Synopsis: Your dad’s best freind is staying with you during your college summer break, things get weird.
WARNINGS: General smut, PRE- backrooms, Reader is generally fem - presenting with female genitalia and boobs. Maybe slight ooc for clark?? not really but he’s more loving then he usually is. There’s also probably some spelling errors or inconsistency’s in the writing, i’m not perfect guys sorry ):
TAGS: Masterbaition, Penis in Vagina sex, fingering (to some extent) Oral M!receiving, Making out, Kissing, Hand over mouth. . doing ts RAW (wrap it before you ride it guys!) Clark is a boob guy. Reader is insecure a little bit. Whiny clark. Dom!Clark Sub!Reader. No use of Y/N. Use of petnames, Guilt via clark. Being degraded (very slightly) and angry clark or frustrated clark. Smoking, Smoking weed, smoke blowing in faces. (can you guys tell i’m running out of weed 😭 #needthat) Also clark coo’s you and comforts you after climax, but that changes pretty quickly.
Authors note: Hey guys!! So i’m actively in a camp rn i snuck my phone in to write this . If i don’t respond it’s nothing personal my phone probably got taken away. . Love you guys!💗
The welcoming party had been loud and entirely too small for the amount of family friends your parents had crammed into the living room.
You spent the first hour answering questions about college. It wasn't until the crowd thinned out near midnight that you saw him.
Clark was leaning against the kitchen counter with a beer, looking out of place among the decorations your mother had hung up.
He looked rough. There was a heavy exhaustion in his shoulders, like someone just trying to survive.
When your eyes locked onto his, he froze. He just stared at you, his grip tightening around his glass. He was looking at your face and your clothes, completely disconnected from the teenager he had left behind a few years ago.
"Clark,"
you smiled, stepping across the linoleum.
"Hey,"
he said, his voice lower than it used to be.
You didn't hesitate, stepping into his space and wrapping your arms around his neck for a hug. It was meant to be a warm greeting for an old family friend. But the moment your body pressed against his, you felt him go rigid. He didn't hug you back immediately. When he finally did, his large hand rested flat against your lower back for a single second before he pulled away fast.
"Look at you . . !”
he murmured, his eyes doing a slow sweep of your face.
"You're. . . you've grown up."
"That happens when you go to college,"
you joked lightly.
"How have you been? My mom said you're staying in the basement for a bit. .”
"Yeah. Just sorting some things out,"
he said, playing off his situation with a casual shrug. He shifted his weight, his eyes darting toward the living room where your dad was laughing. Clark leaned in a fraction closer, his voice dropping.
"So. . you got a boyfriend out there? Some college kid keeping you busy?"
You looked up at him through your eyelashes, amused.
"No. No boyfriend."
A dark flicker crossed Clark's face, a spark of something dangerous that he immediately tried to bury behind a polite smile.
"Good,"
he said quietly.
"Keep it that way. . Much to pretty for those boys anyway. Focus on your schoolwork."
Three nights later, the house was dead silent.
It was 2:00 AM. The air in your bedroom was stifling, and the restlessness of summer had kept you awake for hours. You had finally given up on sleep, the heat in your body clawing to the surface.
You moved your hands up and down your clothed cunt, trying to catch your breath. . it felt hot.
Your fingers slipped under your waistband, and quiet gasp escaping your lips.
You pressed your face into the pillow as you moaned. Fingering yourself aimlessly and grinding your clit against the palm of your hand, your hips rolling off the mattress.
You let out a trembling moan when, you felt your knees give out. Letting out a breathless “Fuck. .” in the dark. Your body felt tense. Then it all stopped. All you heard was ringing against your ears. You were completely spent.
—-
Downstairs, the heat had woken Clark up. His throat was dry from the stuffy basement air, forcing him to get up to grab a cup of water from the kitchen.
He padded quietly up the basement stairs, wearing a worn out t-shirt and a pair of boxer briefs. He filled his glass, but as he turned to head back down, a faint sound from the hallway upstairs caught his ear.
Clark froze in the kitchen, the glass heavy in his hand. He listened, his heart dropping straight into his stomach as he recognized the muffled gasps coming from your bedroom door.
“Fuck- Agh. .”
He hears your voice whimper out, You’re loud.
He stepped up the stairs, his gaze now entirely focused on your bedroom door. He heard more moans. He could swear he was hard just by the fuckin’ noise.
Upstairs, you grabbed a joint and your lighter from your nightstand, desperate for a distraction to cool your racing pulse. You slipped out of your room, your bare feet making no sound on the hardwood hallway.
You were halfway to the bathroom when you saw a shadow standing at the top of the stairs.
Clark was standing right there, his t-shirt clinging to his shoulders. He looked like he’d been struck by lightning. .
He just awkwardly stood there staring at you, completely paralyzed. His eyes dropped down, tracking the state you were in. You were wearing nothing but a pair of tiny sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt that slipped off one of your shoulders. Your hair was its own messy halo from the friction of your pillows. Your skin was warm, damp with a light sheen of sweat from your release, and your chest was still heaving.
For a long moment, you stood there too, the cold air of the hallway hitting your bare legs. You began trembling, your knees shaking from a mix of the leftover physical high and the terror of being caught. . He felt his face run hot.
The silence stretched so long that it became suffocating. The intense weight of his stare made your stomach twist, the scrutiny making you so uncomfortable that you couldn't even find your normal voice.
"Your parents will smell that,"
Clark finally whispered, his voice rough, cutting through the silence of the hallway.
You swallowed hard, your throat tight as you forced the words out in a breathless whisper.
"Are you going to tell my dad?"
Clark looked at you. Really looked at you. He saw the heat on your neck from your bedroom, the dishevelment of your oversized shirt, and the adult defiance in your eyes. A wave of profound self-loathing hit him in the gut because he wasn't looking at you like a family friend anymore. He was looking at you like a man possessed. He hated himself for it.
"No,"
Clark spoke softly, stepping forward until he was entirely in your space, his large frame blocking out the rest of the hallway.
"But you're doing it wrong. Come ‘ere."
He turned and led the way down the creaking basement stairs into the dark. The air instantly shifted, turning cold, smelling of damp concrete and the dust of his temporary sanctuary. His makeshift bed. . (just a mattress on the floor with tangled sheets) sat in the corner under a small window near the ceiling.
You followed him down, suddenly feeling very small. You walked over to the window, raising your hand to try and unlatch it, but your fingers fell inches short. The stone wall was too high.
"Window's too high for you to stand and hold that,"
Clark said from behind you. His voice was a low rumble that vibrated right through the quiet room.
"Sit on the bed. Your parents won't come down here."
You turned, your knees trembling from the sheer adrenaline from earlier. You walked over to the mattress and sat down on the edge, letting out a sharp huff of relief as your muscles finally relaxed against the low bed.
Clark didn't stay standing. He stepped over, his massive shadow enveloping you, and sat down right behind you. He didn't give you space to think. He spread his legs, offering the space between his thighs, and reached out with his large hands. Wrapping them firmly around your waist, he pulled you back until your spine was pressed right against his chest.
you adjusted your weight and leaned back into his heavy frame, entirely comfortable with the proximity.
Clark's breath hitched. He felt his mind instantly spiraling into a bitter jealousy. You've done this before, he concluded, his grip tightening on your hips. Who taught you to be this comfortable? Whose lap have you sat in at school? The thought of another man touching you made him want to rip the room apart, but the sheer thrill of having your acceptance right now was a drug he couldn't refuse.
He leaned his head down, his breath hot right against the shell of your ear.
"Look at you,"
he murmured..
"Legs shaking like a little deer."
You took a slow breath, holding the unlit joint up between you. You tilted your head back slightly against his shoulder, looking up at him.
"Will you tell my dad? Seriously, Clark."
Clark looked down into your eyes, his chest rising and falling heavily against your back. He was a bad man. He felt horrid . . a girl whose parents trusted him explicitly under their own roof. .He felt utterly disgusted with himself, sickened by his own lack of control, but he was entirely adoring the (now) woman in his arms.
"No, no. . . never, baby,"
he whispered, the word hanging heavy in the damp air.
You didn't look away. Instead, you let out a tiny, knowing hum, your lips curving into a subtle smile. .
"Yeah. . . you have too."
Clark went completely rigid. His hands slid down your hips, mapping out the full, mature curve of your adult body, his fingers sinking into your skin with a rough desperation. He leaned in until his lips were brushing the sensitive skin of your lobe, a dangerous chuckle catching in his throat.
"Wow,"
he growled, his voice trembling with a mix of intense lust and paranoia as his eyes darted toward the dark stairs.
"Who the hell taught you how to talk to a man like that?"
"I think the college boys just aren't as easily intimidated as you are,"
you whispered, trying to sound brave, though the slight tremor in your voice completely gave away how flustered you actually were.
You quickly dropped your head, hiding your face as your head came to rest back against his broad shoulder, completely unable to hold his intense gaze in the dark.
He hitched his thighs upward, lifting your weight effortlessly so you slid further back into his clothed cock.
He reached around you, his fingers brushing yours as he smoothly took the lighter from your hand.
The click of the spark was loud in the quiet basement as he lit the end of the joint, taking a slow, deep drag himself before holding it back up to your lips.
"Is that right?"
he murmured, his voice laced with a bitter, passive-aggressive edge as he blew a cloud of smoke toward the high window.
He tilted his head down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.
"Well, if those college boys are so brave, maybe you should have stayed on campus instead of being in my bed.”
Before you could even think of a comeback, his hand moved up from your waist.
His large, warm palm cupped around the back of your neck, his fingers anchoring firmly into your hair.
He didn't squeeze to hurt, but the grip was dominant and unyielding, tilting your head back against his chest so you had no choice but to look up at him in the dim light.
He wrapped his other massive arm entirely around your middle, locking you against him so tightly that you could feel the rapid, heavy thudding of his own heart right against your spine.
You didn't stay pressed against his chest, though.
Instead, you shifted your weight and carefully spun around in his lap to face him, straddling his thighs in the dim basement light.
Clark's hand left your neck as you turned, but his gaze never left your face, his dark eyes tracking your every movement with an intense, unblinking focus.
He lifted the joint to his lips, taking a slow, heavy hit that made the tip glow a bright, angry orange in the shadows.
You didn't pull away when he leaned his face in close, his nose almost brushing yours as he deliberately exhaled, blowing the thick cloud of smoke right into your face.
Instead of coughing or turning your head, you parted your lips and deliberately inhaled the smoke straight from his mouth, swallowing the heat of it down into your lungs.
Clark went completely rigid beneath you.
He was incredibly flustered.
His chest rose and fell in a sharp, ragged breath, his fingers twitching against your waist as his eyes widened slightly, completely transfixed by the sight of you unbothered in his lap.
"You. . .”
he started, his voice instantly trailing off into a gravelly whisper as he stared at your lips. He swallowed hard, trying to look angry, but his breathing was way too ragged.
"You think you're so smart, don't you?"
“I like to think I am.”

“Yeah . . ‘course you are.”
Clark's large hands clamped down onto your waist, his fingers digging hard into your hips as he suddenly surged upward from the mattress. He used his entire weight to shift you, effortlessly lifting your body and pinning you flat onto your back against the tangled sheets.
He hovered completely over you, his massive frame blocking out what little light was left in the basement, his chest heaving heavily against yours.
He grabbed the joint from your fingers, tossing it blindly onto the floorboards, his focus entirely consumed by the sight of you trapped beneath him.
He leaned his face down until his lips were brushing right against yours, his whole body trembling with a mix of intense lust and pure paranoia as his eyes darted toward the dark basement stairs one last time.
“Fuckin’ hell,"
he spoke softly, his voice shaking with a rough desperation right against your mouth. .
"If your dad walks down those stairs right now. . . I swear to God. .”
He didn't finish the threat. His large hand slid from your hip straight up to the side of your neck, his thumb anchoring under your jaw to tilt your head back as his mouth slammed into yours, completely smothering your breath in a desperate kiss.
You can feel his body heat as he starts to undress himself slowly revealing his chest . . He wasn’t chubby; but he wasn’t fit either. Either way, you didn’t mind the look of his chest. . He slowly knees down, and spreads your legs apart gently. Despite his size he seems gentle and careful with you.
He traces your inner thighs lightly feeling your soft skin. His hands inches closer to your core in a teasing manner. He gently squeezes your thigh. . Your breathing got heavy.
Down and further down until they were prying your thighs apart, pulling frantically at the thin fabric of your underwear on the sides of your hips.
“God. . .”
For a moment he just seemed to stare, you felt a little insecure yourself if you were being honest.
You began to cover yourself a bit, with your arms and folding your legs together.
“No- No. . No. Stop it. . C’mere baby I wanna see.”
You folded instantly, slipping your fingers away from your lower body. You could see him biting his lip underneath the low lighting of the basement. That made you want to giggle and kick your feet if you were being honest.
The fabric fell to your ankles, his hand slipping right in between your thighs. As soon as his fingers made contact with your sopping heat, you moaned louder than you should have. The sound bouncing off the walls of the basement.
His body stilled. Then, he's stopping you with his hands, pulling back as if your touch had burned him.
He was trembling from head to toe, his eyes frantically darting toward the dark basement stairs, listening with a pathetic, breathless desperation for the sound of the floorboards creaking upstairs.
"Are you stupid? Are you completely out of your fuckin’ mind?"
He whispered, his voice shaking.
His hand went up to cover your mouth, silencing whatever came out of you.
“Shh. . .”
He hissed out. . His gaze moving down to his own trousers, he looked towards the stairs again before beginning to prod at the waistband of his pants. He quickly moved himself up, pulling you upward with him so you were now face to face with his crotch, mumbling something bout’,
“I know what’ll shut you up- I know . . since you’re so fuckin’ needy.”
his dick is heavy in his hand, flushed and leaking, the head slick as he runs it slowly through your lips. Your lips are soft, He’s hard.
He slips his cock inside of your mouth, for a moment, you gasp and seem shaken. . But you don’t seem to mind. For a moment you gag.
Tears were filling your eyes, the gagging was too much for you. As he started moving the tears got worse. Clark did feel bad to some extent. But you knew exactly what you were getting into with that fuckin’ moan. So if you wanted to lose your voice quicker then this would do the trick. . Drool covered your lips, any makeup you had on now smudged.
"Don't start that crying shit now. Y'know the damn rules. You want to act like you're stupid? Then I'm gonna make sure you remember your god damn manners."
Every time you tried to pull back you were just pushed back down. His dick bobbed along your tongue, heavy and thick.
The furiousness of his thrust matched just how pissed off you made him with your little act. Your knees began to ache, thighs burning from being forced to sit up. With each act of trying to hold his thighs you were only met with a slap to the cheek.
"Breathe through your nose, because I'm not letting up."
