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b0ng05 · 2 months

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Sam Carpenter x fem!Reader -

Coffee pt.1

Word Count: 1135

Summary: While at work, one of Y/n's regular customers, Tara, brings someone new to the cafe.

Also, Not Proofread💅

Master list/ Request list

Pt.2

Raindrops scattered down the big glass window of the cafe, the sky dark and gloomy with thundering clouds. The air smelt of fresh ground coffee and the small scent of cinnamon rolls baking in the back. Soft and quiet music played through the speakers as I leaned my arms on the frigid metal counter in front of me. My face resting in the palm of my hand as I looked around the emptying dining area. Chairs and booths void of customers, leaving my mind bored with the dull atmosphere. I sigh as I mentally pray for my shift to end faster, all I wanted to do was go home and sleep, between finals, work, and studying, I was beyond exhausted.

The ting of the bell above the front door goes off, jolting my eyes from their heaviness. I glance over to the door to see Tara enter the cafe, a usual patron of the cafe and someone I often saw around my college campus. She lifted the hood of her sweater off, her dark brown hair tied in two messy braids. As she walked over to the counter, her lips were perched in a smile that made her dimples apparent. Her once light gray hoodie now a darker shade with the absorbed rain.

“Hey, your usual Tara?” I ask with a polite smile as I go to reach for a cup to write her name on.

“Yup, but I’m gonna also need a medium cold brew, I’m meeting someone here today.” Tara nods, reaching in her pocket for her wallet.

“Absolutely,” I nod, turning the tablet keypad towards her so she could swipe her card.

Once the receipt prints out, I slide it over the counter to her before making my way to the cups. Tara walks over to her usual booth in the corner where she would sit and study most weekday afternoons. I write her name on the papercup with sharpie before doing the same with the other. I make Tara’s frappucino first, adding extra whipcream and caramel, something I had done for her often. I move on to make the cold brew, adding the top with cold foam.

By the time I’m done, I notice Tara is no longer sitting alone in her usual booth. Across from her sat a woman with long black hair and dark brown eyes. Her eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as Tara rambled to her about something. I walk over to the table, holding a drink in each hand. As I get closer, I feel my heart start to race and butterflies fill my stomach. I place the cups gently on the table between them with a polite smile.

“Oh, thank you, Y/n,” Tara smiles joyfully as she picks up her straw and peels the wrapper off before taking a big sip of her drink.

“Of course,” I smile and nod. As I turn to walk back behind the counter, my eyes meet the mystery woman’s for a brief second, not expecting the icy glare that I got in return. I quickly walk back behind the counter, grabbing a rag and cleaning up to avoid the feeling of impending doom that came from the glare the woman gave me. A shiver ran up my spine as my hand grabbed the neck of the spray bottle, hoping she was focused on Tara by now.

As I wipe off the counter, I subtly glance back up at the woman, unable to help myself. The woman took a sip of her coffee, my eyes drinking up the sight of the prominent veins in her hand holding the papercup. My eyes drift along the sleeves of her black bomberr jacket, up to her defined jawline-

My eyes widen as our eyes meet once again, she squinted slightly in an intimidating manner. But what I didn’t miss was the small smirk that teased at the corner of her lips for a second before disappearing. I blush as I turn around to walk into the back office where my coworker had been on his break. My eyes wide and panic on my face as I wordlessly sit next to him at the small table where he was eating his lunch.

“Joey…” I say.

“Y/n,” Joey mumbles through a bite of his sandwich, taking out his earbud before looking up at me.

“Hear me out. If you let me take my break right now, I will totally pick up one of your shifts,” I offer, my eyes meeting his bright blue ones.

“Okay, why would you want that? I have like ten minutes till my break ends, take one then,” Joey asks, looking at me bewildered before he wipes his mouth and hands with a napkin before crumpling it and trying to throw it into the trashcan. Totally missing the shot by a few feet.

“I accidentally made eye contact with a woman out there, more than an appropriate amount,” I sigh, covering my face with my hands as I lean back in the chair.

“What do you think is an inappropriate amount of eye contact?” He laughs, leaning his elbow on the table and pushing his hair out of his eyes.

“We didn’t say anything to each other, it was one of those got caught staring moments.” I admit as I blush red in embarrassment.

“Oh so you find her pretty,” Joey teases playfully, reaching over and nudging my arm with his.

“She totally gave me the stank eye.” I switch the topic as I hold my hand across my forehead.

“Well, I will not be leaving my sandwich anytime soon, so you can go enjoy Ms. stank eye,” Joey chuckles as he puts his earbud back in, mere seconds away from decimating the sandwich before him.

I sigh dramatically as I get back up from the chair to go back behind the counter. As I walk out of the office, I notice that Tara and the mystery woman are already gone. I couldn’t tell if I felt more relieved I wouldn’t be glared at, or more sad that I couldn’t continue to gawk. I sigh as I rest my face in the palm of my hand again, realizing I’d have to continue the boring passtime of waiting for customers, restocking and cleaning.

As I reach for a rag and cleaner to go wipe off tables and booths, I couldn’t help but let my mind drift back to that woman, the small smirk of hers etched into my mind, I unconsciously bite my bottom lip as I thought about her dark brown eyes that glared into my soul. Despite being terrifying, I couldn’t help but enjoy the way her mezmerizing eyes felt on me, and I could only hope that Tara would be bringing her back here in the near future.

#sam carpenter #samantha carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x female reader #samantha carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x you

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probablyasocialecologist · 13 days

