#Spice Processing Machines

[swetatiwarib2b]

Spice Processing Machines and Plants: Efficient Solutions for Flavor Extraction and Production

By investing in efficient, reliable, and innovative spice processing machinery, spice producers can increase productivity, enhance the flavor extraction process, and deliver consistent, high-quality products to the market. Whether you’re a small-scale spice business or a large manufacturing plant, the right spice processing machines are an essential ingredient for success in this flavorful industry.

[loud-whistling-yes]

You ever think about the fact that joker's age is Like That probably because he was first written as being immortal in mind

[saansaamachines]

Empowering Spice Processing: Why Rajkot Relies on Saansaa Machines for Commercial Chilli Solutions

Commercial Chilli Machine Suppliers in Rajkot

Rajkot, a vibrant hub of industry and agriculture in Gujarat, plays a significant role in India's spice processing sector. Among the various spices handled, chillies stand out for their widespread use and the intricate processes involved in preparing them for market. For businesses engaged in chilli processing, efficiency, hygiene, and consistent quality are paramount. This is where the role of reliable Commercial Chilli Machine Suppliers in Rajkot becomes crucial, and Saansaa Machines Pvt Ltd emerges as a key player, offering cutting-edge solutions to streamline operations and enhance productivity.

The journey of a chilli from the farm to the consumer's kitchen involves several critical stages: stem removal, cleaning, sorting, and sometimes further processing like grinding. Each of these stages can be labor-intensive and time-consuming if done manually. Recognizing these challenges, Saansaa Machines has positioned itself as a leading provider of automated and semi-automated machinery designed specifically for the chilli processing industry. Their commitment to innovation and quality makes them a preferred choice for businesses seeking to optimize their operations in Rajkot and beyond.

One of the most demanding tasks in chilli processing is the removal of the stem. Traditionally done by hand, this process is not only slow and costly but also prone to inconsistencies. Saansaa Machines has revolutionized this aspect with their advanced chilli stem cutting machines. As a prominent Chilli Stem Cutting Machine Supplier in Rajkot, they offer solutions that significantly reduce labor dependency and dramatically improve production outcomes. Their machines are engineered for precision, ensuring clean and efficient stem removal without damaging the chilli itself. This not only saves time and money but also enhances the overall quality of the processed chillies.

The impact of automation in stem cutting is profound. Businesses can achieve higher throughput with a smaller workforce, leading to substantial cost savings in the long run. Moreover, the consistent quality achieved by automated stem removal ensures a better final product, enhancing the company's reputation and market competitiveness. Saansaa Machines understands the specific needs of the chilli processing industry and designs its machines to handle various chilli varieties and processing volumes, offering tailored solutions to meet diverse requirements.

Beyond stem removal, cleaning is another essential step in preparing chillies for the market. Removing dust, dirt, and other foreign particles is crucial for ensuring hygiene and the quality of the final product. Saansaa Machines also excels in providing solutions for this stage. For businesses looking for Best Suppliers for Chilli Cleaning Machines in India, Saansaa Machines stands out due to their robust and efficient cleaning systems. These machines are designed to gently yet effectively remove impurities without compromising the integrity of the chillies.

The integration of advanced cleaning mechanisms into Saansaa's machinery ensures that the processed chillies meet stringent quality standards. This is particularly important in today's market, where consumers are increasingly conscious of food safety and hygiene. By investing in high-quality chilli cleaning machines, processors in Rajkot can ensure that their products are not only visually appealing but also meet the highest standards of cleanliness.

Saansaa Machines' reputation as a reliable supplier extends beyond chilli-specific machinery. They also cater to the broader needs of the food processing industry. Notably, they are recognized as a leading provider of the Best French Beans End Cutting Machine in Gujarat. While seemingly unrelated to chilli processing, this demonstrates their expertise in designing and manufacturing efficient cutting solutions for various agricultural produce. The same engineering principles and commitment to quality that define their chilli processing machines are also evident in their French beans end cutting machines. This diversification showcases their comprehensive understanding of the challenges and opportunities within the agricultural processing sector.

The fact that Saansaa Machines has numerous systems installed worldwide speaks volumes about the reliability and effectiveness of their equipment. This global presence underscores their commitment to quality and innovation, earning them a strong reputation within the chilli processing industry. Their machines are not just pieces of equipment; they are integrated solutions designed to optimize the entire processing workflow.

Saansaa Machines understands that investing in processing machinery is a significant decision for any business. Therefore, they focus on building robust and durable machines that can withstand the rigors of continuous operation. Their commitment to using high-quality materials and employing advanced manufacturing techniques ensures the longevity and reliability of their equipment, providing businesses in Rajkot with a long-term solution for their chilli processing needs.

Furthermore, Saansaa Machines emphasizes the importance of synchronization between different stages of the processing line. Their chilli stem removing machines are designed to work seamlessly with their chilli cleaning machines, creating a cohesive and efficient workflow. This integrated approach minimizes bottlenecks and ensures a smooth transition of the product from one stage to the next, maximizing overall productivity.

The benefits of partnering with a reliable supplier like Saansaa Machines extend beyond just the machinery itself. They often provide comprehensive support and guidance to their clients, helping them to select the right equipment for their specific needs and offering assistance with installation and maintenance. This commitment to customer satisfaction further solidifies their position as a trusted partner in the chilli processing industry.

In conclusion, for businesses in Rajkot looking to enhance their chilli processing capabilities, Saansaa Machines Pvt Ltd stands out as a premier provider of innovative and reliable solutions. As leading Commercial Chilli Machine Suppliers in Rajkot and a recognized Chilli Stem Cutting Machine Supplier in Rajkot, they offer advanced machinery that reduces labor dependency and improves production outcomes. Their reputation as one of the Best Suppliers for Chilli Cleaning Machines in India further underscores their commitment to quality and hygiene. While their expertise also extends to providing the Best French Beans End Cutting Machine in Gujarat, their core focus on the chilli processing industry makes them an invaluable partner for businesses in this sector. By choosing Saansaa Machines, chilli processors in Rajkot can invest in a future of enhanced efficiency, improved quality, and sustainable growth. Their pioneering spirit and dedication to providing robust and synchronized systems make them a cornerstone of the chilli processing landscape.

See more

Commercial Chilli Machine Suppliers in Rajkot

Chilli Stem Cutting Machine Supplier in Rajkot

Best Suppliers for Chilli Cleaning Machines in India

Best French Beans End Cutting Machine in Gujarat

[bestspicemanufacturer]

Spice Processing Equipment & Machines | Best Spice Processing Plant Manufacturer

In modern gastronomy, spices can be described as the lifeblood of various cuisines, adding flavors with tempting aromas and vibrant hues. However, spices cannot just arrive in the kitchen in the same quality as when they were harvested unless they undergo an elaborate processing cycle. To this end, spice processing equipment and machines play an important role. High-tech machines ensure the retention of important oils and nutrients, thereby increasing efficiency and uniformity during large-scale spice production. Premium Pulman Pvt. Ltd. has been a leading spice processing plant manufacturer; the company has always been in the forefront of innovative solutions tailored according to the needs of the spice industry. All of these operations require precision and efficiency to keep the natural essence of the spices intact. Raw spices are thus processed into fine powders or blends without loss of potency, ensuring that all the impurities are removed from them, they are uniformly powdered, and have a longer shelf life.

Spices processing machinesdesigned in the latest technology ensure as much heat is not generated as possible during the grinding process because essential oils of spices like chilies, turmeric, and cumin determine their rich flavor. Moreover, automation in the spice processing area reduces manual work, increases output, and helps ensure safety so that investing in this is no longer a question for spice producers.

Premium Pulman Pvt. Ltd.: An Unmatched Spices Processing Machine Manufacturer

Established as the leader in spice processing plant manufacturing in India, with years of expertise in size reduction and grinding machines, Premium Pulman Pvt. Ltd. focuses on designing and developing robust, high-performance spice processing equipment, thereby giving top-of-the-line industry standards. Its machinery range is built for durability, efficiency, and precision, making them the preferred choice among spice processors.

Their spice grinding machines are applied in various industries for processing spices like chili, turmeric, black pepper, cardamom, and coriander. The company's advanced pulverizers, hammer mills, and pin mills offer a fine, consistent grind while ensuring minimum loss of essential oils. Whether it's a small-scale spice production unit or a large industrial plant, Premium Pulman Pvt. Ltd. offers customized solutions to meet specific processing requirements.

Given the diverse nature of the spice industry, we, Premium Pulman Pvt. Ltd., provide complete spice processing plants for various spices and their multifarious processing needs. These include such turnkey solutions as various grinding machines, spice mixers, and material handling equipment for easy processing.

Take chili processing, for example. The spice undergoes a two-stage grinding process for the desired fineness. For turmeric processing, there is specialized grinding to keep its natural color and curcumin content. In comparison, coriander normally requires a single-stage grinding system to retain its palate and aroma. With its tailored solutions for each spice, Premium Pulman Pvt. Ltd. assures that they hold their natural quality and market price.

Advanced Features for Better Spice Processing

An important aspect of the present spice processing equipment is the improvement in efficiency in relation to manual effort. Premium Pulman Pvt. Ltd. has introduced several specialized machines and equipment to assist all the production processes. Industrial roasters are used to remove moisture from spices, which is necessary before grinding. The upshot of this process is enhanced flavor of spices and smooth grinding compositions. Mixers and blenders perform a vital function in the blending of spice products, ensuring that different spice powders blend evenly into balanced seasoning blends.

Further, it supplies bulk material handling equipment for seamless movement of raw and processed spices. These automated solutions minimize contamination risks and improve production efficiency. Along with these up-to-date technological innovations, Premium Pulman Pvt. Ltd. directs its possibilities toward helping spice manufacturers obtain machines with top performance in terms of productivity and quality.

Conclusion

In today's spice industry, it is imperative to have a properly designed spice- processing machine that ensures quality, efficiency, and higher profit margins. Premium Pulman Pvt. Ltd., an internationally reputed spice processing plant manufacturer, manufactures state-of-the-art equipment for grinding, mixing, and packaging spices in their entire rigor. Their sustained efforts in innovations and quality made them a front-runner in the industry.

Investing in spice processing machines from Premium Pulman Pvt. Ltd., a leader in the spice production industry and proud manufacturers, will offer genuinely high-grade products among the desired attributes to a company working toward improvement in their spice production capabilities. Setting an advanced benchmark in the areas of precision, cleanliness, and performance, they continually pursue the highest technology in the spice processing industry.

[sifterinternationalindia]

Enhancing Spice Production with Sifter International: A Leader in Spices Processing Machinery

Spices are an essential component of culinary traditions worldwide, and their quality directly impacts the flavor and aroma of dishes. The production of these spices, however, is a complex process that requires precision and advanced technology. Sifter International, a prominent name in the industry, has positioned itself as a leader among spices processing machinery manufacturers, offering cutting-edge solutions that cater to the diverse needs of the spice industry.

The Importance of Quality Spices Processing Machinery

The global demand for spices has grown significantly, driven by increasing consumer interest in exotic flavors and health benefits. This surge in demand necessitates the use of efficient and reliable processing machinery to maintain the quality and consistency of spices. As one of the leading spices processing machinery manufacturers, Sifter International understands the critical role that these machines play in ensuring that spices retain their essential oils, flavors, and nutritional value.

Quality processing machinery not only enhances the productivity of spice manufacturers but also ensures compliance with international standards. This is particularly important in a global market where consumers are increasingly discerning about the quality of the spices they purchase. Sifter International's advanced machinery is designed to meet these stringent requirements, making it a preferred choice for spice manufacturers worldwide.

Sifter International: A Pioneer in Spice Processing Technology

Founded with a vision to revolutionize the spice processing industry, Sifter International has consistently innovated to stay ahead of the curve. The company's extensive range of machinery includes grinders, pulverizers, sifters, and blenders, each designed to handle different stages of spice production with precision.

One of the flagship products in their portfolio is the Masala Grinder Machine, which has earned Sifter International a reputation as a leading Masala Grinder Machine Manufacturer. This machine is engineered to grind various types of spices, including turmeric, coriander, cumin, and chili, to a fine consistency. The grinder's robust construction and advanced technology ensure that the grinding process is efficient, retaining the spices' essential oils and flavors, which are crucial for both culinary use and medicinal purposes.

