Star's most recent performance -> "You deserve a real man."
Star's upcoming performance -> Go easy on me
✰ Star • They/them • 20 • Sagittarius • INFP • Canadian • Multi fandom blog • Writing fem, masc and gn reader since 2023 • Soldier Boy's toy • Ryland Grace my bbg <3
Be warned! This account writes/consumes both Sfw and Nsfw content, but is open to all
List of fandoms I write for:
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, The Hunger Games, Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, American Horror Story, X-Men, Arcane, Squid Game, The Outsiders, Stranger Things, The Pitt, One Piece, The Goslingverse, Backrooms
Pairing: Clark (Backrooms) x Fem! Employee! Reader
Warnings: infidelity (ur cheating on ur boyfriend, who you think is cheating on you), Clark calls you sweetheart A LOT (that's on purpose, kinda like lovebombing), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, unbalanced power dynamics (he's ur boss), creampie, premature ejaculation
Word count: 2.2k
✰Masterlist
You had started working at Cap'n Clark's Ottoman Empire about a month ago.
You were still attending university and needed a part-time job for your monthly expenses. Hearing about the place from a friend of a friend, you drove there and handed your resume to the only girl managing the register.
The interview with your now-boss, Clark, didn't drag on for long. It's not like people were lining up to apply to a failing business, so he practically hired you on the spot.
You had been adjusting well to your new job, getting along with your only coworker, Kat, and her boyfriend, who was friends with the person who told you about this place. Bobby was a little odd, but Kat told you it was the weed. He came around when he wasn't in a lecture, as he was attending the same university as you, or when he was filming a new commercial for Clark.
They were both friendly, and you were all close in age, so it was easy to joke around with them. The real mystery was your boss, Clark.
Kat told you he was recently divorced, and Bobby came up with a wild conspiracy that he was living at the store. But you didn't actually know that much about him.
That's why asking to meet in his office was scary, because you assumed he was going to fire you.
"I wanted to check in and see how you're doing," Clark explains as soon as you sit down in front of his desk. "Have Kat and Bobby been treating you well? I know Bobby can be a lot sometimes, but... well, aren't we all?"
"Everything is fine. I really like it here, sir," you answer politely.
"Good, good," he rubs a hand across his bearded chin, "I'm here if you need to talk, okay? You can talk to me about anything."
"Alright, I'll keep that in mind," you go to leave his office, "Enjoy the rest of your evening, Clark."
"You too!" he lifts his hand awkwardly just as you shut the door behind you.
A month or so later, your life takes a turn for the worse when you suspect your boyfriend is cheating on you. Sleep becomes more difficult, and the lack of energy makes it harder to take care of yourself. You show up to work late and stare off into space frequently.
Clark picks up on your changes in behaviour because you had been such a model employee up until this past week. So when he invites you into his office again and notices the dark circles under your eyes, he knows something is wrong.
"Is everything okay at home?" Clark asks as he fixes the scatter of paperwork on his desk.
You raise an eyebrow, "What makes you ask that?"
"I've noticed that you haven't been acting like you normally do," he answers with concern.
"Well..." you take a deep inhale, "It's my boyfriend." You pause to gauge Clark's reaction, but he's still as stoic as ever. "I think he's cheating on me, and-"
You choke on your words, furiously blinking back tears because you don't want to cry in front of your boss. Clark reaches across the desk, holding out his hand. You place your palm on top of his, and he curls his fingers over yours.
"Tell me what he did to you," he says softly, but in a serious tone.
The dam behind your eyes breaks, and you end up sobbing to your boss about your shitty boyfriend. You tell him about all the terrible things he's done to you, and Clark just listens, rubbing his thumb soothingly against your hand.
In the end, Clark squeezes your hand, "You deserve better. You deserve a real man, not someone who doesn't know a good thing when they have it."
You laugh a little, drying your eyes, "You really think that?"
"You're the best thing to happen to this store in months. Of course, I mean it," Clark responds, watching you dab a tissue onto your dark circles.
"Everything just feels so wrong right now," you mumble, "How do I just accept that things are going to be different?"
Clark gives a heavy sigh, as if there was a weight pressing down on his shoulders, "I'm still figuring that one out, kid."
You feel the sting of embarrassment creep up on you for crying to your boss about your boyfriend, when he had been going through a divorce. "My problems seem a lot more trivial than yours, huh?" you chew on the inside of your cheek anxiously.
"But he's impacting you just the same as she was impacting me," Clark states.
"Who?" you question, your brows raising.