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TikTok was where I learned about SHEIN. For a while my For You page, which had accurately identified my interest in fashion’s more material impacts, served me videos of sustainable fashion influencers decrying SHEIN’s wretched labor and environmental practices. The textile industry is the second-largest polluter in the world, they said, and of all the fast-fashion producers, SHEIN is by far the worst offender. SHEIN uses toxic chemicals in their clothing production; SHEIN mass-produces fabrics like spandex that never decompose (at this point an image would flash across the screen: an overflowing clothing landfill, or a mountain of discarded clothes in the Chilean desert so large it is visible from space); SHEIN exploits and endangers its factory workers. Employees earn $556 a month to make five hundred pieces of clothing every day, work eighteen-hour days, and use their lunch breaks to wash their hair — a schedule they repeat seven days per week with only one day off per month. A more nuanced TikToker might point out, briefly, that conditions in SHEIN factories are not necessarily unique, or that focusing on suppliers — rather than the larger systems of Western consumption and capitalism that create these conditions — is a fool’s errand, but the platform isn’t built for that kind of dialogue. I clicked on the comments and invariably read ones with several dozen likes saying, “I’m so willing to die in shein clothes.” Before long I was watching SHEIN hauls. There are millions of them — the tag #sheinhaul has been viewed a collective 14.2 billion times on TikTok. In each haul, a woman rips open a plastic bag filled with smaller plastic bags filled with small plastic clothing. Sometimes the woman holds up each garment and narrates its merits, but often the clothes are disembodied, laid flat on a floor or a bed in an accidental stop-motion animation. A stretchy red skirt on a furry white carpet is replaced by a strapless watercolor bustier with a deep-V neckline. A zebra-print skirt is followed by a matching pink two-piece set, with a short-sleeve cardigan and miniskirt constructed from a fabric that looks like bubble wrap. Sometimes a haul is five pieces, and sometimes it is too many pieces to count. The garments appear and disappear in seconds, edited to the beat of a trending song. Rarely do we see the clothing on a body. Usually brand familiarity accrues in a slow drip, building from obscurity to instant recognizability over the course of months or years as a designer’s work intersects with the zeitgeist and gains traction on social media. SHEIN was different. One day I’d never heard of the retailer and the next it was inescapable: in thousands of outfit videos, on millions of social media feeds. The clothes weren’t distinct or cohesive; what united them wasn’t style but price. All those SHEIN hauls entered my feeds with such ubiquity that they began to feel like they’d always been there. I’d opened a door to a new part of the fashion internet: a place where girls bragged about their ultra-fast-fashion purchases, delighting in the cheapness of the garments. Here, SHEIN was the obvious choice for new clothes. Why not, when you could buy on-trend pieces at lightning speed for less than the price of a cup of coffee? It was uncanny to bounce between videos: here was a girl showing off her new halter, here was another girl giving a litany of reasons why it was unconscionable to buy clothes for so little money. Didn’t these TikTokers hear one another? But then again, how could they? “This is what we keep missing here in the whole conversation about sustainability in the industry,” Nick Anguelov, a professor of public policy from UMass Dartmouth, said to a Slate journalist writing about SHEIN in June. “We keep failing to understand that our customers are kids and they don’t give a fuck.”

#shein #fashion #fast fashion #tiktok

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acupofqueercoffee · 1 year

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“Offer me the deathless death”

Andromache the Scythian x Female Reader

request ( found here ) by @nightly-polaris

|･ω･) go wild, you said and go wild, i did. i included as much of the provided details as i could. hopefully, you’ll find it agreeable

cw : 18+ 18+ 18+ 18+ 18+ // dubcon-ish // ✂️ ✂️😼 // overstimulation

casually quoting hozier for all my andromache fics. that fight scene on the plane and the way she grabbed nile by the jaw tho 😩 wanted to incorporate it in a fic ever since i saw it, and fucking finally did

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Hallucinations. A fever dream.

Anything but reality is what you tell yourself, and what a job you have been doing thus far! Fantastically foolish if nothing else. Cocooned in a bubble of lies that spill forth none other than your lips, and illusions that are carved by your very mind itself, you harbour not a droplet of doubt that the reality in front of your eyes is nothing but bona fide.

People after all are the most masterful at fooling themselves.

Ensnared in a web of deceit weaved by your fingers lie no hapless preys, but you, yourself, who revel in the sweet taste of false security as you do in the richness of the creamy warm chocolate drink that coats your tongue.

Even though business in your shop today is notably satisfactory if not the most profitable, it is not the digits that matter to you the most. Your little shop is borne purely out of your profound passion and desire; obligation is out of the picture. It is where you feel the most at home, doing what you love while bathed in the aroma of freshly ground coffee and cocoa.

Amidst brewing a cup of americano as per the order of a customer with stylish sun-glasses and a striking jawline, your dress is accidentally soiled. Little do you know, the scatter of black and bitter constellations along the pristine white of your sleeve is merely the dawn of a darker, more bitter happening.

──────── ༻✿༺ ────────

Finding you has been relatively easy.

When the familiar dreams begin plaguing her usually dreamless nights, a telltale sign of a new immortal on the horizon, Andromache has half a mind to ignore them altogether. Had she not seen the places that stoke recognition amongst the wild tapestry of images, she certainly would have. But alas, her target, as it so happens, is no stranger to her. By no means does the Scythian know you. Nor you, the Scythian. New immortals bring together with them an assortment of risks, one of them being the exposure of their secret. It is with such knowledge in mind that Andromache feels obliged to set out for you despite her reluctance. You living in the neighbourhood of her temporary place of residence only makes the search all the more convenient.

Being a warrior for many a millennium has developed a vast array of tactical traits into personal trademarks. Those that once upon a time had had to be mindfully exercised, now occur as easily and effortlessly as breathing, involuntary more often than not. Beneath the dark shades of a spectacle perched on a well-defined slope of a nose lies a pair of sage green eyes, scanning the vicinity of wherever she goes like an eagle on a hunt. They have landed on it then, during her visit to a store, standing adjacent to it is a cafe in the name of “Trouvaille”. The Scythian is not one to be easily intrigued, but what a lie it would be to say that the charming building with its vintage air and curious name had not tickled her fancy. Or its owner whom she has noticed is all sweet smiles and dulcet eyes.

Eyes which she has only seen from afar then, now she stares directly into them. Protected by the shades, the intense greens study you with brazen openness, roaming all over your frame, from the tiny clips that decorate your cascading hair like colourful Christmas lights to the butterfly pendant that dangles from a simple silver chain, hovering directly above the dip of your throat, from the little flower prints on your dress, the skirt of which softly caresses your thighs, to occasional glimpse of seemingly soft flesh that teases the Scythian, left uncovered by a pair of white thigh-highs.

It is retrieving you that is the hard part.

Immediately upon arrival, Andromache has read your features for perhaps a trace of recognition. You paying the Scythian a visit in her dreams can only mean one thing after all: that she, too, must have appeared in yours. Yet, no widening of your eyes greet her, only a smile that does not waver.

“Hi, welcome to cafe Trouvaille. What can I get you?”

“Americano will do. Hot.”

Beside the fact that it is broad day light, a few people roam the place. As capable as Andromache is of manhandling you, it is not in her best interest to attract attention. The situation calls for patience. Rushing will spell only more trouble at best. Wait she must, and so, wait she does.

Leisurely, the Scythian sips her coffee, studying you periodically as she does so. It is after some minutes have ticked by, the cup of coffee sitting on the table, empty and cold, that she decides to fish a book, leather-bound and well-worn, out of her backpack. Thumbing through old pages, Andromache spends the better part of the wait indulging in literature, until one by one, people start trickling out of the shop.

In due time, it leaves only the Scythian and you.