Features of Sifter International’s Masala Grinder Machine

The Masala Grinder Machine by Sifter International is packed with features that make it stand out in the market.

High Efficiency: The machine is designed to handle large quantities of spices, making it ideal for both small-scale and large-scale spice production units. Its high-speed operation ensures that the grinding process is quick and efficient, reducing production time and increasing output.

Durability: Built with high-quality materials, the grinder is durable and requires minimal maintenance. This longevity ensures that manufacturers can rely on the machine for consistent performance over the years.

Versatility: The machine is capable of grinding a wide range of spices, making it a versatile addition to any spice processing unit. Whether it's hard spices like cloves and cinnamon or softer ones like coriander, the grinder can handle them all with ease.

User-Friendly Operation: Sifter International has designed the machine with the user in mind. It features easy-to-use controls and requires minimal training to operate, making it accessible even to those with limited technical expertise.

The Role of Technology in Spice Processing

The spice processing industry has evolved significantly over the years, with technology playing a crucial role in this transformation. Traditional methods of spice grinding, which were labor-intensive and time-consuming, have been replaced by automated machinery that offers precision and efficiency.

Sifter International has been at the forefront of this technological revolution, continuously investing in research and development to enhance its machinery. The company's commitment to innovation has resulted in machines that not only improve the quality of spices but also reduce energy consumption and operational costs. This focus on sustainability is particularly important in today's environmentally conscious world, where manufacturers are under increasing pressure to adopt eco-friendly practices.

Why Choose Sifter International?

With decades of experience in the industry, Sifter International has established itself as a trusted name among spices processing machinery manufacturers. The company's dedication to quality, innovation, and customer satisfaction sets it apart from competitors. By choosing Sifter International, spice manufacturers can be assured of machinery that is built to the highest standards, backed by excellent after-sales support.

Moreover, Sifter International’s global presence ensures that its customers receive prompt service and support, no matter where they are located. This global reach, combined with a deep understanding of the spice industry, makes Sifter International the go-to partner for all spice processing needs.

Conclusion

In a competitive and dynamic industry like spice processing, the quality of machinery can make all the difference. Sifter International, with its extensive range of advanced spice processing machines, including the highly regarded Masala Grinder Machine, offers solutions that enhance the efficiency, quality, and profitability of spice production. As a leader among spices processing machinery manufacturers, Sifter International continues to set the standard for innovation and excellence, helping spice manufacturers around the world meet the growing demand for high-quality spices.

[cuppajj]

Celestial Kingdom Energy Department notes on “The Sarcophagus” - written at behest of Her Unconquerable Celestial Cheese Cookie and approved by Lead Supervisor Goggles Cheesebird

The energy cell is, as designed, a containment device built-to-request for the spoil - identified as client [READ: Unknown Origin - under review by Chronicler] retrieved by the Queen. Its purpose is to serve as a primary energy distribution and conservation chamber for the continued efforts of Kingdom Restoration and Revitalization, linked to [citation needed] sectors AA, AB and AC of the kingdom’s grid. The energy cell is comprised of an outer shell to which the External Links from the processing facility are connected, as well as the machinations for diagnostics and wellness. The front hatch folds back to reveal the inner chamber where the spoil is housed.

The Soul Jam identical to Her Radiance is stored in the inner chamber. Subject (ID:) “Burning Spice Cookie”, currently in possession of the artifact, is subdued and preserved along with it. Ample care is required to uphold the stability of the contents of The Sarcophagus, therefore, as the Soul Jam’s unintelligible power must be siphoned and processed evenly to ensure equal energy distribution. As the host of the outlier Soul Jam has access to this power, procedures have been established to keep it in a state of stability. Currently the subject is in continuous stasis, with wellness diagnostics run once per day to monitor its function. Motion and sound are absent. Subject is in good health [visible aberration has been ruled correlative to procedure] and remains cooperative. (ADDENDUM: recent conscience tests uncovered a change in behavior: while the body is dormant, the mind fluctuates between varying degrees of awareness. Further research by Her Radiance is being conducted.) When running diagnostics, the inner chamber is exposed and lowered to a more accessible position. At all other times the inner chamber is concealed by the external shell.

Additional Notes:

Her Unconquerable has separated research on “Burning Spice Cookie” from the Soul Jam itself. For future reference, matters of the Soul Jam are under jurisdiction of the Energy Department, while anything regarding its host is reserved for the Queen herself. Wellness diagnostics are to ensure the Soul Jam remains in a stable medium. Additionally, information regarding the acquisition of the Soul Jam and its medium are to be kept classified. [Please remain aware of the aforementioned visible aberration (needs citation) present on the subject’s right arm; its magic does not seem to respond to the energy cell’s mechanics. Research will be conducted if requested.]

Please alert Her Radiance of any changes in the subject’s behavior. Ignore deviations when she is present. Soul Jam research will be forwarded to her as well. Once the medium is no longer deemed valuable, please separate it from the Soul Jam. [Estimated time until then is uncertain - retain this information regardless.]

Consult Maintenance if distribution affects the servers.

Written and signed: Energy Department Review Team

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Bf!Skz reaction to you randomly spanking them

pairing: ot8 x gn!reader

genre: fluff, suggestive

warnings: none i think? (lmk)

a/n: just a little something while i decide what to write next bcs i have too many ideas🥲

~ check out: Masterlist

Chan:

You're at your boyfriend's studio, and as much as you admire his process of writing and producing songs, you're becoming bored.

It looks like he completely forgot about your presence as he works away while you sit on the couch, playing with your phone.

You huff but Chan doesn't even budge and at this point you're sure he's teasing you on purpose.

He stands up and leans over the table to grab something and you take that as your chance. You quickly stand up and slap his butt as hard as you can, hurting your hand in the process and making him jolt forwards as he grabs at the end of the table.

Chan turns around to look at you, a mix of surprise and slyness on his face, his cheeks dusted in pink.

"I sure hope you know what you just started, love."

Lee Know:

You and your boyfriend are in the kitchen, cooking dinner together. It feels like both of you have fallen into a trance, working together like you were a well oiled machine.

Some light music plays in the background as you cut some vegetables while Minho prepares the meat.

He turns his back to you slightly as he grabs some spices and you look up from your task, your eyes falling to his ass.

You smirk and lift your hand up before smacking his ass and watching it jiggle. The way he turned around slowly like a cat, his eyes judgy and a sly smirk on his lips.

"What are you doing kitten?"- he asks.

"Learning from the best."- you shrug nonchalantly.

"Hold that thought until after dinner."

Changbin:

It's a chilly autumn Friday night, but you're not cold at all.

In fact, you're sweating because your boyfriend suggested for the two of you to spend the evening in the gym.

You protested at first, but he was adamant on blending two of his favorite activities together in his rare free time; spending time with you and working out.

You slowly get into it and the physical exertion, the heat in your body plus your sexy boyfriend looking extra delicious while he works on his muscles bring a different kind of warmness between your legs.

Changbin moves around before bending over to pick up the bottle of water he left on the side and you can't help it, your hand flying on its own and smacking his ass so hard that you think your hand might fall off.

"Yah!"- he yells out, clearly startled as he grabs at his ass. "What's that for?"

"You're so hot, Binnie. I couldn't resist."- you bat your eyelashes innocently at him as he narrows his eyes and smirks.

His face is flushed from the work out but you swear it looks even more red now.

"Yeah? Wanna go home and show me how much you can't resist me?"

Hyunjin:

Hyunjin and you decided to avoid the summer heat by going to the pool.

Sadly, the sea was too far away and you didn't have much free time to actually make a trip there, so the pool had to suffice.

Both of you didn't mind though, you were happy to splash around and play in the water together, enjoy your time like you had no worries on your mind.

You stayed in the pool for a fairly long time and Hyunjin swam towards the steps first. You followed him and watched as he stood up and walked out of the water, his body on display for you, his muscles tense as droplets of water slid down his spine.

His cute little perky ass got your attention and you hurried up as he turned and waited for you.

"Let's get changed."- you ushered him to the showers and he chuckled at your sudden eagerness to leave.

As soon as you were as far away from other people as you could be, your hand collided with his ass, echoing in the empty hall.

Hyunjin yelped, doubling down dramatically and almost falling to his knees.

Even your hand burned because of the impact on his wet swim trunks.

"Why would you hurt me like that?!"- he whined, grabbing at the wall and making a show of it.

"You've taken worse."- you smirk at his antics and he chuckled, his cheeks red.

"Don't talk about that in public."- he smacked your arm lightly and you laughed.

"Well let's find a more private place where we can talk."

Jisung:

The two of you are walking home from a movie date, your hands swinging together as you discuss the film you just watched.

The evening is quiet and peaceful and you can't wait to come home, shower and get under the covers with your sweet boyfriend.

Jisung takes his phone out of his pocket to show you something but since he never wants to let go of your hand, the phone clatters as it hits the floor.

"Shit!"- he exclaims, letting go of your hand and bending down to pick up the device.

Your eyes fall on his cute ass instantly, looking extra cute in his tight black jeans. You smirk as you land a hard smack against his flesh, making him shriek and almost fall over.

"Damn. Do that again."

Felix:

It's your first time sleeping over at Felix's place and since both of you love baking, you decided to try out a new recipe.

The problem was, you needed to run to the store to get some ingredients.

"I'm sorry, I should've prepared these beforehand."- Felix pouts cutely at you and you chuckle.

"Bubs, it's okay, I don't mind taking a little walk to the store. It'll be like a little adventure."- you smile and he chuckles, his cheeks dusted pink.

"Alright, that sounds way more fun now."- he nods.

The two of you make a short 10 minute trip to the nearest store. As you walk through the aisles, in the bright fluorescent light you notice just how tight your boyfriend's pants are, his ass and thighs prominent in them.

He even dares to bend down to pick up an ingredient from a lower shelf.

Your mouth waters at the sight and without thinking you smack his ass, ending it with a nice handful of his flesh as he squeals and lifts up quickly.

"Hey!"- he whips around so fast, his face morphed into a look of surprise before it becomes a little smirk, his eyes glinting at you.

You giggle at him as he points his finger at you.

"Just you wait 'til we come back home, honey."

Seungmin:

You're backstage with your boyfriend before his next show.

He's been looking extra delicious lately, his arms on display and the leather pants hugging his figure perfectly.

He's getting ready for the performance and when he turns his back to you, your eyes rake all over him. You look around, noticing that everyone's going about their business so you decide why not just spank him once?

Just one tiny little smack, you think as you lift up your arm.

"What are you doing?"- Seungmin asks and you groan.

"How did you see me? You back is turned!"

"The shadow, silly. Are you trying to smack my ass?"- he turns to look at you with a smirk.

"No."- you say.

"No? It's okay, you can do it."- he turns his back to you again and just as you lift your hand up again, he slides away from you, snickering and running away.

"Hey get back here!"- you run after him as you both giggle.

"Catch me if you can!"- he screams back and both of you get too excited before the staff has to calm you down.

And ofcourse, you use that chance to smack him lightly.

"Happy now?"- he rolls his eyes playfully.

"Ofcourse."- you smirk.

"Mhm. I might just have to return the favor later."

Jeongin:

"Innie, I'm bored."- you huff, moving your arms and legs like you're making a snow angel on your boyfriend's bed.

"What?"- he looks up from his spot, his eyes were glued to his phone.

"I said I'm bored."- you pout.

"Didn't you tell me to be quiet so you can read your book?"- he smirks.

"I can't concentrate anymore. The letters are all becoming screwy."- you keep pouting at him.

"Alright, what can I do to make it better?"

"Entertain me?"- you try to look sweet and innocent and he laughs at your attempt.

"However shall I do that?"- he leans closer to you.

"Give me a fashion show!"

"A what now?"- Jeongin laughs again, caressing your side.

"You bought new outfits. I wanna see them."- you sit up.

"Fine, if you insist."- he rolls his eyes jokingly and gets up. You reach for him and smack his cute butt, making him jolt.