"My wife," he answers bitterly, "She impacted my life like your boyfriend is impacting yours."
"Oh," you tilt your head, "you sound like a therapist."
"Is that not what you need right now?" he asks.
"I don't know what I need right now," you admit.
You stare at each other for a long time before Clark gestures for you to come closer. So you do. You get up and walk around to the other side of his desk. "Maybe we need the same thing," he says, then pulls you down onto his lap.
You feel a familiar heat spreading across your body, a heat you haven't felt from your boyfriend in weeks. "And what's that?" you reply as his hands creep up your hips.
"Each other," Clark whispers in your ear, kissing along the side of your jaw. A gasp leaves your mouth, and your hands find his shoulders. He pulls you closer so you're fully straddling him now, his lips finding yours.
You're actually kissing your boss. The boss who is two decades older than you. Holy shit.
Things get heated quickly, and there's no denying the insuppressible tension between the two of you. Clark holds you like you're something about to slip through his fingers, never to be found again. Your whimpers into his mouth tell him everything he needs to know. You're feeling it too. You aren't going to push him away and call him a creep, and Clark will push the limits of that.
He lifts you up against his desk, sending papers falling to the floor, but Clark pays no mind. He's busy undoing his belt buckle while mouthing at your neck.
"Wait... Clark," you swallow, glancing over your shoulder at the door to his office. "Are you sure we should be doing this here?"
He looks up at you and just chuckles a little, "You're adorable. Being worried about something like that." His belt buckle finally opens, and he lowers the fly on his slacks. "Do you really think Kat cares enough to come into here? No, because this job is fucking easy."
Clark pulls his slacks and underwear down just enough to free his cock. At first glance, he looks considerably average, but then you realize he's not even fully hard yet.
"Wow. You're bigger than I imagined," you mumble, "Not that I've been imagining what your dick looks like!"
He palms your hair gently, "Think about it all you want, sweetheart. It's all yours." Then he helps you take off your bottoms, trailing his finger over the outline of your pussy through your underwear. "I wonder if it's as beautiful as I've been imagining."
That heat floods your senses again as you pull your underwear to the side, giving him a good look at your cunt. "Fuck, she's gorgeous, sweetheart," Clark comments, running his finger up your slit. He teases your clit with the skill only a man once married would have.
"Clark..." you moan softly, watching his cock grow harder for you. You can't help the way your pussy makes his fingers wet with your arousal, because he's teasing your entrance with them. He pushes one thick finger into you, feeling the tightness of your walls.
"He hasn't been satisfying you, huh, sweetheart?" Clark asks, and you can't help but nod in agreement. Your boyfriend hadn't been satisfying you for weeks now, no sex, barely even the simplest of affection. Which is why your suspicions and doubts had been growing until you couldn't take it anymore.
But all that left your brain as soon as Clark pushed another finger into you. "You don't have to worry about him anymore, sweetheart. I'm here now."
He captures your lips again, and the way he kisses you is surprisingly gentle for how his fingers are curled inside you. You pull him closer, feeling his dick grow harder against your thigh. Clark continues to fuck you with his fingers, bringing you closer to an orgasm.
The situation was intense, making out while getting finger-fucked by your boss in his office. It sounded like something straight out of some corny 80's porno. But this was your reality, and you were buzzing from the pleasure.
Clark pulls back from your lips, but keeps his forehead close to yours. "You getting close, sweetheart?" he asks. You nod your head, unable to get the words out because of the way your clit was throbbing.
"Good girl," he whispers, "Just let go for me. Make a mess of my fingers."
That was all it took to push you over the edge of a climax. Your walls pulse and your thighs shake as you softly moan his name. Your pussy makes his fingers even wetter, your juices dripping down his knuckles and onto his palm. "That's it," he mumbles while he pumps his finger through your orgasm.
In the intensity of your high, you neglected to notice Clark's fully hard length throbbing against you, leaking onto your skin. He chuckles a little, pulling his fingers out of you and rubbing your wetness along his cock. "Can you give me another round, sweetheart?"
Despite the slight achiness you felt, you agreed, because all you knew right now was that you needed this man inside you.
Clark settles in between your thighs, lining up his fat tip against your hole. He gives a few little taps; the remnants of your orgasm just make you wetter and more sensitive to his teasing. "Clark," you whine, "Stop teasing me."
"Sorry, sweetheart. Can't help myself." he kisses your forehead, but pushes it in all the same. The stretch felt incredible already, and he was barely inside. Clark groans, grabbing onto your hips like a lifeline. "You feel so fucking good," he mumbles while pushing further into you.