At this point you seemed to accept your fate, you just opened your jaw and moved your head to each thrust. The gagging wasn’t as bad now. . It didn’t hurt as much.
Clark was taken aback by your submission, to say the least.
"look at that... look at — . . Ah-Haha. . . you're swallowing me whole,"
He seems to chuckle, His hips moving back and forth.
“Wh-Who taught you how to . . how to fuck like this?”
you gag when he pushes in too deep, throat fluttering around him, and the noise that rips from him is downright filthy. He finally starts fucking your throat in the messy, desperate rhythm he's been holding back.
wet shlick sounds fill the room, spit spraying, your lips stretched tight around the base of him. he's shaking, using your mouth to work out every scrap of frustration he had while doing this.
"gon— Fuck . . -gonna cum. .” he warns, but he doesn't slow down.
he slams his hips forward, buries himself completely in your throat, and comes with a broken moan that vibrates down your spine.
you feel every pulse of it, every hot rope flooding deep, your throat swallowing around him automatically while he holds you still and whimpers through the overload. . He covers his own mouth to keep himself from moaning too loud.
when he pulls out, there's spit on you, on him, on the sheets . . fuck. Everywhere. and you're gasping for air, throat raw, lips glossy and swollen.
clark looks down at you like he's never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life.
"You made mess . .”
“You did too.”
You wiped your mouth softly, coughing a little and swallowing down whatever remaining cum remained on your mouth.
Clark seemed to stare at you for a moment, his eyes glancing down to your boobs hidden underneath the baggy shirt, he looked at your face . . then down again. He swallowed sharply.
“Off.”
“What?”
“Take your shirt off . . . Please.”
His eyes almost looked sad, like almost a look of want. At his pleading you felt like you didn’t have much of a choice but to go ahead and do it. . not like you didn’t want to anyway.
You pull of your remaining clothes, unclasping your bra and letting your breasts fall down from the confines of them.
Clark just seemed to stare.
He'd been married before; it wasn't that he'd never seen a woman's body before, but seeing you completely unraveled every single bit of his logic. . .
He let out a low, ragged huff, his broad shoulders hunched as he awkwardly shifted his weight, his fingers clenching into the fabric of his shorts to stop them from visibly shaking.
"God-damn it,"
he muttered, his voice dropping into a rough, frantic whisper that was mostly just to cover up his own intense embarrassment.
He clumsily reached out, his large, calloused hand wrapping firmly around your knee to guide you toward the center of the rumpled mattress, his jaw clenching hard as he looked up at your embarrassed face.
For a moment he surrounded you just simply staring. You whined at that, you were horny. Why can’t he take the fuckin’ hint!?
his voice is rough when he whispers,
"gonna ease it in, baby... s'gonna feel big. you tell me if it's too much, alright?"
but you're already nodding, the first inch pushes past your entrance and your body clenches around him immediately, His dick barely even moving before your body is already pulling him in further. He swallows, his breath hitching as he grabs rather side of your torso. Before planting his hands against your tits.
"oh-oh, shit-. . .”
his dick is fat. It wasn’t an understatement, i mean obviously it wasn’t huge; around 7 inches at most. But it was fat; and it forces your walls to stretch around him, snug and slippery and tight, and he's biting his lip hard to keep himself from fucking you deeper too fast. the air's full of heat and moans, your gasps high and breathy while his are low, cracked, almost desperate. . . His fingers fondle with your tits, he watches his fingers move against them, grazing over your nipples and squeezing them from time to time.
he's panting into your neck, trembling from restraint as he forces himself in more. your pussy gives a sticky noise each time his hips nudge forward, and you can feel the drag of every vein along your walls . . it’s a strange feeling, nothing like you have ever felt before . . but fuck. It felt good.
You moan out under your breath, trying to stay quiet as he pushes himself in deeper. You roll your eyes back and close them. They flutter open from time to time to look at his face. He stares at you when you curse, as if he’s reprimanding you. You didn’t mind the gaze on you at all.
by the time he's halfway in, your nails are digging into his back and your thighs are starting to shake. there's a thick pressure deep in your belly, like your body's being filled too full, and when you glance down, you can see the faint outline of him under your skin, stretching you out from the inside.
"Hold still- Fuck. Godamnit! — A-Agh. . "
He groans quietly, trying to stay silent while he’s actively fucking you.
your cunt pulses around him when he bottoms out, a dripping mess down onto the curly haired base of his cock.
his hand finds your lower belly, His palm spreading over that swollen spot where his dick bulges inside you.
"look at that," he murmurs . . He seems to chuckle at his own size for a moment and how your reacting to it.
he doesn't even need to move. just the feeling of being buried inside you for the first time, the sight of your pussy stretched wide around him, your gasping mouth, your fluttering lashes, your slick dripping onto his thighs-it's all too much.
he grinds in once just to feel the way you tremble and you both moan at the same time, breath tangled, filthy and flushed and soaking the bed. .
Then he moves, slow and teasing, testing. Hips pistoning forward with a gradual rhythm, and he goes all the way in each time, every push of his cock into your cervix feels like a maddening attempt at trying to rearrange your guts.
You're halfway into forming a coherent thought when he dips down to your breasts, mouthing sloppily at the nipples like he's not even trying, like he isn't fucking you dumb right now, like it's all so effortless for him.
He continues to move his hips mercilessly against your own spasming cunt.
. . . You lightly covered your mouth with your shaking hand and moaned into it as quietly as you could (which wasn’t very quiet at all, if you were being honest with yourself) You came all over his bedsheets . . The cum spilling pathetically against his cock, and his own cum spewing against your lower abdomen as he pulled out. (which made you feel lucky that your laundry machines were down in the basement in the first place.)
—
Clark is old enough to be your father and you both know it.
You see the silver in his stubble when he leans over your body, the way his knuckles are busted and healed a hundred times over. yeah. . . he's got a weird job and a warehouse that’s older than you are . . . and a driver's license that expired the year you graduated high school . . but, whatever.
—
The second the rush faded, Clark practically collapsed off your body.
He sat up on the edge of the mattress, his back turned to you, his broad shoulders hunched as he buried his face in his large hands.
His chest rose and fell in heavy, ragged breaths against the quiet of the basement. The reality of what he had just done under your dad's roof hit him like a blow, and the silence was instantly filled with the low sound of his own self hatred— no. Not hatred. He didn’t hate himself, no, he was whining.
"Disgusting. . . you're a disgusting piece of work, Clark,"
he muttered to himself, his voice a bitter whisper in the dark. He rubbed his hands roughly over his face, his teeth grinding together as he stared at the concrete floor.
"What the hell am I doing. . . in his house. . . with his kid? . . why does this garbage always happen to me? God, I'm sick— fuckin’ sick. “
He kept murmuring, the words tumbling out in a whiny stream of pure self disgust as he tried to deflect the blame in his own head, sounding exactly like a man who felt the entire world was constantly against him.
But then, he stopped.
Slowly, Clark turned his head and looked back over his shoulder at you.
You were laying there in the tangled sheets, your chest heaving slightly, looking completely unbothered in the dim light of his room.
The moment his eyes locked onto yours, his whole demeanor cracked. All that bitter complaining just evaporated into the damp air, leaving him looking entirely defenseless.
He shifted back onto the mattress, crawling right back into your space as if he couldn't help himself.
He hovered over you again, his large, calloused hand surprisingly gentle as his fingers tangled firmly into your hair, his thumb stroking your scalp in a soft, rhythmic motion.
He dropped his head, burying his face right in the crook of your neck, inhaling sharply as he crushed your body back against his chest.
"You're going to be the absolute ruin of me, baby. Just completely ruin me."
Your shaky legs barely held your weight as you tried to stand up in the dark, your hands fumbling slightly as you pulled the oversized shirt back down over your sleep shorts.
The toll of the encounter finally caught up to you all at once. Your knees completely buckled, and instead of walking away, you collapsed right back into his arms, your forehead dropping heavily against his shoulder.
He let out a low, heavy grunt as your weight hit him, his arms automatically locking around your middle to anchor you before your knees could give out completely. .
He held you tightly against his chest, lightly rocking you just a fraction in the dark basement, the motion purely instinctive. .
He leaned his head down, resting his chin heavily against the top of your tangled hair. He let out a low sigh, a murmur that sounded exactly like the tone he used to use on you years ago when you were small.
"Look at you,"
he muttered, his voice dropping into a gravelly whisper right against your skin as his hand rubbed a slow circle into your back.
"You always were too soft for your own good. Just a fragile little thing running around. . .never could handle too much, could you?”
He wasn't trying to be mean. Atleast you don’t think he was.
Hearing him drop that nickname right alongside those low, heavy murmurs completely broke your control.
The sheer overload of the night finally crashed down on you, and a few quiet, hot tears spilled over your eyelashes, wetting the shoulder of his t-shirt.
The exact second Clark felt the dampness on his shirt, his entire body went completely rigid.
The panic hit him instantly, his hands freezing against your back as his eyes widened in the dark.
"Hey.— no, no. . . what did I. . . what did I do?"
he started, his voice instantly fragmenting into a panicked, frantic stutter as he desperately pulled you closer against his chest, his grip turning tight and terrified.
He wasn’t scared because of the thing he just did, he was scared because of the mere threat of him getting caught.
"I-I shouldn't have. .. . god, your dad. . . if you go up there— . . .if you tell him. . . please, please don't . . . it's my fault. . . I'm a sick bastard. . . I-I ruined everything . .”
He couldn't even finish a complete sentence, his voice cracking into a whiny mumbles as he crushed you to his body, completely terrified that you were going to run up the stairs and expose his mistake. He looked entirely pathetic, weeping out incoherent, desperate apologies into your hair while holding you like a shield.
But as he continued to fall apart and demean himself, you didn't pull away.
To shut him up, you leaned forward and slammed your lips right against his, catching his rant in your mouth.
Clark froze.
He went entirely, completely paralyzed beneath you, every single muscle in his massive frame locking up as his eyes stayed wide in the pitch black.
The sudden kiss completely broke his panic, instantly stopping the whiny stuttering in his throat as the realization of your mouth on his sank in. .
Slowly, the rigid terror melted out of him. His hands relaxed against your back, his eyes finally fluttering shut as his posture softened completely under your touch, surrendering to the kiss before he could find the strength to push you away.
When you twoo finally parted, he let out a low, defeated huff against your lips, the whiny panic fading into a heavy, exhausted silence. He didn't stay that soft for long; his defensive walls immediately started crawling right back up as he grabbed your shirt from the floorboards.
he muttered, his voice dropping into a rough, passive-aggressive grumble as he shook out the fabric. He shoved the hem over your head with an impatient jerk of his hands, forcing your arms through the sleeves for you.
"Can't even put your own clothes on. You come down here acting like a big adult, and look at you. Completely useless the second a man actually handles you."
He roughly adjusted the collar of the shirt as he shoved it back on himself, his hands smoothing down the cotton before his fingers trailed slowly down the center of your chest, his jaw clenching as a cocky smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Though, I suppose I did a pretty thorough job, didn't I, sweetheart? Had you soaking through my sheets in no time."
The blunt comment made your stomach instantly flip, a wave of heat hitting your face. You frowned, pulling your shoulders back as you gave him a sharp look.
"Clark, stop."
He went completely rigid, his cocky smirk vanishing instantly as his defensive walls slammed back up. He let out a low, rough huff, his fingers tightening against your shoulders as he leaned down, pressing his forehead hard against yours. His thumb firmly cupped your jaw, keeping you perfectly still beneath his anxious gaze.
"What, you get to say whatever you want to me?"
he whispered, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly rumble that sent a sudden rush of butterflies straight to your stomach. He leaned in, his lips brushing right against the sensitive skin of your neck, his breath hot and uneven.
"you had plenty of messy things to say to me ten minutes ago, sweetheart. But the second I talk back, you get sensitive?"
He pulled back just an inch, his grip on your jaw turning firm as his eyes locked onto yours, his panic bleeding through his face.
"Listen to me. You don't use that sharp tone with me under this roof. We both know your dad will kill me if he finds out about this, so you're going to keep your mouth completely shut upstairs."
He let out a uneven breath, his gaze holding yours as his control locked the secret down tight.
"I'm trying to look out for us, baby. I mean it. So you're going to go back to your room, and you're coming right back down to this basement tomorrow night so we can figure this out. Understood, kiddo?"
He gave your chin one last, rough squeeze before letting you go, his expression instantly snapping back into that cold, rigid composure as he pointed toward the stairs.
"Now go. Don't make a sound."
You just nodded, your face burning as you finally stood on your shaky legs and slipped toward the stairs. When you reached the top step and looked down, he was still sitting there in the shadows, his silhouette watching over you until the basement door quietly clicked shut behind you.
___________
This took for fucking EVER for me to write i hope you guys liked it !!!!! 💗
cw: smut!!, college kid reader, old man Clark, lowkey cheating, lowkey Voyeurism, oral (m! Receiving), doggy style, I got tired and didn’t finish it fully
Summary: you took this job because of your classmate telling you about it, what you didn’t know was that your boss would be so into you as you are him.
This job sucked. Your body ached from moving heavy furniture all day and now sat at the desk watching as your coworker and boss filmed a promotional video for the store. It definitely wasn’t gonna bring in customers but it was funny watching your usually strung up boss pretend to be a pirate and hobble around the store. After the chair broke beneath Clark’s weight, you knew this day was gonna go all kinds of wrong.
Clark made his way back over to the desk where you stood and gave you a smile. You copied it back, flipping through a magazine. Clark walked your actions, taking you in. You looked up at him through your lashes. You always had an interest in the older man, but with him being married you didn’t want to overstep. But it seems he didn’t care about his commitment and who were you to make him care?
“Do you mind staying behind after closing? I have some stuff I need you to look at.”
It was the best way to ask without Kat or Bobby side eyeing you two. They both already knew what was going on before Clark started fighting with his wife. He always watched you as you walked around the showroom, eyes focused on your ass and how your pants clung to your bottom half. Neither of them were blind, but they weren’t buzz kills either. You seemed to enjoy the attention so they kept their opinions to themselves and let the two of you be. You were a young thing, just starting at the same college as Bobby who told you about the job. You happily took the opportunity which led you to where you were now.
After the store was closed Clark had locked the doors and turned the overhead lights. He had you follow him to a corner of the store, a few lamps on to illuminate each other's figures. It was a small bedroom scene with a tv bedside table and queen sized bed all made up. You sat down on the edge of the bed looking up at the older man. He was breathing hard with you sitting under him. He could see down your shirt to your cleavage. He felt gross, an old creep who was taking advantage of his young employee. You didn’t care. Smirking up at him, biting your lip as you asked,
“What did you wanna show me, sir?”
He shivered, moving to take a step away but you reached up, grabbing his belt before he could step too far. Your hands near the front of his pants, right above his growing bulge that you were wanting to press into. His hand came up to your head, pushing the hair out of your face.
