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dreamsofbroflovski · 1 month ago

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Craig Tucker x Reader - sugar (c)rush - part 2

Also available on ao3! 𓆩♡𓆪 Link to Part 1

Summary: Craig Tucker's unwanted visit to the maid cafe leaves him in a sour mood, but the place might bring something that makes his life the sweetest it's ever been.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content (everyone involved is above the age of consent), Fem!Reader, Smut, Penis In Vagina Sex, Mating Press, Dom/Sub Dynamics (Craig gets called 'Master'), Possibly OOC Craig Tucker, Arguing

A/N: aaaand here it is! the part damn near everyone who read this came for. i wish it hadn't gotten as long as it did, but it is what it is. if Craig sounds OOC I promise he's just whipped. reader will do that to ya

It took months for a day to happen that would change this groove you’d fallen into. Craig noticed the difference as soon as he arrived - he barely managed to hear the ringing of the door chime when he entered the shop, since it was drowned by the loud chattering and commotion inside. Apparently, on that specific afternoon, your workplace was having some type of different event with discounted menu items and limited-time meals he hadn’t cared much for, but now especially did, since it messed with his plans. Every single seat he saw was occupied, maids zipping through the commotion to serve multiple tables at once, a completely different atmosphere from how laid-back and hospitable he had learned to find the place to be when not as full. It made him uncomfortable, like he’d lost something familiar, but he pushed through it, holding onto what was left of the routine.

“My apologies, Craig, but (Y/N) is a little bit busy today,” one of your work colleagues told him as he settled into his usual spot, kept secure for him by a small sign on the table that said it was ‘reserved’. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure your experience is as amazing as possible!”

“It’s alright.” He didn’t even look at her as he said it, pushing away the menu she was trying to hand him. “Just give me a black coffee then.”

She didn’t bother to write his order down on the tablet before leaving for the kitchen, and Craig sighed as he found himself alone again, mentally preparing for one of those days of boredom and annoyance that used to be commonplace when you weren’t his appointed maid. The table in the corner gave him a good view of the surroundings, and he spotted you with just one scan of his eyes, making small talk on a booth near the counter. Just as quickly, you found him - he caught your face turning as if it was magnetically drawn to that side, big eyes shining with gleeful surprise before you raised your hand and waved at him. He could’ve sworn your already present smile became a tiny bit bigger when you saw him, too; but he pushed the idea away as delusion, giving you a curt nod of acknowledgement and following you with his vision as you got back into movement.

He counted about four tables that you’d stopped by to take or deliver orders and chat with customers. Four different instances of his throat emitting a low rumble, like a growl, a direct voicing to the thoughts he had, watching as you directed your gentle affection to people he’d never seen before in all the days he came over. When he was around, it was a given that he’d have 100% of your attention, considering he’d pay for the company. That day, however, he had arrived too late for that - having to resign himself to watch and maybe internally pray that the movement would slow down so you’d exchange a few words with him, even if that was unlikely.

His coffee arrived and he ignored all the excited things your maid colleague had to say about it, waving her off with not many words, both him and her appearing extremely glad about the short duration of the interaction. Putting two sugar packets in the hot liquid and taking a sip, he frowned: still too bitter. The taste of the very first coffee he drank in the shop was still vivid in his mind, remembering it as overly sweet even without added sweetener; with the passage of time, however, it seemed to slowly become less and less so, shifting into the completely opposite end of the taste spectrum into ‘not ever nearly sweet enough’. As he opened a third packet, he made a mental note to get a word in with the kitchen staff later to see what had changed with the brand they were using or the preparation.

There was a conscious attempt on his part to not focus on you as much as he drank his coffee, trying to pay attention to other things until he’d eventually get too annoyed by the noise and leave - which was setting itself to happen earlier than usual, since the chatter was louder than ever due to the sheer amount of people inside. He was, however, keeping an ear out for any snippets of your voice, almost straining that particular body sense in the process.

When he did hear it again, it was in the middle of another sip of coffee, and he stopped with his lips still on the mug. It was barely audible, but he picked up on it with precision, his sight immediately flickering to where the sound came from, finding you a few meters away. You had your back to him, tending to a table with two guys in it, both with their heads turned to you.

“Like I said, I’m so very sorry, but I can’t sit with the masters this afternoon,” you said, and through the apologetic intonation, Craig caught a hint of discomfort that made him put down his mug and lean with his upper body in that direction, doing what he could to hear better. “The fee is not available today, we have so many wonderful customers and…”

“No no no, sweetie, you don’t understand,” one of the men spoke, “We don’t wanna pay no fee. We just want you to hang out a little.”

The other dude nodded with a shit-eating grin, and the stoical male felt something run down his back - like he had just got an epidural injection of pure venom to the top of the spinal cord. He wasn’t at ease, and by the way he saw you shift your weight between your feet, swaying in place slightly, neither were you.

“I… I would love to, but that’s unfortunately not possible. However, if the masters would like to place an order now, I…”

“We’ll order if you sit here with us,” the second fellow interrupted your soft voice with his raspy barking, and Craig found himself wanting to be president so that he could make that particular action a crime. “Come ooon, darling…”

“I can’t, I really can’t…”

You were beginning to whine now. Craig glanced around quickly. Was no one paying attention to that interaction? All of the other maid workers were busy with their own clients, and your boss was nowhere to be found. The gnashing of his teeth inside his closed mouth felt way too loud when he was trying to pay attention to you, but he couldn’t help it, the building angry energy in his body needing somewhere to go to.

He looked back towards you just in time to see your head turn in another direction, hearing one of your other better tables calling to you for something. The swaying stopped, and Craig could almost feel the same relief you did to be free of that annoying situation.

“My apologies, dear masters, but another table is calling to me,” you said with more confidence this time, the whiny tone fading as you found your peace again. “I’ll give you a little more time to go through the menu and decide on your order and then I’ll be right back!”

“Hey, wait up! We’re not done talking to you!” The first man, the one closest to you, reached out from his seat just as you took a step backwards to make your exit, wrapping his hand around your arm and making you yelp.

