– i don't want you like a best friend. ⭑.ᐟ
(clark kent x f!reader)
-- only bought this dress so you could take it off.
[INSPIRED BY "DRESS" BY TAYLOR SWIFT]
summary - you and clark have been best friends for years. ever since you met during a class at metropolis university, you two have been inseparable, telling each other absolutely everything. well, you've told him everything, except the fact that you're in love with him. and when you go to a mutual friend's wedding, it feels a good time as any to confess to him.
tags - [18+!] mutual pining, smut, friends to lovers, smut with feelings, feelings confession
You and the other bridesmaids had made a mess of the bridal suite, all hands on deck getting your old college roommate, Emily, ready for her special day. She was finally getting married to her long-term boyfriend, Ian. They started dating in your senior year of college, but even from that limited time, you could tell that they were made for each other. She was feisty and passionate; he was calm and collected – they balanced out one another. You didn't know if you believed in soulmates, but you knew they must've been pretty damn close.
You were sipping on your champagne, sitting on the floor with criss-crossed legs when one of the other bridesmaids, Alicia, sat down on the plush carpet beside you.
“I heard Emily sat you with Clark at the reception,” she elbowed you teasingly before taking a piece of cheese from the charcuterie board and popping it into her mouth. You two didn’t know each other too well, but there was one thing anyone even remotely associated with you knew about – your close “friendship” with Clark Kent. It was both funny and depressing to you that you were an open book about your crush on Clark to anyone and everyone besides Clark himself.
You shot her a scolding look. “We’re just friends,” you rolled your eyes, downing the last of your champagne, fixing your lipstick with the side of your pointer finger.
“No amount of champagne is going to make you less in love with that man,” Alicia laughed, “It’s been, what, six years?”
You frowned. You had met Clark your first semester of your sophomore year at Metropolis University – both of you were in the same English class, sitting right next to each other. You had started to give him an extra copy of your notes during classes, since he had a habit of being tardy. Even now, Clark swore that you were the only reason he passed, claiming he had “no time” to read the books.
At the time, you had pegged him for a mess of a man who needed to get his act together, but as you got closer, and he finally told you who he really was, everything started to make a bit more sense.
Suddenly, you no longer questioned the fact that he could always manage to lift unreasonably heavy objects without a sweat.
You no longer questioned his messy, wind-blown hair when he was late to your lecture, even on days where the weather was entirely calm.
Deep down, a part of you knew – shitty excuses piled up, paired with the occasional glimpses of something almost otherworldly.
It was impossible to truly talk about your feelings about Clark – always having to leave out the whole “he’s superman” thing began to frustrate you, especially considering it was the main reason why you never thought to confess to him. You were nothing less than honored when Clark revealed his secret identity to you, and as one of the only people who knew, he often came to you for advice and comfort.
You worried that confessing your attraction to him would come off as selfish – you were one of the only instances of stability in his life, and you cherished that. You would never want to make it awkward between you, or make him feel as if he couldn’t trust you.
So, you both dated other people. It felt like a stab to the heart every time Clark brought up any of his girlfriends, even despite the fact that his relationships never tended to last too long. It was difficult for him to explain, “I am constantly standing you up because I am busy saving the world,” to someone who wasn’t supposed to know he was Superman.
As for you, you attempted to fill the void by going on dates with other men, a one night stand very rarely. You broke off things with guys before it got serious, knowing your heart would’ve never been in it. Many of them were extremely kind, and did all the right things – they just weren’t Clark.
Both you and Clark had been out of the dating scene for a couple of months, both telling each other you were simply “too busy” for that kind of commitment. For Clark, that might’ve been true. For you, you were lying through your teeth. You always found time for him.
It had been a while since you and Clark had been single at the same time. And your friends wouldn’t shut up about it. But you couldn’t breach that boundary. You wouldn’t dare. But it would be a lie for you to say that you didn’t crave him like a drug. His featherlight touch on you despite his incomprehensible strength. That soothing, resonant voice. The way he said your name so gently. The way he hugged just tight enough. His jawline. Him in that damn supersuit. How he looked the few times you saw him without a shirt on.