“We shouldn’t, baby. I’m your boss.”
Before he could say anything else you were undoing his belt. Ready to pull him out of his pants. He was stuttering through trying to tell you he’s too old for you but you let out a hum ignoring what he was saying, wanting nothing more than to feel him entirely. Even though he was trying to talk you out of it, he made no move to pull away or stop you. Once you had his belt open and began undoing his fly he wrapped a hand around your hair, keeping it out of your hair. You were so excited, wanting nothing more than to feel the weight of him in your mouth.
You looked up at him, “can you teach me? I’m not sure how to do this.”
It was a lie, you knew how to do it. But watching him fight his instinct to push you towards his crotch was really doing something for you, and you suspect for him too. He nodded shallowly, not trusting his voice as he shallowed dryly. You began moving his pants down his thighs.
Once you pulled it out of his pants, you palmed at his underwear. Watching as the bulge grew under your hand. He let out a low groan, throwing his head back. You were so excited to see him you didn’t see the dark glint in his eye or feel how his hand tightened in your hair.
As you moved to pull his member out, you gasped at the sight of him. Seeing your mouth open he thrust himself into your throat. You gagged around him, tears filling your eyes. You look up at him through your lashes, choking slightly. He groaned holding your head. You tried to pull back but he held you for a second as you gagged and coughed around him. After a moment he pulled you off, spit covering the lower part of your face. He held your chin, angling it up to look at his face. You whimpered looking at him. He smiled telling you,
“You look so pretty like this. Give me a kiss.”
You leaned up, chasing his lips. He chuckled at you, keeping you just a hair away from his lips, making you whine out for him. He finally relents letting his lips fall on yours. You instantly melted into him, wanting more and more. You grabbed onto any part of him you could find.
You grabbed onto his shirt, pulling him down to you. He followed willingly leaning over you until he had you crushed on the bed. You loved every second of it, wrapping a leg around his waist. His cock was fitting against the junction of your legs. You quickly stripped yourself, wanting Clark to see all of you. He was more than happy to do so. Helping you pull your shirt overhead and your bra moved so he could grope at your tits. You tried to do the same to him, unbuttoning his shirt to see him. Once you were both less dressed he pulled you up to be chest to chest. Before you could figure out what was happening he flipped you around having you face first into the show bed.
You gasped feeling his fingers underneath you on your opening. He rubbed on your bulb as one of his fingers entered into you. You whined looking over your shoulder at your boss. You whimpered out, “please, I want you!”
He shivered, trying to hold himself back but once those words fell all his self restraint fell away. He held back for one moment, holding your hips steady. One hand reaching high into the air before coming down, striking across your ass. You gasped and tried to squirm away but he held you steady.
“No. Be a good girl for me.”
You melted into the bed, ready for whatever he had to give you. Clark may deny it, but he was more than happy to soil his young employee.
-let me preface this by saying I have never written an x reader and the last time I wrote a fanfic was in 2018 I haven’t read an x reader in seriousness since I was like 14 so I’m pretty dust. Keep your expectations mid
I wanted to write this because I noticed the utter lack in Clark fics and tbh should’ve been expected but be the change you want am I right.
Things to know before you go in:
-this takes place before he discovers the backrooms
-I tried to keep this as gender neutral as possible so everyone can enjoy
-There's a little bit of POV switching. I wanted to try and shine some light on Clark’s thoughts and feelings.
-hopefully he’s not too ooc. I tried to keep it IC as possible
-TAGS everyone should be aware of is age gap, miiiild angst, rough sex that turns tender, drunk sex, the term kiddo/kid used during sex, unprotected sex, mild crying during sex, Fingering. probably some others but what eves just lmk
No beta we die like Clark
title: Cowboys and Angels
(From George micheal song, Cowboy and angels, give it a listen)
Alternative title: Whiskey and tequila on the rocks
(I listened to Sza and George micheal while writing this so that should tell u everything u need to know)
Word count: 7000-7500
Enjooooooy!
——————————————————
It’s been a few years since you’ve graduated. You didn’t really have any plans for college yet. It is it in the cards, you are going to go, but now was the time to enjoy a few years out of school and bask in your youthfulness. Mess around a little bit, learn a few hobbies or get better at the ones you already have. Of course your mom complained about it all the time. “When are you going to go to school? It's important to get a degree in this day and age?” and the most annoying question of all was “when are you going to get a job? You can’t laze around here for free if you’re not going to school.”
Well, she had a good point there, but there weren’t a lot of places that would hire a twenty-one year old with no degree. You thought back over those conversations with your mom while sitting in front of the tv watching some cheesy sitcom. It was okay…not the best, again it was cheesy, but at least it was entertaining. You let out a sigh as the show cut to its commercial breaks. Same old ads, burning as ever. Some about weird medicine, and a couple of furniture ads. The one that caught your eye was the pirate themed one. It was as new, it had to be. You would know after sitting in front of the television for so much time. It was a man hobbling around in a pirate costume and a chair leg used as a peg leg. You were drawn to it. There was just something so mesmerizing about a grown man out of breath from hobbling around dressed up as a pirate trying to sell furniture. There was even a small banner at the bottom advertising hiring at this place.
“You should go apply! It looks easy enough and who needs a degree to sell furniture.” Your mom says behind you.
You jumped slightly from the sudden voice and looked over at her. “You startled me!” You sigh and look back at the tv, its location details popping up on screen now. It wasn’t that far from were you lived. A fifteen minute walk at best. You thought about it, it was easy money in your pocket, well it looked easy enough. It was close by, you wouldn’t even need to drive if you wanted.
You look back at your mom and ask, “You think I could do it?”
“Yeah! I mean look at the man. If he can do it, so can you.” She gestured towards the tv and you.
With one more thought over all the details, you would go in tomorrow and check it out. You were starting to get bored lounging around the house all day, so why not go out on a little hiring adventure.
It was the next morning. You got up, brushed your teeth, washed your face, and put on the best presentable outfit you could find in your closet. You hoped it would be enough to get you through the application process.
You drive down the store and parked in the empty lot. It was so empty you started to worry if the store was even opened, but the open sign on the door suggested otherwise. You give a concerned look around before squeezing the steering wheel to ground yourself. You tell yourself you got this and get out the car and make your way inside.
The first things you notice when opening up the door was just how big and empty it was. Furniture stores are always big, but you would’ve thought it would have more inside. Just a little more furniture and most importantly people. Secondly, you’re greeted by a weird mannequin dressed up as a pirate. It fits the theme, but just a little off putting for you. You look around where you stand before calling out.
“Hello?”
It echoes slightly off the big walls of the building. All is still quiet after that. You start to wonder if *anyone* is here at all.
“Hi, how can I help you?”
You turned your head to the direction of the voice.
It’s the man who was in the commercial. Upon closer look he’s handsome when he’s not in that silly pirate get up. He’s an older man who looks like he has seen better days, but still neat and tidy in his suit. “Professional…and handsome.” You think to yourself.
“Uh, Can I help you?” He says again and closer this time.
You snap out of your thoughts. “Oh-yes! Sorry, uhm…I was looking for the manager. I saw an ad for this place on the TV and it said you all were hiring. I wanted to see if I could apply.” You look at him a little nervous. It feels a little intimidating honestly. There are a few beats where he doesn’t say anything. It almost looks as if he’s disappointed you’re not a customer.
That look changes in an instant to a warm, but tired smile as he sticks out his hand and introduces himself.
“Well if you’re looking for the manager, guess that would be me. I’m Clark, the owner.”
You shake his hand and smile back. He's got a firm grip. The way he squeezes your hand ever so shoots a little butterfly to your stomach.
“It’s nice to meet you.” You say and let go of his hand.
“Follow me, we’ll head to my office for a small interview and see if you’re a right fit.” He says and starts walking towards an employees only door.
You follow him and really start to hope this all goes well. You wouldn’t mind working for this place.
The interview process was pretty smooth. It was weird you didn’t have to fill out an application and wait a few days beforehand, but you weren’t going to complain about it. Whatever got you a job the soonest.
You look around the walls of the small office as he’s going over a few documents. One wall is lined with drawings of buildings in funky forms and some concrete and structured. You start to wonder if he’s gone for school for graphic design or architecture, they’re that good.
He clears his throat and draws your attention back to him.
“Well, while I already have an assistant manager, having an extra hand around here might not be so bad. As long as you can lift with your legs and you don’t mind a rat or two.” He says while checking over some paperwork again.
Your eyebrows scrunch up making a slightly concerned face at the last comment, but you brush it off chalking it up to him just trying to be funny hopefully.
“Yea definitely. I’m always helping my mom out with outside work and whenever she wants to rearrange the living room.” You comment to seal the deal.
He lets out a small chuckle and looks up at you. “Alright, I think you’ll be a fine fit for the store kiddo. You can start next week from now first thing in the morning.”
Your shoulders relax and you smile at the success of landing a job with a handsome manager.
“Thank you so much! I won’t disappoint.” You say and with that you give your goodbyes and thanks and leave. You can’t wait to tell your mom the good news. It’s cause for a celebration in your eyes.
o o o
It’s been a week since your last visit to Cap’N Clark’s Ottoman Empire. Since then you’ve been playing it cool. Doing the same longing and hobbies you’ve always been doing and preparing for your job. Things are a little more stressful with a job added on top of your daily life, but you can manage. You always have.
It’s your first big day. You decided to dress business casual. To show off your sense of confidence and responsibility. It isn’t really your style, but you did the best you could with what you had and it could be worse.
Clark takes you on a tour of the store, ask you if you’re interested in any of the furniture jokingly, but honestly you can’t really tell if it’s a joke or not. You meet the assistant manager Kat and her boyfriend Bobby. They’re in the same age group as you, so getting along with them should be just fine. You explore the storefront and the basement. Everything looks fine.
Everything should be smooth sailing from this point forward.
A few weeks in and the store hasn’t gotten any busier, but you decided out of the goodness of your heart to buy a stool for your room from the store. Clark tells you, you don’t have to do it. That the money he’s paying you is just going right back to him. You tell him it doesn’t matter and that you needed a new stool anyways. The one you had since a kid was losing its stability and that you’ve had to reglue the legs onto it about seven different times. It put a small smile on his face and it made you happy. That’s the second time butterflies fluttered their way into your stomach. Was buying furniture from a failing furniture store to make this middle age man happy. Did it seem kind of pathetic? Yea, but you couldn’t care less.
A few weeks in you decided to ask him about the drawings that were posted all on his office walls.
“So, you like to draw?” You gestured to the illustrations on the wall.
“Oh-Those…they’re just…” He was finding the words to answer your question. He can’t remember the last time someone took genuine interest in.
He cleared his throat and sat up straight in his chair. “Some perspective drawings I drew from time to time when the store isn’t busy.
Well the store is never busy…” you think to yourself, you wanted to say but you were already on rocky waters after breaking a kitchen table. It wasn’t your fault the furniture was cheap. You were trying to get in his good graces again after that and this was a step forward. You did take genuine interest in his drawings though. It was the first thing you noticed when you stepped into his office for the interview. You were bound to ask at some point.
“They’re good. Like really good. Did you go to school for something like it?” You eye one drawing and trace your fingers softly over the paper.
“Well, I…I did go to school for it. Architecture to be exact.” He states.
“Whoa really? I’ve heard architecture is brutal. Twenty hours worth of classes you gotta take. The precision….the math.” You say still admiring the work in the walls.
Clark sat there speechless. Maybe this is the first time someone’s recognized his talent. It was coming from a twenty one year old with no experience, but it still felt good.
“I like this one. The colors are vibrant, the heavy linework makes it pop out and building’s really cool.” You knew a little bit about art.
“Soooo….what happened? How’d you end up…here?” You gestured to the area around you and looked at him from were you stood waiting for an answer.
“Well…the architecture industry is insanely difficult to get into and to be honest it shouldn't be with the shit designs they’re planning to build with them. Good designs will only take you so far you know.” He tried to chuckle off the disappointment that was evident in his voice.
“If it were up to me, you’d be an architect. I would hire you for designs. I like your work.”
And he was speechless again.
That was probably too much. You probably shouldn’t keep buttering up to this man, but you did think his work was good and you wanted to let him know.
“Thanks…” He says with his gaze focused on you.
“Yea…” You say and give a small smile and wave as you walk out of his office. There goes those little butterflies again. Always stirring up your mind and your body. Always causing trouble.
After that interaction he would show you his newest designs from time to time. It was cute that he felt comfortable enough around you to show off his drawings and designs with confidence. You didn’t mind it and it was always nice getting to see new art and he found a sense of comfort in it as well
o o o
Over the few months you’ve been there, you learned a lot about Clark. Mostly that he’s an architect, he’s divorced from his wife Barbara. He goes to therapy because of it. He lost his house to her. He has a real drinking problem, and he lives in the store ever since then. He didn’t tell you he lived in the store. You found that piece of information out with your own two eyes after you forgot your backpack in the store one night after closing. It had all your personal stuff in there including some good books you were in the middle of reading that you just couldn’t wait for. You pulled up to the store around ten at night and went to unlock the door. Yea you were given a key in case of emergencies and this was an emergency.
After getting the door unlocked, you don’t think of anything, but heading in and out. Like a little heist mission. That is until you heard the noise of a television. You knew the store didn’t sell televisions so where exactly was the noise coming from?
This was supposed to be an in and out mission, but now it’s turned into this creepy scavenger hunt to find out where the tv noises were coming from.
That’s when you saw a small tv set up in front of one of the showroom beds. The bed looked slept in. Now, you were starting to worry about who was in here after hours. You backed up only to hit a solid, warm figure and let out a yelp that’s quickly silenced by a hand covering your mouth.
The figure spins you around and in the soft yellow light, you see it’s Clark. You look at him with big startled eyes up and down, it’s Clark in what appears to be pajamas.
He removes his hand from your mouth and whisper shouts as if to not disturb the non-existent customer in the store, “What are you doing here?!”
You try to say something, but you're in shock by what’s happening to you. Did you just find out your boss is sleeping in the store?
“I should’ve never given you a key…!” He says and pinches the bridge of his nose. He shakes his head in embarrassment and tries to keep his face out of your sight.
That snapped you back to reality and you speak up in almost panic trying to make a case for yourself.
“I needed to pick up my backpack! It had my Walkman, books and other stuff in it! I couldn’t wait until the next day, so I thought it’d be fine! I didn’t think….”
He looked up at you through heavy and tired eyes. The look on his face was a mix of embarrassment and shame.
You took notice of the pungent smell of alcohol. It was radiating off of him hitting you in waves with every breath he exhaled. From time to time you would catch a faint whiff of booze off of him, but dismissed it to either being a really bad cologne or a night out at the bar. The real reason was right here. It was sitting in the showroom night dresser. A whole bottle of whisky. Just straight whiskey.