One might’ve thought Craig had developed teleportation abilities. Because before he himself had even noticed it, he was next to you and his own hand was on the guy’s wrist, holding it with twice the grip strength that other man’s hand had on your arm. His face did not denounce the pure anger that sparked under his skin like tons of needles urging him to violent action, and neither did his voice. But even through the deadpan expression, his eyes were still intense.

Both you and your disruptive client gasped in surprise, but Craig didn’t acknowledge either reaction. “Back off. She already said no.”

“Hey dude, what the fuck? Let go!” The other dude began trying to wriggle his wrist out of the oppressive grasp, releasing your own arm in the process - you stepped back again right after, eyes locked on the situation unfolding in front of you while frozen in fear. His own movements, however, came to no avail, as Craig stood almost perfectly still even when the harshest yanking threatened to swerve his body.

“Then apologize and let the maid leave.”

The second client came to his friend’s rescue and tried pulling at Craig’s free arm, and still he didn’t move, spreading his feet a bit on the wooden floor to have more stability. “Apologize for what? We aren’t doing anything wrong,” that man barked again.

“You’re harassing the employee,” Craig enunciated his words more firmly than usual, like the mere mention of the action offended him greatly.

“They’re paid to hang out with us, dude,” the first guy scoffed, “Fuck you mean, ‘harassing’?”

“They’re paid to serve your orders. You’re not ordering.”

“We’re fucking clients here!” The second guy’s tone turned ironic, like he was trying to explain something to Craig as if he was five years old, and it made him want to bash those teeth so far into his throat he’d never be able to speak like that again. “They’re supposed to do what we ask! The customer is always right!”

“You need to pay for something to be considered a client. Right now, you’re just wasting a table.” And the attention of a great woman, he added mentally.

“It’s a maid café, dude,” Wow, what a precise observation, Craig thought over the voice of the dude. “These chicks are supposed to do what we say, it’s the whole point!”

“Well, that chick-” he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder towards you, feeling slight guilt over the tiny squeal you emitted as the spotlight was back on you, “-is not going to do what you say. So talk to her properly.”

“What are you, her boyfriend?” Another scoff. “She’s not gonna fuck you, dude. Leave it.”

Craig consciously refused to recognize the way his stomach dropped with those statements. Sure, they were true. Your interest in him didn’t go far beyond the confines of his wallet, and it pained him to know it. But he’d be damned if that would be the reason he’d let another person speak to and about you like that.

He decided not to answer the guy’s comment directly, unwilling to draw this line of thought to the unwanted attention you were already receiving. “Apologize to her and leave her alone. The maids are busy.”

“Or what? What’s it to you?” Still being held in Craig’s grasp, the first guy stood up, his full height and build almost rivaling Craig’s own, but making up for the one or two inches of difference with his audacity. A chair scraped out of their view, the second dude standing up as well, clearly more out of moral obligation to defend his friend rather than actual courage. “You gonna do something about it?”

At this point, the whole shop had gone quiet, watching the commotion unfold. The all-female staff were all frozen in place, unable to step up and diffuse the situation physically but also incapable of looking away from it, and Craig couldn’t blame them at all. He also would’ve chosen not to engage in any other circumstance; it was admittedly none of his business. But even so, he still stood there proud, emboldened by a sort of bravery he had never felt before in his life. Maybe you weren’t his to protect, but he was still going to do it, using whatever he had - be it physical strength, intelligence or just the power of not giving a fuck - to make sure you were respected.

“If you’re not ordering, then you gotta leave,” Craig declared, “Free the seats for someone else.”

“That’s not in the rules, dipshit.” So they did know the rules after all. “I’m not gonna fucking apologize to no one about asking for the service this place’s supposed to provide. So go back to your damn seat and shut the fuck up.”

The response to that didn’t come verbally. With a huff, Craig yanked at the arm of the guy he was arguing with, making him almost topple over the table if his free hand hadn’t held him on it. His friend scrambled to help, pushing at Craig’s other shoulder, but all that managed to accomplish was making his jacket drop a little off his arm. Maybe those sumo lessons he got in elementary school weren’t totally useless - he knew how to keep himself firmly in place, hardly budging under the other guys’ attempts at making him stagger.

A swing came from his side, missing his face by a bit as Craig took a step back, pulling his opponent with him. The chair the first guy was seated on fell when its occupant tripped on it, but it was barely heard over the angry shouts, the noise of his loud sneakers and the gasps of all the other customers when your protector took the nuisance away by the arm in long strides. For a guy that didn’t maintain a frequent workout routine, Craig was abnormally strong - the effects of his fight response were not to be underestimated.

“You had your fucking chance,” Craig growled as he walked, an acknowledgement of the offenses the other guy was spilling while being dragged away. “I’m not one of the maids, but I can clean up the place too.”

Reaching the door didn’t take long, considering the length of his legs and the fact that Craig cared very little if his opponent was walking properly or not. With another harsh yank of his arm, he shoved the man forward, finally letting go of him and bracing himself with his free hand on the wall by the door when the other dude, having followed behind, pathetically tried to push him as well. All bark and no bite, both of them.

Like a sack of trash being thrown into the garbage truck, the primary disruptive client fell through the doorway into the sidewalk in front of it, landing on his side with a harsh noise of his clothes rubbing on the stone. He might’ve scraped his arm, too, but the pride would certainly hurt more with being so casually discarded like he was. The second fellow, in his urge to help his buddy, lost his footing on the elevated step by the entrance, missing his balance completely and falling on his stomach not far from the first one, his outstretched hands doing little to brace him.

“You’re fucking fucked, dude!” Both guys stood up clumsily as one of them yelled, reaching out to each other for stability and almost falling on their asses again in the process. “We’re gonna call the cops on this place and then you’re done for!”

“Go on, you do that,” Craig retorted from the doorway, flexing his dominant hand, balling it into a fist then stretching his fingers out - though he had managed to come out on top in the strength display, there was still pain from the grip he had to keep. “Then they’re gonna have a bunch of witnesses to listen to about how you were disturbing the workers and breaking the rules of a private business.”

That mention seemed to have given the two men pause, their eyes flickering towards what little of the shop’s interior they could see from their position, just now realizing the amount of people inside who saw the whole ordeal. With huffs and muttered complaints, they left, trudging away from the shop without further action.