The sky has taken on a deep orange hue by the time she stands to approach you. She eyes you surreptitiously, and upon confirming that she is not at the receiving end of your attention, the Scythian moves to lock the door. Ever the diligent wielder of caution, she does not forget to flip the little dangling plate. The letter “We’re closed.” that is carved into the wood will help ward off potential visitors.

Even as she walks towards the counter, you do not seem to notice her for you are kept occupied by the book in your lap, fingers busy scribbling onto paper. It is the tinkle of porcelain on marble as she drops the cup and saucer atop the counter that finally has your eyes zeroing in on her. She watches you watch her. Backdropped by the sunset with her shades finally tucked away into the pocket of her jacket, the sight of the Scythian brings about a subtle shift in your mien. Although fleeting, the furrow of your brows that must have been imperceptible to others, does not go unnoticed.

“Hello, again. I hope you’ve had a good time.”

The smile that you give her is sweet, if not the most genuine.

“Why don’t we save the pleasantries, hm?” The smile that touches her lips, in contrast, has a hint of sourness. “You’ve seen me before.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t believe I have.”

Your answer only brings about a twofold increase in the Scythian’s irritation. Judging by the slightest delay in your response, she knows that you are well aware that she has not meant it as a query, and so, she says as much.

“It wasn’t a question.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You must have mistaken me for someone else.”

The adamant denial from you has strong, slender digits tightening around the strap that is slung over one shoulder.

“Do I really have to spell it out for you? You died, and then you woke up, saw a bunch of people you had never seen before in your dream, including me.”

“But, that was- No. Surely it was-.”

“Look, kid-” Forming into a thin line are Andromache’s lips as she takes a moment to compose herself, slowly huffing out an exhale through flared nostrils. “-I know you’ve got questions but I need you to come with me first.”

“No. No, I don’t think so. This isn’t real. None of this is real. Leave, please. I need you to leave.”

Lips that slowly curl into a smirk and a chuckle that comes out dark and dangerous. “It’s cute that you think you have a choice.”

Battered boots that come to rest just shy of polished loafers.

“You know…your folly is, dare i say, commendable. Reality is not just something you can rewrite, and yet, you managed an impeccable job of tricking yourself into thinking what you believe to be the truth is the truth.”

One foreboding frame that looms like a predator and the one that cowers like a cornered prey.

“Alas, I almost feel bad for shattering your little illusion. But then again, I’ve done a great many questionable things in my life having lived as long as I have. What significance would it make to add another?”

“What I saw in my dream. They really happened.” It is a question albeit not being voiced like one. The Scythian does not find the need to answer. Why bother when the answer already lies in your hand?

At her silence, a look of horror dawns on your features. “You’re a murderer. You and your friends. I’ve seen them. I- I’m not- I can’t.”

“Oh darling, a rose without thorns is but a weed, easy to be plucked, to be trampled on. You’re one of us now. You will come with me whether you like it or not, and you will do so this instant.”

Every single step you hesitantly take back is met with an immediate footfall of boots as they fall right onto the place that your loafers have just vacated. It goes like this for a while, you actively ruining the close proximity, and Andromache rectifying it, until there is nowhere for you to flee, and your hips collide with the counter edge.

“Why me?” She parries your plea with a nonchalant shrug, face impassive. “Beats me.”

“Please, I-” Tears glisten in your eyes, murmuring beseechingly. “Let me go. I can’t kill. I know nothing about fighting.”

While her hands grip the counter on either side of your waist to cage you in strong arms, her lips lower to the shell of your ear, breath warm as she speaks. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. You can kill. In fact, anyone can. You just have to listen to me.”

“No! Let me go! I don’t want-” Yells dissolve into a yelp by way of digits seizing your jaw.

“I’ve gone out of my way to exercise great forbearance, but it is running terribly thin. It would do you well not to try it any further.” She husks threateningly, feeling the softness of your cheeks giving under the roughness of her battle-hardened fingers. Salty droplets drench her digits as tears start spilling in rivulets down your cheeks.

“Go on, bite me with those baby teeth. Scratch me with your little paws.” She taunts. “Why, would you look at that! All bark and no bite. How pathetic.”

It is as she says this that your teeth sink into the palm that is pressed tightly against your mouth. The unexpected retaliation has her stance faltering, and although you manage to break free from her bodily confines, the Scythian, being far more nimble and dexterous, hardly has to break sweat in recapturing you.

“You're a stubborn little thing, aren’t you? Two can play that game, although don’t say I didn’t warn you. Breaking men, after all, is considered one of my fortes.”

Wrists locked behind your back in her iron grip, and body bent over the marble counter, Andromache revels in the quavering of your body beneath her own as one wicked hand, like a sneaky serpent, slowly slithers up your thigh.

“Are you-” A whimper flies past your lips when your arms are pulled taunt, shoulders craning uncomfortably. And then, she yanks, hard and unforgiving, until you are forced onto your feet, back colliding with her front. “Are you going to kill me?”

Andromache cannot help but laugh at your question, a rich throaty sound that brings about the erection of soft little hair on the nape of your neck.

Your wrists are released at the cost of your cheeks bearing the brunt of her ire as rough fingers dig into your flesh. They flee from their cage between the two of your bodies to take sanctuary on her forearm, soft fingers grasping the sleeve of her jacket. “Where’s the fun in killing you when I can just have my way with you, hm?” Her hold around one of your thighs remains unrelenting while the hand on your jaw coerces you into craning your neck. Your head rests on her chest with a grunt, and you drown, held spellbound by the intense green of her eyes. “I’d rather enjoy the view of you crumbling beneath me than watch you bleed out only to come alive again.”

Although it douses you in shame, you have to admit that you are not entirely immune to the woman. How can you when she oozes charisma, frighteningly beautiful even as she looms over you with all the grandeur of a great menacing panther.

And then, too many things happen all at once; fingers that crawl into a forest of hair to grab a fistful, with a yank to the side, a throat that is bared for the predator above to conveniently sink her teeth into, the frenzied little flutter of a pulse beneath the flat of a warm tongue, chocked sobs that dissolve into a strangled gasp as a cold hand journeys into the waistband of an underwear.

Previously, your hands have found home on her thighs, fingers grappling fabric, but upon feeling wandering digits inside your underwear, one of them flies towards the offending hand, locking around a wrist.

“N-no. You can’t.”

“You would do well to remember that I am in control here.”

The Scythian’s growl is not only heard, but also felt on your skin as teeth nibble, mouth suck, and lips soothe the stings that afterwards will linger on your body in the form of dark blues and bright reds.

