my Daniel." He beams. "Nobody's cunt is as good as yours."

God. She's barely going to last any time at all. It's okay, though, because Max likes eating her out so much he's imposed a two orgasms for her to every one for him ratio. They don't always stick to it but it's enough to make her feel like she's queen of the fucking world. 

He tucks the tips of two fingers inside of her, and crooks them a little so that she cries out. With his other hand he pets her bush. She wriggles under his touch, almost frantic. He kisses her tummy, her curls, her cunt. He takes her to pieces with gentle, fierce familiarity. 

When she comes, she does so noisily, desperately, happily. She trembles through the comedown and he touches her the whole time, mouth pressed to the inside of her thigh. 

Afterwards, he lays down beside her and lets his erection press against her thigh. She tucks herself around him, shivering until his arms wrap around her and hold her tight. 

"Do you want to fuck?" she asks. Max being hard doesn't always mean he wants to. Sometimes he likes to wait. Sometimes he likes to not fuck at all. Sometimes he likes to jerk off or have her touch him until he comes. She's happy either way. So long as he is. 

"Not yet. Later," he says. He kisses the inside of her wrist. "I love you."

She loves him back. When she tells him, his smile makes his eyes crinkle.

Later on, after they've dozed a bit, she wraps her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, and lets him carry her into the bathroom, into the shower, into the rest of their day.

She kisses him, and he smiles against her mouth. 

[oh-stars]

Unspoken Habits

Love Is Silently Passing Them A Pickle Because You Know It’s Their Favorite.

a @steddielovemonth prompt | 733 words | CW: N/A | Rating: G

--

It’s been forever since they all got together. Steve’s got an arm slung over Robin’s shoulders and is leaning toward Max to talk shit about Mike, while Eddie’s squished between Dustin and Nancy on the opposite side. The rest of the party surround the table, laughing and talking so loudly he’s not even sure if you could call it that anymore. 

As nice as it is, Eddie feels a little bad for how rowdy they are in the middle of a restaurant. Thankfully, it doesn’t last too terribly long once the food comes out. 

“Okay,” their waiter says as he brings out two others with big trays of food, “help me out here.” 

It’s an ordeal to get everyone’s orders where they need to go, but once it’s settled, they all start to tuck in. 

Eddie’s squirting ketchup all over his fries when he looks up to see Steve’s plate has a pickle on it. His chicken fingers didn’t come with a pickle. Dammit. 

Steve’s not even looking, still listening to Lucas’ story about the game he had the other day. He just picks up his plate and holds it out for Eddie. 

Fuck yeah! Eddie plucks the pickle off Steve’s plate and takes a big bite, then sets the rest down on the edge of his basket. 

“Can we please talk about the new player’s handbook that came out?” Dustin says, muffled around his straw. 

“I haven’t picked it up yet,” Eddie admits. 

Dustin groans, then launches into a full comparison of the last version and this new edition. Which brings Mike and Will into the conversation, too, and soon they’re all debating about the merits of all of the editions, which one is superior and the best in both the standard and advanced games. 

He’s so lost in the topic that he nearly misses Robin handing Steve her pickle. 

Eddie’s got a mouthful, chewing faster so he can correct her mistake because Steve doesn’t like pickles. He doesn’t like a lot of things, he’s almost always handing Eddie something at every meal, whether it's olives or pickles or green skittles. 

But then Steve stops him in his tracks and takes the biggest bite out of the pickle. 

What the fuck is this?

Eddie turns away from the nerd talk to lean forward, mouth finally free to talk. “What was that?” 

Steve raises an eyebrow and puts the pickle down on his plate, hanging off the edge so it doesn’t touch his remaining fries. “What was what?” 

“That!” Eddie points to the pickle.

Robin looks like he’s lost his mind and she may have a point, but the input isn’t necessary. “Is he not allowed to eat? Jesus, Munson.” 

“Not pickles, he’s not,” Eddie says. “You hate pickles.” 

Steve’s cheeks go pink as he shakes his head, fringe bouncing on his forehead. He’s bashful when he meets Eddie’s eye. “No, I don’t,” he says softly. 

“What do you mean?” Eddie asks. It’s like the world has turned upside down (no pun intended) and he’s left marooned on an island of imposters. The fuck is this?

He shrugs and leans forward a little, mirroring Eddie’s posture as they rest their crossed arms on the table and try to get a little closer despite the distance. “I like pickles, Eds. I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” 

“Oh fuck you,” Eddie says half-heartedly. “Since when?” 

“Always?” Robin interjects. “You guys have been together for almost a decade! How do you not know that he loves pickles?” 

Steve’s face gets even redder. 

Eddie feels like he’s been shot, the ultimate betrayal playing out before him. He clutches at his chest. “Stevie?” he squeaks out. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, reaching a hand across the table. 

“Then why do you…” 

Steve just smiles. “You love them.” 

“That’s it?” 

“That’s all that matters,” Steve says softly. 

“Can you two stop being all sappy for like two seconds? Some of us are trying to eat,” Max says, nearly snarling with disgust (even though her eyes are all gooey so it doesn’t land the way she’s hoping for). 

Steve laughs and takes his hand back. He winks at Eddie from across the table before turning back to Robin to talk in their weird twin language. 

Dammit, he really loves this man. With his stupid winks and silly sacrifices. If that’s not true love, Eddie doesn’t know what is.

--

Thanks to @lady-lostmind for betaing!