Barely any time was given for you and Craig to really process how tense the situation had been before you both felt the hands of your store’s owner holding heavily onto your shoulders and dragging you away from the main shop area into the cramped staff room at the back. Stepping into the much less cutely decorated space and taking in what little furniture it had - a few tall lockers for stashing personal belongings in, a sink and microwave on a countertop, and a table against the opposite wall with a couple chairs around it -, all he thought was that he was screwed. Just because the other bothersome client hadn’t called the police for his aggression, it didn’t mean you or your boss wouldn’t. In the best of cases, he’d be banned from the café after the scolding of a lifetime. And, honestly, it would all have been worth it if he could keep you safe from at least one creep.

However, none of that came to pass. The owner was, of course, distressed, the heavy makeup on her face doing little to hide the twenty or thirty years she had aged in just the span of that exchange. But then she apologized, both to you and to him - to you for not being able to keep you safe and not paying close enough attention to the situation amidst the crowd, and to him for putting him in harm’s way as well, adding that, considering his violent conduct happened in defense of the safety of one of her workers, she wouldn’t contact the police. She did clarify that this went against the norms of the café and he wasn’t to take advantage of it by picking fights with peaceful patrons, but even in that unneeded slap on the wrist, he noticed the mix of pride and appreciation for how he had stepped up to protect you. To top it off, she decided to waive his bill for the day as well, as an apology for his troubles and a personal thank you gift.

“And so, uh… Yeah, I guess that’s all,” the owner eventually concluded, rubbing her own temples to try and relax. “Craig, if you want, you can return to the shop. (Y/N), you can stay here for a while, calm down and-”

“Actually, I’d like to talk to Craig a bit.”

This was the first set of words that left your mouth ever since he got involved in the ordeal with the client, and it made his hazel eyes widen. What did you even have to discuss? Surely just some more gratitude. But it was the thought that you might want to interact with him alone, outside of the paid arrangement from your job, that had his brain flooding with curiosity.

Your boss’ expression shifted as she frowned slightly. “Are you sure, (Y/N)?” She asked, and Craig caught on to the hint of concern in her voice, attributing it to justified worry about your personal safety.

Through the corner of his eye, keeping his face turned to the front, he saw you nod emphatically. “Yeah… I’m sure.” You turned to him, and there was now true effort on his part not to glance in your direction. “If that’s alright with you, of course.”

The space of the staff room seemed to have gotten even smaller, claustrophobic to Craig’s heightened senses. Like any of his actions could be seen, heard, judged. “Yeah, that’s cool.” Thank God his voice didn’t fail him in that moment, keeping seriousness despite the nerves that were sneaking into him.

The owner’s gaze flickered between the two of you for another moment, lips pursing as if holding back something she wanted to say; but then she nodded as well, turning on her heels and leaving through the small door Craig had been forcing himself to stare at this whole time, closing it behind her back.

And then it was just you.

“I really don’t understand how you make any money here,” the man commented a few seconds after she left, “You keep giving people free stuff all the time.”

Still paying attention to you without looking like it, Craig expected you to laugh, as you tended to do whenever he had a snarky remark to make about something. A part of him was hoping for it, even, to hear your small giggling and the playful scolding that usually followed. But you didn’t. He turned to you just in time to catch as you took the few steps towards him with a decided expression, wrapping your arms tight around him and planting your face in his chest.

His whole body instantly became taut against yours. What the fuck? This was a complete burst of his personal space bubble, way more physical contact than the two of you ever had, which was usually limited to small touches to his arm or hand during your conversations at his table. It was against the rules of your workplace, for sure, and he had an urge to scan the corners of the room and check for cameras - both for surveillance, terrified of the notion that someone might see it and get the wrong idea, and to confirm that he wasn’t in a comedy reality show and it was not a joke -, but the shock held him from doing even that. You had hugged him first. You were holding him close, he felt the front of your body pressing against his, he was not paying for this endeavor.

A couple seconds passed like this, Craig staying put as if expecting you to notice what you had done and pull away terrified. You didn’t. And this gave him the tiniest sliver of courage to slowly embrace you back. His hold wasn’t as tight as yours, still held back by lingering unease over too much unexpected physical touch, but it was there, an attempt at giving you the comfort you so clearly needed yet he didn’t know how to provide.

Him finally reciprocating your hug triggered your speech, making his breath hitch as you finally spoke. “Thank you so much.” Your voice was muffled by the fabric of his shirt, but the emotion in it was very much audible, that gratitude he already expected mixed with the remaining tension from earlier, relief and something else he didn’t quite get. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

“It’s alright,” he responded, turning his face to the ceiling; if he’d look down and see you there so close to him, he might not be able to keep his cool. Although he knew he had none to keep - your nose was probably vibrating from the thumping of his heart on his chest.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t there,” you continued, almost like you didn’t hear what he’d said. “You saved me, Craig.”

That simple sentence got to his head in a way he didn’t even know was possible. He never even knew his ego could inflate like that. Is this what Clyde wakes up like every day? “I did what anyone else should do, it’s no big deal.”

You shook your head, making small ruffling noises against his clothes. “Of course it’s a big deal… You didn’t have to do all that. But you did.”

“Like I said, it’s alright. You don’t have to thank me.”

First time ever that he cursed his dry delivery of words - he wanted to sound more reassuring, approachable as you were, but instead it just came off assholish like everything else he said. You didn’t complain, though, which he considered a win. Instead, your arms tightened even more around him, squeezing him briefly. “You could’ve gotten hurt, and then what would I do?”

This made the stoical male frown to himself, his brain getting momentarily confused at what you could possibly mean by that. “Maybe you’d have to call an ambulance,” he began explaining, taking the sentence literally. “They’d take me away, the cops would deal with the other guys, you’d have to testify and-”

“What?”

Your interruption sounded as confused as Craig’s own thoughts were, and not muffled anymore. He tilted his face down toward you, frown disappearing from it when he saw that your own face was lifted up. “I’m explaining what you would’ve done if I got hurt.”

“Huh? Oh, I’m not talking about that…”

You let go of him, taking a small step back, and he was pissed at himself for missing your hold as much as he did immediately after that. Watching as you focused on the ground, placing your hands tamely in front of your body, it then dawned on him that maybe he was the one misunderstanding the situation. Another one of those logic versus emotion things he had a hard time grasping.