"I hope I'm getting paid well for this fashion show."- he jokes.

"Oh, you are, trust me."

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny

[seoulzie]

ditched and delirious

SYNOPSIS: deserted by your friends in the chilling haunted house, you bump into yeonjun, another soul stranded in the same spooky predicament.

彡 pairing: stranger!yeonjun x reader 彡 genre: crack, fluff 彡 warnings: jumpscares & a lil romantic tension ;)

SEUL SPEAKS! this is based on something that actually happened to me except i never got my candied apples so im turning my trauma into purpose !!

halloween had always been a magical time for you. ever since you were a child, the arrival of october brought an unparalleled sense of excitement and anticipation. the crisp autumn air, filled with the scent of fallen leaves and pumpkin spice, made everything feel more vibrant and alive. you loved how the world transformed, embracing the whimsical and the spooky with equal enthusiasm.

each year, you meticulously planned your halloween costume, often starting weeks in advance. you enjoyed every step of the process, from brainstorming ideas to putting the finishing touches on your outfit. the creativity and imagination that halloween inspired were unmatched by any other holiday. the colorful costumes, from classic witches and vampires to more unique and creative characters, always fascinated you. walking down the streets and seeing the array of costumes made you feel like you were part of a grand, fantastical story.

this year was no different. you had been looking forward to halloween for months, and your friends had been buzzing with excitement about the new amusement park that had recently opened in town. the park promised an unforgettable experience with its elaborate halloween decorations, spooky attractions, and, most notably, the scariest haunted house in the area. despite your initial reservations about haunted houses, your friends' infectious enthusiasm was hard to resist.

the amusement park was a sight to behold. as you and your friends entered, you were greeted by towering scarecrows, giant inflatable pumpkins, and cobwebs that seemed to stretch endlessly. the air was filled with the sound of eerie music and the occasional scream from one of the haunted attractions. everywhere you looked, there were people dressed in costumes, their faces lit up with excitement and anticipation.

your group had arrived early in the afternoon to make the most of the day. you rode roller coasters that twisted and turned, leaving your heart racing and your adrenaline pumping. the feeling of the wind in your hair and the weightless drops made you scream and laugh in equal measure. between the rides, you indulged in the array of carnival food. you couldn't resist the smell of freshly made funnel cakes, and you and your friends shared cotton candy and funnel cakes, making sure to sample a little bit of everything.

the games were another highlight of the day. you tried your hand at the ring toss, aimed for the highest score at the shooting gallery, and even managed to win a small stuffed ghost at the balloon dart game. each victory, no matter how small, was celebrated with cheers and high fives. the carefree fun of the amusement park made you forget your initial hesitations about the haunted house.

as the sun began to set, the park transformed. the cheerful, bright atmosphere of the day gave way to a more mysterious and eerie vibe. strings of orange and purple lights illuminated the pathways, casting a haunting glow. fog machines created an otherworldly mist that floated around your feet, and the sound of distant, ghostly laughter echoed through the air.

the anticipation for the haunted house grew with each passing hour. your friends couldn't stop talking about it, sharing stories of previous haunted house experiences and speculating about what horrors awaited inside. they showed you pictures from the amusement park's website, showcasing the elaborate and terrifying decorations that awaited you. 

by the time you made your way to the entrance of the haunted house, the sky was dark, and the moon hung high, casting a pale light over the park. the haunted house stood before you, a massive, decrepit mansion with eerie lights flickering in the windows and fog rolling down the steps. the intricate decorations were both impressive and terrifying, creating an atmosphere that sent a shiver down your spine.

"are we really doing this?" you asked, trying to sound braver than you felt.

"come on, it'll be fun!" one of your friends said, giving you a reassuring nudge. you noticed the mischievous glint in their eyes but brushed it off, thinking they were just excited. they had been talking about this haunted house for weeks, hyping it up with stories of how terrifying and thrilling it was supposed to be. you tried to feed off their enthusiasm, but the knot of anxiety in your stomach only tightened.

as you took a tentative step forward, the creaking of the gate made you jump. your friends laughed, their faces lit up with excitement and anticipation. you forced a smile, hoping to mirror their bravery, but inside, you were already regretting your decision. the ticket taker at the entrance, dressed in tattered victorian clothing and sporting a disturbingly realistic ghostly pallor, handed you your tickets with a sinister grin.

"enjoy your stay," he said in a low, gravelly voice that sent chills down your spine.

with a deep breath, you stepped inside. the moment you crossed the threshold, the temperature seemed to drop, and the atmosphere became even more oppressive. the sound of creaking doors and distant screams filled the air, creating an unsettling symphony of terror. dim, flickering lights barely illuminated the narrow, winding corridors, casting long, eerie shadows that danced on the walls.

you clung to your friends, trying to steady your nerves. every corner seemed to hold a new horror, from ghastly apparitions that materialized out of thin air to grotesque figures that lunged at you from hidden alcoves. the haunted house was a labyrinth of terror, with each turn bringing fresh waves of fear. the animatronics were disturbingly lifelike, their movements jerky and unnatural, their eyes following you with a malevolent gleam.

as you navigated through the dark, narrow hallways filled with jump scares and creepy animatronics, you realized something alarming: your friends were nowhere to be found. panic set in as you spun around, calling out their names, but the only response was the echo of your voice and the occasional sinister laugh from the haunted house's speakers. your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt the walls closing in. alone in the haunted house, every shadow seemed to move, and every sound made you jump.

the narrow hallway you found yourself in was lined with portraits whose eyes seemed to follow your every move. the floorboards creaked ominously underfoot, and the walls seemed to close in with each step you took. you turned a corner and found yourself face-to-face with a mirror. in the dim light, your reflection appeared ghostly and distorted. a flicker of movement behind you made you whirl around, but there was nothing there.

"guys? this isn't funny!" you called out, your voice echoing back at you. a cold sweat trickled down your back as the realization set in that your friends had deliberately left you alone as part of a prank. the mischievous glint in their eyes earlier suddenly made sense, and you felt a mix of fear and anger. you were stuck in a nightmare, and your friends were nowhere to be found.

you tried to retrace your steps, but the layout of the haunted house was disorienting. every hallway looked the same, and the constant barrage of scares kept you on edge. a mechanical zombie lunged out of the darkness, its eyes glowing a sickly green. you stumbled back, your heart racing, and took a wrong turn into a room filled with fog.

the fog was thick, swirling around your ankles and making it difficult to see more than a few feet ahead. the room was eerily quiet, the only sound the soft whisper of the fog machine. you moved cautiously, every sense on high alert. the fog seemed to part just enough to reveal a path, and you followed it, hoping it would lead you to an exit or at least a familiar part of the house.

as you navigated through the fog-filled room, you felt a growing sense of unease. shadows moved at the edge of your vision, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched. you heard a faint, rhythmic tapping, like fingernails on glass, and your nerves frayed further. you moved faster, desperate to find your way out of this nightmare.

suddenly, you bumped into someone, and you screamed. the impact sent you stumbling back, and you barely managed to catch yourself before falling. your heart raced as you spun around to face whoever you had collided with.

standing there, looking just as startled as you felt, was a tall, handsome guy with dark hair and wide, frightened eyes. despite the spooky atmosphere, his presence was more comforting than anything else in the haunted house. 

"oh my god, i'm so sorry!" you exclaimed, your voice trembling. "i didn't see you there."

"it's okay," he replied, his voice just as shaky. "i wasn't expecting to run into anyone either."

you both stood there for a moment, catching your breath. the dim light and swirling fog made it difficult to see clearly, but you could tell that he was just as scared as you were.

"i'm y/n," you said, trying to break the tension. "are you here alone too?"

"yeah, my friends thought it would be funny to ditch me," he replied with a nervous laugh. "i'm yeonjun, by the way."

"nice to meet you, yeonjun," you said, managing a small smile. "i guess we're both in the same boat then."

yeonjun nodded, his expression softening. "it seems that way. how about we stick together? it might be less terrifying if we're not alone."

you agreed, feeling a bit of the tension ease. having someone with you, even a stranger, made the haunted house seem a little less menacing. as you started to move through the fog-filled room together, you felt a sense of camaraderie forming.

"have you been through one of these before?" yeonjun asked, his voice breaking the silence.

"not one this intense," you admitted. "i've always liked halloween, but haunted houses have never been my thing. what about you?"

"same here," yeonjun said. "i usually avoid them, but my friends convinced me this time. i didn't think they'd actually leave me here alone."

"me neither," you said, shaking your head. "i thought it was just going to be a fun night out."

you both laughed, the sound a welcome relief from the constant tension of the haunted house. as you continued to talk, you felt yourself relaxing a bit more. yeonjun's presence was comforting, and the conversation helped to distract you from the scares lurking around every corner.

just as you started to feel a bit more at ease, a loud bang echoed through the room, followed by a figure lunging out of the darkness. you screamed and instinctively threw yourself at yeonjun. he yelped in surprise, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

for a moment, you both stood there, clinging to each other, hearts racing. then you realized that the figure was just another animatronic, and you couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"you scared me more than that clown!" yeonjun said, trying to catch his breath.

"i could say the same about you!" you replied, still giggling.

the shared scare broke the ice completely. as you continued, you noticed that yeonjun, despite his initial fear, was trying his best to be brave for you. his attempts at bravery were endearing, and you felt a growing fondness for him.

the haunted house continued to challenge your nerves with more intense scares and intricate scenes. at one point, you found yourselves in a room filled with eerie whispers and dim candlelight. yeonjun took your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"just a little longer," he said softly.

as you cautiously moved forward, the floor suddenly erupted with the sound of firecrackers being stepped on. startled, both of you began jumping around in panic, but each step only caused more firecrackers to go off. the room echoed with the cracking sounds, creating a chaotic symphony that made it hard to think straight.

"fuck!" you screamed, trying to find a safe spot to stand, but the relentless popping continued.

"watch out!" yeonjun shouted, but it was too late. both of you stumbled over your feet, finally collapsing onto the ground and catching your breath. lying there, you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation's absurdity, the initial fear giving way to a sense of shared relief.

the next room plunged you into suffocating darkness. a sound, like nails scraping bone, skittered across the floor. yeonjun's grip on your hand tightened, his fingers digging into your palm. you shuffled forward, your fear a distant echo compared to the cold dread radiating off him.

suddenly, a figure lunged at you from the shadows, and you both screamed in unison, clutching onto each other in a moment of pure terror.

yeonjun's reaction was immediate and instinctive. without thinking, he pulled you in front of him, using you as a shield against the approaching figure. his heart pounded wildly against your back as he pressed you protectively against himself, his whole body trembling with fear.

you could feel his ragged breath against your neck, and it matched the frantic rhythm of your own heartbeat. the figure hesitated, realizing the scare had backfired, and retreated into the darkness, leaving behind an eerie silence.

for a moment, you both stood frozen, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. then, with shaky breaths, you turned to face each other in the dim light filtering through the fog.

"sorry," yeonjun muttered, his voice barely audible. "i... i panicked."

"it's okay," you assured him softly, turning to face him with a comforting smile despite the lingering fear.

you took a few deep breaths to steady your nerves before cautiously continuing through the haunted house.

"you know," yeonjun said, trying to lighten the mood, "if we survive this, we should definitely get some candied apples together."

"i'd like that," you replied, smiling despite the lingering fear.

as you walked out of the haunted house hand in hand, relieved to be out of the terrifying atmosphere, you noticed your friends waiting eagerly outside. their faces lit up with anticipation, ready to catch your reaction to the scare fest they had orchestrated.

instead, their expressions turned from anticipation to utter bafflement as they watched you and yeonjun approach, hands intertwined. you could practically see the question marks forming over their heads as they exchanged confused glances.

"hey, guys," you greeted them casually, trying to ignore their bewildered stares. "meet yeonjun. we... uh, ran into each other inside."

yeonjun smiled warmly at your friends, his hand still firmly clasped in yours. "nice to meet you all."

your friends managed awkward hellos in response, still processing the unexpected turn of events. they had planned to prank you, not witness you leaving the haunted house hand in hand with a guy you had just met inside.