It makes you wonder about all the stuff he’s told you about. He hasn’t told you a lot and probably for this very reason. It’s hard to ignore, but you look back at him. Still confused and startled.
“Kiddo, just get your stuff and leave…” He rest a hand on your shoulder and pinches the bridge of his nose defeated.
And you go do just that. You grab your stuff from the break room and make a haste towards the door, but you were stopped by Clark saying one thing before you left.
“Keep….this to yourself.” He gestures towards his little sleep area. You look at him for a beat before nodding your head and leaving the store.
You sucked in the fresh, cool air of the night and looked over the horizon. Those few moments inside the furniture store felt like hours. It felt cramped and stuffy and creepy. He told you little bits and pieces about his messy divorce, but you didn’t realize it was this bad. Camping out in your own furniture store seemed like rock bottom. You wondered why he couldn’t just get an apartment if getting the house back wasn’t an option, but thinking about it he was running a failing business. He probably didn’t have the funds to get an apartment.
For the next couple of weeks you both tried to act as if things were normal. You thought at first he would ask for the key and fire you for trespassing at night. It only made sense, but no, everything just kept moving as normal. Helping out with reports, moving furniture and setting up different scenes. Every time you pass by his bed and nightstand, you thought back to that night. It was so pathetic, but there was nothing you could do to help.
Drinking a bottle of whiskey, all alone watching shitty tv and sleeping in your own furniture because you got kicked out of your own house. It all sounded so terrible, so pathetic…and that’s what attracted you. It kept you coming back to help out everyday.
Like moth to the flame. You were drawn to the heat that it made you feel whenever he complimented you and had a hand linger on your shoulder or back.
The feelings were always there, ever since that first handshake. You just didn’t realize what it was yet until all those little butterflies started piling up. Finding him sleeping in his own store had sealed the deal.
You cross your arms on the desk and let your head nestle in them. You turn your head to look out the window of the store. The sun was setting and the sky had turned a peachy color with lavender mixed in. It was close to closing time for the store.
You turned your head to look up at Clark who was talking with Kat about the store. Stuff you as a regular sales associate weren’t ready for. Big manager stuff.
A little more time has passed and Clark had moved to his office and it was time for you to pack your stuff up and head home, except you wanted to ask Clark something.
People would call you crazy for wanting to ask your divorced, pitiful, and alcoholic manager if he wanted to get drinks with you. You just couldn’t stand the thought of him drinking alone all the time. It definitely wasn’t healthy to do so.
You hyped yourself and told yourself you could do this and no matter what his answer would be, you'd be happy you asked anyway.
You make your way to his office and stand there awkwardly for a moment. You take in the state of it. It’s gotten a bit messier, paperwork piling up along with overdue bills as well. There were a couple of new added drawings on the wall, that was nice to see at least. He was keeping up with his passion. It’s what makes the soul burn bright. Whether it drove people to stardom or insanity, it was passion nevertheless.
Clark had his leg propped up in his other. He was biting the end of a pencil while concentrating on whatever documents were in his hand.
You knocked on the door frame to catch his attention and the calendar he had hung up fell instead. “I didn’t mean for that to happen…uhm.”
He looks up at you and sets the pencil down, “What do you want? If you’re in here asking for a raise you know I can’t give you one.”
“I know better than to ask for one, no offense…” His facial expressions stay the same
Another beat of silence before you clear your throat and speak up again.
“I wanted to ask if you want to go drinking with me.”
“Oh that’s young people stuff kiddo. I’m too old for the clubs…”
“No, not like the clubs! Just a simple dive bar. I frequent one from time to time. I’ve got my nights too you know.”
Now he gave you a skeptical look. What does a twenty/one year old know about hard nights.
“Come on…Trust me, it’ll all be fine. Plus, I don’t think rotting away in this store alone is doing you any good.
It looked like he was thinking of something to say. An excuse or maybe a bite back. Whatever it was dissipated. He let out a heavy sigh and set down his papers.
“Fine, but I’ll drive and I’m picking the bar. I don’t trust the judgement of someone like you…no offense kiddo.”
You brush off the snide comment, happy he just said yes. It feels like you did the impossible of pulling this sad pitiful man out of his store for a little buddy drinking.
“Go in and head home, I’ll pick you up later tonight.”
You give a verbal confirmation and make your way out the store and home.
Clark’s eyes lingered in the doorway where you just stood. The past few months with you here have made things interesting, least to say. It was nice having an extra helping hand that didn’t mind being underpaid. He felt a little bad about it, but that’s all he could afford. He was grateful for your help and the way you talked to him. Pulled him out his head sometimes and smiled at him even when things were shitty that day. A small dim light in a clouded and dark store. Kat and Bobby offered some ease when days were bad with their banter and stupid conversations, but at the end of the day they went home together and didn’t look back.
Things had been rough for him. Rough was honestly an understatement for him. Struggling with the divorce he had to go to therapy. It was covered, but it was annoying to deal with. A grown man having to go to therapy for divorce of all reasons. It didn’t look right, but he showed up to those sessions anyway. Losing the house was probably the worst thing to happen. It was his. He paid for it. It was in his name. And because of everything now he was stuck camping out in his own store.
You were done getting ready. Your outfit was nice! It wasn’t too much, but it was different from the clothes you wore to work. Cooler, better. And now all you had to do was wait.
The waiting was the most nerve wrecking part. Not having to dig through your dresser for a good outfit. Not having to explain to your mom about who you were going out with. It was the wait.
Your stomach was so full of butterflies it was starting to twist and turn with each flap of their delicate wings they felt more like razor blades.
You sat by your window and waited for Clark to pull up. You peeked through the curtains every other minute hoping to catch the moment he pulled up. Those minutes felt like years.
But finally, there he was. Your pulse jumped upon seeing his car and you ran to the door. You checked yourself in the mirror and smoothed out your outfit and put your hairs into place before opening up the door. Clark was making his way to the door, but you wanted to beat him to it. God forbid your mother open up the door and he have to explain himself why he’s picking up his young employee to go drinking.
“You ready?” He asked.
He looked just as handsome out of his suit and tie. He was casual. It felt foreign, but nice.
“Yea, yea! Thanks for going out with me. It was about time someone pulled you out of that store captain.” You smirked and chuckled at the nickname you tacked onto the end of your sentence.
“Har har, very funny kid. Now, let’s go before I change my mind.”
The ride was fine. You made awkward small talk on the way to the bar, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. You were just thinking about getting your first drink down the hatch to settle your fried nerves.
Upon entry to the bar it was a typical dive bar. Small, a little rowdy, and warm somber feel to the whole thing. It's all it needed to be.
You two sat at the bar and he ordered a whiskey on the rocks for him and a tequila on the rocks for you.
You were finally here. Drinking with your boss who you’ve had a developing crush on since you started working there. You had no idea how it got to this point where your stomach was always churning butterflies every time he smiled at you, gave you praise and those shoulder and back pats for a good day's work. Just thinking about it makes you feel hot on the inside.
You take your glass and down the whole thing in one go. You would rather not linger on how your pathetic boss makes you feel.
Warm.
The liquor is warm going down. The heat from it spreads from your stomach to the rest of your body.
Your nerves relax and you feel light as a feather.
Clark is already on his fourth glass of whiskey.
You're only on your second glass of tequila.
For a dive bar it was pretty good. You were mainly use to drinking cocktails, but for the time being you wanted to match Clark’s drinking pace.
After the fourth glass of tequila you switched over to a cocktail. There was no way you could match the pace of a divorced middle aged man. Anymore and you would’ve crossed the line between drunk and blacked out.
Clark was on his sixth glass. You didn’t know how anyone could continue drinking something as awful as whiskey. You guessed the liquor warms him up in a way no one else could.
“Did you really mean that stuff you said about my drawings?” He asked before taking a sip from his glass.
“Uh…yea. Why?” You ask.
“It’s just ....been awhile since I’ve heard feedback is all.” He says.
“Hm…I’m glad you enjoyed what you have to say. I mean, who doesn’t like a compliment or two…plus I think it’s true.” You say as you look at him through half lidded eyes. The alcohol was starting to taste like bad decisions and butterflies.
He lets his eyes linger on you for a second more before tapping out.
You two are on the trip back home. He definitely shouldn’t be driving right now, but you were too drunk to make a fuss about it.
Clarke turned into the parking lot of the store and you lifted up your head from where it laid on the side of the door.
“Oh, we’re at the store.”
Clark looked at you and back at the store and sighed. “Sorry…I just went into autopilot. I forgot you were here honestly…”
You two sit there in silence for a few seconds. The smell of alcohol radiating off both your bodies and mixing creating a weird unseen fog in the car that smelled like bad decisions were going to be made.
The place is always creepy at night. It’s not supposed to be a home. There’s no cozy rooms or that warm atmosphere and soft yellow lights. No familiarity. Just a cold and lifeless furniture store.
“Why don’t I come inside to sober up before going home?”
“It’s already too late. At that point you might as well just stay overnight—“
“I don’t mind.” You say too quickly.
He looks you up and down and agrees to let you in reluctantly. It was already past twelve am.
Clark makes his way over to one of the showroom bedset he’s been calling home for months.
You shift awkwardly on your feet in one place. While it was just the store, at night it was his home.
“Don’t just stand there, you know what this is.”
“I know, it’s just…” You pause trying to find the right words.
“Say it.”
“It’s just…weird being here again. The first time was an accident, but this time I got permission. That’s probably the only reason I’m here right now is because of that accident.”
“Yeah, because you just so happened to leave your bag and just couldn’t go a night without it.” He sat down on the bed with a dull thump sound.
“Yeah, I couldn’t! I thought it would’ve been okay to run up here and just grab. The last thing I was expecting to see is my boss camping out in the store.”
Clark ran his hands over his face and sighed. “Is this what you wanted? To see your boss at rock bottom?” He asks sarcastically.
“No…just a drink with you.”
You both dwell in silence. It seems to be a recurring thing with you two. The awkward silent moments. You wanted to change that. So you offered a solution to your own problem.
“How about we try that exercise you do with your therapist…the roleplay.”
“That bullshit? God I should’ve never told you about that…it’s stupid.”
“Come on! I can be your wife. Not Barbara. Not me. Just a wife. I think it could help especially when you do it with someone who always isn’t evaluating you. Just…for fun.” You suggest and you look down at him.
He thought about all the possible ways this could go left. Pretending to be your young employee’s husband was so wrong, yet….
The alcohol was making all the decisions. You were already there and that was the first bad decision. Might as well continue with them.
“…Okay. Why not. I’ve already made some bad decisions today, let’s keep the ball rolling.”
Your face radiated with heat and a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. You didn’t think he’d actually say yes and now you were getting to play house with him.
“Awesome…Okay uhm…obviously I’m the ‘wife’ here and you my darling husband.”
He looks at you funny, but there’s a smile grazing his features.
You walk away from the bedset and come back knock on the invisible door.
“Knock, knock, knock! Can I come in?” You say and mine as if you were leaning on a door.
“Uh…yea, sure.” He says awkwardly
You open the invisible door and step closer to him. You can help but giggle at the act but the show must go on.
“Uhhhm…so, how was work?” You ask
“You’re serious…?”
You nod meekly and stare at him with big clouded eyes.
“Well uhm…it was fine.”
“You can be honest…” You move slowly to sit by him on the bed so as to not scare him.
“It was shit. Like yesterday and the day before that.”
You scoot closer beside him. Your bodies grazing each other.
He turns his head slightly to look at you. A mix of frustration, embarrassment and
“I’m stuck here. When I should be out there designing the next big thing. No one believes in my visions…”
“I do.” You say as you move your nervous and shaky hands to rest on his thighs and arm. Your nerves set on fire after coming in contact with him. The palm of your hands burning underneath the warmth of his skin. You shouldn’t be here emotionally supporting your boss way older than you while drunk, but you were and you weren’t going to question it anymore.
“What would you know? You’re just a…” His sentence falls short. He looks at you. You’re right by his side. Burning up under your gentle touch. When was the last time someone touched him like this? Like he was meant to be cared for.
Clark didn't think about his next actions.
He grabbed your jaw and pulled you straight in for a drunken kiss.
It took you by surprise. You thought you’d be the first to make the move.
It was a messy, drunken kiss.
Your teeth kept clashing against his as you tried your best to move in sync with him. Your drunken state doesn’t make it any better, but makes it feel so good.
The way he had a grip on your jaw and tilted your head and pulled it forward to mesh perfectly with his.
It was so hot, you were burning up underneath his touch.
Clark pulled away from the wet, messy kiss.
A string of spit still connected you two until the tension finally gave way breaking you two apart.
The air was filled with the sounds of you two panting. He was hovering over you, your legs intertwined and pelvises almost grinding against each other. You could feel the boner that was growing underneath his pants. Your face warmed up more than it already has.
He still held your face in his hands
“Tell me you want this.” Clark whispered into the crook of your neck.
You nodded quickly.
That’s all the confirmation he needed. He sat up from his position on top of you and started shuffling out of his clothes with haste. You catch on and shuffle out of your top and kick off your shoes.
Your head is swimming in arousal. A heat so intense pooling in the out of your stomach.
You were reaching for your bottoms to take off when Clark swatted away your hands and pulled them down himself.
“Fuck…” He mumbles as he looks your body up and down.
It’s been awhile since he’s had someone under him. Someone younger than him at that.
Clark placed a heavy hand right below your navel and let it travel all the way up to your neck where he held you down at.
He takes his other hand and slides it between your legs pushing them open to give him more room and access to your body.
You let out a small little gasp at the feeling of cold air hitting your hole.
He leans forward and whispers in your ear, “You’re a siren trying to pull me underwater, but I’ll catch you before you can catch me.”
His thumb graces over the pulse on your neck and moves up to your bottom lip. He swipes his thumb over your bottom lip and inserts it onto the flat of your tongue.
“Bite.” Clark demands and you do as you’re told.
“You're so pliant, so easy, so naive…not a care in the world. How lucky it must be to be you.”
He circles two fingers around your hole. You’re already so wet and ready to accept him, he stuck his fingers in roughly. Easing in and out as he inches more and more of his fingers in you.
The burn from the stretch made you cry out. It hurt, but as he inched more of his fingers into you, the burn started to give way into something intoxicating.
You moaned off his thumb and bucked your hips up trying to chase more of that feeling. Clark moved his hand from your face and held you down by the stomach. You whined at the restriction and clawed at the cheap sheets underneath you.
“For fucks’ sake, stay still kid.”
Your hips involuntarily bucked up again when you heard him call you kid. He always called you kid and it was enduring. It always reminded you he was older, had more power over you. Every time you heard it those butterflies had to make themselves present.
Once you adjusted to his fingers, he added a third. The sheets under you, starting to soak from your fluid and sweat.