“I was worried about you,” you said, “I care about you. I didn’t want to see you hurt.”

Hearing this, Craig crossed his arms. Had he left them at his sides, he would’ve risked them moving on their own to pull you into another hug - those sentences mirrored perfectly how he felt towards you, a slice of the feelings that had driven him to involve himself in that altercation earlier. But it was also a way of keeping himself guarded, impassive and looking the part. You ‘cared’ about anyone who came to the café. You ‘cared’ for him as long as he continued buying. The moment his foot touched the first stone of the pavement, you didn’t anymore.

“You don’t have to worry about me.” He internally wished you actually would. “I’m just a client. There’s more than a dozen of those out by the shop.”

Just as quickly as your face had lowered, it was lifted again - and this time you appeared aghast, almost as much as you had when he stepped up to defend you earlier.

“Don’t talk like that!” His usual expressionless face shifted into surprise at the scolding tone you were trying to use - you couldn’t be harsh for the life of you, so what came out was more like a pained plea, but your smaller frame was all tense. “You’re not just a client to me!”

Craig took a deep breath, trying to tackle his drumming heart that insisted on taking your words and running with them. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you, or that he didn’t at least want to; he literally wasn’t supposed to. “That’s exactly what I am.” He affirmed, more to himself than to you. Nothing more.

He heard your breathing too, softer than his, more of a sigh. Oh how he had let his mind wander during the table meetups, one side of his brain listening to what you had to say while the other imagined in what other situations you’d make noises like those. Sexual or not. Though none of those imaginations involved it coming with a hint of sadness while he squished his own feelings by standing firm behind the client-server wall he needed to maintain.

“You’re… more than that to me.” Your voice had dropped in volume, body still tense. “I like you, Craig. Like, really like you.”

What fucking wall now?

It was his turn to go tense, shoulders squaring up as the words hit him like a wrecking ball. Shit, maybe he did really get in a fight and the other guy bashed his damn head in. Only like that you’d be telling him such a thing. There was no other way to interpret your statement, no way for him to rationalize it into a different context, consciously or not. You said what you said.

“You do?” His eyebrows arched the slightest bit, arms slowly uncrossing and dropping back to his sides. “How?”

Your head tilted a bit, hands moving to clutch your own chest. The shift in body language showed him that you were legitimately anxious about the declaration, and about his reaction to it. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, this doesn’t make sense,” Craig continued, “I’m your regular. You can’t like me; You don’t know me like that. It’s not allowed.”

“Why?” Your voice got thinner again, as it usually did when you got nervous. ”Of course it is! I know you, I hang out with you all the time!”

“Because you’re paid to do that,” he insisted, becoming increasingly frayed over your prolonged assertions. “I pay the fee and you hang out with me. Those are the rules.”

“You haven’t had to pay for that in weeks!” There was a slight giggle accompanying your words now, those beautiful big eyes crinkling at the corners in amusement.

He’d have cussed you out for making fun of him, if he wasn’t so wrapped up in what you were actually saying. The behavior he had adopted regarding his spending at the café - that of not paying attention to it at all and just trusting blindly that everything was inside of his budget - was maybe the most jarring difference to his normal habits, no matter how much he tried to paint over it with claims of ‘supporting local businesses’. But only now did he realize that maybe his credit card statements had been a bit too easy on him.

“No way.” He brought his hands to your shoulders and squeezed a bit, not enough to hurt, just wanting to ground himself on something as he processed the information - or rather, the proof. “So you’ve just been hanging out with me for free?”

You shook your head. “It’s actually coming out of my paycheck.” The small giggle faded as you acknowledged that he was taking you seriously, but a timid smile lingered.

Anyone more honorable would’ve scolded you for basically paying to work, maybe even tried to give you back the money owed. But the truth was Craig didn’t give a fuck. He was too hung up on the fact that you did, in fact, hang out with him willingly, to the point where it was becoming detrimental to your own wallet. The fondness in your words and actions hadn’t been imaginary.

Not quite ready to look at you directly as he processed the information, he tried lowering his gaze a bit, but almost fully flinched when it stopped on your chest - and out of nowhere the wooden floorboards became interesting enough to stare at intently. His fingers twitched on your shoulders, itching to touch any part of your actual skin.

“Damn,” he muttered, “Since when?”

“I… I don’t know.” Hearing movement, Craig raised his eyes, seeing you bashfully playing with one of the strands of hair closest to your face, thinking he wasn’t looking. Another habit he’d grown to love. “I guess since the first day you came back. That time you told me I should be myself was awful, but...”

“You are yourself,” he interfered, straightening up and staring at you head-on. “You’ve always been yourself. And I like that. I like you.”

Those words should’ve been harder to say, and maybe they would’ve, if your confession hadn’t come first. But Craig found them as easy as saying ‘good morning’ - partly because he had no qualms about speaking his mind, ever, but also because he had waited with them on the tip of his tongue for almost as much time as you had. And time he now had to make up for; slowly, he leaned closer, giving you several moments to pull away before his lips met yours.

Holy hell. Despite being the one who initiated, it took him a moment to process that he was actually kissing you. Your lips were like the softest velvet possible against his and tasted like candy - he didn’t even know lip products could taste like anything, but now yours might’ve even become a new standard in kissing for him, one he wasn’t sure could be reached anywhere else. Seeking further closeness, he brought one of his hands to the back of your head, tilting it so your mouth could fit as perfectly as possible against his, not that it needed any help. The other hand drifted from your shoulder down your arm, catching your own and intertwining your fingers.

It was supposed to be a gentle kiss, just to test it all out, give him something to expect when he inevitably asked you out on a date later and exchanged numbers. But when your free hand grabbed hesitantly at the front of his jacket, as if you didn’t quite know where to put it, he found it impossible to part; you were too adorable for your own good, and he could sense your interest under the layer of shyness. So he got you even closer, tugging at your other hand with his and using it as leverage to draw you flush against him once more, deepening the kiss with a quiet moan.

Time seemed to slow down, incapable of catching up to Craig’s sped up heart rate. The silence in the room, the taste of your mouth, and having you in closer proximity than he’d ever had - those all contributed to him letting go of thought and not even noticing how uncomfortable it was getting with the rising warmth on his body as he lost himself more and more in the moment. But there was no denying it once you pulled back for air and he opened his eyes just in time to see the trail of saliva that was left connecting your mouths break. Then the heat in his lower abdomen hit him like a truck, and he was fully alert in the same second.