"we were just about to head over to the carnival games," one of your friends finally managed to say, trying to break the awkward silence. they shot you a playful grin, eyebrows raised suggestively.

"yeah, come join us," another friend chimed in hastily, shooting you a curious glance. "or are you two planning to haunt the rest of the park together?"

you chuckled nervously, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. glancing at yeonjun, you couldn't help but ask, "what about your friends?"

yeonjun shrugged nonchalantly, a mischievous glint in his eye. "man, forget them," he replied with a grin. "they ditched me back there in that house."

your friends exchanged surprised glances, not expecting such a blunt response. "looks like you're stuck with her now!" one of them teased with a laugh.

"we'll be by the carousel if you need us," another friend chimed in playfully, "just one call away!"

as your friends started walking away, you and yeonjun started walking toward the direction of the candied apples stand, and you heard your friends' laughter trailing behind you.

"so, about those apples?" yeonjun nudged you gently, a playful glint in his eyes.

you chuckled, feeling a surge of excitement at the thought of spending more time with him. "lead the way."

with each step, hand in hand, you and yeonjun continued down the path illuminated by twinkling halloween lights, anticipating a cozy and memorable end to your adventurous night.

⋆˚࿔ taglist! @flowzel , @izzyy-stuff , @inkigayocamman , @beombeomlovesme ⤷ want to get notified? click here!

© 2024 seoulzie

[everettswritings]

hey can you do a Smoke-cheese cookie and Golden-cheese cookie tickle fic? please Lee Smoked and Ler Golden? more cheese please

Of course! They’re so silly anyways, I don’t have the heart to say no. Especially since I want to tickle Smoked Cheese so bad. (Kink/NSFW accounts DNI!)

When the dust settled from the Radiant Queen’s epic battle against the beast known as Burning Spice Cookie, there was little time to waste! The moment that things were all calm once more, it was straight to work for both Golden Cheese Cookie and Smoked Cheese Cookie. Back in the vast desert, in the cavern where the golden sovereign ran the simulation for her kingdom after it was destroyed, the two where making themselves busy with the task of restoring the soulcheeses into the cookies they once belonged to. The process would be a little lengthy to get everything just right, but it would be worth it when the kingdom would be returned to it’s former glory!

Smoked Cheese Cookie was watching the little graph on one of the machines, his eyes squinting to analyze every little dip and spike. Golden Cheese Cookie was leaning against one of the cave walls and reading some of the charts that had printed out, her eyes were growing tired and she was starting to feel a little bored; they were already on course, so a break wouldn’t hurt, right? She looked at her general, he seemed so focus… so ripe for a surprise attack! She grinned to herself as she tiptoed up behind him, taking advantage of how absorbed he was in his task.

Eek!

Smoked Cheese Cookie squeaked with surprise and started laughing as he felt Her Majesty’s fingertips tracing over his ribs roughly. Now, of all times? Seriously?

“My Quehehehehen! Hahahaha!” He was trying so hard to fight it off, but it was a Sisyphus task, he would be laughing uncontrollably in mere seconds. “Y-You’re such a- hahahaha- chihihild! Hahaha!” The general finally got out, immediately succumbing to his own laughter as Golden Cheese Cookie grinned smugly “Not my fault you aren’t wearing a shirt!”. She always said that whenever she did this. As if him wearing a shirt would stop her!

She moved up to Smoked Cheese Cookie’s armpits, scribbling around without any real sense of rhythm or direction. He started laughing harder and instinctively shut his arms down, foolishly trapping wiggling fingers right against his dough. “Hahahahaha! Hahahaha! No, no, quit! HA- hahahaha!” Right as he said that, she doubled down and started tickling him even harder, causing him to stumble around and the both of them to come crashing down on the sandy floor beneath them. Golden Cheese Cookie immediately seized the opportunity, pinning her general beneath her and moving over to his tummy. She started pinching and tracing around his abs, causing him to let out a very out-of-character squeal and some more high pitched laughs “STAHP! HAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHA!” He demanded, but really he was in no position to be making demands right now.

Finally, somehow finding some strength, Smoked Cheese Cookie pulled himself away and put his hands up in defense. “Enough! No more, or else!” He threatened weakly, while Golden Cheese Cookie was getting closer and backing him into one of the walls, “Or else? That’s tough talk for someone with such a…” She paused, then leaped and started tickling his neck, “ticklish neck!”. On reflex, Smoked Cheese Cookie started scrunching up his neck and tossing his head around in all kinds of directions, laughing even harder than before. The neck! Always the neck! The sounds of the general’s laughter were bouncing off the wall, making him seem even louder than he actually was. The Queen was reveling in the noise with delight, a goofy smile was plastered on her face as she tickled him relentlessly.

Ding!

Oh, what do you know? The process is complete! Golden Cheese Cookie finally let go, allowing for Smoked Cheese Cookie to catch his breath. The poor bird’s face was red all over and his chest was heaving like he was just suffocated! “Oho, that face always entertains!” Her Radiance teased “I’m sure Mozzarella Cookie will be pleased to hear that you’re still so ticklish. It’ll be just like old times, eh?” She patted his head and stood up to tend to the machinery and bring Mozzarella Cookie back officially, leaving Smoked Cheese Cookie resting up against the wall and embarrassed out of his mind.

Yeah, old times, that was for sure. But still, he felt a little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

End of fic! AHH! I LOVED WRITING THIS! Please, DevSis, add some kind of update that lets me tickle the cookies! I’m BEGGING! PLEASE! Anywho, yeah. Have a good one 🫶

[motherismotheringggg]

training session

summary: cooper koch is working at this small hollywood gym where all the actors go to bulk up for roles. the reader is usually calm and collected but she just can’t help herself…

type: black female reader x cooper koch

tags: voyeurism, dirty talk, f! mast*rbation, p! in v!

author’s note: anyway…let’s act like i wasn’t on the world’s longest hiatus, please enjoy gorgeous gals <3

taglist: @blackynsupremacy , @anemoiars , @emluvsuxo , @ilovecheetahchrome , @nicholaschavezslut69 , @niteskysx , @melaninjhs , @pawofassumption

The gym had a quiet kind of charm, tucked away in a less-frequented corner of Hollywood. It wasn’t one of those glossy, high-profile chains downtown—no pulsating music, no neon signs burning electric blue against the walls, no influencers adjusting their ring lights to get the perfect post-workout glow. The air smelled like rubber mats and faint traces of eucalyptus cleaner, mixed with the lingering salt of sweat from people who came here to work. The hum of treadmills and the rhythmic clang of weights hitting the racks filled the space, a steady, almost meditative backdrop.

Actors filtered through all the time, slipping in between roles, their bodies transforming from lean to sculpted with a quiet, obsessive discipline. You’d seen it happen too many times to be impressed anymore.

Almost.

The policy was clear: keep it professional. No staring, no fawning, and under no circumstances should you make anyone feel like they were being ogled. That part wasn’t usually hard. The job was simple—scan their memberships, wipe down the machines, smile just enough, and let the trainers handle the rest.

But then Cooper Koch walked in.

It was a slow afternoon, the kind where the golden Los Angeles sun slanted through the gym’s tall front windows, pouring in thick ribbons of light that stretched long across the rubber flooring. Dust particles floated lazily in the glow, catching in the air like tiny flecks of gold. The AC hummed softly overhead, a cool contrast to the heat pressing in from the outside. You were leaning against the front desk, absently scrolling through your phone, the faint scent of protein powder and citrus disinfectant in the air, when the door swung open.

A rush of warm air rolled in, carrying the sunbaked scent of asphalt and a faint trace of cologne—something clean, woodsy, with just the barest hint of spice beneath it. And then, him.

At first, you didn’t recognize him. His face was familiar in the way that actors’ faces often were—something half-remembered, a billboard passed in traffic, a scene from a trailer glimpsed before skipping to a YouTube video. But then your brain started piecing it together, matching the sharp cut of his jawline to the striking warmth of his hazel eyes, the ones that flicked around the room with an easy, assessing confidence. His brown curls were tousled just so, like he hadn’t tried at all but still managed to look effortlessly put together.

He was dressed simply—black fitted tee hugging the hard lines of his chest, sleeves clinging just enough to the muscle in his arms, and a pair of gray joggers that sat low on his hips, hinting at the sculpted dip of his lower abs. The fabric stretched over strong thighs, emphasizing the toned muscle beneath, and when he shifted, the material clung for just a second too long before smoothing out again. A duffel bag hung from one broad shoulder, the strap pressing into the firm curve of his bicep.

And then his gaze landed on you.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and smooth, edged with an almost hesitant curiosity, like he was still feeling out the space. There was a depth to it, the kind of voice that made you lean in without realizing, like it carried something just beneath the surface waiting to be unraveled.

For a beat too long, you just stared. Your brain stuttered, caught in some kind of lag, trying to process the full effect of him. You’d seen plenty of attractive people come and go, but there was something different about him—something effortless in the way he carried himself, like he belonged anywhere he stepped into, without even trying. The air around him seemed to shift, like he took up more space than just his body, like his presence settled into the room itself.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you might forget the rules.

“Uh…” You blinked, the heat creeping up your neck like a slow burn, your brain scrambling to catch up. “You’re here for Kurt, right? He’s, um, over there—by the free weights.”

Cooper’s lips curved into a faint smile, a subtle pull at the corner of his mouth—just enough to make your stomach tighten. There was something almost knowing about it, like he could sense the way your pulse had kicked up a notch.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice smooth, easy.

Then he turned, striding toward the weights with a quiet confidence, his movements deliberate but unhurried. The kind of walk that wasn’t for show but still managed to draw attention without trying.

You watched, despite yourself. Couldn’t help it. The way he carried himself was fluid, each step measured and certain, a quiet kind of control in every motion. When he reached his trainer, the two exchanged a firm handshake, already deep in discussion about the day’s routine. But just as Cooper rolled his shoulders back, stretching out the tension, you swore—just for a second—that his head tilted ever so slightly. Like he knew you were still watching.

Then the moment was gone.

You tore your gaze away, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Focus. Mop the floor, wipe down the machines—do anything but let your eyes wander.

But it was impossible not to steal glances.

Every movement he made commanded attention. The way his biceps flexed with each curl, the veins in his forearms shifting like currents beneath his skin. The slow, controlled rise and fall of his chest as he powered through a heavy set, the fabric of his shirt stretching, clinging, then easing as he exhaled.

Sweat gathered at his hairline, darkening the loose curls, glistening against his temple before tracing a slow path down the sharp cut of his jaw. It clung to his skin, catching in the hollow of his throat, then dipping lower, disappearing beneath the neckline of his shirt.

And then there were the sounds.

Low, guttural grunts that rolled from his throat, raw and unfiltered. Each one punched out between sets, a sharp exhale through his nose, lips parting just slightly as he fought against the weight. The faint creak of the bench beneath him, the dull thud of metal meeting rubber as the weights hit the floor—it was all too easy to zero in on. Too easy to feel every strained breath like a pulse in the air.

And you? You were supposed to be working.

It wasn’t just a workout. It was something deeper—intensity distilled into movement, raw and unrelenting. There was nothing casual about it, nothing performative. Just effort, grit, the steady push of muscle against resistance, the kind of focus that stripped everything down to instinct. And yet, there was something almost mesmerizing in the way he moved—each motion precise, every ounce of exertion controlled but never forced. It was power, honed and harnessed, and it made your pulse trip over itself in a way you couldn’t quite suppress.

By the time he wrapped up, your nerves were shot, your thoughts tangled in a mess you refused to examine too closely. He grabbed his duffel bag, slinging it over one shoulder in a single fluid motion, muscles still taut from exertion. As he made his way to the door, he tossed a casual, “Thank you. Have a good day,” over his shoulder.

Simple. Just politeness.

But his voice carried—low, smooth, the kind of effortless rasp that settled deep in your chest. The words lingered in the air longer than they should have, curling around your senses like an aftershock, leaving your stomach tight, fluttering.

You watched as he stepped outside, broad shoulders disappearing into the golden haze of the setting sun, and without meaning to, you found yourself hoping—praying—you’d see him again.