Horror and humiliation dance a wild tango whereas fingers waltz delicately along your folds, a condescending tsk echoing off your nape when they come away wet. Betrayed and backstabbed by your own body, mortification colours your face as not one but two of her sizeable digits sink into your heat with little to no effort. Although sudden, it does not hurt, though it stings, leaves you breathless still. Dewdrops bloom on your lashes and they drop down your cheeks when fingers in your core bury knuckles deep, abuse your tightness. You feel them in the very depths of your body, filling you so deliciously that when they wiggle so much as a little, it is more than enough to sucker-punch a breath out of your lungs.

Between her hot mouth kissing your neck all rosy and sore, her fingers cleverly caressing your insides, and her hand toying with your breasts beneath your dress, it is no surprise that your undoing greets you with a tidal wave of pleasure.

It is, however, a surprise to find yourself being shoved back-first onto the table, legs being pulled wide by fingers twining round your thighs. You are still suffering through a series of aftershocks from your first orgasm when her mouth attaches itself to your quavering folds, that wicked tongue immediately slithering into your hole. It does a cruel little nudge and your fingers wind up entwined in her hair. Instead of a reproach, it is a hum of satisfaction that you earn as the Scythian grabs a handful of your buttocks and devour you like a starved man.

By the seventh one, you are well beyond exhausted, brain foggy courtesy of being fucked into oblivion, and body agonisingly sore, littered with deep hues and teeth marks. Somewhere between third and fourth, if you recall correctly, she has stripped you bare, bar your thigh-highs, and completely rid herself off clothes, magnificent muscles coming into display. You have ogled them with barely restrained awe until your attention is swayed elsewhere by her mouth leaving traces of herself all across the expanse of your body.

Now, once again, you marvel at them, entranced by the impressiveness of her muscles that ripple with every roll of her powerful hips.

You barely recognise the face that is staring right back at you, reflected in the surface of sea green eyes, or the sounds that are oozing out of your lips. Sweat clings to the forehead of the woman towering over you as it does to yours. One of your legs is slung over her shoulder, and the other lies limp and useless between her thighs, as she rubs herself into your core with wild abandon.

“I- I can’t. Too much. It’s too muc- ah!”

“Yes, you can.”

She has taken the hand that goes to rest on one of her hipbones only to weave her fingers with yours. Now, they hover in the air, tightly intertwined, suddenly made much tighter by the white knuckled grip of your hand.

“Slow- nghh please! Be gentle.”

“You do as I say. Not the other way round. Is that understood?”

The desperate nods of your head is met with a bite to the succulent inside of your thigh just above the brim of your sock.

“Answer me.”

“Yes!”

“My word shall be your command, and you will dance to my every desire, won’t you darling?”

“Yes! Yes, I will.”

“You are mine after all, aren’t you? Mine to do with what I please. Mine to use how I see fit. Don’t you agree?”

“I’m yours- ngh- all yours.”

“Good girl.” She moans, movements escalating from lazy strokes to untamed gyrations.

“Andy.” She rasps breathlessly. “I want to hear my name dripping down those pretty little lips when you fall apart.”

And hear she does. Andy. Andy. Andy. Andy. Her name is all you can cry out as your juices mingle with one another’s, the combined essence soiling your thigh-highs as well as the couch beneath you.

Back curving, toes curling, you soar high, high into heaven, swimming amongst clouds, drowning in euphoria. And then, you plummet, down into the pit of hell, down into another one of those little deathless deaths. An intense blinding white replaced by an absolute dark.

When you awake, it is to the heart-melting sensation of lips softly caressing your forehead. You find yourself on the same couch that you have passed out, cocooned in toned arms, face tucked snugly into a warm, musky throat. Reflexively, you begin nosing the soft underside of her jaw before you are startled by fingers wandering down your very naked thigh.

“Look at me.” Obediently, you oblige, reluctantly leaving the pleasant warmth of her neck to do what she desires.

“What have I told you?” All too delicately, or as delicately as the callouses on her hand will allow, the pad of a thumb grazes the apple of your cheek.

Fighting against the urge to slip your eyes shut, you sigh dreamily instead. “That as long as I remain a good obedient girl, no harm will befall me.”

“That’s right. And are you?”

A nod as an answer prompts a pat of a forefinger on your cheek, and then, another. You know what she wants, so you give her just that.

“I’m a good girl.”

Not only do you see the smirk on her face, but you also feel it on your skin as she leans down to drag her lips across yours. “You forgot to mention whose, darling.”

“I’m a good girl, Andy. Your good girl.”

“And will my good girl obey my every command like she had promised?”

“Mmhm.”

A breath catches in your throat as her lips journey down down down, admiring the traces of none other than herself until that ravenous mouth adjourn to your hip, sucking the tender spot on your hipbone to make it all the more vibrant.

Although it has not been the main purpose of her doing what she has done, it is without doubt that Andromache gets a sick sort of pleasure out of seeing you covered in her marks. Every inch of your body and soul, all irrevocably hers.

You have said it so yourself, willingly given yourself up to her. That being said, it is purely her own greed that has her craving more and more and more of you. The scent of you that is sinfully sweet, heady and uniquely yours, makes her ache. The sight of you, like the dewy petals of an exquisite flower, pretty and pulsating, makes her mouth water.

It is with this insatiable hunger swelling inside of her that the Scythian sinks to her knees between your luxuriously smooth thighs.

“One more, darling. Give me one more before we leave.”

And you do, oh how you do even as one bleeds into two and two into three, because a good girl does what she is taught, does she not? And you are a good girl, Andy’s sweet little good girl to do with what she will.

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#andromache the scythian x reader #andromache of scythia x reader #andromache x reader #andromache x you #andy the old guard #andy andromache of scythia #andromache the scythian #andromache of scythia #character x reader #charlize theron x reader #charlize theron #the old guard #smut #gif #movie gifs

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vashsmunch · 1 year

Text

Crumbs

Millions Knives x GN Reader

Synopsis: barista knives basically LMAO

Warnings: none

A/N: silly little coffee man who makes ur drink perfectly every time

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"That'll be $$8.35! Are you paying cash or card?"

Curse these local aesthetic coffee shops, robbing society of its money. You pulled out your wallet, grimacing as you talked back and forth with the cashier. A receipt prints out, and the cashier hands it to you, their mood noticeably happier when they saw that you'd tipped. The irony was dumbfounding, but you did it nonetheless.

You glanced over to the end of the bar, scanning faces until you finally settled on one. There you are. Working as diligently as always, his gaze never meeting yours, but that's how he was. Most workers plastered on a fake smile, ass kissing in an attempt to raise their customer ratings. He was different, though, and maybe that's why he appealed to you so much. Stoic with a slightly condescending gaze, it just made him even more attractive. Your eyes rolled over his name tag as if you didn't have it engraved in your head a million times over. "It wouldn't kill you to say hi, considering I'm here every other day."

Nai glared at you, quirking an eyebrow. "Then you should know that I already have your order done, so pick it up and leave me be."