Look, at the end of the day, Craig was only a guy and operated accordingly. He was not above feeling arousal, and definitely not immune to the effects the maid outfit and your general cuteness had on his person. It was easy to pretend everything was fine in public, with multiple distractions, but alone with you and interacting directly, there was nothing to keep him from being engulfed in desire. Years of evolution had probably hard-wired his brain to being attracted to this type of submissive behavior and wanting to have it for himself. Darwin or some other badass scientist probably explained it better than he would.

The stoical male wasn’t going to tell you outright, not if he could avoid it. It was better to just let you get back to work, take care of himself in the bathroom and talk to you later as if nothing was amiss. But you stepped back before he was able to do anything, and the tent at the front of his jeans - which he’d just barely managed to ignore thus far due to it having been concealed by your skirt, the petticoat underneath providing an extra puffy layer that shielded you from having to feel any of it - was subjected to your full view straight away.

Silence fell in the small staff room, your gaze locking down onto the bulge of his crotch in a way that almost made Craig even more aroused. Maybe he had no right to stay near you after that, but simultaneously he felt rooted in place, incapacitated from leaving. The secret third option was turning his face away, but keeping sight of you on his peripheral vision as you took your time analyzing him.

“Oh… Oh wow.”

There was surprise in your voice, but he was relieved to notice it was the good kind. You hadn’t run away, you didn’t scream - despite the sudden development, you didn’t appear uneasy. Fascination kept you focused, and though his reaction was to just stand still and let you do so, he was inwardly preening himself at the fact that his arousal had drawn your attention like that, the awkward situation notwithstanding.

“Craig…” You called out softly, a flush forming on your cheeks and ears. “Can I… Touch it?”

This had to be a tease. No way you were this naive about what you did to him with stuff like that. And, in the off-chance you really were, then that would make it all just more satisfying when you did find out. “You can do more than touch,” he responded, not bothering anymore with the common sense that told him to at least fake being embarrassed. “But you really should head back now.”

“But I don’t wanna. I wanna stay here, with you… And…”

Agonizingly slowly for Craig, one of your hands reached out towards his crotch - just brushing against the denim of his pants at first, before you grew bolder and palmed it fully. Your touch was extra gentle, barely stimulating, but it still made him grunt and his dick twitch inside of his boxers.

His head snapped towards the break room’s door, almost as if expecting the whole staff to barge in at that very moment. “Your boss is gonna realize you are missing. She’s gonna come looking.”

“I… Don’t think so.” You covered your mouth with your other hand as you giggled, and Craig had to hold firmly onto the subject in his mind to not get fully distracted between that and your touch. “She knows I like you. I don’t think she’s gonna bother us…”

Craig’s eyebrows arched, and he turned his face to you again. As if made shy by his eye contact, you pulled your hand away, but he didn’t care about that anymore. If he was allowed to have his way, which appeared to be the case, both of you would be feeling much better soon enough. “You told her you liked a client?

The smallest smirk curved the edge of his lips when he saw you becoming even redder in the face. “Well… Sorta…” Your response came lower in volume, like confessing to a terrible secret, even though it was nothing major and you had been so willing to say it just a few seconds prior. “The staff here’s pretty close, they saw us talking a lot and… Yeah.”

“Huh.” Now it made sense. The weird behavior of the boss when you said you wanted to speak with him. She had known what was up and just wanted to confirm that you were comfortable going for it. “Well, then.”

That was going to be a talk he’d have with you some other moment; how long had he spent being the only clueless one in the room about your interest in him, the subject of lunch hour talks and giggling whispers in the corners from the other maids who saw you two talking? But for now, he had more important matters. Claiming your lips with more intensity this time and grabbing your waist, giving you just enough time to wrap your arms around his body, Craig walked you backwards the couple steps towards the other wall - lifting you up onto the table as soon as your ass hit the edge of it, with the same ease and strength he would’ve used to fight on the coffee shop space earlier if needed.

He settled nicely between your legs, and only took his mouth off of yours to bring his nose to the crook of your neck. His grip on your waist instantly tightened. There it was, the scent that always followed him home and accompanied him most hours of his day for weeks on end now. Like the sweetest strawberry; one he’d never eaten before, but still had gotten ingrained into his taste buds, making him always chase that same flavor like an addict. You were pure candy, better than anything they served at the café, and he had a mad sugar craving.

Avoiding the ruffle choker you wore as part of your uniform, his tongue found your skin, licking a messy stripe from your neck to your ear; lips closing around your earlobe, sucking on it with barely held back enthusiasm. The way you squirmed and trembled under his touch, letting out a shaky sigh and tilting your head to the side to give him more room, had him wanting to just pin you down and keep doing just that, prompting those adorable reactions over and over.

His cock, however, had other plans. Instinctively, Craig had started rutting lightly against the table, seeking any form of contact to sate the need he was in. It wasn’t nearly enough. Only by feeling you for real would he be at peace, and he wasn’t settling for ‘the next best thing’ anymore, like he was when he kept telling himself just being your customer was fine. His breathing was harsh as he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, the scent of your perfume still enveloping his brain like a pastel pink fog of passion.

“You want this, right?” He grunted, holding onto a scrap of sanity to make sure you were into it. “I won’t be able to stop later.”

You nodded desperately, gasping like the mere mention of the concept jolted your core. He didn’t even have to touch you - only by the way you responded, with utter need, he was able to tell that you wanted him just as bad. “Please, Craig… I-”

“Call me ‘Master.’”

Just as the words left his mouth, he knew he had lost his marbles completely. In absolutely no world would he have made such a request had he been in his right mind. But he couldn’t bring himself to not make it.

Your eyes widened. “But you told me-”

“What I told you does not matter right now.” The fierceness with which he stated that made you gasp in surprise, a reaction that he clearly picked up on, as the next part came out lower and softer. “Please.”

After holding his gaze for another moment, as if expecting him to pull back on the request, you spoke again. “Okay... Master.”