———

Now, a month later, Cooper had become a fixture of your routine, slipping into the gym four days a week like clockwork. You had tried, at first, to play it cool—kept your eyes down, your glances brief, your thoughts neatly tucked away. But the more you watched him, the harder it became to look away.

There was something utterly hypnotic about the way he moved—each lift, each press, each controlled exhale brimming with a raw, almost primal energy. His grunts had deepened over time, rougher now, reverberating through the quiet gym, a steady cadence of exertion and resolve. The weight he pushed had grown heavier, the strain in his body more pronounced—the way his arms trembled at the peak of a press before locking out, the sharp inhale through his teeth when he edged past his limit.

It was a sight that demanded attention. And despite your best efforts, you gave it to him.

His sweat-slicked skin gleamed beneath the harsh glow of the overhead lights, every bead carving a slow, deliberate path down the sharp lines of his face. One started at his temple, sliding past the damp strands of golden-brown hair clinging to his forehead before skimming the ridge of his cheekbone. It lingered for half a second along the cut of his jaw, catching the light just so, before finally slipping beneath the collar of his shirt—disappearing into the heat of his body.

And that damn shirt.

The fabric was no longer just a barrier but a second skin, damp and stretched taut over broad shoulders and a defined chest, outlining every sculpted ridge, every hard plane. It clung to him in a way that felt almost obscene, the darkened material emphasizing the flex and shift of muscle beneath. His collar had loosened slightly, exposing a hint of his collarbone, a glimpse of the sweat-slicked skin just beneath it, making it painfully easy to imagine how warm he must be.

But it wasn’t just his body that had you hooked.

It was the way he carried himself—effortless, unshaken, a quiet kind of control that never needed to ask for attention because it already belonged to him. There was no arrogance in the way he moved, no exaggerated displays, no cocky smirks or knowing glances. He didn’t need them. Some people simply existed in a way that made it impossible to look away, and Cooper was one of them.

And worst of all—he knew it.

Not in a way that made him insufferable, but in the way that mattered. In the way he knew exactly how his presence filled a space, how effortlessly he commanded a room. In the way his gaze flickered toward you—not enough to be obvious, but just enough to make your stomach tighten, to make heat crawl up the back of your neck. He was aware of your attention, could likely feel it from across the gym, and yet he never called you out on it. Never made a show of it.

He simply let it happen.

Let you watch. Let your pulse stutter every time he passed. Let you pretend you weren’t tracking the slow, deliberate movement of his body.

And tonight—tonight was the worst it had ever been.

Cooper moved through his workout with the same sharp precision, every motion fluid yet brimming with something raw beneath the surface. His focus never wavered, but you could see it—the tension coiling in his frame, the controlled burn in every press, every curl.

And God, the way he looked.

His shirt had become utterly unforgiving now, clinging to every inch of his chest and stomach, the fabric dark with sweat. His arms flexed with every controlled lift, veins standing out against golden skin, muscles tensing, hardening, as he pushed through the strain. His jaw clenched, a tendon twitching beneath his skin as he exhaled sharply through his nose.

And then there were the sounds again.

Low, guttural grunts that rolled from deep in his throat, each one laced with raw exertion. The sharp inhale through his teeth when he pushed himself to his limit. The ragged breaths that followed, heavy and uneven, the rise and fall of his chest quick but steady. Every movement came with its own soundtrack—the faint creak of the bench beneath his weight, the dull thud of iron meeting rubber flooring, the quiet, almost imperceptible exhale that ghosted past his parted lips.

It was torture.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt, gripping tight, forcing yourself to focus—on anything but him, on anything but the way your entire body reacted to every flex, every grunt, every subtle, maddening shift.

And yet, despite everything—despite the heat creeping up your spine, despite the pulse hammering in your throat—you couldn’t look away.

———

You never planned on working out at the gym where you worked. Even though it was free, you figured you already spent enough time there—every shift stretching long, the steady whir of machines and the sharp clang of metal plates filling the space like background noise. The scent of metal, rubber, and sweat had become so familiar that you barely noticed it anymore. The overhead fluorescents buzzed dully, casting a harsh, sterile glow over the rows of equipment, the squat racks, the mirrored walls reflecting exertion and effort.

But ever since Cooper started coming in, you couldn’t help yourself. You needed to see him again. You told yourself it was just curiosity at first. A passing distraction.

It wasn’t. It wasn’t like you planned on talking to him. Just… watching.

So you showed up on your day off, slipping in like any other member, scanning your key fob at the front desk with a quick nod to whoever was working. Your heart beat a little faster, your fingers flexing at your sides as you moved past the front area, past the vending machines and the racks of protein bars, until you spotted him.

Cooper was already there.

He was deep in his workout, moving through his routine with the same effortless intensity that had made it impossible to ignore him in the first place. His brows were drawn together in focus, mouth slightly parted as he exhaled through each rep. His arms flexed under the weight of the barbell, the veins in his forearms standing out, a roadmap of strength beneath golden, sweat-slicked skin.

He had no idea you were there.

Or so you thought.

You lingered on the outer edges of the gym, pretending to adjust the settings on a treadmill, but your eyes kept drifting back to him. He was a force in motion, muscles contracting and stretching in a hypnotic rhythm. The fabric of his shirt clung to his chest, darkened with sweat in places, making it all too easy to trace the contours of his body.

Your headphones were in, but the music was barely on. You needed to hear him.

The low, guttural grunts as he pushed himself past his limits. The quiet, controlled exhales when he racked his weights. The slight hitches in his breath when fatigue started to creep in. Each sound sent a pulse of heat down your spine, curling low in your stomach, twisting something tight and unrelenting inside you.

It was pathetic, how much it affected you. How your mind wandered, imagining the way your name might sound tangled in those noises, raw and broken on his tongue. The thought alone was enough to have your skin prickling with awareness.

So you stayed.

You worked harder, moved longer, stretching the limits of your own endurance—just to be near, just to let the tension coil inside you, thick and consuming, until you felt like you might snap.

By the time the evening slowed and the last of the gym members trickled out, you told your coworker at the desk you’d close up.

You needed time alone. To reset. To shake off the heat crawling under your skin. To get your head back on straight. Cooper had left. You had seen him grab his bag, push through the doors, and disappear into the night. But even with him gone, his presence lingered, thick in the air, pressing into you from all sides.

You locked the doors, flicked off most of the overhead lights, leaving only the dim glow from the locker room. A shower. That would help.It had to.

But it didn’t.

Hot water streamed down your back, steam curling around you, thick and suffocating. Your palms pressed against the cool tile, your forehead dropping forward, eyes squeezing shut as you willed yourself to breathe through the static in your brain.

But your mind betrayed you. It conjured him.

Cooper, sweat-slicked and straining, muscles coiled tight with effort. The way his shirt had stuck to his torso, outlining every hard, defined ridge. The way he exhaled, sharp and rough, the sound scraping against something primal inside you. The way his gaze had flicked toward you, unreadable but heavy, like he knew—like he had always known.

Your fingers curled against the tile, nails scraping slightly, your chest rising and falling too fast.

It wasn’t enough.

You turned, leaning back against the cold ceramic, the contrast against your overheated skin sending a shiver through you. Your towel sat on the bench nearby, forgotten. When you finally stepped out and wrapped it around yourself, the soft fabric brushed against just the right spot, and the sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through you, sharp and unexpected.

A quiet gasp slipped from your lips before you could stop it. You swallowed hard, sitting down on the bench, shifting slightly, letting the friction tease, letting the ache build.

The thought of him—of Cooper’s rough voice at your ear, of his hands gripping your waist, his body pressing into yours, solid and unyielding—had heat rolling through you like a slow, pulsing wave.

What would he do if he saw you like this?

And unbeknownst to you— He did.

Cooper had come back, thinking he’d left his keys. The gym was quiet, the dim glow of the locker room lighting casting long, muted shadows that stretched across the floor. He hesitated for a moment at the entrance, pausing to listen. He could hear the faint sound of movement from the back, a subtle rustling and the soft clink of something, but nothing more.

He didn’t want to startle you if you were still working out or had music blasting through your headphones. So, he moved quietly, his footsteps almost inaudible against the rubber floors. He crept toward the row of lockers, peeking through the gap just wide enough to catch a glimpse of you on the bench.

There you were, towel wrapped loosely around your body, your hair still damp, the soft fabric hugging your curves in a way that made it impossible for Cooper to look away. You shifted slightly, adjusting yourself on the bench, and that’s when he saw it—the way you moved, the towel riding up just enough for him to catch the curve of your legs. The motion was subtle but deliberate, your body grinding gently against the towel, a friction that made the fabric press tighter to your skin, emphasizing every shift of your hips.

Cooper’s heart raced in his chest, his breath catching as he watched, his gaze locked on you, unable to tear himself away. Every inch of him was drawn to you, to the way your body moved with such ease, to the way the soft, ambient lighting caught the gleam of sweat on your skin, making you look almost ethereal. His mind screamed for him to look away, to give you the privacy you deserved, but the pull was too strong.

It was impossible to ignore how you seemed to be unaware of his presence, how completely lost you were in your own world, grinding softly against the towel. Cooper knew he should leave, that he was crossing a line by watching you like this. But he couldn’t tear his eyes from the way you moved, the way your body seemed to dance without even trying.

He knew he shouldn’t be watching. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. But he couldn’t bring himself to turn around. The sight of you—so real and tangible, in such an intimate moment—was more than he could tear himself away from. His mind told him to go, that you deserved privacy, that it wasn’t right, but his body refused to listen. His gaze lingered on the gentle rise and fall of your chest, your skin glowing in the low light, and the way you shifted slightly, as if feeling something, unknowingly inviting his stare.

Then it happened.

You shifted again, and your voice broke the silence, so quiet yet sharp enough to make his pulse skip.

“Cooper…”

His name on your lips, soft and breathy, was like a shock to his system. He froze, his whole body tightening, a wave of heat rushing through him as the sound of your voice wrapped around him like a tether he couldn’t escape. He told himself he should walk away, that this was crossing a line, but the tension in the air had thickened, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment—however wrong—was something he couldn’t ignore.

But he stayed rooted in place, his breath shallow. It was like the world had narrowed to just the sound of your voice, just the way your body looked bathed in the soft light. He knew he should leave, that watching you like this, listening to you say his name, wasn’t something he could justify. But a part of him wanted to stay, wanted to see more, wanted to hear more.

You shifted again, and with a deep breath, Cooper forced himself to turn away, to walk out of the gym with quiet steps. His heart hammered in his chest, and as he left, he couldn’t help but feel the sting of that moment, the knowledge that he had witnessed something intimate and private and wanted to stay. But he knew it wasn’t his place. Not yet. Not like this. So, he walked away, forcing himself not to look back.

———

A week passed, but the heat of that night never really left you.

It was still there, lingering beneath your skin like an unspoken promise, simmering quietly as you tried to distract yourself from the memory. But it was no use. Every time you saw Cooper, you felt it—a slight tremor in your chest, a whisper of tension that ran through your entire body. It was something that neither of you addressed, but you both knew it was there.

Tonight felt no different. Another late shift, the kind where time dragged on and the air inside the gym grew thicker, pressing down on you with every passing minute. Cooper had come in alone, his trainer gone for the evening, leaving just the two of you in the massive, dimly lit space. The soft murmur of the evening news and game shows on the mounted TV created a subtle backdrop of noise, but it did little to cut through the stillness. The gym felt like a cavern, every sound echoing off the walls—the quiet clink of weights, the soft hum of the ceiling fans, the faintest thrum of music coming through the speakers.

Your playlist droned on in the background, filling in the gaps between the silence, but it couldn’t quiet the buzzing tension that had settled over the room.

The low, primal grunts as he powered through his sets on the bench press. Each breath he took, deep and strained, reverberated in the quiet gym like a drumbeat. The sound had become a constant in your mind, something you couldn’t shake. Every sharp exhale, every growl of effort, twisted something deep in your stomach. It was almost too much to handle.

You shifted in your seat, adjusting your position on the bench just slightly. Your hips rocked over the fabric of your leggings—not enough to be obvious, just enough to feel the friction. The ache inside you, the growing heat that you were doing your best to ignore, flared again. You weren’t touching yourself—not intentionally, at least—but the subtle movement, the slight pressure, was enough to send a pulse of warmth straight to your core.