Inch by inch, you take more of him, and with each movement, Clark shutters in pleasure. After what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, he was fully inside you.
Clark just blinks, looking in utter awe at the way your pussy takes his cock so wonderfully. He digs his thumbs into your back, his hands trembling slightly. He looked nervous, amazed, and overwhelmed all at the same time.
"Are you going to uh... move?" you ask, more in wonder than in actual impatience.
He shakes his head as if to snap himself out of his daze. "Right! Yeah... It's been a while since..." he trails off, but he doesn't need to finish for you to get the memo. It's been a while since he last had sex. There was nothing wrong with that; he just might need to unlock the part of his brain that remembered how to fuck.
Eventually, he does start to move, thrusting his hip shallowly. He leans into it more than he probably should, but Clark had never really had sex on a desk before. Sex with his ex-wife turned vanilla in their marriage, and eventual divorce, so he'd never experience wild shit like this.
"You can go faster. I'm not going to break," you joke lightly. Clark grunts, his brows tensing, "I'm trying, baby. God-"
He gives a sharp thrust that brings his pelvis right into your clit. You claw at his desk a little, your thighs straining from spreading to accommodate him. His thrusts were becoming a little more thorough, but were still just as slow. It felt good, yes, but wasn't nearly as intense as when he was fingering you. You may have been hoping for something a little more.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Clark lets out a guttural moan and erupts inside of you. He looked just as shocked as you when it happened. Like a switch was flipped and he just started cumming.
"I'm so sorry," he trembles as his cock throbs inside of you. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to do that."
"It's okay, Clark. I'm not mad," you respond, pulling him in close. "You couldn't stop it from happening; I understand."
"I wanted to give you more," his throat clicks as he swallows, "I wanted it to be better for you."
It didn't really feel like he was talking to you exactly, but the shimmer in his eyes was too desperate to ignore. "You gave me plenty, Clark. I promise."
He kisses you again, now with his cum leaking out of your cunt. He holds your back in his palms, pressing his fingers into the muscles. When he's done holding back tears and nearly crying into your mouth, Clark leans his forehead against yours once more. "I'll make it up to you, sweetheart, promise."
Star's notes -> I wrote everything after the reader's orgasm while sleepy on melatonin, so if it makes no sense, that's probably why
one day grace tries on one of their eridian shirts and is like hehe it has way too many holes for my few limbs :-) and to rocky and adrian its like the equivalent of putting your dog in a pair of pants
when chishiya offered to let you stay in his room, the ripple of surprise throughout the executive room was palpable; even hatter seemed momentarily thrown off by such an uncharacteristic gesture. you had your own reservations about accepting, yet with the other women present having stayed silent, and the lascivious way niragi’s gaze had been creeping you out, you were left with little choice but to agree to the rooming arrangement.
you quickly discovered three things about your new roommate that set him apart from the rest of the inhabitants of The Beach. first, chishiya inhabited the room like a tenant perpetually on the verge of departure; the space remained disturbingly depersonalised, devoid of any clutter, save for a few stray water bottles that he cleared away once they were empty.
second, he possessed no appetite for the high-octane hedonism that infected most of the people you encounter. the king-sized bed served no purpose beyond its most literal function, a vast white wasteland between you both. even when you were required to wear a bikini to satisfy the dress code, chishiya never regarded you with the famished eyes common to the others—an indifference that, at times, you found yourself secretly wishing he lacked.
last but not least, you felt safe with him. which is all that matters.
he kept a respectful distance in bed, maintaining a boundary of non-contact. shared evenings were defined by sporadic, low-stakes conversation, though more often than not, they dissolved into comfortable silence. yet, despite his best efforts to uphold that boundary, you would frequently wake to find yourselves hopelessly tangled (an arm draped over his torso, a leg wedged between his) and it was always painfully clear that you were the instigator of the accidental intimacy.
upon sensing you stirring awake, chishiya would gently extract himself from the mess of limbs. he spared you his signature dry commentary, yet the silence made everything the more awkward. by the time your eyes could fully focus on the ceiling light, he had already slunk away, leaving you to stew in your own mortification. the more you dwell on it, the more your skin burns with the realisation of his patience; considering chishiya’s status as an early riser, he must have spent at least two hours trapped in your embrace, wide awake.
text reads: Hello, my name is Cindy Ann and I'm a Transsexual. I've made this page to help others like myself who share this same gift. Please feel free to look around and contact me if you like. This page is under construction, and is my first attempt at making one myself, so please be patient. Have a lovely day :) Hugs, Cindy Ann