Your voice was meek and uncertain, barely dipping your toes in that water, possibly waiting for the moment where he’d remember just how much he ‘hated’ - did he now? - being called that, braced for the scolding. Yet there was nothing that had felt more right for him as this did in that moment. The simple term lifted him to the top of the world, making his brain go feral with thoughts of dominating you, taking with delight everything that you were so willing to give, then handing it right back to you just to prove how correct you were in surrendering your body and your mind to him. Restraint was definitely not a factor anymore, and though it was out of his element, it felt fucking fantastic.

Even though he was the one that just got called Master, he’d get on his knees and hand you the universe on a silver platter if you asked.

“That’s right.” The way his voice shifted into a more hoarse version of itself denounced how much it all had affected him. “Good girl.”

Ah, your fucking whimper that followed. Never had he heard a more perfect sound. It spoke volumes of your need to please, proving that it wasn’t just an act you’d put on upon request. That was all want.

Craig didn’t make another request as he let go of you to undo his belt and the buttons of his currently way too tight pants, leaving you waiting with bated breath. However, as soon as your hands moved towards your own back, attempting to reach the tied strings of your apron and the zipper of your dress, your dominant arm was under his grasp - not enough to hurt, but plenty to warn.

“Leave it on,” he commanded, the thumb on his free hand hooked on his own waistband. “It’s fucking hot.”

Immediately your hands were back on your lap as if they’d never left the spot, such speed pleasing Craig immensely, even if he only showed it through a hum and a smirk. You were truly created to serve, and he was created to order. And fuck, did it feel good to not have to pretend that uniform of yours wasn’t sexy as hell. It had been hard, respecting it as just workwear while continuously inspiring images of what it would look like in all his favorite positions. But now he was the one that got to bestow it new meaning, since you also didn’t seem particularly attached to its meaning as job apparel.

He pulled down his jeans and boxers just enough to free himself, sensing the monster of pride inside him - which was usually lazily resting, due to not caring much what others actually thought of him or his qualities - roaring with satisfaction as you moaned quietly upon seeing his member, noticeably satisfied with the view. Your thighs pressed together more, rubbing instinctively, and he knew you were just trying to ease your own ache; but you had so easily submitted to his desires, he saw it as unacceptable that you’d get release from anything that wasn’t him. One of his hands pushed your chest firmly but gently, lowering your back towards the table, while the other brought your thighs away from each other and lifted up the front of your skirt, letting layers of dress, apron and petticoat bunch at your hips.

There wasn’t any teasing as he pulled your panties down and took them off you, and also no need for that anyway; the fabric had turned basically see-through by the point he got to it, your folds slick with glistening anticipation. Seeing you spread and dripping made him think that covering his head with those layers of your skirt and dying of heat stroke while eating you out would not be a bad way to go. He was positive you’d taste like candy, just like everything else that surrounded you, and lapping up your honey would consolidate the huge sweet tooth he’d apparently developed the last couple of weeks: he wouldn't be able to put another savory thing in his mouth ever again. But he didn’t have all that time - you were still on work hours after all, and though he didn’t give a fuck what was happening to your clients out at the café, he didn’t want you to be scolded or listen to any stupid complaints.

It was with that in mind that he shoved your panties into his back pocket and grabbed your waist again, dragging your now laid-down body closer to his own hips. As your legs lifted, crossing loosely around his waist, he took care of lining himself up with your entrance, dragging his angry tip up and down your slit, accompanying your mewls of pleasure with his own groans whenever it would brush against your clit. You were so goddamn responsive to even his smallest actions, it was unbelievable.

When Craig risked a glance at your flushed face again, all he saw were expectant wide eyes trying to watch where you two were about to meet - and quite failing to do so due to the barrier of bunched up fabric. Although it made him quite smug to know you were so interested in watching his cock, it was a waste of your precious gaze if you couldn’t look at anything.

“You don’t have to watch. You’re gonna feel it.” His voice made you look up at his face again, and just then he put his cock against your entrance, breaching into your tight heat with a thrust that made you gasp in surprise despite how slow it had been. His own eyes shut, focusing on the sensation for a moment, and fuck was it amazing. He’d never felt so utterly enveloped, your warmth embracing his member with just the right amount of tightness, and by the way you clenched even more around him when he bottomed out after a bit, no doubt you were feeling just as amazing.

“I told you.” Craig spoke again, rough with desire, daring to open one eye to peek at your adorable face. He hadn’t even moved, and you already had half-lidded eyes and parted lips. How would you look when he effectively put you through it? “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you feel everything you need to feel.”

“Y-yes, yes… I trust you, master…” You nodded once, resolute despite the nerves that seemed to prickle right at your skin - which Craig knocked right out of you as his cock started to move inside your cunt, his hips setting a steady pace right away. He didn’t have the patience to drag anything out, not if you were going to keep calling him that word.

“Good girl… Good girl,” he murmured like a prayer, an encouragement for you to keep talking, to fuel his ego even more. He had delved into an uncharted zone - although he was pretty decent at thinking only about himself, he’d never valued himself as highly as he did in that moment, never felt like such a realized man.

And as this man he felt like, he wanted more. Whatever he could get. Planting his palms under your thighs, he pushed them up until your knees hit your chest, folding you up unceremoniously. He heard you squealing, but didn’t budge - because your hands quickly found the back of your knees and held them in their spread, letting your legs rest on his shoulders, keeping the position without a single complaint. He wished he could photograph that perfect vision to forever have the image of you open and taking him with unabashed eagerness, but his own memory would have to suffice.

“Fuck, you’re flexible,” he commented distractedly while he drove himself into you harder and faster, placing his hands at your sides on the table and leaning more over it to hit even deeper, chasing the limits of what the sudden mating press would allow him.

“Only- Only the best for my ma- master,” you stammered over your words in response, gasping and whining as he repeatedly hit that spot inside of you which made you goddamn stupid. A beautiful kind of stupid, one which Craig hadn’t known existed until then.

“Mmph… That’s what I wanna see,” he rasped, leaning with his upper body towards you even more until his face was hovering over yours. His lips trembled with the urge to kiss you, but the interest in hearing your moaning took precedence. “And you’re gonna always be the best for me, right?”

Whatever answer you had to verbally give, it got swept away by the quick breaths that left your mouth. It was sufficient feedback for him, though.