You swallowed, face pale, realizing you hadn’t been paying attention to Alicia for many minutes now.
“Anways, thanks for being such a good listener,” she smiled warmly, standing up and returning the rest of the bridal party across the room.
You touched up your makeup in the nearby full-length mirror, admiring your silhouette in your bridesmaid dress. It was tight, hugging your frame, but not immodestly so. You were lucky that Emily didn’t care much about what the bridesmaids wore, as long as their dresses were black. So, you picked your own dress, and you felt confident in it.
The ceremony was beautiful. The vows Emily and Ian exchanged were so sickeningly sweet you debated whether or not you had to rush to the bathroom from the nausea.
It had started to make you think, though. You weren’t old by any means, only twenty-six, but watching all of your friends get in serious relationships and get married made you feel like you were missing out. As you stood there beside Emily as she promised an eternal love gave you a pang of heartache. You pictured what you would look like in a wedding dress, and what kind of food you’d have at the reception. Figuring out wedding planning is going to be a hell of a lot easier than finding someone to get married to, you thought.
You and the other bridesmaids were taking pictures in the parking lot when you felt an aggressive “BZZZT!” in your purse.
You pulled out your phone, looking down at your notification wall:
An instagram DM from your Mom sending you, yet another, reel.
Various text chains dedicated for all the pictures from the day.
Then, Clark 🤓: Attachment: 1 Image
You looked down at the picture he sent. It was a picture of your empty seat next to his at your assigned table.
Clark 🤓: Also, please hurry. I’m so bored.
You giggled, shaking your head disapprovingly.
You weaved your way through the tens of tables, eventually seeing a sign that read “Table 3” in a fancy cursive font.
Clark sat with hands folded neatly in his lap, looking around like a lost puppy. You grinned, placing your hand on his shoulder, using it as stability as you wiggled into your chair.
He lit up at the sight of you. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” he sighed out in pure relief.
You chuckled, “I know, I know, what would you do without me,” you teased.
“I ask myself that a lot,” Clark admitted, completely sincere.
You felt a warmth in your cheeks, which you distracted yourself from by shifting the conversation.
“The ceremony was nice,” you noted.
Clark nodded, “They’re very cute together.” He swallowed, looking down at the floor, “you look really nice, by the way.”
Despite how flustered the compliment made you, you wore a confused look. Why is he complimenting me so much? It was typical for Clark to butter you up (much more than you deserved), but something about it today just felt different. You noticed the way his eyes lingered on you a bit longer than usual. You swore his glance quickly flickered down at your chest once or twice.
You two chatted with the others at the table, occasionally breaking off into your own conversations.
“What did you order?” Clark asked, pointing down at the menu card.
“The chicken,” you answered, “You?”
“Steak,” you said in unison, causing him to blush at his predictability.
“Hey, I know what I like,” he said defensively a few moments later when the foodrunner placed the dish in front of him, and you teased him once more (for good measure).
“You know, I admire that about you, Clark.” You said, without a single ounce of sarcasm.
You and Clark seemed really sentimental today, for some reason. The hell was in the air?
After you both finished your food, and just after the cake was cut, Clark dragged you onto the dance floor.
“I don't know how the hell you convinced me to do this,” you admitted.
You both danced for a while, exchanging giggles. Suddenly, the music was cut off, and the DJ spoke loudly, “It’s time for the bouquet toss!”
You and Clark looked at each other, eyebrows raised, walking towards the crowd forming at the center of the dance floor.
Emily stood up on the stage, a bouquet of white roses in her hands.
“One,” everyone began to call out, “two, three!” And Emily tossed the bouquet.
You weren’t prepared for the sudden mass being flung at you, but you felt something smack into your chest, knocking the air out of you. You looked down – you caught it.
The crowd cheered. You made eye contact with Alicia, who wore a wicked grin. You mentally scolded her before the crowd dispersed to return back to dancing, the music quickly fading back.
“Guess you’re getting married next,” Clark said playfully.
You gave him a dry laugh, “Sure,” you shook your head. “At least it’ll look pretty on my dining room table.”