The little gasp and ahs were driving Clark up a wall until he couldn’t take it anymore. He removed his fingers from your entrance and you whined at the loss. Your walls clenching around nothing, but air desperate for the feeling to cling around something again.
“Quit whining and flip over. I don’t want you staring at me with those big eyes of yours.” He said and gestured for you to flip.
You didn’t know whether it was an insult or a compliment, but you do remember the time he complimented you on them, so you’ll settle for a compliment.
You flipped over onto your stomach and he nudged your thighs apart with his knee. You went the extra step to spread yourself even further and arch your back up a little, impatiently.
He stared at your back and ran his hands down from the out of your arms to your waist and felt over your butt dimples.
You let out a soft moan. The feeling of his hands on your body were rough, but tender. It felt good and made you tremble with anticipation.
You looked back and saw him give his cock a few pumps and let out a string of low moans and “fucks”.
You whip your head back in shock. Clark was big. You didn’t expect that. You thought with the stress and temper he had, it would be smaller than you thought.
Without warning, he pushed in.
You're glad he loosened you up earlier or you wouldn't have been able to take it at all.
You bite down on the pillow in front of you to muffle the embarrassing high pitch moans.
Clark braces himself on his hands by each side of your head. “Relax or I can’t do anything, kid.” He whispers and uses one of his hands to grab the back of your neck and up and down the nape of it in an effort to relax you.
That seemed to do the trick. Your body went from rigid and stiff to pliant and open allowing Clark to push is cock half way in in one fell swoop.
You saw stars in your vision after he pushed in and started to tremble. The sudden intrusion was different from his fingers. His dick was girthy and bigger than what you’ve ever taken. Thank god he took the time to do some prep or you would’ve been in a lot more pain.
He rolled his hips slowly giving a small shallow thrust. Not wanting to hurt you, but soon those cautious and small thrust with no power behind them turned into a harsh, fast and uneven plowing. The way he pulled out and pushed back in with enough force to rock you up on the bed’s headboard. Clark was rough. It should’ve been evident with the way he forced his fingers in you barely wet. It almost felt cruel, but you drank it up. He stretches out your tight hole and drinks up wet sounds that come with each thrust. It's warm and pulls him back in every time he pulls out. He liked it. It felt like you were desperately clinging to him each time he pulled out.
He bottoms out and yells out a moany fuck.
You feel so full. The way his cock takes up every inch in your tight hole. You were starting to turn into a real mess.
With each thrust it got rougher and faster the hand pinning you down by the neck held tighter until it felt like it was going to bruise until it was harsh.
He was losing himself
“You've been waiting for this moment huh? The moment I grind into you like some dog. I know how you look at me. Don’t think those little glances and stares go unnoticed by me. I would never let them go unnoticed.”
You reach your trembling hand back to grab the hand that had a vice grip on your neck and dug your nails into his skin in an attempt to ground him.
“Cl..ah-Clark…!” His name come out broke and high pitched
The pain brought him back down from whatever high he was on.
He slowed his pace down significantly. It gave you a moment to have some sort of clarity even while faded.
His grip on the back of your neck loosens and he starts running his hand up and down your body to soothe any discomfort.
“I’m sorry…I’m…” He pants out and rests his forehead on the back of your head. You feel small wet tears drip down your neck.
It had been a long time since Clark had someone soft and warm under him. Someone as understanding as you. The intimacy of it all overwhelmed him. He couldn’t hold in those few lonely tears anymore.
The two of you lay there barely moving. The sound of soft sobs escape him. You lay there waiting and patient letting those frustrations seep out in the form of wet salty tears.
Then he starts to move again, this time his pace was steady and thrust deep, but not as rough. He started fucking you in earnest.
You time the roll of your hips with his thrust and crest a euphoric experience. His cock making you feel full and hitting your sensitive spots over and over again making you a mess of small gasps and moans that kept wailing up. You could feel yourself sucking him back in greedily every time he reeled back.
The sound of skin slapping together, heavy breathing and moans bounced off the walls of the empty store creating an echo effect. The store filled with the sounds of your ecstasy. It was the cherry on top of everything.
You feel the pit of your stomach get tighter and tighter like a spring. You claw at sheets and call out to Clark.
“Ah..I..I’m close! I think I’m close…Ah!” He knocks a moan out of you with one sharp thrust.
He laced his fingers through yours to ground you and piledrived into you. Your vision is starting to go blurry from the brutal pace and drool dripped down from your bottom lip onto the bed.
A pathetic man desparate for a fuck he didn’t know he needed could lay good pipe.
“Wa..wait! Ah fuck!” Your body seized up and toes curled as you came on his cock. He didn’t slow down though and continued his pace, grinding against your sensitive walls. Your moans turned into whines and your body trembled so fucked out you could barely move. His rhythm was getting sloppy, it could be any second he burst now.
“Oh fuck, I’m about to—!” Clark drove into you at the hilt and came in you with a low moan. His movements grew lazy and sloppy.
You panted and started to come down from this drunken ecstasy. It felt so good, not a thought about how this could affect your business real with your boss came across your mind. You were here in the moment with him. Lying on his bed under him felt good.
He pulled out his softening dick and you shuttered at the lost gaping around nothing and cringing at the cum dripping out of you.
“Gross…but worth it.” You thought to yourself.
Clark pulled you up by the chin and looked over your features. You were fucked out alright. Half lidded foggy eyes, messy hair, rosy cheeks, drool down your chin. It was hot seeing his young employee like this. It was all because of him you looked well taken care of.
He leaned in and planted a deep and soft kiss on your lips. It felt more intimate than anything he did. It felt weird, but not uncomfortable.
He pulled back from the kiss and collapsed beside you. He wasn’t going to think about what that soft kiss could mean to him or you or anything else you two just did. He wrapped an arm around your body and pulled you close. You smelt like a mix of him, yourself and liquor. It smelt like heaven to him and he nuzzled into your neck.
All this would be tomorrow’s problems to deal with. You just wanted to drift away into blissful sleep under the comfortable heat of Clark.
———————————————————————-
Authors note: I’m probably gonna beta and edit this later buuuut enjoy the raw for now hehe
( ˶°ㅁ°) !!
(@natthe-bratt idk how tagging people works sorry)
-let me preface this by saying I have never written an x reader and the last time I wrote a fanfic was in 2018 I haven’t read an x reader in seriousness since I was like 14 so I’m pretty dust. Keep your expectations mid
I wanted to write this because I noticed the utter lack in Clark fics and tbh should’ve been expected but be the change you want am I right.
Things to know before you go in:
-this takes place before he discovers the backrooms
-I tried to keep this as gender neutral as possible so everyone can enjoy
-There's a little bit of POV switching. I wanted to try and shine some light on Clark’s thoughts and feelings.
-hopefully he’s not too ooc. I tried to keep it IC as possible
-TAGS everyone should be aware of is age gap, miiiild angst, rough sex that turns tender, drunk sex, the term kiddo/kid used during sex, unprotected sex, mild crying during sex, Fingering. probably some others but what eves just lmk
No beta we die like Clark
title: Cowboys and Angels
(From George micheal song, Cowboy and angels, give it a listen)
Alternative title: Whiskey and tequila on the rocks
(I listened to Sza and George micheal while writing this so that should tell u everything u need to know)
Word count: 7000-7500
Enjooooooy!
——————————————————
It’s been a few years since you’ve graduated. You didn’t really have any plans for college yet. It is it in the cards, you are going to go, but now was the time to enjoy a few years out of school and bask in your youthfulness. Mess around a little bit, learn a few hobbies or get better at the ones you already have. Of course your mom complained about it all the time. “When are you going to go to school? It's important to get a degree in this day and age?” and the most annoying question of all was “when are you going to get a job? You can’t laze around here for free if you’re not going to school.”
Well, she had a good point there, but there weren’t a lot of places that would hire a twenty-one year old with no degree. You thought back over those conversations with your mom while sitting in front of the tv watching some cheesy sitcom. It was okay…not the best, again it was cheesy, but at least it was entertaining. You let out a sigh as the show cut to its commercial breaks. Same old ads, burning as ever. Some about weird medicine, and a couple of furniture ads. The one that caught your eye was the pirate themed one. It was as new, it had to be. You would know after sitting in front of the television for so much time. It was a man hobbling around in a pirate costume and a chair leg used as a peg leg. You were drawn to it. There was just something so mesmerizing about a grown man out of breath from hobbling around dressed up as a pirate trying to sell furniture. There was even a small banner at the bottom advertising hiring at this place.
“You should go apply! It looks easy enough and who needs a degree to sell furniture.” Your mom says behind you.
You jumped slightly from the sudden voice and looked over at her. “You startled me!” You sigh and look back at the tv, its location details popping up on screen now. It wasn’t that far from were you lived. A fifteen minute walk at best. You thought about it, it was easy money in your pocket, well it looked easy enough. It was close by, you wouldn’t even need to drive if you wanted.
You look back at your mom and ask, “You think I could do it?”
“Yeah! I mean look at the man. If he can do it, so can you.” She gestured towards the tv and you.
With one more thought over all the details, you would go in tomorrow and check it out. You were starting to get bored lounging around the house all day, so why not go out on a little hiring adventure.
It was the next morning. You got up, brushed your teeth, washed your face, and put on the best presentable outfit you could find in your closet. You hoped it would be enough to get you through the application process.
You drive down the store and parked in the empty lot. It was so empty you started to worry if the store was even opened, but the open sign on the door suggested otherwise. You give a concerned look around before squeezing the steering wheel to ground yourself. You tell yourself you got this and get out the car and make your way inside.
The first things you notice when opening up the door was just how big and empty it was. Furniture stores are always big, but you would’ve thought it would have more inside. Just a little more furniture and most importantly people. Secondly, you’re greeted by a weird mannequin dressed up as a pirate. It fits the theme, but just a little off putting for you. You look around where you stand before calling out.
“Hello?”
It echoes slightly off the big walls of the building. All is still quiet after that. You start to wonder if *anyone* is here at all.
“Hi, how can I help you?”
You turned your head to the direction of the voice.
It’s the man who was in the commercial. Upon closer look he’s handsome when he’s not in that silly pirate get up. He’s an older man who looks like he has seen better days, but still neat and tidy in his suit. “Professional…and handsome.” You think to yourself.
“Uh, Can I help you?” He says again and closer this time.
You snap out of your thoughts. “Oh-yes! Sorry, uhm…I was looking for the manager. I saw an ad for this place on the TV and it said you all were hiring. I wanted to see if I could apply.” You look at him a little nervous. It feels a little intimidating honestly. There are a few beats where he doesn’t say anything. It almost looks as if he’s disappointed you’re not a customer.
That look changes in an instant to a warm, but tired smile as he sticks out his hand and introduces himself.
“Well if you’re looking for the manager, guess that would be me. I’m Clark, the owner.”
You shake his hand and smile back. He's got a firm grip. The way he squeezes your hand ever so shoots a little butterfly to your stomach.
“It’s nice to meet you.” You say and let go of his hand.
“Follow me, we’ll head to my office for a small interview and see if you’re a right fit.” He says and starts walking towards an employees only door.
You follow him and really start to hope this all goes well. You wouldn’t mind working for this place.
The interview process was pretty smooth. It was weird you didn’t have to fill out an application and wait a few days beforehand, but you weren’t going to complain about it. Whatever got you a job the soonest.
You look around the walls of the small office as he’s going over a few documents. One wall is lined with drawings of buildings in funky forms and some concrete and structured. You start to wonder if he’s gone for school for graphic design or architecture, they’re that good.
He clears his throat and draws your attention back to him.
“Well, while I already have an assistant manager, having an extra hand around here might not be so bad. As long as you can lift with your legs and you don’t mind a rat or two.” He says while checking over some paperwork again.
Your eyebrows scrunch up making a slightly concerned face at the last comment, but you brush it off chalking it up to him just trying to be funny hopefully.
“Yea definitely. I’m always helping my mom out with outside work and whenever she wants to rearrange the living room.” You comment to seal the deal.
He lets out a small chuckle and looks up at you. “Alright, I think you’ll be a fine fit for the store kiddo. You can start next week from now first thing in the morning.”
Your shoulders relax and you smile at the success of landing a job with a handsome manager.
“Thank you so much! I won’t disappoint.” You say and with that you give your goodbyes and thanks and leave. You can’t wait to tell your mom the good news. It’s cause for a celebration in your eyes.
o o o
It’s been a week since your last visit to Cap’N Clark’s Ottoman Empire. Since then you’ve been playing it cool. Doing the same longing and hobbies you’ve always been doing and preparing for your job. Things are a little more stressful with a job added on top of your daily life, but you can manage. You always have.
It’s your first big day. You decided to dress business casual. To show off your sense of confidence and responsibility. It isn’t really your style, but you did the best you could with what you had and it could be worse.
Clark takes you on a tour of the store, ask you if you’re interested in any of the furniture jokingly, but honestly you can’t really tell if it’s a joke or not. You meet the assistant manager Kat and her boyfriend Bobby. They’re in the same age group as you, so getting along with them should be just fine. You explore the storefront and the basement. Everything looks fine.
Everything should be smooth sailing from this point forward.
A few weeks in and the store hasn’t gotten any busier, but you decided out of the goodness of your heart to buy a stool for your room from the store. Clark tells you, you don’t have to do it. That the money he’s paying you is just going right back to him. You tell him it doesn’t matter and that you needed a new stool anyways. The one you had since a kid was losing its stability and that you’ve had to reglue the legs onto it about seven different times. It put a small smile on his face and it made you happy. That’s the second time butterflies fluttered their way into your stomach. Was buying furniture from a failing furniture store to make this middle age man happy. Did it seem kind of pathetic? Yea, but you couldn’t care less.
A few weeks in you decided to ask him about the drawings that were posted all on his office walls.
“So, you like to draw?” You gestured to the illustrations on the wall.
“Oh-Those…they’re just…” He was finding the words to answer your question. He can’t remember the last time someone took genuine interest in.
He cleared his throat and sat up straight in his chair. “Some perspective drawings I drew from time to time when the store isn’t busy.
Well the store is never busy…” you think to yourself, you wanted to say but you were already on rocky waters after breaking a kitchen table. It wasn’t your fault the furniture was cheap. You were trying to get in his good graces again after that and this was a step forward. You did take genuine interest in his drawings though. It was the first thing you noticed when you stepped into his office for the interview. You were bound to ask at some point.
“They’re good. Like really good. Did you go to school for something like it?” You eye one drawing and trace your fingers softly over the paper.
“Well, I…I did go to school for it. Architecture to be exact.” He states.
“Whoa really? I’ve heard architecture is brutal. Twenty hours worth of classes you gotta take. The precision….the math.” You say still admiring the work in the walls.
Clark sat there speechless. Maybe this is the first time someone’s recognized his talent. It was coming from a twenty one year old with no experience, but it still felt good.
