Clark Kent x reader x Lois Lane
Summary: Clark is cheating on Lois, with you. And Lois is cheating on Clark with...you, and when they find out, it's not pretty.
TW: Pretty smutty, but not smut. it's my gateway into writing smut. So, read at your own risk. Oh. And cheating.
You hadn’t planned on dating a married couple. In your defense, you hadn’t even known they were married to each other until you spotted a framed photo of them on Lois’s desk during a brief visit to the Daily Planet. By then, you were already too deep in, and frankly, the adrenaline had already taken over.
Which brought you to Friday night, and Clark dropping in completely unannounced.
"I just feel like a piece of shit," Clark muttered, taking a massive bite out of his sandwich. "Lois is so good to me. She’s so incredibly dedicated to her work, and here I am, sneaking around behind her back like a coward. I’m a reporter, for God's sake. I’m supposed to stand for truth!"
"You're doing great, babe," you said, leaning against the kitchen counter and taking a slow sip of your wine. "Really. Top-tier, world-class sneaking."
"I'm serious!" Clark groaned, burying his face in his hands. "If she ever found out, it would absolutely destroy her. She’s so fragile underneath that tough exterior."
You choked on your wine, coughing violently. "Lois? Fragile? Are we talking about the same woman?”
"She has a delicate soul," Clark insisted, looking up at you with those hopelessly sincere eyes. "I just... I don't want to hurt her. But I swear to God, I can't stay away from you."
"That is incredibly sweet, Clark," you murmured.
Leaning in, you licked a stray drop of mustard from his bottom lip. Clark whined, his boy-scout restraint instantly snapping. He grabbed your waist, lifting you effortlessly off your feet, and backed you into the living room. Your knees hit the edge of the couch, and you tumbled backward onto the cushions with him hovering hot and heavy over you. His massive hands were suddenly everywhere, sliding up your thighs, gripping your hips as he pulled your skirt up, and desperately tugging at your zipper to rid you of your clothes. He kissed you properly, his tongue sliding deep into your mouth as his weight pressed you hard into the cushions, making you gasp against his lips.
Twenty minutes later, the click of your lock unlocking shattered the mood, sending you into instant panic. The only other person on the planet with a key to your place was Lois.
"Hide! Hide! Oh my God, hide! It’s Lois!" you hissed, violently shoving a couch cushion into his bare chest.
"Where?!" Clark panicked, his mind failing him under the sheer terror of his wife.
"The balcony! Closet! Wherever! Go!"
With a sharp gust of wind that sent your mail flying off the entryway table, Clark sprinted off. A second later, the front door swung open.
Lois walked in, looking thoroughly exhausted, her trench coat slung carelessly over her arm. She stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes immediately locking onto you.
You were standing in the dead center of the living room looking like a complete and utter disaster. You were trying to look casual, despite the glaring fact that you were wearing nothing but a black lace bra and a half-undone skirt twisted completely sideways around your hips. Your hair looked like you had just survived a category-five hurricane, your lips were swollen and red.
"Hey!" you squeaked, your voice a full octave higher than humanly possible. "Hey, Lois! Wow. Look at you. Standing there. In the doorway. Hi."
Lois slowly lowered her briefcase, one eyebrow climbing straight into her hairline. She took a look at your disheveled state. "Am I... interrupting something?"
"Me? No! Never!" You quickly crossed your arms over your chest sweating profusely. "Just... lounging. Hanging out. Doing some solo adult relaxation. Alone. Entirely alone, by the way."
Lois snorted, as a smirk spread across her face.
"Alone? Right," Lois murmured, her voice dripping with dry amusement. She stepped right into your personal space, her eyes scanning your flushed skin. She reached out her index finger lightly tracing the collarbone where your skin was still hot and pink. "So you’re telling me you managed to bruise your own collarbone, and look like you’ve been thoroughly wrung out... all by yourself? I didn't know solo relaxation required so much... friction."
"I... it's a thing with a pillow," you stammered, your face burning hot. Clark owed you so much for embarrassing yourself like this.
"Uh-huh. Well, you'll have to show me those exercises sometime," Lois purred, her finger sliding down to pull lightly on the strap of your bra. "Because if you're this good at getting yourself off on a work day, I might have to start taking my lunch breaks at home." She kicked off her heels, letting out a soft sigh. "Trust me, after the goddamn day I’ve had, I get it. If I have to edit one more of Clark’s boring opinion pieces, I’m going to throw myself off the Planet globe."
"I have wine," you offered, your voice still incredibly tight as you desperately tried to body-block her view of the balcony since you didn’t exactly know where he went "So... Clark's pieces, huh? He's... he's a good guy, though. Right? Loyal. Honest. A real straight-shooter." As you shoved a glass in her hands, the same one you’d been drinking from a minute ago.
Lois snorted, walking past you into the kitchen to pour herself more because what you had in there wasn’t going to cut it. "He’s a boy scout. Honestly, it’s exhausting. The man has absolutely zero edge. That's why I need you. You have edge. You have passion. And, most importantly…..a distinct lack of flannel."
She sauntered back into the living room, her eyes lingering appreciatively on your crooked skirt., her fingers sliding under the waistband, brushing against your cunt. "Though I didn't realize you were this wet and eager for me to get home."
"I'm a very passionate person," you choked out.