You and Clark were sitting at your table, sipping your drinks from the open bar when Emily and Ian approached your table. They greeted you all, thanking everyone graciously for coming.
After some small talk, you felt Emily lean into your ear, “You going home with him tonight or what?”
Your face burned red hot as she hugged you tight from behind, “I LOVE this girl,” she shouted, then squeezed your face with her hand like a grandma.
You laughed, “Oh my God, I’d kill you if it wasn’t your wedding right now,” you teased.
“See she loves me,” Emily joked, Clark giggling at you. She winked at you while her and Ian walked away.
It was getting pretty late, at least for your standards, and you were beginning to yawn.
You nodded, “yeah, I might try and go home soon.”
Clark looked at you intently, his glance shifting down at the ground and then back up at you again, “Do you need a ride?”
Just as Clark asked that, you suddenly realized that you did, in fact, need a ride. You had carpooled with a couple of the other bridesmaids that lived close to you, but you figured they were going to stay for a while longer.
Emily and Ian had moved to the suburbs of Metropolis, making the commute for you and Clark a decent ride, around an hour or so.
You let out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. “Yes, actually,” you sighed out, “that would be great. Are you sure you don't mind?”
He gave you a weird look, “Of course I don’t mind.”
Ever the gentleman, Clark scooted your seat out for you to get up, extending his hand for you to hold onto as you stood.
When you were on your feet, your hand on Clark’s, you felt something overtake you. Perhaps it was the champagne, or the electric feeling that jolted through you every time you touched – but when you stood at his side, you interlocked your fingers with his.
Clark’s breathing hitched a bit. You had felt it. Maybe you had overstepped.
Then: “Ready to go?” Clark asked, as casually as possible, as if you do this all the time.
You nodded, trying to conceal your giddiness. The weight of his palm, mixed with his warmth comforted you. You could get used to this.
You walked to Clark’s car in a comfortable silence, still holding hands.
When you were almost in the car, Clark broke the silence. “I can picture you getting married next,” he said simply.
You looked at him, incredulous. “What?”
He shrugged, “You were acting weird when you caught that bouquet.”
You parted your lips to come up with some sassy retort, but Clark continued, “I mean, to be honest, I’m surprised you’re not married already.”
You didn't attempt to hide the confusion on your face, “What, why?” You said as Clark unlocked the car, your conversation being interrupted by the both of you opening the car doors, sitting down, and slamming them shut.
He didn’t answer. He must've not heard you.
“I had fun tonight,” Clark said once you had been on the road for a few minutes.
You smiled, looking over at his hands. They were massive; they dwarfed the damn wheel. His hands alone could cause a myriad of destruction if he wanted them to, yet, when he held your hand, he felt unimaginably gentle.
And that was who Clark really was. Gentle. Loyal. Kind. Like, sometimes annoyingly kind.
You broke free from your trance. “I did too, Clark. Thanks for keeping me company.”
You two talked for a while, about work, about life, nothing too serious – nothing about Superman. Just Clark. He told you about his coworkers at the Daily Planet, you complained to him about your boss.
When Clark pulled into your driveway, you felt your heart break a bit. You wished you could just be with him all the time. Even after hours of being together, it only felt like minutes had passed.
He sat there, car parked, looking forward, not making a movement to unlock the car door. He had his hands sitting awkwardly in his lap, refusing to make eye contact with you.
“I’m surprised you’re not married, because any guy who isn’t in love with you is an idiot,” Clark spilled out, unable to look in your direction.
“But,” you began to say, voice weak. “You’re not…” you trailed off.
Clark looked at you, then. His eyes were sincere as ever – those damn puppy dog eyes. He breathed out, lips curving into an embarrassed smile.
All this time, you realized, he had felt the same way.
You studied his face, your glance shifting between both of his eyes, then to his quivering lips. You shifted closer to him, leaning over the median, reaching your hand up to cup his cheek.
He stared at you, still as a board, his breathing uneven. He had just opened his mouth to say something, when you crashed your lips into his.