It wasn’t obvious. You tried to tell yourself that.

But you didn’t realize how caught up in it you were—until Cooper’s voice broke through the haze.

“Hey.”

You froze. Your heart skipped, then stuttered to a halt. You blinked, desperately trying to pull yourself out of the daze. But it was too late—he was already standing there, looking at you.

His expression was cautious, hesitant—shy, even. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish. You could feel the heat rising in your face, your stomach flipping at the sudden attention.

“Sorry, you seemed like… elsewhere?” His words trailed off, unsure. Like he wasn’t entirely sure if he had the right to bring it up, but something had caught his attention.

Your face burned. Had you been that obvious? Had he noticed the way your thighs had clenched, the way you had rocked yourself just enough to take the edge off? The thought made you squirm in your seat, but you forced yourself to steady your breath.

“No,” you said, your voice betraying a hint of nervousness you didn’t want him to hear. “I—uh, what’s up?”

Cooper hesitated, glancing toward the bench press. “Would you mind spotting me?”

You blinked, trying to keep your composure. It was a reasonable request. His trainer had left, and he was working with heavy weights. Gym safety came first—he couldn’t lift alone, not at that weight. But the way he asked, the polite, apologetic tone, made your stomach tighten. His eyes met yours again, and there was something in them—something unreadable—that made your pulse skip.

You swallowed hard. “Yeah. Of course.” You nodded, standing quickly, trying to push the tension out of your body.

You followed him to the bench, each step careful and deliberate. You had to stay professional. Keep it together. But as you stood behind him, watching him adjust the bench to an upright position, your breath hitched. You had no control over how your body reacted to his presence—how your fingers twitched at your sides, desperate to feel the heat of his skin beneath your touch.

He was adjusting the weights now, reaching for two massive 50-pound dumbbells, the muscles in his arms and chest flexing as he did. Your gaze was involuntarily drawn to the way his body moved, the way the sweat clung to his skin, glistening under the overhead lights. The dim lighting threw his muscles into sharp relief, casting shadows over his thick biceps and the deep cuts of his forearms. His shirt clung to him as he breathed, every motion powerful, deliberate.

He exhaled, then grunted, each rep building in intensity. The sounds he made—low, guttural—vibrated in the space between you, rattling through you with every passing second. The air around you seemed to thicken, crackle, and you felt the pull of it, your body betraying you with every movement.

Then, he spoke.

“Can you—” His voice came out strained between reps. “Just… hands on my wrists?”

Your breath caught. You hadn’t expected it, hadn’t prepared for the closeness of it. Your fingers moved before you even processed the request, wrapping carefully around his wrists, your grip firm but gentle. His skin was hot beneath your touch, the muscles twitching as he continued to push through the set. Each breath he took was deep, labored, and you swore you could feel every exhale against your skin.

You didn’t realize how close you were—how your body had shifted, how you were standing there, right over him, until his final rep.

He dropped the dumbbells onto his thighs with a soft thud and exhaled sharply, his entire body going slack. He rolled his shoulders, releasing the tension as he looked up at you. His eyes met yours, piercing, direct—he wasn’t looking at the mirror anymore, wasn’t looking past you. He was looking right at you. And for a long moment, neither of you moved. The air between you crackled with something heavy, something that had been building for days, maybe even longer.

“Are you okay?” His voice was softer now, lower, and rougher than before. He was still catching his breath, but his gaze didn’t leave yours.

You froze, feeling the tension between you grow unbearable. Your hands had been hovering over his wrists, and you quickly pulled away, stepping back with a nervous laugh that didn’t quite land. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

His gaze lingered on you, unreadable, before he turned his attention to the weights.

You had to leave. Now.

“I should finish closing up,” you said quickly, your voice too high, your steps too rushed as you turned away.

You didn’t look back, but you could feel his eyes on you, burning into your back as you walked away, the heat between you still hanging in the air, thick and undeniable.

After locking up the gym, you didn’t leave. You couldn’t. Not yet. Your skin still buzzed from the lingering charge between you and Cooper, from the way he’d looked at you—like he finally saw you, like he finally felt what you’d been trying to ignore.

So you did the only thing you knew how to do: You worked yourself to exhaustion.

You started with sprints. The first few were easy—too easy. The adrenaline from earlier still surged in your veins, fueling your steps, but soon, the burn set in. Your thighs tightened, your breath grew ragged, and sweat slicked your back, dripping down the curve of your spine. You welcomed the discomfort, pushed harder, faster, until your lungs screamed and your legs shook.

You switched to weights next, gripping the barbell with trembling hands. Each lift was precise, controlled, your muscles protesting with each rep. Sweat pooled in the hollow of your throat, slid down the valley between your breasts. The gym was silent now, save for the rhythmic clank of metal and the sharp, guttural sounds of your breathing.

You wanted to drown in this—this pain, this strain, this moment where nothing existed but your body and its limits. You needed to burn him out of you, out of your head, out of your skin.

But no matter how hard you pushed, no matter how much sweat drenched your skin, he was still there.

His hands gripped the steering wheel too tightly, his knuckles white as he stared blankly at the road. He should be going home. Should be taking a shower, winding down, forgetting about you.

But he couldn’t.

You were still in his head—still on his fucking skin.

His jaw clenched as he exhaled sharply, his mind replaying the way you had touched him. How your fingers had wrapped around his wrists, firm but careful. How your breath had hitched when you realized just how close you were. He hadn’t even meant to watch you in the mirror at first. It had been accidental—a glance, a flicker of movement catching his eye.

But then he couldn’t stop.

He had watched the way your body leaned toward him, the way your lips parted just slightly when he exhaled. He had watched the subtle shiver that ran through you when his skin brushed yours.

And then—fuck.

He remembered earlier, in the locker room, before you had come out to the floor. He had been changing, had barely glanced up—until he heard you. The soft rustle of fabric, the hitch of your breath as you adjusted your shirt. He had caught a glimpse—just a glimpse—of your bare skin before you pulled your hoodie down.

It wasn’t enough.

It had never been enough.

His cock twitched against the seam of his sweats at the memory, his breath shuddering out as he ran a hand through his hair. He shouldn’t be thinking about this. Shouldn’t be feeling like this. But the image of you, sweaty and breathless, lingered.

His fingers flexed on the wheel. His chest rose and fell in deep, measured breaths.

He was halfway home.

And then—without thinking, without deciding—his hands turned the wheel.

The next thing he knew, he was making a U-turn. Heading straight back to the gym.

———

The gym was supposed to be empty.

You had locked the doors, turned off the lights, and taken a long, scalding shower to rinse off the sweat and exhaustion from your late-night workout. But even under the steady stream of hot water, your mind hadn’t stopped racing.

The moment hadn’t stopped replaying the way Cooper had looked at you. The way his eyes had burned into you, like he was seeing you for the first time and yet had always been looking.

So when you stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped snugly around you, your skin still damp and warm, you were already teetering on the edge. Your breath was uneven as you padded softly to your gym bag, fingers twitching, your body tense with something unspent. You knew exactly what you needed—what you wanted.

You shifted, sinking onto the bench, towel still clutched around you as you adjusted your position, your thighs tightening around the soft fabric beneath you. You exhaled, your mind already drifting to him, the ghost of his hands, the weight of his stare and then—

“Y/N.”

The distant voice sent a bolt of electricity straight through you.

You jolted upright, heart pounding so hard it nearly knocked the breath from your lungs. No one was supposed to be here. But more than that—

He said your name.

You barely had time to process that before he spoke again.

“Y/N?”

You swallowed thickly, pulse hammering against your throat as you gripped the edge of the bench. His voice was closer now, warm and hesitant, threading through the dimly lit space.

You didn’t even think—just reacted.

“…Cooper?” Your voice wavered slightly. “We’re closed.”

“I know.”

His tone was quiet, almost unsure, but the weight of it pressed against you, heavy and unshakable. Footsteps followed—slow, measured—and then he was rounding the corner, stepping into view.

You stiffened.

Why was he here?

What does he need?

Why am I still in my towel???

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe himself. “I… I can’t stop thinking about you.”

The words sent a hot, immediate rush through your chest, down to your core.

He was looking at you like he had earlier—but worse. Deeper. Like he was unraveling you, peeling you apart layer by layer.

“I know you barely know me,” he continued, voice rough, unsteady. “And I barely know you. But you’re all I can think about.”

You barely breathed as he took another step closer, his presence nearly suffocating in its intensity.

By the time he reached the entrance of the locker room, you were frozen—caught between fight and flight, between running toward him or running away because this was too much, too soon, too real.

And yet, you didn’t move.

You didn’t stop him when he kept walking.

You didn’t stop him when he stepped into the doorway, when his gaze flickered down to the towel still wrapped tightly around you, when his lips parted like he wanted to say something else but couldn’t find the words.

You let out a nervous, breathy laugh. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

Cooper’s eyes dropped to your mouth for half a second—just long enough for your stomach to flip violently.

But it was the way he exhaled that sent heat flushing down your spine. The way his nostrils flared, his chest rising and falling beneath the soft white tank peeking out from under his half-zipped hoodie. You could see the subtle peaks and curves of his pecs beneath the fabric, the way the muscle tensed with every breath.

And then, without thinking, you bit your lip.

It was small—subconscious, even. But his reaction was instant.

His jaw flexed.

His fingers twitched.

His entire body tensed like he was holding himself back.

You should say something. Do something. Step away before this tension swallowed you whole.

But instead—

You nodded.

Just the slightest movement. Just enough to say okay.

Cooper didn’t hesitate.

The second you nodded, his hands were on you—one cupping the side of your face, the other settling firm against your waist. His lips crashed into yours, slow but deliberate, like he was savoring the feeling of you beneath him.

And God, you felt it.

A slow, delicious chill ran down your spine, spreading out in a wave that made your entire body weak. You gripped at his forearm, fingers digging into the hard muscle just to stabilize yourself. But he wasn’t letting you go.

His palm cradled your head, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss, his breath heavy, his mouth warm and coaxing as he swallowed every sound you made.

You barely noticed when he pulled back just enough to strip himself of his hoodie. Then his hands were back on you—pulling, touching, claiming. But it wasn’t enough.

So when he stepped back just enough to peel off his tank top, leaving his chest bare, you didn’t hesitate.

You lunged.

Your mouth found his skin immediately—hot, firm, smooth. You kissed his pecs, the sharp plane of his collarbone, feeling his pulse hammer against your lips. Your hands were already tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants, needing to feel him—all of him.

He let out a sharp breath the moment your palm pressed against him through the fabric.

Thick. Solid.

Not fully hard, but getting there.

You stroked over him, teasing, feeling the weight of him in your hand, and Cooper let out a deep, broken grunt that sent heat pooling low in your stomach. His forehead pressed against yours, his hands gripping your hips hard as his breath came in sharp, shallow pants.

“Fuck,” he rasped against your ear, his voice shaking. “I want you so fucking bad.”

His words sent a fresh wave of arousal straight through you, making your thighs clench together in anticipation.

Your fingers curled into the waistband of his pants, tugging insistently as you met his gaze, eyes dark, wild.

“Take me,” you breathed.

Cooper ripped your towel off in one swift motion, his hands gripping your bare thighs as he hoisted you up effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around him on instinct, the heat of his body pressing into yours as he walked you backward. The cool surface of the nearby column met your spine, and Cooper braced you there, his breathing ragged, his eyes locked onto yours as he tugged at his sweatpants.

A shiver ran through you as he pushed inside, slow, deliberate. Even though you were soaked, he took his time, letting you feel every inch of him. His gaze never wavered, watching the way your brows knitted together, the way your lips parted on a breathy moan as he stretched you open.

A sharp exhale left his lips as he bottomed out, his forehead pressing into your shoulder. He stayed there for a beat, savoring the way you fit around him before pulling back and thrusting forward again, deeper this time. His pace was measured, controlled, but every slow grind sent a pulse of pleasure through you, building that ache deep in your core.

“Say my name,” he gritted against your neck, his breath hot and uneven.

You did.