A heavy sigh left your lips as you walked to the other end of the counter and picked up your drink. You took a sip and rolled your eyes. Perfect, as always. "You talk a lot of sass for someone who has my drink memorized and ready every time I walk through the door. Just admit it, you like seeing me."

He didn't respond and started to make the following order. A small smile settled on your lips before you turned away to study in the corner like you always did. You would purposely pick a table facing the bar so you could give Nai glances over the top of your laptop. Sometimes he would meet your eyes, and you'd quickly look down back at your screen, praying he didn't mention it later on. He never did.

Before you got too far, you heard him speak again. "It would be in your best interest to look at your cup in closer detail." You looked at him, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he nonchalantly steamed some milk in a pitcher. What was he talking about? Hesitantly, you slightly pulled down the paper sleeve to see a message scribbled on the cup in neat handwriting.

XXX-XXX-XXXX. Call me later. I'll pick you up for our date tonight.

Your eyes bugged out as you stared at the words, completely flabbergasted. You looked up at him, not even fully registering what he wrote for you to read. He gave you an insufferable smirk and walked off, leaving you standing in the cafe, gaping at him like an idiot. "WHAT?"

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

Back and forth, back and forth. You groaned loudly as you shoved your face into your hands, walking around your living room. It wasn't as if you were nervous, of course not! This wasn't a date; there's no way it could be. Nai, the infuriating smartass, the intolerable piece of shit, the stupid blond hair man with the most sex appeal you'd ever seen...

God, what am I thinking??? You slapped your cheeks, shaking your head as if trying to unlodge the thirsty thoughts from your brain. There was no way he could be serious about this. There's no way! You fiddled with your clothes, trying to smooth out any wrinkles that may have been plaguing you since being snatched from the back of your closet. It'd been a while since you'd gone on a date, so they hadn't been put to use in ages. The last time you went on one, your date ditched you as soon as the tab came. You still weren't over that.

You started pacing again, chewing on your thumb, before picking up your phone on the coffee table to stare at the screen. The conversation between you and Nai had been short, and he didn't even say where he was taking you. You were tempted to ask but knew it was futile. He was a man who liked to keep people at an arm's distance. At least, that's what you gathered from your interactions (from you staring at him from across the cafe whenever you went). The fact that he'd even asked you on this date, to begin with, was baffling, considering he always acted like you were some kind of nuisance. He would let out a loud sigh every time you walked through the cafe doors and roll his eyes when you uttered a single word to him. So what gives?

You jumped as you heard a sudden knock on your door. A quick glance at your phone told you it was 7 o'clock sharp. Leave it to him to be a punctual prick. Your heart was hammering as you stepped closer to the door, and it infuriated you. Why did he affect you this much? What about him left you pining like some sort of immature middle schooler? Was it his eyes? The way they roamed up and down your body whenever you talked? His lips, maybe? How they would curl up into a slight smirk every time he retorted with some witty comeback? Stop it!

A deep breath in, and you finally opened the door. And there he was, dressed in his loose black turtle neck and tailored pants, adjusting his watch as he skimmed your outfit with mild interest. How he looked at you made your hands sweat, feeling small as he came closer. Nai reached toward you, and you literally felt your heart stop. Then, your entire body was on fire as he swiped his thumb across the corner of your lips. You stared at him wide-eyed, and he returned the gaze with a quirked eyebrow.

"You had a crumb," Fuck. He looked like he was about to laugh, but he stopped himself, extending the crook of his elbow towards you. "Shall we?"

You shakily put your arm through his, nodding as you gave him a meek smile. "Where to?"

#millions knives #millions knives x you #nai x reader #nai x you #trigun stampede #millions knives x reader #trigun

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starlost-andfound · 1 year

Text

americano / seo changbin

seo changbin x gn!reader

summary: a very necessary blurb about barista!changbin.

warnings: fluff, barista changbin because that needs a warning on its own

word count: 947

a/n: my unfinished assignments cried watching me write this

gif creds to: @xxnothingbutstrangerxx

The truth is y/n hated coffee.

They hated the bitter taste, the smell, they hated everything about it- and yet, every morning they found themself standing in line at their local coffee shop. They craned their neck slightly, mentally keeping track of how many more customers stood in front of them. With just one customer left, y/n quickly patted down their hair and adjusted their shirt.

“Next customer please.”

(*cue Careless Whisper instrumental in the background*)

Seo Changbin, printed on his nametag, pinned delicately to his shirt pocket on his chest. His cheeky smile, and soft curls of hair- his mesmerising eyes that lured you in like the tide on the shore. Changbin. Changbin. Changbi-

“What can I get for you?”

Y/n cleared their throat, looking up at the menu on the display board. “I- um- I-”

Changbin chuckled and leaned against the counter. “It’s okay, take your time.”

Y/n glanced back down at Changbin and gulped, their cheeks painted in a red glow. They looked back up at the menu.

The truth is y/n hated coffee but everytime they tried to order something different, they found themselves lost, distracted by Changbin’s gaze, heart pounding in their chest every time they made a slither of eye contact with him-

“Um- I- I-anything is fine.”

Changbin smiled, “How about your usual? An Americano?”

Y/n’s heart pounded so loudly they could feel it in their ears. Their throat dried up and if it was humanly possible, they blushed harder. “I-uh-yeah, that’s perfect.”

Americano was Changbin’s favourite. The first time y/n ever ordered at the café- or attempted to, at least - Changbin had offered his favourite type of coffee, an Americano. Y/n loathed the taste of it but everyday they picked up their Americano at the call of their name and sat down in the corner of the café, quietly sipping on the medium sized mug of bitter liquid, masking their disgust behind a smile and a wave every time Changbin glanced their way.

Saturday mornings were a little quieter in the small café and y/n loved the tranquil atmosphere - and being able to interact with Changbin more. When the queues disappeared he would often pass by to talk to them, offering them a pastry or a refill to their Americano. They always politely denied the latter and sometimes accepted a pastry.

“Y/n”

Y/n nearly choked on their half finished Americano.

“Changbin,” they smiled, glancing up as he approached their table. Changbin lifted a spare chair from an empty table and placed it down across from y/n. He spun it around, to face him and sat down. He rolled up his sleeves and upon noticing, y/n dropped their head back down to their coffee, hiding their blush. They lifted up their mug, taking a small sip, suppressing a grimace at the aftertaste.

“If you don’t like coffee, why do you always order it?”

“Huh?” Y/n’s eyes widened and they placed their mug down. “What do you mean?”

Changbin threw his head back and laughed. “Y/n, I have worked in this coffee shop for five years, and in all my years of working I have never seen someone take two hours to finish a cup of coffee.”