Ao3 Link

[incorrect-gravescest]

(going out for dinner at a local Chili's)

💚: Lets see...I'll have a bacon cheeseburger and fries. Well, might as well get extra fries because I'm sure my wife will steal them. Actually, let's get an order of mozzarella sticks for an appetizer first. And two large Toxicola cherrys. What do you want to eat, babe?

🩷: (who lost a bet and is now wearing remote control vibrating panties and Andrew has the intensity cranked up to the max speed) ...just...just a grilled chicken sal-salad please...extra dresssssssingggggg....

[borgevino]

i have been doing some light experimentation this winter with miso and gochujang and i can tell you now they are two of the best substances on this green earth. a quick list of ways i have used them so far:

spoonful of each in the broth where you cook the ramen (big for miso, small for gochujang), along with half the flavor packet and a 7-minute hard boiled egg

teeny tiny amount of gochujang (like, 1/4tsp per cup max) in hot chocolate to add richness, depth, and spice

miso in the water where you cook the red lentils, combined with a can of butternut squash soup and a can of coconut milk, big heaping spoonful of gochujang for warmth and heat

2tbsp brown sugar, 1tbsp melted butter, 1tbsp gochujang; mixture swirled into sugar cookie dough (this is from a nyt cooking recipe by eric kim) or whatever other baked goods could benefit from a little kick.

pal of mine mentioned maple syrup + gochujang as a condiment, which would be spectacular on many roasted veggies (carrots, brussels sprouts, potatoes, beets, etc), or as a ham glaze, or on fried chicken (fried chicken & cornmeal waffles with maple-gochujang sounds completely incredible)

my budget is tighter than usual this winter and i can tell you that having gochujang and miso to play with is really bringing joy to what would otherwise be a season of mac & cheese, ramen, very basic soups, etc.

[teamhawkeye]

Highlights from the Ted Raimi Q&A from GalaxyCon

first off, he commandeered the mic from the panel moderator and went off script for like 15 minutes

he asked how much everyone had to pay for tickets and was AGHAST at hearing the price. he was also asking about how much food and other expenses added onto that and took a poll to see who would be broke after the end of the weekend

he also mentioned that this was the first time he'd ever had fried chicken at breakfast, and his first ever time trying grits! he really enjoyed grits but was confused whether they should be sweet or savory, since he thinks he had them served sweet and most everyone agrees they should be savory instead

because he had the last panel of the last day, he felt that all of us there that came to hear him talk were the "weirdos" of the convention, in the most affectionate way possible

as for actual questions he answered:

across his whole career, he said he thinks The Quarry is the best thing he's ever done,

when asked for some of his favorite endings of The Quarry, he said that Laura and Max reuniting is high up there since those were the characters/actors he spent the most time interacting with and being entrenched in their story. he also said he'd heard of an ending where most of the Hacketts survived and no one else did, and with Travis being a Hackett, he supposed that one was one he could get behind

he mentioned that the prop gun that Travis had during mocap was a rubber band gun, and that he used it to fire rubber bands at Skyler, who in turn would sling them back at him

he got asked about a favorite moment he got to be a part of in the Spider-Man trilogy and said it's from Spider-Man 3, where J. Jonah Jameson is saying "you want a staff job, you want a staff job. doesn't anybody care what I want?" and Hoffman pops his head in to say "I do!" and gets met with "shut up. get out"

he also said that JK Simmons was amazing to work with and that he brought such great energy to set and their scenes

there were a few questions about Xena. he was asked for a favorite episode and he admitted he can't really remember what scenes he filmed went with what episodes and didn't have an answer for that.

he was asked what kind of dog he thought Joxer would be and his first answer was "a kicked one". he then tried to come up with a breed that would essentially be loyal and energetic but dumb as a bag of rocks

he got asked if he still knew the words to Joxer the Mighty (yes) and if he'd be willing to sing it (no)

he was similarly asked if he had a favorite episode of SeaQuest and he likewise answered that he couldn't remember which scenes matched with what episodes, it had been too long for him to keep them straight

he did say that everyone remaining in the SeaQuest cast have remained great friends in the years since it aired, which he stressed was a rarity. they're planning on having a reunion dinner sometime next year out in Cali where they'll all get together to party and celebrate

on top of saying what great people all the surviving cast members are, he made sure to mention just how much he enjoyed filming with Michael Ironside in the final season and what a privilege it was to act alongside him

it was somewhere between Xena and SeaQuest questions that a fan had trouble with getting the microphone adjusted to ask her question and Ted leapt off stage to come adjust it for her before returning back to his seat on stage

when asked about the role of Henrietta and returning to that suit and makeup in Ash vs. Evil Dead, he said that the process was still pretty exhausting and gross as it was 30 years earlier

he got asked a pretty silly question about Robocop (being set in Detroit) and he mentioned having worked with Peter Weller on Odyssey 5 and what a unique experience that was and how he enjoyed filming it

one of the most profound things he said was in regards to a question about the film industry as a whole and its evolution. he mentioned how the best thing that had changed in the film industry since he started was the treatment of women in it, how it's changed for the better, and as it rightfully should have. he also said that he feels like very recently, he'd finally reached a point in his life where he felt he'd hit his stride. that there were years and stretches of time where he was just taking roles to keep his lights on and pay his rent, that there were hard times he had to get through. but that now, in his 50s, he'd felt content with where he was with his career and in his life. and he made sure to stress that sometimes people find their purpose in their 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, or even later - that there is no right or wrong time to reach that point, that it comes about on its own and that it's never "too late"

i'm very obviously paraphrasing some of this, because at the time i didn't know we'd be allow to record or take photos, so this is all just from memory! i hope that it was taped and ends up available for viewing sometime soon!