The table began to slam against the wall with each thrust, and the stoical male thanked its sturdy material, otherwise you’d both soon be sent crashing down to the floor with how rough he was getting. But the noise it made with the constant hitting did not grace his ears; all that did were the wet sounds of your cunt as he pounded into it relentlessly and your sweet little moans that spilled freely. Both of you were hanging onto hope that the noise outside would cover your actions, but the setting was long forgotten, anything outside of that tiny room ceasing to exist.

Each of your whimpers brought him closer to the brink. You’d talked to him in nothing but softness the whole time he knew you, and yet now he knew just how lewd you could get. How lewd he could make you get. And that was when he regretted his rush to get to this moment, because now that he had it, he couldn’t ever savor it enough.

“Aaaaah… Craig, I-” His actual name slipped out of your vocal cords before you could reel it in, and you slapped your mouth with your hand, tensing up even more with the worry of having messed up when you were so close to release. But at this point he didn’t care; any word you used to call him sounded heavenly in your voice anyway, and he wasn’t in any condition to punish you when he was also struggling to hold back.

“Speak up…” One of his hands moved to your wrist, pulling your palm away from your face and stopping it from muffling your words.

“Ngh… Master, I need to cum,” you whined, visibly relaxing - but not by much, considering the need that made your muscles taut - with his overlooking of your mistake.”Can I- aah- can I c-cum for you? Please?”

His fingers tightened around your wrist as he nodded firmly. “Do it,” he grunted, and right after the last letter left his lips you were clenching impossibly around him, a true high-pitched scream of pleasure tearing your throat when you gave him the most beautiful form of surrender. Your legs flailed against his shoulders, but he paid it no mind: his attention was on your expression, watching through half-lidded eyes as your own rolled back and your jaw went slack.

Craig had no idea how he found the self-control to do what he did next. When your cunt tightened even more around him, being already on edge, he’d surely be a goner - but he managed to pull out at the last moment, a move that he patted himself on the back for during the whole ride home after your encounter. Throwing his head back with a prolonged moan, he took himself in his hand and aimed towards your body as he came, spilling sticky white jets directly onto your apron.

A moment was needed after that, him letting go of his cock and hovering over you again with his hands on the table while you just laid there, both of your heavy breaths the only thing audible in the small staff room. You just stared at each other for what seemed like forever, your own slowly refocusing eyes capturing the perfect moment where rational thinking graced the man’s mind again and he looked down to see his seed splattered on your work clothes.

“Oops,” he murmured, still not all that sound with his thoughts, “Sorry…”

“It’s… It’s alright…” You responded with your voice still small and trembling, making a random movement of dismissal with your hand.

He knew it actually wasn’t. If you didn’t wash it off as soon as possible, it risked staining, and the whiteness of the apron’s fabric would not be able to camouflage it at all. But, like for many other things, he didn’t care. In fact, it was thrilling to think about: to send you off back into work with that marking of what had transpired clear on your uniform, so you’d go and serve all those customers - however unhygienic that would be - and call them ‘masters’ without being able to hide the stamp of who really owned you.

Finding strength in his body again, he took his cock out of you and settled it back into his underwear, the light rustling of the denim and clinking of the belt as he buttoned his pants being overshadowed by the shuffle of your skirt as you sat back up on the table, legs dropping to dangle at the edge of it.

When he was fully decent and brought his attention back to you, it was obvious that you were nervous. Your feet were kicking the air by his sides, that adorable face still flush from shyness and lingering arousal, and you were looking down with your hands folded over your lap, carefully avoiding the still sticky residue on your clothes. Not a peep came from you, not that he expected it. Getting in your head about what that meant for the both of you, if he had to guess. Fucking a customer in your place of work wasn’t peak relationship starting conduct.

Craig, however, had no nervousness to feel. For him, there was nothing to mull over. He wasn’t used to the whole romance thing, which showed in how he acted, but for you he felt he was willing to try, even if it proved difficult. He had decided.

But he had to soothe your concerns somehow, even if he didn’t share them. So he brought his lips to the top of your head, pressing them against your hair; not forcing you to look up, and also catching a whiff of your delightful shampoo in the process.

“You really have to go now. I’ll stick around. See you when your shift is done,” he said as he pulled away.

It wasn’t a suggestion.

You finally looked up at him and it made his heart feel floaty. Lips slightly parted and swollen from all his kisses, doe eyes gleaming with hope and relief, the beginnings of what could be tears of joy forming - made him want to disregard the last statement and just whisk you away someplace nicer right then. Damn you, responsibilities.

Still it took a moment for you to gasp and blink frantically, as if caught off-guard noticing the distraction caused by how happy you were feeling. When you looked at him properly again, there was that smile Craig had learned to associate with himself.

“Yes, master.”

Dividers by @cafekitsune

#south park #south park fanfiction #south park smut #south park x reader #south park x y/n #craig tucker #south park craig #craig tucker x reader #craig tucker x y/n #dom/sub #master/servant #smut #maid cafe #maid uniform #ao3 #imagine #x reader #fanfic

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swordlux · 11 months ago

Text

The Command | Cú Chulainn x Reader

A romantic reimagining of the scene from EP 19 of Fate/stay night: Unlimited Blade Works, "Idealism's End", with you in place of Tohsaka.

Major spoilers ahead for the anime.

To Lancer with love <33

***

I could feel the loyalty in his stance—and it made my heart break. I knew Lancer would do all he could to resist the order, but even he wouldn’t be able to disobey a command written in his soul. It was like the cruel hands of fate had wrapped around both our necks.

*** The Command

The ropes bit into my skin. I turned my head away from Shinji’s taunting face, doing my best not to show my distress. Anger flooded me from the tips of my toes; how I wanted so badly to punch this young fool. I bit my lip instead, near snarling as his uncouth hands explored my thighs.

“I love a girl with nice legs,” he said, running his hands further up my thigh.

That comment and the fact that he was practically drooling were enough to push me past my limit.

I pulled against my restraints, ready to snap.

Then, all of a sudden, as if my thoughts made it appear, an invisible fist flew into the air and smashed into the side of Shinji’s face.

I watched my long-time rival’s cheekbone cave as the rest of his body caught up with him, and he went flying across the room.