Y/n gulped, “I mean - I-”

Changbin giggled, “You’re cute when you get flustered like that. It’s okay, take your time.”

Y/n inhaled and exhaled slowly. They covered their cheeks hiding their blush. “This is embarrassing.”

“It’s cute.”

“Embarrassing.”

“Cute.”

Y/n took a deep breath, covering their face. “I just feel very nervous around you because you’re really cute and so handsome, and that’s why I always come here, and that’s why I always just go with the Americano because I can never get myself to focus and think properly around you.”

Suddenly, unexpected to Changbin, it was his turn to get flustered.

“Wow, I -um-” he cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck. The tips of Changbin’s ears turned a deep red. “uh-”.

The bell at the café door rang as a customer walked in and Changbin abruptly stood up. He turned his chair back around, pushing it into place. Seeming to gain a bit of confidence he decided to test the waters and pressed his hands onto the table, leaning his weight against them. “How about this time, you tell me what you actually want to order, and I’ll make it myself, just for you?”

Y/n could feel their heart pounding, aching to jump out of their chest. “I would like that very much, thank you.”

Changbin picked up y/n’s half empty mug of coffee, “So, what can I get you today, sweetheart?”

Y/n hummed, glancing at the menu display above the counter. “I’ll have a hot chocolate, please.”

“One hot chocolate, coming right up,” Changbin winked.

Y/n watched with a shameless grin and blush on their face as Changbin greeted the new customer, punching in their order and directing it to his coworker. Then he moved away from the cash counter and began making their hot chocolate.

After a few moments he walked over to y/n’s table, hot chocolate in hand. The hot chocolate was covered with a generous amount of marshmallows and whipped cream, with a drizzle of chocolate sauce. They smiled, “Thank you, Changbin. This looks delicious.”

Changbin grinned with a slight pink tint on his cheeks. He slid a napkin across the table to y/n, with his number scribbled on in black pen. “Maybe sometime I could take you out for dinner? Or some drinks? I promise there will be no coffee included.”

#seo changbin #seo changbin fics #changbin #changbin fics #changbin fluff #seo changbin fluff #stray kids #stray kids fics #stray kids changbin fics #stray kids changbin fluff

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inkwolvesandcoffee · 1 year

Text

Kinda (REALLY!) in the mood for werewolf bakery owner!Leo

TH Masterlist

“Malen’kiy, some things, da, don’t work.”

Hush! I’ll have it make sense. I’ll be drawing mostly off of the small head canon I’ve already established for him, though.

In a nutshell, for those who’ve missed Conversations over Coffee, you live together with Leo in a big cottage in a more remote part of the Cotswolds. You’re his supervisor in the WHO’s reintegration program for the supernatural. He’s a fugitive werewolf who’s been given asylum and is slowly starting to warm up to you.

But now I’m thinking you also inherited, aside from the house, a rather dilapidated building in town from your late grandmother.

Having always loved baking, you’ve decided to pursue your dream and turn it into a bakery.

This is where Leo also comes in because he’s been a major help during the building’s renovation and setting up shop. Believe it or not, but he’s actually quite handy.

However, he took the joke of ‘having to earn your keep’ literally, resulting in working himself to the bone.

“Leo, I didn’t mean it,’’ you told him when you finally managed to get him to sit down for a break. ‘‘I was just pulling your leg.”

“You weren’t.’’

“I was.”

“Net. I don’t remember you pulling on my leg.’’ He squinted, utterly confused. ‘‘You did not touch my leg.”

“Not literally! A joke, it was a joke! You don’t have to keep exhausting yourself like this. I’m grateful for your help, but I won’t turn you out if you don’t help out at all.”

“No, I will continue to help.” He looked into his tea cup, his voice lowered and his words slower. “Because this is my dream too.”

“How do you mean?”

You didn’t expect him to open up, knowing well how reserved he is. So it came as a surprise when he breathed in deeply and told you a bit about himself, his past.

“Back in Russia, I wondered what I do, net, would do without the KGB. I used to help my grandmother in her bakery, you know? Run around town delivering bread and pastries. It made me happy. But then you grow up and that happy little pup had to learn how to survive in a cold world.”

“I can’t bring back the boy you once were, but I’d very much like it if you’d become my business partner.”

“You would?”

“Fancy trying?”

He hummed then, one of the few times he’d shown his delight. “Da.”

Though he’s good at baking too, Leo busies himself with coffee and tea while you whip up pastries and cakes. Nevertheless, both of you make sure there’s plenty of Russian pastries (Leo’s territory you refuse to dabble in) to choose from too.

He has plans to teach you how to make his favourites, rogaliki & kartoshka. However, he’s still waiting for the right time and first wants to have more trust in you before he teaches you the recipes taught him by his mother and late wife, Raisa.

Yes, indeed, he’s a widower.

A secret he keeps safely locked away.

A burden he hopes to one day shed somehow.

Female customers go insane during the summer because Leo unconsciously shows off his sturdy and lightly tattooed arms. Usually he wears a long-sleeved shirt or a button-up one, of which he rolls up the sleeves. However, once it gets warmer, he’ll switch to T-shirts.

Which are all black, the only pop of colour being from the print on them.

Wee note on the tats: he’s gotten a couple more since he moved in, most of them on his upper arms and torso.

Prefers appointments on Sunday so you can tag along and it won’t interfere with business. Basically, he makes a day trip out of it.

Or a holiday for both of you to enjoy if the tattoo artist works in a studio that’s too far away.

Refuses to enlighten you about the reason why he got a sparrow on his left peck, right over his heart.

Nowadays often leans in closely when you’re taking orders at the till. Occasionally, at random and no matter the person, he’ll put one of his big wolf paws on your waist, just within sight of the customer.

Nonetheless, there’s a philosophy behind the new form of intimacy. The more he starts to trust you, the more he feels drawn to you.

You’ve given Leo a new chance at life and he’ll do his damned best to protect that.

But there’s one aspect of it he’s fiercer about than anything else.

You.

Because it means nothing to him if you aren’t there

With him.