Lois smiled, wrapping her other hand firmly around your waist and pulling you in for a deep kiss that tasted like wine, her tongue parting your lips easily. "Clearly. Speaking of... what are we doing tonight? Do you want to stay on this couch and let me finish what you apparently started?" her finger brushing against you again.
"Uh," you said, your eyes darting wildly toward the balcony. "I was actually thinking we could... go out? For a really, really long walk? In the exact opposite direction of this apartment?"
"Are you kidding? My feet are killing me. Let's just stay in." Lois took a long sip of her wine, her eyes scanning the room.
Then, her gaze paused on the kitchen counter.
"Did you make a sandwich?" Lois asked, her voice dropping an octave. "With... triple-layered turkey and extra mustard? I thought you hated mustard."
Lois walked closer, picking up a stray breadcrumb. Then, her eyes drifted downward. There was a pair of size-14 work boots next to the bar stool.
Lois stared at the boots. She looked back at you. Finally, her gaze drifted to the balcony doors. Through the sheer white curtains, a massive silhouette was pressed flat against the glass.
"You know," Lois said, her voice dropping to being dangerously calm "Those are very big shoes. And that is a very big shadow."
"It's a plant," you argued, your face burning. "A very big plant! I water it a lot!”
Lois didn't say another word. She marched over to the balcony doors and yanked them open.
Clark was standing there, pressed flat against the glass railing. He was completely shirtless, holding his glasses in one hand, and trying desperately to look like he wasn't about to cry. He slowly looked down at his wife.
"Lois," Clark gasped, his voice cracking "What... what are you doing here?"
Lois stared at his bare, muscular chest. Then she looked back inside the apartment, eyeing you in your bra and unzipped skirt.
"Clark," Lois said, her voice shaking with a mix of rage and disbelief. "Are you... are you fucking my girlfriend?"
Clark’s jaw dropped "Your girlfriend?! Your girlfriend?! Lois, she's my girlfriend! I’ve been seeing her for three months!"
"Three months?!" Lois shrieked, storming back into the living room. "I’ve been sleeping with her since November!"
"November?!" Clark looked as if his entire universe had just imploded into a black hole. "But... but November was our anniversary! You said you had a late-night city council meeting!"
"I lied, Clark! Because I was busy getting my brains absolutely fucked out on that very couch!"
"Lois!" Clark gasped, looking utterly horrified. "Language!"
"Oh, shut the fuck up about my language, you giant, hypocritical piece of work!" Lois threw her hands in the air.
You cleared your throat "Can we all just take a deep breath and—"
"Shut up!" they both snapped in perfect unison.
"I cannot believe this," Clark said, pacing the length of your living room with his hands on his hips, still entirely shirtless. "You cheated on me. With the exact same person I was cheating on you with." He paused, his brain struggling to process the bizarreness of the situation. "Wait. Does that mean we’re... even?"
"No, we are not fucking even!" Lois yelled. "You're supposed to be the moral compass of this marriage! I'm the cynical one! I’m allowed to have a mid-life crisis! You’re Clark Kent! You are perfect!”
"That is a massive double standard and you damn well know it!"
While the two of them devolved into a screaming match, your phone suddenly buzzed on the counter. It was a FaceTime call from Bruce Wayne, who you were thankfully not fucking. Now you wouldn’t be against it if he were to change that.
You snatched it up like a lifeline. "Hey, Bruce," you said over the screaming.
On the screen, Bruce was sitting in the dimly lit Batcave, looking incredibly brooding as he rubbed his temples.
"IS Clark there?" Bruce asked slowly.
"Yeah, he's currently getting screamed at by Lois."
"Tell him the League needs him. There's a situation in Gotham."
"Can't it wait like twenty minutes?" you whispered, panning the camera slightly to show Clark throwing his hands up before bringing them to his scalp and tugging on his hair in frustration. "They're really getting into the weeds of their marriage here."
"I don't care," Bruce said flatly. "I have known about this absolute trainwreck for four weeks. I deliberately didn't say anything because I wanted to see how long it would take for their world-class investigative journalism skills to fail them. But now it is actively interfering with monitor duty."
"You knew?!" Clark’s super-hearing picked up the audio instantly. He dropped to the floor, lunging forward to snatch the phone from your hand. "Bruce! You knew Lois was cheating on me?!"
"And you were cheating on her” Bruce pointed out, his expression entirely deadpan. "Yes, Clark. I have satellites. I also have eyes. You both smell like the exact same detergent, that doesn’t exist at your place”
Lois snatched the phone out of Clark’s grip, glaring at the screen. "Bruce, you bastard! You should have told me!"
"Why?" Bruce asked, the faintest hint of a smirk touching his lips. "It is easily the most entertaining thing to happen to this team in three years. Diana and I had a bet. I won fifty dollars."
"You bet on our marriage?!" Clark cried out wounded.
"I bet on your stupidity," Bruce corrected. "And as usual, it paid off. Now, Clark, put on a shirt and get to Gotham. Lois, go home. Reader, fix your skirt. Goodbye."
The screen went black as the apartment fell into silence. Clark stood there, looking incredibly pouty, his shoulders slumped as he stared at the floor. Lois stood with her arms crossed, her sharp eyes darting between Clark and you.
"Well," Lois murmured, "Small world, huh?”
"I want to go home," Clark whimpered.