And the sound of it made him snap.

Cooper groaned, his hands digging into your thighs as he thrust harder, faster, burying himself in you completely. His body was slick with sweat, his muscles trembling from the intensity of it all. Every roll of his hips pushed you closer, your nails raking down his back as heat coiled low in your stomach.

The pleasure was overwhelming, unbearable in the best way, and when he groaned your name again, you shattered—your body clenching around him, your breath breaking into gasps as he drove you through it, chasing his own release.

Your limbs trembled, overstimulated and sensitive, but you gently motioned for Cooper to put you down. He did, carefully, his breath still uneven as he set you on your feet. You grabbed his wrist and tugged him wordlessly toward the lockers, your kiss deep and full of heat as your back bumped against the cool metal. Then, without a word, you turned around, pressing your flushed front against the lockers, arching your back, poking your hips toward him in clear invitation.

Cooper cursed under his breath, hands steadying at your waist as he positioned himself behind you. He slid into you again with a low, broken grunt, the angle hitting deep as his chest pressed to your back. The contrast between your heated skin and the chill of the locker doors sent goosebumps trailing down your arms. You bit your lip hard, bracing yourself with one hand while the other clawed at the smooth surface in front of you.

He leaned in close, lips brushing your ear, his voice a low rasp.

"This what you wanted?" he grunted, hips snapping forward. "Tell me."

"Yes—" you gasped, your voice high and strained.

"Say it again," he growled.

"Yes, Cooper. Please."

He groaned, the sound rough and wrecked. "That’s my good girl. I knew it. I knew you wanted this."

His thrusts deepened, rhythm intense, hips slamming into you as his grip tightened on your waist. You whimpered, eyes fluttering shut as he kept talking, voice laced with something dark and possessive.

"I saw you, you know," he breathed. "That day. On the bench. Grinding against that towel like a nasty little thing. You thought about me, didn’t you?"

You nodded desperately, your forehead resting against the locker as heat bloomed in your chest. "I did," you panted. "I was thinking about you."

Cooper let out a rough, strangled sound at that, hips stuttering before he picked up the pace again.

"God, you're filthy," he murmured, lips trailing the line of your shoulder. "My filthy, good girl."

The pace was punishing, his skin slapping against yours, sweat dripping from his temple as he chased another high. The metal lockers clanged slightly with every thrust, echoing the sound of your breathless moans.

And then he was there—your name slipping past his lips like a prayer as he buried himself deep one final time, his body trembling against yours.

He held you there, pressed between his chest and the lockers, panting hard into your shoulder, until both your heartbeats started to settle. You stayed like that for a moment, bodies connected, neither of you ready to move.

When he finally pulled back, his arms circled your waist, pulling you into his chest, both of you breathless, flushed, and absolutely wrecked.

[ohmygraves]

there's this cafe near the base that soap likes to frequent. he's a regular, and he goes there everyday when he can. it's a nice, cozy cafe where he can sit back and relax, enjoying the quaint atmosphere away from sweaty soldiers running around the base. sometimes, he even brought price and ghost some coffee or tea, if they so prefer.

now, the base has a pretty great coffee machine, sure, but johnny likes to dabble on some other beverages. perhaps try some matcha latte or some hot chocolate, but if anyone asked him if he's there for the drinks, he would lie and nod at them, saying how the latte or the chocolate was the best thing he's ever tasted.

the drinks are amazing, don't get him wrong. the ingredients were high quality, and the prices were a little bit on the pricier side for a local coffee shop. but it was the cute barista that got him hooked in the first place.

you were the barista on the morning shift, and johnny would walk in at around 9am sharp if he could drop by. he'd always order whatever you recommend, being the lovestruck boy he is, and happily give them a try with your pastry of choice. and then, you'd always ask for his name, but he'd give you some funny names that would make you laugh instead. one time you asked him for his name, he'd say "pope turté the third" and you kept giggling while making his order. when you called the name of the order, it drew a laugh from everyone at the cafe, and johnny would proudly pick up his drink and pastry from you, giving you his signature smile before leaving.

it was just that, your whole friendship with him. he makes you laugh with his ridiculous names, and you'd make his drinks the way he asked you, perhaps give him a few cakes or pastries for free if you're feeling generous. both of you were too scared to go further, afraid of being too forward. but you knew that you adored him, and he adored you too.

so, the next time he comes over for a cuppa, you simply hand him a paper cup with a lid, already made fresh, together with a single croissant by the counter.

"thank ye, bonnie. hoo muckle?"

"seven quid with the pastry." you replied sweetly, a small smile on your face.

he happily paid for it with his card, handing it over to you. you processed it as he wanted, returning it with a receipt and his orders. as he bid you farewell, he took a sip of the cup, finding it to be a delicious hot chocolate, with some spices in it.

turning the cup, he sees his name, john, written on the paper cup with a marker, a heart as the "o". just below his name, a number with a "text me" was written, together with your own name.

somehow, his hot chocolate tasted sweeter than usual.

[swetatiwarib2b]

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[vaguely-concerned]

I think the most defining thing about kremy as a person is that he desperately wants to be a man with a mustache -- while being physically, biologically incapable of producing hair follicles lol. like no wonder he takes to drag so much, that's basically most of what he's already doing with his outward identity! and the physical aspect of that is smaller, I feel, than what he's got going on psychologically. he's someone who doesn't want to be -- can't be? -- who and what he is, and who can't be what he wants to be because what he wants to be doesn't really exist, so he lives his life somewhere on the border between them. the almiraj might be no mirage, but the perfectly clever and charming and utterly untouchable version of kremy that kremy would like to be -- instead of the vulnerable neurotic mess of longing and fear and striving for control he clearly actually is -- absolutely is, I'm afraid. it's just a shadow on the wall with nothing real to cast it.

(all of this also goes into the many Gender and trans readings of him too, of course! men will say they’re fighting demons and the demons are trying to live up to a very specific brand of toxic masculinity they've sort of invented for themselves lol)  

the one deep down entrenched assumption we see kremy make again and again especially interpersonally is that if he's open with who he really is and what he feels or thinks at any given time, he would be revealed as fundamentally unacceptable and at best discarded and abandoned, at worst endangered. (it's literally spelled out with the cyclops in the witchlight carnival, but you see him go through this process all the time through the rest of the story too! being unable to lie or dissemble was a catastrophic event in this dude’s inner landscape. I’m sure that means nothing) and because he is also frequently kind of awful this assumption may not be entirely off base some of the time lol (deeply affectionate), but I think it comes from a much deeper place than that. kremy is ashamed of where he's from and who he's been -- that dirt poor wide-eyed kid from the swamp who saw all the fancy gentlemen in town and Wanted. wanted to be that, wanted to have that power, probably some confused sexuality want mixed up with it all as well for spice. wanted more than anything, perhaps, to BE something, because next to that he feels like nothing. which means abandoning the earnest kid who guilelessly loved unicorns and his meemaw and cooking without meaning to impress anyone and silly soft things in the swamp he came from while he went off to the big city and modeled himself after men like garou. (and his relationship with garou surely also had some effects on just how shifty he's become at intimacy too, aside from the building a facade of it all, that might be some secondary damage that was not his fault nor in his control at all)

even when he's acting seemingly shamelessly, he is fundamentally a shame-based psychology, is what I'm trying to get at. the only times he lets his thoughts and emotions out into the world unfiltered is when he's brought to a point of frustration where he throws up his hands and abandons manipulation or subtle machinations as an interpersonal tactic -- see: the several times he argues something with frost or gricko and then finally admits 'I literally don't actually care about this! you guys figure it out and deal with this if it matters so much to you I'm going to bed ffs' haha. his depression shines through when he’s too tired to hide it, especially in the later episodes. every open emotion is an admission he really didn't want to make and thinks is tactically disadvantageous for him. (and sometimes when he's being really for real he'll even admit to being worse than people gave him credit for, like when he admits he suspected mr. witch and mr. light were capable of doing something really really bad to torbek and handed him over anyway. kremy being that blunt and open is like. remarkable and also a sign that he's actually taking it seriously, for all that he's also revealing himself to be even more of an asshole than previously suspected lmao. that's not nothing, for kremy. BUT at the same time he is also the person who cried to see a unicorn broken and abused, and who saw something in gideon upon meeting him that no one else did or cared to at that time and offered him genuine companionship and support — as the story goes on he’s starting to admit to more things about himself, the bad and the good.)

all of which of course also is why he's having such a hard time being honest with gideon about how he feels (and the sheer immensity with which he feels it too, probably) -- that's incredibly vulnerable for a person who’s built himself up around the idea of never being vulnerable. ('i'm just a shadow, nothing you do can really touch or hurt me.') And yet if there’s peace and redemption to be found for kremy, if only within his own soul, between these versions of himself, I feel that discovering and accepting his own capacity for loving someone else so much that it transcends all selfishness or fear would be integral to it. (he loves gideon. So much it makes me a bit dizzy you guys)

[theunholyvirginemilyprentiss]

THE BAU AS SEVERED LUMON EMPLOEES

(Sorry if you haven’t watched Severance but I could not resist this crossover)

AARON H. | Hotch’s innie is relentlessly cheerful. He is basically the Michael Scott of the severed floor, and the beloved supervisor of Macrodata Refinement. His outie decided to become severed to deal with the grief of his wife, Haley, being murdered, and is miserable on the outside. If only he’d take a trip down to the testing floor…

JENNIFER J. | JJ’s outie is a happily married mother of two—but her innie? Her innie is engaged in a torrid clandestine romance with fellow MDR refiner, Emily. Although, things become complicated when Mr. Milchick opens the new innie visitation center, and JJ meets her children and husband for the first time…

EMILY P. | Her innie spends most of her time playing with the baby goats at mammalian nurturable with JJ, and sneaking off to do the deed in the room with the purple tables. Her rebellious, curious spirit has had her sent to the break room countless times for trying to map the severed floor. She would certainly be disgusted to discover that her outie is the heir to the Lumon empire, a descendant of Kier himself…

SPENCER R. | After discovering that the severed procedure lowers the risk of developing schizophrenia by 23%, becoming a severed employee was a no-brainer. His innie has demonstrated an incredible affinity for macrodata refinement, and has five times as many finger traps as everyone else. Although after the first waffle party, he decided to pass on the rest… His innie can’t help but constantly wonder what exactly it is they are refining, and has a new theory every week. He has been refiner of the quarter for the last 5 quarters in a row.

JASON G. | Works in Wellness due to his smooth, calming voice and, according to Mr. Milchick, knows how to ‘make his eyes kind.’ Enjoys the nature sounds he plays for the innies, and is very vigilant about ensuring they enjoy each fact equally.

ELLE G. | Her outie’s hand was forced to become severed—after being at the center of a violent scandal at Lumon, her superiors gave her an ultimatum: become severed, or be shunned from Lumon. Elle’s innie spends most of her day procrastinating by the coffee machine and arguing with David R. about whether or not the 9 core principles are bullsh*t. Always completes her files by the skin of her teeth at the end of the quarter, and can often be seen smacking her monitor for being too slow.

DAVID R. | His outie invested a lot of money in Lumon, and decided to come out of retirement and join the severed floor to spice up his life: his innie believes in the mission of Lumon, has memorised the 9 principles, and has a Kier bobble head on his desk. He does however complain relentlessly about the quality of the food in the vending machine.

TARA L. | Her innie works her ass off—she wants that music dance experience, and she will fight tooth and nail to get it. She loves some defiant jazz. Her outie however has become suspicious of the company, and is undergoing the process of reintegration. She has spent a fair amount of time in Wellness recently because of all the strange flashes to her outie’s life she is secretly experiencing.

PENELOPE G. | Works tech support on the severed floor. Her outie is cheerful and positive, but her innie seems to be stuck in Penelope’s old ‘Black Queen’ days. She complains about the bright outfits she shows up to work in every day, and sighs each time Elle asks her to fix her slow computer. Is in a complicated love triangle with Derek M. And Luke A.

LUKE A. | His outie decided to become a severed employee to deal with the PTSD from his military days. His innie has had his eye on Penelope for a while now… He also has a secret baby goat named Emil, who he visits at mammalian nurturable every lunch break.