Tag List: @potter-solomons @hecatemoon87 @vir-tual @alikaheroes @buttercup32sstuff @woofgocows @zablife @liliac-dreamer @dreamlandcreations @elijahssuit @ilovemanypeople

#Leo Demidov #Leo Demidov imagine #Tom Hardy #Tom Hardy imagine

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uptondecker17 · 9 months

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Vape Cartridge Reviewed: What Can One Be taught From Other's Mistakes

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hacked-by-jake · 1 year

Note

Hey girly I was gonna buy some duskwood merch and wanted to customize it a bit

Do you happen to have any ideas of what to add such as inside jokes, texts, a general idea, or just something only duskwood players would get 😩😩

Im blanking on creativity but im ready to spend everything left in my bank account 🧎‍♀️

Hey Ho, dear Anon! <3 Ohhhhh! Duskwood merch!! *-*

Well, I personalized my Duskwood hoodie by having '#IAmJake' printed on the right sleeve. I think it depends on which merch you want? 🤔 The Duskwood hoodie/Tshirt etc, the Jake Eye, and so on. I think maybe the hoodie with Jake’s eye in the front, and on the back 'Ghostbuster' or 'professional Ghostbuster' would be very cool. I’ve been thinking about doing this for a while. Or maybe just his most used smileys on the sleeves. On the shoulders left and right ':)' ';)'

A Jake Eye cup, on the back 'Coffee, so I won’t sleep until next fall'

Or maybe the nicknames Dan gives. xD

'Hackerman' or 'Crowman' etc

Or maybe 'You’re the key'

Or maybe on the back: 'If you can read this, I survived the Duskwood (optianl) mandatory dare' xD

Or just 'NYM-OS' with cool font.

Or maybe the emojis xD

Or maybe: 'If you love me, share your screen with me'

Or 'Who the hell is Jake?'

and maybe also 'The Hacker' - 'The hackers name is Jake?'

Or 'If your name is Elenore or Poke or Norman stay away from me' xD

I have to admit, right now, I can’t think of anything more. :( But I hope that the community can and will give you some more cool options. I love your idea and I hope you will find the right one for you in the end. I would be happy if you tell us what you choose! 🤭 Thank you so much for asking me. And I hope you will have a wonderful day/evening/night! Take care of yourself and stay healthy! 💚

#duskwood #duskwood merchandise #duskwood community #duskwood fandom #hbj dw answers #<3<3<3<3<3<3

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laserpackaging-blog · 3 days

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The Ultimate Guide to Paper Cups Singapore

In the bustling metropolis of Singapore, where convenience meets sustainability, paper cups have become an indispensable part of daily life. From morning coffee runs to office meetings, these eco-friendly vessels offer both practicality and environmental consciousness. If you're in search of the finest paper cups Singapore, look no further.

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In recent years, the global shift towards sustainability has prompted businesses and individuals alike to reconsider their choices, leading to the rise of eco-friendly alternatives. Among these, paper cups have emerged as a popular choice, offering a renewable and biodegradable solution to the environmental challenges posed by traditional plastic cups. With Singapore's commitment to sustainability and reducing plastic waste, the demand for paper cups has skyrocketed, paving the way for a flourishing market.

The Versatility of Paper Cups

One of the most appealing aspects of paper cups is their versatility. Whether you're enjoying your morning latte on-the-go or hosting a corporate event, paper cups cater to a wide range of needs. Their lightweight and portable design make them ideal for busy individuals who require a convenient way to enjoy their favorite beverages while minimizing environmental impact. Moreover, paper cups are available in various sizes and designs, ensuring that there's a perfect option for every occasion.

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When it comes to choosing the right beverage container, paper cups offer numerous benefits that make them a superior choice:

1. Environmental Sustainability

Unlike their plastic counterparts, paper cups are made from renewable resources, making them an environmentally sustainable option. They can be easily recycled or composted, reducing the strain on landfills and minimizing pollution.

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Paper cups are designed to provide excellent heat insulation, keeping your hot beverages warm without transferring heat to your hands. This feature makes them ideal for serving piping hot coffee or tea without the need for additional sleeves.

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Conclusion

In conclusion, paper cups offer a sustainable and versatile solution for enjoying your favorite beverages in Singapore. From their eco-friendly properties to their customizable designs, paper cups have become a staple in both commercial and residential settings. By choosing paper cups, you're not only making a conscious decision for the environment but also enhancing your overall drinking experience. So, the next time you reach for a cup of coffee or tea, make it a paper cup and join the movement towards a greener future.

#paper cups singapore

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inklusiveprinting01 · 2 months

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Coffee Cup Sleeves With Logo

INKlusive offers premium coffee cup sleeves featuring your logo, perfect for businesses seeking to make a statement. These sleeves not only protect hands from hot beverages but also serve as mini billboards for your brand. Crafted from high-quality materials and customizable to your specifications, our logo-printed sleeves add professionalism and style to every cup. Elevate your customers' experience and leave a lasting impression with our eye-catching coffee cup sleeves.

#INKlusive

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customprintingcups · 9 days

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Custacup: Affordable Custom Stadium Cups and Dixie Cups in the USA

Discover Custacup for budget-friendly Cheap Custom Stadium Cups and Custom Dixie Cups in the USA. Call 1-800-688-4835 for personalized designs perfect for events, parties, and promotions. Explore our range of cheap custom options to elevate your branding with every sip.

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uyuuma · 2 months

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“ THAT BOY LOVES HIS COFFEE ”

customer!geto x barista!reader ღ MDNI.

❥ summary. geto frequents the coffee shop that you work at and he starts to visit every shift.

❥ warnings. nsfw, female anatomy, car sex, spit play, etc.

❥ a/n. first time writing for jjk im soo excited :3

❥ wc. 1.9k

It had been a relatively slow day at work today. You had been working what feels like the longest morning shift of your life and you wished you were at home instead.

That was when you heard the bell ring from the front door being opened. You groaned, knowing it was you that was manning the coffee station for now. You listened to your coworker greet the person at the register and take their order.

God, don't let this be a blended drink. You did not feel like having to make a super complicated order at the moment.

The order printed at the little printer next to your station. You picked up the tag and it read 'AMERICANO ICED LRG'.

You breathed a sigh of relief, that order was easy as shit.

While watching the shots of espresso pour from the machine you gathered some ice into a large plastic cup. You poured in the shots and topped it with water.

You scoffed and thought, what kind of freak drinks plain, watered down espresso?

"Large iced Americano." You called out in a monotone voice.

It was a boring day, you had no reason to be enthused. I mean, that was until you saw him.

Your jaw almost dropped watching a tall, handsome man walk up for his drink. He had broad shoulders hiding under a black button up, with long black hair in a half-up half-down style. He had some tattoos peaking out from the collar of his shirt and rolled up sleeves. To top the entire thing off, he had black gauges in his ears peaking out through his hair.

Christ, this man was gorgeous. I guess this is the type of person that enjoys black coffee.

"Thanks." He says with a smile. His voice was sultry and just the short response left you enamored.

"O-of course, have a good day." You said by instinct. True, you say this to every customer that walks out, but this time you meant it.

You watched him take his coffee and walk out the door. A part of you wanted to just abandon your shift and chase him down, knowing you'd never be able to find a man that fine again. However, you just sighed and cleaned up your station, thinking that seeing him would be a one-time thing.