For a second the only explanation I could think of was that I had tapped into some undiscovered talent, or that the air itself had adjusted to my will.

That was when he appeared—the tall, bright, handsome blue form attached to that fist.

“Lancer!” I cried.

Lancer’s expression was that of smug disinterest when he punched Shinji, but he turned now to me with concern flickering in his red eyes. “Are you alright?” he said.

“I am now.” It was the truth. Seeing Lancer standing there brought such relief to my limbs. I didn’t even notice the bounds around me anymore. It also brought up a deeper feeling that had been stirring in my chest every time I saw the man as of late. I wanted to throw my arms around his strong waist. The sight of him there confirmed all the feelings that remained unspoken in the air between us. It was clear he was stepping out of orders being here.

“Quite the situation you’ve got yourself in there,” he said, smirking now. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say the look suits you. Allow me—” He reached his spear for my binds, about to release me from captivity when a deep voice rang out in the dim chamber.

“Hold up, Lancer.”

The voice stopped us cold.

A man appeared in the shadows behind Lancer—a man whose sight would’ve made me feel sick on a normal day, and in this situation, it made me feel as if I was about to fall off the edge of a roller coaster.

He stepped into the light. The sight of the gold cross hanging on the front of his chest nearly made me hurl.

Kirei Kotomine. Lancer’s master.

I looked at Lancer with panic. He tried to reassure me, but I could see fear mirrored in his beautiful rubies.

He turned to Kirei. “What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that,” Kirei said, never breaking his composure. “I don’t remember ordering you to come to this young maiden’s rescue.”

“I don’t need an order to do something any honest knight would do.”

“Oh, is that what this is?” Kirei looked between us with amused curiosity. “You’re telling me you have no personal feelings here?”

Lancer bit down on his tongue. It was taking everything for him not to reveal the truth.

Kirei continued. “It’s true I ordered you to cooperate with them, but I never ordered you to get emotionally invested.” The love of my life’s master closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them, I saw nothing but malice in those bottomless pits, and I knew exactly what would come next. “Well, seeing that it’s too late, there’s only one thing to do now.” Kirei turned and looked me straight in the eye. “Kill her,” he said.

Lancer’s face turned white at the order. In it, I saw an absolute dread that must’ve been mirrored in mine. My stomach sank. Just as we’d reunited, just as I was sure we’d get to explore more of whatever this was between us. Our time was cut short by the knowledge that what would happen next was inevitable.

I looked into Lancer’s eyes—those deep, passionate, loving eyes—and knew this was a fate I could accept. I had to accept. No matter how painful, if I was going to die, at least it would be at the hands of one I loved.

I knew it would wreck Lancer, so I tried to show my acceptance in my gaze. Go ahead, don’t get yourself in trouble because of me. I’ll love you always.

But Lancer had already made his decision. His resolution was apparent in the strength of his warm voice. “I refuse,” he said. “If you want me to, you’re going to have to use a command seal.”

I could feel the loyalty in his stance, and it made my heart break. I knew Lancer would do all he could to resist the order, but even he wouldn’t be able to disobey a command written in his soul. It was like the cruel hands of fate had wrapped around both our necks.

“Lancer,” I pleaded.

“Very well,” Kirei’s words rang out, trumping my pleas, and the chamber grew colder with their resonance.

And then came the words I never saw coming—the words that struck me right in my core and made me feel as if the sun had fallen out of the universe—

“Kill yourself, Lancer.”

“No–!!!” My heart dropped to the bottom of my stomach. The order seemed to shake the walls—every part of my being resisted this dreadful fate.

My death, I could accept. But this…

Lancer resisted the order as best he could, but even his strong hands couldn’t slow the turning of the spear toward his own heart.

I screamed and pulled against my bounds, but the rope held me in place. And so I reached for Lancer the only way I knew how.

I reached for him with the whole of my being, with my will, with my desire to keep him alive so strong it could burn all of me. I screamed his name with every fibre of my being—every ounce of my soul. I felt at the red tips of his existence. I reached for him through the darkness, ignoring all worldly restraints, so his spirit would have no choice but to feel mine.

And then the chant spilled out of my lips, smooth as a summer song, as if I’d been rehearsing it for this moment. And through the words I bled all of the passion I felt inside me.

“My fate shall be your sword… If you will submit to this will and this reason, then answer!”

I could feel the moment Lancer caught on. The force that was tied around him loosened.

I pulled him closer, both of us now working to fight the order that still tore at his soul. We fought together. I sang the enchantment until my throat was sore.

And then–

I felt it break. Kirei’s hold on him snapped.

With a violent backswing, Lancer's spirit tumbled toward mine.

I caught him, the force knocking all the air out of my lungs.

The red marks of allegiance on Kirei’s arm shattered and disappeared as if they were always as delicate as glass.

The same marks appeared on my arm now, but they felt strong and burned with red life and passion.

Lancer was mine.

I looked down at the new command seal with a strange feeling of completion. The connection between us glowed like a warm amber in the air. It was the feeling of reaching nirvana. A connection so wonderful it seemed too good to be true.

I locked eyes with Lancer.

Lancer was mine, and I was his, but more than that, he was saved from that awful fate.

Before the emotions of joy overwhelmed me, I reached for Lancer’s spear—the one that almost killed him—and turned it on the one thing that could threaten that joy.

Kirei was still looking at his arm in shock as I approached him.

It was at the last moment that he looked up. He only had a second for recognition to dawn before I pierced the spear into his heart.

The man who was once Lancer's master fell to his knees.

I pulled the spear out and watched him choke out his last few breaths in confusion.

"Sorry, but some fates are meant to be twisted."

I turned back to Lancer and threw my arms around him.

He returned my tight grip, and for a second, I thought we were going to squeeze the life out of each other.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” he said. He pulled away and tilted my chin up to him. “Be mine, forever.”

“Forever.”

He kissed me. The kiss was deep and hot, combined now with the sensation of our connected souls. I felt it tingling in the center of my forehead.

“I love you, Lancer.”

“I love you too.” He laughed. “I guess I should call you my master now.”

“Master, partner, whatever you need me to be”—I grabbed both his hands—“I’m yours. And I’m sorry. I used your spear without asking.”

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