“I like this one. The colors are vibrant, the heavy linework makes it pop out and building’s really cool.” You knew a little bit about art.
“Soooo….what happened? How’d you end up…here?” You gestured to the area around you and looked at him from were you stood waiting for an answer.
“Well…the architecture industry is insanely difficult to get into and to be honest it shouldn't be with the shit designs they’re planning to build with them. Good designs will only take you so far you know.” He tried to chuckle off the disappointment that was evident in his voice.
“If it were up to me, you’d be an architect. I would hire you for designs. I like your work.”
And he was speechless again.
That was probably too much. You probably shouldn’t keep buttering up to this man, but you did think his work was good and you wanted to let him know.
“Thanks…” He says with his gaze focused on you.
“Yea…” You say and give a small smile and wave as you walk out of his office. There goes those little butterflies again. Always stirring up your mind and your body. Always causing trouble.
After that interaction he would show you his newest designs from time to time. It was cute that he felt comfortable enough around you to show off his drawings and designs with confidence. You didn’t mind it and it was always nice getting to see new art and he found a sense of comfort in it as well
o o o
Over the few months you’ve been there, you learned a lot about Clark. Mostly that he’s an architect, he’s divorced from his wife Barbara. He goes to therapy because of it. He lost his house to her. He has a real drinking problem, and he lives in the store ever since then. He didn’t tell you he lived in the store. You found that piece of information out with your own two eyes after you forgot your backpack in the store one night after closing. It had all your personal stuff in there including some good books you were in the middle of reading that you just couldn’t wait for. You pulled up to the store around ten at night and went to unlock the door. Yea you were given a key in case of emergencies and this was an emergency.
After getting the door unlocked, you don’t think of anything, but heading in and out. Like a little heist mission. That is until you heard the noise of a television. You knew the store didn’t sell televisions so where exactly was the noise coming from?
This was supposed to be an in and out mission, but now it’s turned into this creepy scavenger hunt to find out where the tv noises were coming from.
That’s when you saw a small tv set up in front of one of the showroom beds. The bed looked slept in. Now, you were starting to worry about who was in here after hours. You backed up only to hit a solid, warm figure and let out a yelp that’s quickly silenced by a hand covering your mouth.
The figure spins you around and in the soft yellow light, you see it’s Clark. You look at him with big startled eyes up and down, it’s Clark in what appears to be pajamas.
He removes his hand from your mouth and whisper shouts as if to not disturb the non-existent customer in the store, “What are you doing here?!”
You try to say something, but you're in shock by what’s happening to you. Did you just find out your boss is sleeping in the store?
“I should’ve never given you a key…!” He says and pinches the bridge of his nose. He shakes his head in embarrassment and tries to keep his face out of your sight.
That snapped you back to reality and you speak up in almost panic trying to make a case for yourself.
“I needed to pick up my backpack! It had my Walkman, books and other stuff in it! I couldn’t wait until the next day, so I thought it’d be fine! I didn’t think….”
He looked up at you through heavy and tired eyes. The look on his face was a mix of embarrassment and shame.
You took notice of the pungent smell of alcohol. It was radiating off of him hitting you in waves with every breath he exhaled. From time to time you would catch a faint whiff of booze off of him, but dismissed it to either being a really bad cologne or a night out at the bar. The real reason was right here. It was sitting in the showroom night dresser. A whole bottle of whisky. Just straight whiskey.
It makes you wonder about all the stuff he’s told you about. He hasn’t told you a lot and probably for this very reason. It’s hard to ignore, but you look back at him. Still confused and startled.
“Kiddo, just get your stuff and leave…” He rest a hand on your shoulder and pinches the bridge of his nose defeated.
And you go do just that. You grab your stuff from the break room and make a haste towards the door, but you were stopped by Clark saying one thing before you left.
“Keep….this to yourself.” He gestures towards his little sleep area. You look at him for a beat before nodding your head and leaving the store.
You sucked in the fresh, cool air of the night and looked over the horizon. Those few moments inside the furniture store felt like hours. It felt cramped and stuffy and creepy. He told you little bits and pieces about his messy divorce, but you didn’t realize it was this bad. Camping out in your own furniture store seemed like rock bottom. You wondered why he couldn’t just get an apartment if getting the house back wasn’t an option, but thinking about it he was running a failing business. He probably didn’t have the funds to get an apartment.
For the next couple of weeks you both tried to act as if things were normal. You thought at first he would ask for the key and fire you for trespassing at night. It only made sense, but no, everything just kept moving as normal. Helping out with reports, moving furniture and setting up different scenes. Every time you pass by his bed and nightstand, you thought back to that night. It was so pathetic, but there was nothing you could do to help.
Drinking a bottle of whiskey, all alone watching shitty tv and sleeping in your own furniture because you got kicked out of your own house. It all sounded so terrible, so pathetic…and that’s what attracted you. It kept you coming back to help out everyday.
Like moth to the flame. You were drawn to the heat that it made you feel whenever he complimented you and had a hand linger on your shoulder or back.
The feelings were always there, ever since that first handshake. You just didn’t realize what it was yet until all those little butterflies started piling up. Finding him sleeping in his own store had sealed the deal.
You cross your arms on the desk and let your head nestle in them. You turn your head to look out the window of the store. The sun was setting and the sky had turned a peachy color with lavender mixed in. It was close to closing time for the store.
You turned your head to look up at Clark who was talking with Kat about the store. Stuff you as a regular sales associate weren’t ready for. Big manager stuff.
A little more time has passed and Clark had moved to his office and it was time for you to pack your stuff up and head home, except you wanted to ask Clark something.
People would call you crazy for wanting to ask your divorced, pitiful, and alcoholic manager if he wanted to get drinks with you. You just couldn’t stand the thought of him drinking alone all the time. It definitely wasn’t healthy to do so.
You hyped yourself and told yourself you could do this and no matter what his answer would be, you'd be happy you asked anyway.
You make your way to his office and stand there awkwardly for a moment. You take in the state of it. It’s gotten a bit messier, paperwork piling up along with overdue bills as well. There were a couple of new added drawings on the wall, that was nice to see at least. He was keeping up with his passion. It’s what makes the soul burn bright. Whether it drove people to stardom or insanity, it was passion nevertheless.
Clark had his leg propped up in his other. He was biting the end of a pencil while concentrating on whatever documents were in his hand.
You knocked on the door frame to catch his attention and the calendar he had hung up fell instead. “I didn’t mean for that to happen…uhm.”
He looks up at you and sets the pencil down, “What do you want? If you’re in here asking for a raise you know I can’t give you one.”
“I know better than to ask for one, no offense…” His facial expressions stay the same
Another beat of silence before you clear your throat and speak up again.
“I wanted to ask if you want to go drinking with me.”
“Oh that’s young people stuff kiddo. I’m too old for the clubs…”
“No, not like the clubs! Just a simple dive bar. I frequent one from time to time. I’ve got my nights too you know.”
Now he gave you a skeptical look. What does a twenty/one year old know about hard nights.
“Come on…Trust me, it’ll all be fine. Plus, I don’t think rotting away in this store alone is doing you any good.
It looked like he was thinking of something to say. An excuse or maybe a bite back. Whatever it was dissipated. He let out a heavy sigh and set down his papers.
“Fine, but I’ll drive and I’m picking the bar. I don’t trust the judgement of someone like you…no offense kiddo.”
You brush off the snide comment, happy he just said yes. It feels like you did the impossible of pulling this sad pitiful man out of his store for a little buddy drinking.
“Go in and head home, I’ll pick you up later tonight.”
You give a verbal confirmation and make your way out the store and home.
Clark’s eyes lingered in the doorway where you just stood. The past few months with you here have made things interesting, least to say. It was nice having an extra helping hand that didn’t mind being underpaid. He felt a little bad about it, but that’s all he could afford. He was grateful for your help and the way you talked to him. Pulled him out his head sometimes and smiled at him even when things were shitty that day. A small dim light in a clouded and dark store. Kat and Bobby offered some ease when days were bad with their banter and stupid conversations, but at the end of the day they went home together and didn’t look back.
Things had been rough for him. Rough was honestly an understatement for him. Struggling with the divorce he had to go to therapy. It was covered, but it was annoying to deal with. A grown man having to go to therapy for divorce of all reasons. It didn’t look right, but he showed up to those sessions anyway. Losing the house was probably the worst thing to happen. It was his. He paid for it. It was in his name. And because of everything now he was stuck camping out in his own store.
You were done getting ready. Your outfit was nice! It wasn’t too much, but it was different from the clothes you wore to work. Cooler, better. And now all you had to do was wait.
The waiting was the most nerve wrecking part. Not having to dig through your dresser for a good outfit. Not having to explain to your mom about who you were going out with. It was the wait.
Your stomach was so full of butterflies it was starting to twist and turn with each flap of their delicate wings they felt more like razor blades.
You sat by your window and waited for Clark to pull up. You peeked through the curtains every other minute hoping to catch the moment he pulled up. Those minutes felt like years.
But finally, there he was. Your pulse jumped upon seeing his car and you ran to the door. You checked yourself in the mirror and smoothed out your outfit and put your hairs into place before opening up the door. Clark was making his way to the door, but you wanted to beat him to it. God forbid your mother open up the door and he have to explain himself why he’s picking up his young employee to go drinking.
“You ready?” He asked.
He looked just as handsome out of his suit and tie. He was casual. It felt foreign, but nice.
“Yea, yea! Thanks for going out with me. It was about time someone pulled you out of that store captain.” You smirked and chuckled at the nickname you tacked onto the end of your sentence.
“Har har, very funny kid. Now, let’s go before I change my mind.”
The ride was fine. You made awkward small talk on the way to the bar, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. You were just thinking about getting your first drink down the hatch to settle your fried nerves.
Upon entry to the bar it was a typical dive bar. Small, a little rowdy, and warm somber feel to the whole thing. It's all it needed to be.
You two sat at the bar and he ordered a whiskey on the rocks for him and a tequila on the rocks for you.
You were finally here. Drinking with your boss who you’ve had a developing crush on since you started working there. You had no idea how it got to this point where your stomach was always churning butterflies every time he smiled at you, gave you praise and those shoulder and back pats for a good day's work. Just thinking about it makes you feel hot on the inside.
You take your glass and down the whole thing in one go. You would rather not linger on how your pathetic boss makes you feel.
Warm.
The liquor is warm going down. The heat from it spreads from your stomach to the rest of your body.
Your nerves relax and you feel light as a feather.
Clark is already on his fourth glass of whiskey.
You're only on your second glass of tequila.
For a dive bar it was pretty good. You were mainly use to drinking cocktails, but for the time being you wanted to match Clark’s drinking pace.
After the fourth glass of tequila you switched over to a cocktail. There was no way you could match the pace of a divorced middle aged man. Anymore and you would’ve crossed the line between drunk and blacked out.
Clark was on his sixth glass. You didn’t know how anyone could continue drinking something as awful as whiskey. You guessed the liquor warms him up in a way no one else could.
“Did you really mean that stuff you said about my drawings?” He asked before taking a sip from his glass.
“Uh…yea. Why?” You ask.
“It’s just ....been awhile since I’ve heard feedback is all.” He says.
“Hm…I’m glad you enjoyed what you have to say. I mean, who doesn’t like a compliment or two…plus I think it’s true.” You say as you look at him through half lidded eyes. The alcohol was starting to taste like bad decisions and butterflies.
He lets his eyes linger on you for a second more before tapping out.
You two are on the trip back home. He definitely shouldn’t be driving right now, but you were too drunk to make a fuss about it.
Clarke turned into the parking lot of the store and you lifted up your head from where it laid on the side of the door.
“Oh, we’re at the store.”
Clark looked at you and back at the store and sighed. “Sorry…I just went into autopilot. I forgot you were here honestly…”
You two sit there in silence for a few seconds. The smell of alcohol radiating off both your bodies and mixing creating a weird unseen fog in the car that smelled like bad decisions were going to be made.
The place is always creepy at night. It’s not supposed to be a home. There’s no cozy rooms or that warm atmosphere and soft yellow lights. No familiarity. Just a cold and lifeless furniture store.
“Why don’t I come inside to sober up before going home?”
“It’s already too late. At that point you might as well just stay overnight—“
“I don’t mind.” You say too quickly.
He looks you up and down and agrees to let you in reluctantly. It was already past twelve am.
Clark makes his way over to one of the showroom bedset he’s been calling home for months.
You shift awkwardly on your feet in one place. While it was just the store, at night it was his home.
“Don’t just stand there, you know what this is.”
“I know, it’s just…” You pause trying to find the right words.
“Say it.”
“It’s just…weird being here again. The first time was an accident, but this time I got permission. That’s probably the only reason I’m here right now is because of that accident.”
“Yeah, because you just so happened to leave your bag and just couldn’t go a night without it.” He sat down on the bed with a dull thump sound.
“Yeah, I couldn’t! I thought it would’ve been okay to run up here and just grab. The last thing I was expecting to see is my boss camping out in the store.”
Clark ran his hands over his face and sighed. “Is this what you wanted? To see your boss at rock bottom?” He asks sarcastically.
“No…just a drink with you.”
You both dwell in silence. It seems to be a recurring thing with you two. The awkward silent moments. You wanted to change that. So you offered a solution to your own problem.
“How about we try that exercise you do with your therapist…the roleplay.”
“That bullshit? God I should’ve never told you about that…it’s stupid.”
“Come on! I can be your wife. Not Barbara. Not me. Just a wife. I think it could help especially when you do it with someone who always isn’t evaluating you. Just…for fun.” You suggest and you look down at him.
He thought about all the possible ways this could go left. Pretending to be your young employee’s husband was so wrong, yet….
The alcohol was making all the decisions. You were already there and that was the first bad decision. Might as well continue with them.
“…Okay. Why not. I’ve already made some bad decisions today, let’s keep the ball rolling.”
Your face radiated with heat and a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. You didn’t think he’d actually say yes and now you were getting to play house with him.
“Awesome…Okay uhm…obviously I’m the ‘wife’ here and you my darling husband.”
He looks at you funny, but there’s a smile grazing his features.
You walk away from the bedset and come back knock on the invisible door.
“Knock, knock, knock! Can I come in?” You say and mine as if you were leaning on a door.
“Uh…yea, sure.” He says awkwardly
You open the invisible door and step closer to him. You can help but giggle at the act but the show must go on.
“Uhhhm…so, how was work?” You ask
“You’re serious…?”
You nod meekly and stare at him with big clouded eyes.
“Well uhm…it was fine.”
“You can be honest…” You move slowly to sit by him on the bed so as to not scare him.
“It was shit. Like yesterday and the day before that.”
You scoot closer beside him. Your bodies grazing each other.