Well lucky for you, ever since that day he started to come in more often. First it was every week, then he started coming almost every time you worked. Every time he walked in, you would hear those familiar clicks of his shoes on the hard flooring. Even the way he walked was elegant. Sometimes you'd be on the register to take his order and that's when you learned that his name was Suguru.

And without fail, he would always order a large, iced Americano.

Because he would come so often during your shifts, a little dynamic started between you two. Sometimes you'd greet him with a "The regular?" or "Not you again" when he'd walk in. He laughed every time.

It was like a cute little game you guys played. It was to the point where you were watching the clock, painfully waiting for your little coffee boyfriend to walk in and order. You started to even put more thought into how you looked at work. Putting extra care into your makeup and hair and tying your apron so that it perfecting accentuated your curves. You hoped he would notice.

After a few weeks of the friendly comments, it lead to you writing cute messages in sharpie on his cups. Sometimes it was a "good morning :p" and other times it was a silly coffee pun.

However, you were feeling bold this time around and wrote "Suguru ♡" on the lid of his cup.

You handed his cup over to him with a smile and he took it with a smile back to you.

That was when he read your little message to him and his smile disappeared.

Your heart skipped a beat, did you just fuck up? Did you misread your guys' little game? Maybe you just made it really uncomfortable for the both of you!

He takes his finger and traces the lid where you wrote his name and heart. He looks up with a smile, this one was a different one though, one you haven't seen before.

"Cute." He says softly. It's that smooth delivery that makes your heart flutter. He then slips his phone out of his back pocket and scrolled through it for a second, handing it over to you. It's on the contacts page and your hand twitches from the implication that he wants your number in it.

You nod and hastily enter your number and name into his phone. You hand it back, face becoming flushed by the sudden exchange.

"Thanks again." He said, going back to his normal tone.

He walks out and leaves you speechless, hands going numb from the thoughts race through your little head. Did that really just happen?

It really sunk in when you received a text while you were doing the dishes in the back.

"lmk when you're off today -suguru" was what you saw from an unknown number.

You almost dropped your phone into the sink in panic. You quickly made him a contact and promptly responded as calmly as you can.

"ok, im off at 6pm' you replied, trying to play it cool.

Unfortunately, you have closing shift today so it would be a long day of awaiting his next text.

You finished closing and unclipped your hair. You finished clocking out for the day and said goodbye to your coworkers. You received another text, sharply at 6:00pm.

"behind the building, parked in the back parking lot" was all it read from him.

You were confused, was he telling you to meet him in the back parking lot? No one really parks there except for employees or people trying to go to the bank. You walk around the building to see a black vehicle parked, it had dark tints all around. Definitely sketchy.

Sketchy it was, since you found yourself folded in half underneath the customer you so cutely had a crush on for months.

You were in his backseat, getting your little pussy stretched out by his fat cock. Honestly, everything leading up to this moment was a blur but it didn't matter, because you were finally given everything you wanted.

"Fuck, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do this." Suguru says between pants and grunts. He's pushing your knees to your chest to get his cock even deeper into you.

"Ah! Sugu- ffffuckkk!" You moan out loud, taking in all of your senses. His wonderful cologne flooded the car and the chain he wore around his neck dangled in front of your messy, fucked out face.

"Those little messages you wrote for me were so cute." He teased. "It made tracking down your work schedule worth it." He said turning up his pace into a relentless pounding onto your cervix.

It made your pussy clench around him, finding out that he was stalking your schedule. He had been planning this since the day he laid eyes on you. You knew it, this was the type of man that drank black coffee, what a freak.

"Oooh, did I say something that excited you?" He taunted you. "Do you like knowing about the creepy things I did because of you?" He asked, gliding his hand from your waist up to hook his thumb in your open mouth. He pulled your cheek out to see how much you'd drool going dumb on his cock.

All you could give him was a weak little nod through whimpers and moans.

"Don't act like you're so innocent either, huh?" He says in a mocking tone. "Don't think I didn't notice how you would change your hairstyles up and tighten that apron around your slutty waist." He ran his thumb along your tongue and then spit onto it.

"Pathetic little girl, I could tell you've been thinking about this." He said moving his hand out of your mouth. "And I know you're a pathetic girl because you will swallow." Suguru bucked his hips hard and rough, trying to get you to wake up from the little trance you were in.

You swallow his spit and look into his lust-filled eyes, this was no longer the stoic or self-disciplined man you knew from before. This was the real Suguru and you loved to see it.

"Mmm, s'pathetic for you baby. Want to cum..." You managed to mutter out a sentence while being stuffed to the hilt. You gripped his giant bicep and held on for dear life as he chuckled.

"Of course, anything for my little barista." He said, moving his free hand to thumb circles on your puffy clit.

Your eyes darted to the back of your head from all of the overwhelming sensations. You were so close to letting it all out. Your knees buckled from above you as you dug your nails into his bulging bicep. You practically screeched in pleasure as you met your climax, cumming exceptionally hard on his dick.

He groaned, feeling you tighten around him. Suguru continued to rub your clit as you rode your own high.

The cars windows were steamed up from the hot activities that you guys have been up to.

As your body becomes limp from the intense orgasm, Suguru has to hold your legs up so that he can continue to bully his cock into you. It was incredibly overstimulating, but it didn't matter to you since you would happily let him enjoy your body for as long as he wanted to.

Suguru grunts and grips onto your thighs hard enough to bruise you. "Fuuuck, m'gonna cum!" He groaned and quickly pulled out to cum all over your little apron. Hot spurts of his seed landed on your favorite apron, staining it. He pumps himself to make sure he gets every last drop onto it.

After a brief moment, he shuffles to sit straight up onto the seat beside you. He tucks his cock back into his drawers and pulls his black jeans up. He looks over to you, your pussy soaked and apron stained. Your cute fucked-out expression and hair stuck to your forehead from the sweat.

"My cute little barista." Suguru said sweetly and he lovingly pulled you up from your crunched position. He propped you up against his body and helped you put your leggings back on.

"Mmm... what time is it? You asked while wiping the sweat from your forehead.

Suguru adjusted his arm so that he could look at his wrist watch. "9:30, baby." He said with slight amusement in his voice. He was impressed with the time you guys made.

"W-what!" You gasped. He fucked you for three and a half hours straight? "Fuck! I have morning shift tomorrow!" You whined to him.

Suguru just smiled and said, "Guess I'll be seeing you tomorrow morning then."

He brushed your hair out of your face as he looks down at you.

"Yeah, guess I'll see you then." You giggle, realizing maybe work won't be that bad.

"Oh and make sure you wear that same apron tomorrow." Suguru said as he kissed your forehead.

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