DEREK M. | His innie has been hired to work security under Mr. Milchick. He is responsible for taking people to the break room, and otherwise keeping them in line. But he quickly develops a soft spot for the refiners of MDR—especially Penelope G., making him particularly sour toward Luke M. Every day, he gets closer to becoming a double agent…

P.S. Erin Strauss is in charge of the severed floor.

Ok, so this is my favourite scenario I’ve ever written! Guys, should I make this a fanfic? 👀 I know this might be a niche combo but I love it. Anyway, if you enjoyed, you can find more BAU scenarios on my Masterlist!

[kotemf]

Gift wrap banner by: @the-little-moment.

My gift for @lonewolflupe for the @galactic-gift-gathering event is nothing else than a short fic about Commander Fox and his biggest love: caff. Your gift is belowthe cut, I hope you like it!

(Also, you can read this on Ao3 too)

Fox has always had a thing for caff.

He was a little older than eight standard years old when him and his batchmates decided to sneak out of their sleeping pods after the curfew and wandered to the mess hall. They were there for snacks but the moment Fox laid his gaze on a forgotten cup of the brown liquid on one of the tables, he couldn't look away. There was something about that brown liquid, something that made him take a sip.

There was no way to describe the taste, or the rush of contentment and energy that flooded Fox the moment he swallowed. And he knew in that moment that he wanted more.

His liking for caff hasn't changed. By the end of the war, he was drinking enough caff to show on a drug test.

And then the war ended, Fox was forced to quit his job of a commander until he recovered from the damage Palpatine did to him - not that he actually needed the time off but try explaining that to his overprotective batchmates - and along with his job, he list the option of stealing caff from the coffee machines in the senators' offices.

So he went and tried a coffee shop after coffee shop. And who knew caff could be even more delicious? Don't take him wrong, the plain black liquid he used to drink was good but it was nothing compared to pumpkin spice latte or strawberry creme frappuccino.

He didn't get why his batchmates laughed at his choice of drinks but then, his batchmates has always been weirdos. Fox didn't take it personally and brought them each a vanilla bean frappe with two pumps of raspberry syrup to their meeting in Wolffe's apartment.

"What's that?" Wolffe gave the plastic cup Fox just handed him a weird look. What was his problem? It was aesthetic!

"Looks kinda poisonous. Are you trying to kill us Fox'ika?" Cody joked. Asshole. Next time, Fox was getting him decaf.

"It's vanilla bean frappe with two pumps of raspberry syrup you moron."

"You know, maybe you could open a coffee shop," Rex snickered.

"You know what? I will."

"No, Fox, that was a joke! You can't just open a coffee shop!"

"Watch me."

Fox was nervous. He had exactly ten minutes and forty five- forty four- forty three- forty two- Alright, that's enough, he needed to calm down. He had approximately ten minutes before he opened his very first coffee shop. His worry was unnecessary. He was just opening his first ever coffee shop. What could go wrong?

Fox nervously sipped his iced matcha espresso as he watched the numbers on his watch change steadily. The drink was good. Surely his customers were going to agree. It was so good Fox ran out of the drink before he was supposed to open. He needed something to drink, something strong.

He was in the middle of the process of making a unicorn frappuccino when the door opened. Fox forced himself not to run away as he turned to his first ever customer. He was surprised to see senator Chuchi.

"Hi!" she greeted him cheerfully. She looked perfect as always, her blue skin glowy, robes carefully ironed without a hint of wrinkling, not a hair out of place... What was she doing in Fox's coffee shop. Not that it was Fox's business he was just curious. That... that didn't make it his business, right?

"Senator. What can I get you?"

"Surprise me."

Alright. Fox could do this. Caff was his job. No. No, caff was more. It was his life. He could make a good drink for a pretty senator.

Without even thinking about what he was doing, Fox started mixing ingredients in a cup. He started with some melted chocolate, added ice, almond milk, blueberry juice and mixed it well before pouring some well brewed coffee into it and topping it off with whipped cream and some heart shaped chocolate sprinkles. He looked at his creation. That wasn't any of the drinks on the menu. He did it all on instinct, without thinking. It didn't look bad, though. He handed it to the senator.

"Looks great. I don't remember seeing this one on the menu?"

"It's a... it's a special. Just for you," Fox stuttered.

He watched the senator take a sip. He hoped he mixed it well. An angry senator was the last thing he needed, especially when it was the one senator who treated the clones with respect. What was he even thinking, he should've just fixed her a regular latte with some extra cream and- "Wow. This is... I don't have words for this, this is the best drink I've ever had."

"Really?"

"Uh huh." The senator took another sip. Fox guessed he was lucky. "How much is it?"

A good question. "It's on the house," he blurted out.

"Thanks, Fox." The senator smiled at him. "I'll be back tomorrow!"

Fox watched the senator toss a generous amount of credits into the tip jar as she walked out of the shop. He was still busy wondering if she really just said his name. How did she recognize him? Kriff, how did she even know he had a name? He always went by CC-1010 when in the senate.

He was still pondering over that when he heard his batchmates snicker from the door. So they really came. Sweet.

"Are you going to be standing there or do you actually want to purchase something?" Fox asked impatiently. He was a barista, not a comedian. His job was to get people so hooked on caff he could live out of their orders, not making them laugh.

"Just basic blacks caff," Cody ordered.

"I will let you know that I offer a variety of different-"

"Black caff, vod," Cody asked again, the others following his example. His batchmates were the worst! Why couldn't they just all admit what drinks they really loved? Fox had no problem with admitting that his favorite drink was strawberry cream frappuccino.

"Of course." Fox rolled his eyes as he prepared each of his beloved batchmates a plain, boring coffee. "Two credits each."

"You're kidding, right?" Bly asked.

"No."

"You mean a senator gets a drink on the house and your batchmates don't?" Wolffe looked offended.

"The senator didn't get the most boring drink I offer, did she?"

"We are your batchmates!" Rex argued. It was ironic that it was him of all people, he wasn't even from the same batch, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and got kidnapped and later adopted by Cody. Not that Fox cared, no one was getting free drinks if they didn't at least order something interesting.

Fox's coffee shop turned out pretty well. Soon he had more customers than he could handle. Senator Chuchi kept coming every morning and sometimes in the evening as well. The command batch stopped by daily to order their plain coffee and then the di'kute returned alone later to order the drink they were embarrassed to admit they liked. The entire Coruscant Guard frequented the place as well as many other clones. Then there were Jedi and of course the regular citizens of Coruscant. To sum it up, the place was popular.

Fox was proud when he learned how well known his humble coffee shop was. Sure, his vode knew his shop. But nat-borns did too and that was a surprise. And it wasn't just some regulars who lived nearby, no. His coffee shop was a well known place! People would say they will meet at Fox's and their friends knew exactly where. Teenagers would buy caff just so they could spend an hour taking selfies with the cups and let the drink get cold. Fox couldn't be more happy. He loved caff and he loved making it for the citizens of Coruscant.

He heard the door open.

"Hey, Fox," Rex greeted him. He was the first one to return for his alone drink that day.

"Rex." Fox nodded at him. "The usual?"

"The usual."

Fox started making Rex's favorite espresso with milk, dragon fruit syrup, pink whipped cream, white chocolate topping and marshmallows. "Here you go." He handed Rex the cup and watched his vod'ika leave. He shook his head fondly. If only him and Fox's batchmates could admit they weren't all that much into boring, black caff, their lives would be much easier. It wasn't like they could laugh at each other. Rex loved milky espresso with dragon fruit, pink cream, white chocolate and marshmallows. Bly loved pumpkin spice latte. Cody loved affogato with cookie cream and two pumps of extra caramel. Wolffe's favorite was iced matcha tea latte with almond milk, raspberry syrup, seven extra pumps of dark chocolate, purple whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles. Fox didn't judge. His batchmates did but they didn't have the right too.

Fox was distracted by the door opening again. He looked up to see his favorite customer. He smiled. "Hi, Riyo. What can I get you today?"

She smiled back. "Surprise me." She always said that. It was more of a game at this point, she could've ordered any of the drinks Fox has served her in the past. But she seemed to enjoy the surprise and Fox liked the challenge of creating new and new delicious and aesthetic combinations.

"Of course."

[sleepingdeath-light]

her majesty’s collection ; 18+

kinktober day fourteen

pairing ; hollyberry cookie x non binary afab!reader insert

fandom ; cookie run

masterlists ; fandom | kinktober | ao3

content ; dominant!hollyberry cookie, submissive!reader, vaginal sex, heavily implied!dumbification kink, praise kink, use of sex toys (strap on)

minors and ageless blogs do not interact

Hollyberry Cookie had collected quite the wide array of sex toys over her long and exciting life. Some were more traditional (vibrators to put against the clit, dildos to fuck into whatever hole they’ll fit into, blindfolds to spice things up, etc.) and others were a bit more exotic by the standards of her kingdom (all sorts of restraints, anal beads, cock rings, toys made for nipple stimulation, and even one rarely-used fuck machine that had left her so worn out after riding it that she’d been unable to walk properly for weeks), but the undisputed crown jewel of her collection had to be her strap-on.

Handmade and imported from a continent well beyond even the boundaries of Beast Yeast, it boasted an impressive size and a girth large enough to make even the most seasoned kinksters wince at first glance. And even looking beyond the phallus itself — as difficult as it may be to tear your eyes away from it — there were other features that made the toy more than worth the undoubtedly hefty cost she paid to have it crafted and sent all the way to her palace. The harness, for example, was made from a material otherwise unseen in the Hollyberry kingdom even with its bustling trade ports: as strong and sturdy as a heavy rope or chain yet still soft and silken to the touch, both comfortable enough for the queen to tie around her bare waist and thighs, and with enough give for it to not strain when her muscles flexed and relaxed under them during use.

She’d once joked about it being enchanted by one of the witches themselves and now that you were being given an extremely thorough lesson on just how well it could keep up with Hollyberry Cookie’s boundless stamina you were half tempted to believe her.

—————————————

Already three earth shattering orgasms into the night and you’d never been so blissed out and cock drunk in your life: every inch of your body from the crown of your head to the soles of your feet felt pleasantly warm and delightfully sensitive in a way that was slowly edging closer to unbearably overstimulating the longer things went on, your mind was so fogged with pleasure that everything sounded like you were submerged in water or like your ears were stuffed full of cotton until you could barely hear anything over your own breathing and racing heartbeat, your thighs trembled and quaked where she held them tightly against her hips as you struggled to keep them in the position she’d instructed you to get into at the start of the night, and you were barely able to keep your eyes open or even think about anything other than how good you were being fucked by your queen. Hell, the only thing you were capable of doing was crying out her name as she fucked you dumb on her strap.

Thankfully Hollyberry Cookie was more than capable of doing the talking for both of you and she had no qualms about letting you know exactly how she was feeling even as you became too delirious with pleasure to process what she was even saying. Switching between praise and teasing from one breath to the next as she leaned down and kissed every inch of your skin she could reach.

‘You’re doing such a good job, sweetheart,’

‘So sensitive…’

‘You’re taking me so well,’

‘Enjoying yourself, my dear? You certainly look like it,’

‘Can you hear how wet you are for me?’

‘It’s cute how easily you fall apart underneath me, dearest,’

‘If only you could see yourself… perhaps I should have taken you in front of a mirror,’

‘Your pussy is gushing, sweetheart… I could probably even make you squirt like this…’

‘Think you can cum again, my love?’

And you did. Again and again and again. Until you could no longer tell when one orgasm faded into another. Until you didn’t even have the strength to keep your eyes open as you sobbed and whimpered through your final climax of the night. Until the bedsheets beneath you were soiled completely through with your cum and drool and sweat. Until she’d had her fill of you and had deemed you spent enough for her to be satisfied with her work.

Only then did she finally grant you reprieve by pulling out of your puffy cunt and setting aside her favourite toy in favour of pulling you into her strong arms and laying with you to bask in the warm afterglow of an evening well spent as you ever so slowly started to come back down to earth. And after a session like that you certainly weren’t going to complain about getting to cuddle with your lover — even if that meant laying in a puddle of your own mess for a while longer.