He turns his head slightly to look at you. A mix of frustration, embarrassment and
“I’m stuck here. When I should be out there designing the next big thing. No one believes in my visions…”
“I do.” You say as you move your nervous and shaky hands to rest on his thighs and arm. Your nerves set on fire after coming in contact with him. The palm of your hands burning underneath the warmth of his skin. You shouldn’t be here emotionally supporting your boss way older than you while drunk, but you were and you weren’t going to question it anymore.
“What would you know? You’re just a…” His sentence falls short. He looks at you. You’re right by his side. Burning up under your gentle touch. When was the last time someone touched him like this? Like he was meant to be cared for.
Clark didn't think about his next actions.
He grabbed your jaw and pulled you straight in for a drunken kiss.
It took you by surprise. You thought you’d be the first to make the move.
It was a messy, drunken kiss.
Your teeth kept clashing against his as you tried your best to move in sync with him. Your drunken state doesn’t make it any better, but makes it feel so good.
The way he had a grip on your jaw and tilted your head and pulled it forward to mesh perfectly with his.
It was so hot, you were burning up underneath his touch.
Clark pulled away from the wet, messy kiss.
A string of spit still connected you two until the tension finally gave way breaking you two apart.
The air was filled with the sounds of you two panting. He was hovering over you, your legs intertwined and pelvises almost grinding against each other. You could feel the boner that was growing underneath his pants. Your face warmed up more than it already has.
He still held your face in his hands
“Tell me you want this.” Clark whispered into the crook of your neck.
You nodded quickly.
That’s all the confirmation he needed. He sat up from his position on top of you and started shuffling out of his clothes with haste. You catch on and shuffle out of your top and kick off your shoes.
Your head is swimming in arousal. A heat so intense pooling in the out of your stomach.
You were reaching for your bottoms to take off when Clark swatted away your hands and pulled them down himself.
“Fuck…” He mumbles as he looks your body up and down.
It’s been awhile since he’s had someone under him. Someone younger than him at that.
Clark placed a heavy hand right below your navel and let it travel all the way up to your neck where he held you down at.
He takes his other hand and slides it between your legs pushing them open to give him more room and access to your body.
You let out a small little gasp at the feeling of cold air hitting your hole.
He leans forward and whispers in your ear, “You’re a siren trying to pull me underwater, but I’ll catch you before you can catch me.”
His thumb graces over the pulse on your neck and moves up to your bottom lip. He swipes his thumb over your bottom lip and inserts it onto the flat of your tongue.
“Bite.” Clark demands and you do as you’re told.
“You're so pliant, so easy, so naive…not a care in the world. How lucky it must be to be you.”
He circles two fingers around your hole. You’re already so wet and ready to accept him, he stuck his fingers in roughly. Easing in and out as he inches more and more of his fingers in you.
The burn from the stretch made you cry out. It hurt, but as he inched more of his fingers into you, the burn started to give way into something intoxicating.
You moaned off his thumb and bucked your hips up trying to chase more of that feeling. Clark moved his hand from your face and held you down by the stomach. You whined at the restriction and clawed at the cheap sheets underneath you.
“For fucks’ sake, stay still kid.”
Your hips involuntarily bucked up again when you heard him call you kid. He always called you kid and it was enduring. It always reminded you he was older, had more power over you. Every time you heard it those butterflies had to make themselves present.
Once you adjusted to his fingers, he added a third. The sheets under you, starting to soak from your fluid and sweat.
The little gasp and ahs were driving Clark up a wall until he couldn’t take it anymore. He removed his fingers from your entrance and you whined at the loss. Your walls clenching around nothing, but air desperate for the feeling to cling around something again.
“Quit whining and flip over. I don’t want you staring at me with those big eyes of yours.” He said and gestured for you to flip.
You didn’t know whether it was an insult or a compliment, but you do remember the time he complimented you on them, so you’ll settle for a compliment.
You flipped over onto your stomach and he nudged your thighs apart with his knee. You went the extra step to spread yourself even further and arch your back up a little, impatiently.
He stared at your back and ran his hands down from the out of your arms to your waist and felt over your butt dimples.
You let out a soft moan. The feeling of his hands on your body were rough, but tender. It felt good and made you tremble with anticipation.
You looked back and saw him give his cock a few pumps and let out a string of low moans and “fucks”.
You whip your head back in shock. Clark was big. You didn’t expect that. You thought with the stress and temper he had, it would be smaller than you thought.
Without warning, he pushed in.
You're glad he loosened you up earlier or you wouldn't have been able to take it at all.
You bite down on the pillow in front of you to muffle the embarrassing high pitch moans.
Clark braces himself on his hands by each side of your head. “Relax or I can’t do anything, kid.” He whispers and uses one of his hands to grab the back of your neck and up and down the nape of it in an effort to relax you.
That seemed to do the trick. Your body went from rigid and stiff to pliant and open allowing Clark to push is cock half way in in one fell swoop.
You saw stars in your vision after he pushed in and started to tremble. The sudden intrusion was different from his fingers. His dick was girthy and bigger than what you’ve ever taken. Thank god he took the time to do some prep or you would’ve been in a lot more pain.
He rolled his hips slowly giving a small shallow thrust. Not wanting to hurt you, but soon those cautious and small thrust with no power behind them turned into a harsh, fast and uneven plowing. The way he pulled out and pushed back in with enough force to rock you up on the bed’s headboard. Clark was rough. It should’ve been evident with the way he forced his fingers in you barely wet. It almost felt cruel, but you drank it up. He stretches out your tight hole and drinks up wet sounds that come with each thrust. It's warm and pulls him back in every time he pulls out. He liked it. It felt like you were desperately clinging to him each time he pulled out.
He bottoms out and yells out a moany fuck.
You feel so full. The way his cock takes up every inch in your tight hole. You were starting to turn into a real mess.
With each thrust it got rougher and faster the hand pinning you down by the neck held tighter until it felt like it was going to bruise until it was harsh.
He was losing himself
“You've been waiting for this moment huh? The moment I grind into you like some dog. I know how you look at me. Don’t think those little glances and stares go unnoticed by me. I would never let them go unnoticed.”
You reach your trembling hand back to grab the hand that had a vice grip on your neck and dug your nails into his skin in an attempt to ground him.
“Cl..ah-Clark…!” His name come out broke and high pitched
The pain brought him back down from whatever high he was on.
He slowed his pace down significantly. It gave you a moment to have some sort of clarity even while faded.
His grip on the back of your neck loosens and he starts running his hand up and down your body to soothe any discomfort.
“I’m sorry…I’m…” He pants out and rests his forehead on the back of your head. You feel small wet tears drip down your neck.
It had been a long time since Clark had someone soft and warm under him. Someone as understanding as you. The intimacy of it all overwhelmed him. He couldn’t hold in those few lonely tears anymore.
The two of you lay there barely moving. The sound of soft sobs escape him. You lay there waiting and patient letting those frustrations seep out in the form of wet salty tears.
Then he starts to move again, this time his pace was steady and thrust deep, but not as rough. He started fucking you in earnest.
You time the roll of your hips with his thrust and crest a euphoric experience. His cock making you feel full and hitting your sensitive spots over and over again making you a mess of small gasps and moans that kept wailing up. You could feel yourself sucking him back in greedily every time he reeled back.
The sound of skin slapping together, heavy breathing and moans bounced off the walls of the empty store creating an echo effect. The store filled with the sounds of your ecstasy. It was the cherry on top of everything.
You feel the pit of your stomach get tighter and tighter like a spring. You claw at sheets and call out to Clark.
“Ah..I..I’m close! I think I’m close…Ah!” He knocks a moan out of you with one sharp thrust.
He laced his fingers through yours to ground you and piledrived into you. Your vision is starting to go blurry from the brutal pace and drool dripped down from your bottom lip onto the bed.
A pathetic man desparate for a fuck he didn’t know he needed could lay good pipe.
“Wa..wait! Ah fuck!” Your body seized up and toes curled as you came on his cock. He didn’t slow down though and continued his pace, grinding against your sensitive walls. Your moans turned into whines and your body trembled so fucked out you could barely move. His rhythm was getting sloppy, it could be any second he burst now.
“Oh fuck, I’m about to—!” Clark drove into you at the hilt and came in you with a low moan. His movements grew lazy and sloppy.
You panted and started to come down from this drunken ecstasy. It felt so good, not a thought about how this could affect your business real with your boss came across your mind. You were here in the moment with him. Lying on his bed under him felt good.
He pulled out his softening dick and you shuttered at the lost gaping around nothing and cringing at the cum dripping out of you.
“Gross…but worth it.” You thought to yourself.
Clark pulled you up by the chin and looked over your features. You were fucked out alright. Half lidded foggy eyes, messy hair, rosy cheeks, drool down your chin. It was hot seeing his young employee like this. It was all because of him you looked well taken care of.
He leaned in and planted a deep and soft kiss on your lips. It felt more intimate than anything he did. It felt weird, but not uncomfortable.
He pulled back from the kiss and collapsed beside you. He wasn’t going to think about what that soft kiss could mean to him or you or anything else you two just did. He wrapped an arm around your body and pulled you close. You smelt like a mix of him, yourself and liquor. It smelt like heaven to him and he nuzzled into your neck.
All this would be tomorrow’s problems to deal with. You just wanted to drift away into blissful sleep under the comfortable heat of Clark.
———————————————————————-
Authors note: I’m probably gonna beta and edit this later buuuut enjoy the raw for now hehe
( ˶°ㅁ°) !!
(@natthe-bratt idk how tagging people works sorry)
Warnings : TRIGGER WARNING!!!!! this is important, the sexual scenes in this fic could be considered scary and or dangerous to some people, PLEASE READ TAGS BEFORE YOU READ THE FIC!!! Reader is described as having a vagina and boobs aswell as being generally Fem presenting. i'm too much of a chud to count the amount of words, all i gotta say is that this is decently long! (and smutty.) This fanfic should technically be read in parts. Like.. if you can get this fanfic done in one sitting congrats to you honestly cuz it took me FOREVERRR
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- This fanfic includes - (make sure to read!!!)
- General smut.
- Angst.
- epilogue inclusion.
- clark Imagined his wife to some extent during sex
- Clark is MANIPULATIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!! super fucking manipulative!!!!!!!!!!
- Inebriated sex. (Via Clark)
- We doing ts RAW. (Make sure to wrap it before you ride it irl)
- THE SEX IS EMOTIONAL!!!!!! (if it makes sense, this is really important btw!!! this fanfic is mostly emotional snd talks about the characters feelings during sex instead of the straight physical aspects)
- To some extent this could be classified as hate sex. (even tho clark kinda has a crush on reader 🥹✌️)
- Clark is similar to the movie, but maybe more flirty (it was hard to write him being romantic because we have never seen that. So idk)
- Clark degrades reader during smut.
- Clark is lowkey rude asf but he finds reader endearing.
- Pretty big age gap, Clark and Reader feel guilty about it but they get over it.
- Messy confession but it ends well 👀
- Hair tugging
- Angry clark!
- Lowk reader is awkward asf and doesn’t talk a lot.
- I wrote this with the idea that the backrooms has some sort of allure, this is written BEFORE the backrooms movie but I feel the need to say that the backrooms has some sort of pull twords the reader. Like they are almost attracted to it, even though reader doesn’t know it exists.
- Sex is confusing and this is KINDA a slow burn in the sense that Clark kinda sorta forgot how to do it after his wife.
Clark was tired, really.
He was tired of his everyday job, and making shitty commercials using shit he got from a goodwill — A wooden leg made out of chair parts and scrapped together with duct tape.
After his wife left him he had been at a loss, nowhere to live; really. No freinds, no family he could rely on to bear the burden.
All he had was a shitty therapist and a couple of 20 year olds he hired off of facebook.
That was until you showed up to his department store.
———————————————————
A woman, looking for a job. He didn’t understand why exactly you wanted to work for him of all people; especially in this shithole he tried so hard to promote; but you were persist that you could work and “do a real good job on the place, trust me!” He, obviously was inclined too. There was nobody else working here anyway, extra help was needed.
And so, another random 20 year old entered his life.
—
You had been working with him for months now. He had grown quite fond of you. Your strange awkward jokes and the way you would shuffle your feet against the floor when you had no customers (which was, all the time.) You were an enigma in his boring life. Something strange he dote on while he was fumbling with the broken furniture.
He enjoyed your company, you were quiet; funny; awkward and compassionate; you seemed to actually care about him and his business. You would clean, and you would plop on the beds and lay down on them sometimes; he found that amusing; and you would make posters and staple them places and in bars he didn’t even know about.
You never seemed annoyed by him, or his paranoid habits (or his drinking, albeit frustrating..He wasn’t a nuisance) You seemed to like having him around. He wondered sometimes if you had a life outside of this; i mean you did. but he wanted to know more about it, he wanted to know more about you.
It was closing hours; it’s not like the closing hours made any difference compared to the other times of day; but nonetheless you were exhausted and he was too.
You had started packing up your lunch and things, grabbing your usual backpack full of stuff and smacking it right down on the bed. You plop and lay down on the bed like you usually did; only this time it was his bed. You didn’t know that he lived here, really. He walked up the stairs from down in the basement.
He began undoing his tie and sighing loudly enough so that you could hear it. It echoed slightly through the empty large room; You glanced up from your position on the bed before sighing back at him and groggily sitting up.
You look up through your eyebrows and raise a brow. Before you actually look up at him, he’s standing directly infront of him and your face to face with the top of his belt; you actually look up at him, his gaze looking down at you with an amused look; he looks like he was trying to hide it. Clark stands infront of you, his eyes staring down at you with a look of exhaustion as he pulls a flask out of his pocket and swirls it around for a moment.
“You have to go..it’s past closing time.”
You sigh extra loud at that. Rolling your eyes before looking back down again, your face to face with his belt again. You stared at the buckle, it was silver. You looked back up at him again and lightly sighed, before looking outside.
You could see the parking lot outside, your car was a dark red and could barely be seen. You didnt want to go back home. For some reason you wanted to stay here. It was stupid — who wants to stay at their job 24/7 ??? But this wasn’t really a job for you, I mean it was but it just felt good to work at a place like this, like it had a sort of pull that kept bringing you back in, this job was the only place that you were happy to work at without any worries and bouncing around the store while getting paid.
He swished the liquor around in his mouth aimlessly for a moment, his cheeks puffing out with liquid.
He sets his empty glass down on a nearby crate with a soft clink. He looks down at you, a faint, tired smile on his face. "Alright, kiddo," he says, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "Time to pack it up. you've got to get home."
Hearing him call you "kiddo" and tell you to leave stings a little, you felt like a child being forced to leave a candy store, You don't say anything, but your shoulders slump, and you cross your arms, looking away with a tiny, frustrated pout. You wanted to stay around him just a little longer.
He lets out a soft, huffing laugh.
"What's that face for?"
He asks softly, his tone completely shifting from a boss to someone who genuinely dotes on you. He finds you entertaining — maybe even an attractive person?
"Are you actually annoyed with me for sending you home?"
he drops his weight, leaning down until he is directly face-to-face with you. He plants his hands firmly on his own knees to steady himself, his shoulders completely blocking out the rest of the dim lighting of the empty store. He stares at you, his gaze stiff and unmoving.
You can smell the sharp, warm tang of the liquor on his breath, mixed with the faint scent of his cologne. Up close, you can see the slight bloodshot edge in his eyes, but right now, those eyes are locked entirely on yours.
You lick your lips lightly and purse them. A slow, knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He can see how flustered you are, how your chest rises and falls a little faster now that he’s in your space. He knows exactly what kind of power he holds as your boss, and he’s leaning into it, enjoying the sudden rush of control. And so, he asks again,
"What's that face for?"
“Nothing-“
“Oh- cmon now. What is it?”
His smirk falters just a fraction. Up close, looking at your quiet face, a sudden wave of hesitation hits him. He’s older, he’s your boss, and his life is a fractured, messy fuckin’ wreck . . .he shouldn't be doing this. He would bring you down with him, keep you in this shit hole.
He doesn't pull away, though. He is too tired, too lonely, and too desperate for the comfort you give him just by existing. He likes that you look at him without demanding he change. The possessive edge creeps right back into his gaze, pinning you to the edge of the mattress. "Well?" he murmurs, tilting his head just an inch closer. "I'm waiting."
A heavy, intoxicating pool drops straight to the bottom of your stomach, a dizzying mix of intense guilt and sheer anticipation..lust? maybe. You know this is wrong. He is your boss. He has all the authority in this tiny, boring world, but as he leans down, your heart hammers violently against your ribs, a hot feeling swells your face assume your red like a looney toons cartoon.
You weren’t glowing red, obviously. It sure felt like it though.

“I-I just. . . I guess I just want to stay. “
“Stay? you want to stay?”
“Yeah- here. I want to stay here- well it doesn’t have to be here . . . but- i mean y’know..”
Clark freezes. The implication hits him like a physical blow. It’s not about the store, and it’s not about going home at night. It’s about him. He felt cocky, really. Smitten was the right word. He liked being flattered like this.
“I don’t know, actually. Tell me; why do you actually want to stay here?”
his frame completely crowding you on the edge of the mattress as he stares at your awkward face.
our heart does a sudden, panicked flip. Flustered by the proximity, your hands blindly look for a distraction. Your fingers reach up, nervously locking onto the edges of his loosened, wrinkled work tie. You grip the fabric tightly, a silent, desperate way to anchor yourself, you lightly tug on it,not enough to pull him down, but just enough to show him you aren't letting go.
"I mean I don't care about the store, Clark,"
You whisper, your voice cracking slightly on his name. It’s the first time you’ve ever called him anything other than boss or sir, and the word feels heavy, almost illicit, hanging in the dark space between your faces.
"I mean- I do care i just sorta- i-i . . . I just... I want to stay here. I guess. With-wit”
“Me?”
“Yes. Yeah- with you.”
He pauses for a moment, his breath hitches and he seems to stumble over his words.
"Jesus,"
he mutters, a rough, gravelly sound that is half-sigh and half-growl.
His fingers are rough and clumsy as they slide up, his grip tightening firmly around your jaw. His palm is heavy and demanding, his thumb pressing hard against your chin to tilt your face up, forcing your shy gaze to lock completely with his bloodshot, exhausted eyes.
"You have no idea what you're asking for,"
He barks out, his voice sharp, brittle, and completely lacking any sort of gentle romance. He knows he’s a cynical, bitter man who should be sending his twenty-year-old employee home; but he doesn’t want to. He refuses to.
A slow, cynical smirk tugged at the corner of Clark’s mouth. He let out a soft, amused huff, his hot breath brushing against your lips. He was irritated by your school girl crush on him, but god, he was flattered. A broken, divorced guy sleeping on a bed he didn’t even really own, and here was his pretty, young employee, looking up at him like he hung the stars. It was a massive ego stroke to his battered pride.
“You really are a stubborn little thing- aren’t ya?”
he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. He didn't pull away from your grip on his tie. Instead, he leaned into it, intentionally letting his chest press closer against yours, testing how much of his weight you'd take.
Behind his drunken exterior, the darker, uglier gears in his head started turning.
You were right here. Completely helpless, totally infatuated, and practically begging for it.
“A quick lay wouldn’t hurt.”
He thought to himself, He was lonely, he was horny, and it would be so incredibly easy to just take what you were offering to numb the pain for a night.
"You shouldn't be holding onto me like that. You don't... you don't have any idea what you're messing with right now.”
Clark whispered. His thumb dragged heavily across your lower lip, sending a sharp shiver down your spine.
"I’m a desperate man, You're... you're making it really hard for me to be professional with you. Is that what you want? You want to see me lose it?"
Before you could even draw a breath, his hands slipped away from the sides of your face. And locked onto your shoulders, gripping you with a bruising force that pinned you flat against the bed. The sudden weight of his body crowded over yours, knocking the air right out of your lungs. He leaned down and slammed his mouth onto yours.
Your lips seemed to intertwine in a way, your salvia engrossing and coating your lips as he aggressively made out with you. His hands were on the sides of your neck, his fingers lightly grazing the pressure points. His gaze lowered — not completely closing his eyes yet but still lidded enough you could notice his eyes rolling.
The display mattress creaked loudly beneath you as the stiff showroom plastic crinkled under the sheets, catching your weight as you ended up flat on your back. Clark was clumsy, his movements uncoordinated from the cheap liquor and the fact that he hadn’t been sexually active (other than jerking himself off) since his wife walked out a year ago. He stumbled slightly in the dark, losing his footing before half-flopping, half-leaning right on top of you.
“Fucks sake..”
He angrily huffs out, his knee bumped awkwardly against your thigh as he tried to figure out where to put his limbs. For a second, he just lay there breathing heavily against your neck, his forehead pressed into your shoulder while he tried to stop the room from spinning. He had forgotten how good it felt to have someone softer underneath his body.
His hands fumbled as he grabbed your waist, his grip tight and insecure, just wanting to hold onto the one thing that made him feel alive. His grip was haphazard.
He snaked his hands in between your body and unbuckled his belt, yanking on it and pathetically tossing it to the floor. With the other hand he tugged down on your pants. You got the memo and undid your pants, Letting them falling to the floor and pooling around your ankles.
“Fuck... hold still. Just—goddamnit, let me..."
He fumbles slightly and huffs his own words out like he’s frustrated. your legs spread wide, cunt stretched open and aching for him. the first inch pushes past your entrance and your body clenches around him immediately, sucking him in with a wet, squelching noise that makes his whole body jolt.
"o-oh,fucking shit!” He practically claws out.
His dick forces your walls to stretch around him, slippery and tight, and he's biting his lip hard to keep himself from rutting deeper too fast. the air's full of heat and moans, your gasps high and breathy while his are low, cracked, almost angry.
He pins his elbows right next to you. Staring right down at your face angrily huffing out his words. Each shaky thrust was another huff of frustration coming out of his mouth.
His eyes meeting with yours never left, only now the alcohol makes his vision swim, blurring your features in the shadow of the mattress.
For a terrifying second, he isn’t looking at you at all. He’s looking at her. The sharp, judgmental curve of his ex-wife’s mouth, the eyes that always looked at him like he was nothing.
As he pushed deeper into your pussy, pinning your wrists above your head with one heavy, unyielding palm, his eyes suddenly glazed over completely.
He stared down at your face, but as the shadows shifted across your features, his expression twisted into something deeply ugly, bitter, and resentful.
"Look at you,"
he growled, his voice thick with a venom that made your stomach drop to the floor. His fingers twisted tighter into your hair, forcing you to look straight at him.
"So quiet now. You weren't so quiet when you were packing your bags, were you? You had plenty to say about me then. You think you can just play with me? You think you're so much better than me?"
A cold shock of realization hit you, a sharp, emotional ache that hurt far worse than his rough grip. He thought you were her. You opened your mouth to protest, to anchor him back to reality, you broke your moans for a moment to speak.
“C-Clark, it's me, it's—“
"Shut up,"
He snapped, his palm instantly moving from your wrists to press flat against your mouth, muffling your words into a useless whimper against his skin, He began to yell.
"Don't say my name like that. You don't get to look down on me anymore. You think I'm a failure? Huh? Look where you are. You're right under me. You're nothing without me. You're all the fucking same."
.
.
.
WHAM !!
Clark bottoms out, His hands grasp your hair and intertwine with it pathetically like he’s grounding himself.
His thrusts pick up speed, you bounce pathetically in the bed; and it doesn’t nearly get less gentle.
You swallowed hard, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from the sheer, overwhelming intensity of it. . the rough fabric of his work trousers was scratching against your skin, and the suffocating scent of liquor was making your head spin. But your deep, months-long crush and your naturally shy submission froze you completely. You let him move your limbs like a doll, your trembling hands resting uselessly against his tense shoulders.
Clark seemed to stare at your quiet, unmoving form on the mattress, and a sharp, sickening jolt of shame hit his gut. He hated how small you looked. He hated that he had done that to you. But more than anything, he hated the idea that you might pity him now.
"Don't look at me with those sad eyes. You're the one who wanted to stay, remember? I told you to go home. You're a grown girl, you knew what you were doing when you grabbed my tie."
He closes his eyes. He feels your lips on his one last time before he,
breaks?
explodes?
falls apart?
falls together?
Something like that.
He collapsed heavily against you. His broad shoulder pinned you into the mattress, his face buried deep in the crook of your neck. For a long, suffocating minute, the only sound in the dark showroom was the ragged, alcohol-laced wheeze of his breathing. He didn't move. He felt like dead weight, a broken man hiding from the wreckage of his own mind.
You let out a small, trembling sob beneath him, and Clark flinched as if he’d been struck.
The illusion of his wife vanished, leaving him staring down at your tear-stained, bruised face. A sickening jolt of raw shame hit his gut.
“Fuck,"
he muttered, scrambling backward off you so fast he nearly lost his balance on the edge of the bed. He wouldn't look at you. His hands shook violently as he grabbed his wrinkled trousers, pulling them up with frantic, agitated movements.
"Fuck's sake... get up. Get your clothes on."
You sat up slowly, shivering in the cold air of the warehouse, clutching your torn shirt to your chest.
"Clark...?"
“Don't,"
he snapped, his voice rough and laced with a defensive panic. He kept his back turned to you, aggressively rubbing his face with both hands.
"Just... grab your things. Your car is in the lot, right? You need to go home. It's past closing. You shouldn't be here."
your fingers trembling so hard you could barely grip the straps. Hearing you struggle, Clark cast a sharp, tortured look over his shoulder. Seeing you look so small, so broken, and so entirely compliant under his harsh words made his chest ache with a sudden, desperate guilt.
He hated what he had done. But more than that, he hated that you were witnessing him like this.
He grabbed one of his older his heavy wool work jacket from a nearby crate and aggressively shoved it into your trembling hands.
"Take it,"
he muttered, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly rumble, refusing to meet your eyes.
“It's freezing outside. Just... go home, kiddo. Drive safe. We’ll look at the inventory ledgers tomorrow. Just go."
You felt used, confused, and entirely discarded.
You reached for the cold metal handle of the door.
“Wait."
His thumb drifted up, carefully wiping away a stray, dried tear from your cheek. His touch was so gentle it made your throat ache with fresh tears. He wanted to kiss you . . . you could see the desperate, hungry tilt of his head, but the sheer weight of his own shame held him back. He couldn't bring himself to do it.
"Go home,"
Clark murmured, his gaze drifting down to your lips one last time before he stepped back into the shadows of the unsold furniture, completely swallowing himself in the darkness.
"I'll see you tomorrow morning. Don't be late."
EPILOGUE.
By the next month, the routine had solidified into an inescapable ritual. You knew when the front doors would lock, when the sharp sting of liquor would fill the air, and exactly how to be quiet and compliant underneath his heavy, desperate weight.
Until Tuesday morning.
You arrived early to a warehouse charged with a frantic, erratic energy. You found Clark in the deep rows of unsold furniture, covered in chalky white drywall dust. He was holding a tall, worn wooden stool like a grand trophy, his eyes wide and flashing an excitement you had never seen out of him before.
He didn't try to hide it. Instead, a breathless laugh tore from his throat, and he set the stool down with a heavy thud right in front of you.
“Look at this,"
he whispered, his voice trembling with a desperate pride.
"I found it, kiddo. I actually found it. Mary keeps telling me I'm stuck, that I'm just rotting here... but my therapist doesn't know anything. Nobody knows what's on the other side of that wall."
"Clark...? What is that for? Where are you going?"
He leaned in closer, his gaze tracking something invisible in the air.
"It's yellow,"
he breathed, a terrifying, reverent whisper.
"Millions of miles of it, just waiting for me. I'm going to prove them all wrong."
Clark suddenly froze.
He looked down at your worried, awkward face, and the manic wildness in his eyes softened into something incredibly raw and desperate.He didn't pull away this time. Instead, his large, dust coated hands reached out, gripping your hips with a sudden, bruising intensity that pulled your frame flush against his chest.
Before you could even gasp, he leaned down and kissed you, his chapped lips tasting faintly of copper and sweat. It was a desperate attempt to anchor himself to the only good thing he had left before he leaped into the dark.
"Stay here today,"
he murmured against your lips, his forehead resting heavily against yours for one fragile, bleeding second.
"Be a good girl for me. Wait for me."
He let go of your hips just as quickly as he had grabbed them. Turning on his heel, he picked up the stool and strode into the darkest, most isolated corner of the warehouse wall, entirely consumed by his new obsession.
You stood frozen in the aisle, your lips tingling, your heart hammering violently against your ribs. You knew something was completely wrong. But you walked back to the front counter and settled into the quiet comfort of the routine anyway.
You watched the clock slowly tick closer to five o'clock. You knew that soon, the twilight would fade outside. And you convinced yourself that no matter what strange, yellow world he was digging into back there, he would eventually come back out to find you. The doors would lock, his heavy hands would find your jaw, and you would do it all over again.
———————————————————————-
Okay it’s like one in the morning now that i’m finishing this, i’m exhausted and my fingers hurt from typing so much, i’m not joking when i say this was the funnest fanfic ive ever wrote bc like i love doing research on this movie😭✌️ i hoped you guys liked it!!!!!! (also If you came from tik tok where i posted about this, HIIIIIIIIII !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
PART TWO: https://www.tumblr.com/sweetbabyhazel/818618351076196352/the-yellow-walls
I know Tumblr doesn't like black people unless as a gateway to being seen as liberal but are we gonna have more Clark fics soon? Anyone cooking smth for the table?
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