Clark’s eyes shot open, before he relaxed into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut as he ran a hand through your hair. At his touch, you parted your lips for him, the tip of his tongue sliding into your mouth, causing you to let out a soft whimper.
He broke the kiss. “I can’t believe we didn't do that sooner,” he rasped, laughing softly, his hand still brushing through your hair.
You smiled shyly, then you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Me either, I… I had no clue you felt this way about me,” you admitted.
“Really?” he asked, “I felt like I was being so damn obvious.”
You shook your head. “I thought you only saw me as a friend.”
“You’re my best friend,” Clark corrected you, “but, I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t want to kiss you every time you look at me.”
You were stunned. “You should’ve told me.”
He sighed, “You’re everything to me. I just was so scared of losing you. Of doing something too rash and scaring you away.”
“You’re all I've ever wanted,” you confessed, “you could never lose me.”
Clark looked at you, awestruck, now holding the nape of your neck. “You’re so perfect.” He paused, staring down at your lips. “Can I please kiss you again?”
You giggled at his politeness, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling into a deep kiss. You slid your tongue into his mouth, and he groaned, his hands hesitantly looming over your hips.
You laughed into his mouth, forcing his hands onto your hips with your own. “Please just touch me,” you told him, pulling back for a moment, “Anywhere. Please. I’ve waited six years.”
Clark was dumbfounded. “What did I do to deserve this?”
You smiled, rubbing the back of your hand against his face, “be this goddamn adorable,” you answered, crashing your lips back into his.
Clark's glasses were entirely fogged up now, so you carefully took them off his face and put them in the cupholder.
“You’re the most beautiful girl I've ever seen,” he said suddenly, “...And also the kindest, and I love spending time with you, and..”
You trailed a line of kisses up his jaw, laughing against his skin. “Clark,” you whined, bringing your hands to his chest.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Don’t be sorry,” you told him, your hands sliding down his chest, Clark groaning softly, his glance shifting away timidly.
“Please look at me,” you told him with a peck on his cheek. Clark’s face was flushed pink, his pupils blown wide as your hands reached for his belt.
“Do you want to come inside?” You asked softly, fidgeting with one of his belt loops.
He nodded, practically jumping out of the car, still managing to rush over to hold the passenger door open for you.
You took his hand, Clark pulling you onto your feet, the force causing you to stumble into his chest. You shot your hands out to catch yourself, his arms wrapping around your hips. You looked up to see Clark’s amused grin.
“Careful there,” he teased, his hands gently tracing the curve of your hips.
You cut him off with a kiss, “God you’re hot, Clark.”
He blushed. “Look who’s talking.”
You jammed the key into your front door as if you were being chased, nearly breaking the door down as you kicked it open, Clark leaning you against the wall the moment you got inside. He lifted you up, and you wrapped your legs around him as you made out like it was the only way you could breathe.
“Clark,” you moaned when he pressed into your core, his hard length now rubbing against you, “Please,” you begged.
“Please what, beautiful?”
“Please fuck me,” you pleaded, only a split second passing before Clark scooped you into his arms, carrying you bridal style down the hall and into your bedroom.
He laid you down on the bed like a princess, careful as ever, kissing your forehead as he laid you down. You kicked your heels off and they tumbled onto the floor.
“You’re perfect,” he sighed, kissing down your neckline, helping you slide your dress off.
When you were left in your underwear, he paused, looming over you, taking you in. “I..” he began to stutter, “Wow."
You rolled your eyes, “You don’t need to try and flatter me Clark.”
Clark’s expression became intense, and he shook his head slowly. “You don't understand what you do to me,” he said, hands grazing your stomach. “You don’t know how long I’ve thought about this.”
You inhaled sharply when Clark took his shirt off. You knew he was muscular, occasionally catching glimpses of him over the years, but looking at him now – he was sculpted like a damn Greek God. “Clark,” you gasped.
You pulled him down to lay on top of you, wrestling helplessly with his belt. He huffed out a laugh, tugging it off in a fluid motion, tossing it onto the floor.
He kissed your lips, gently moving pecks farther and farther down until he reached your stomach, his hands reaching behind your bra. He looked up at you, waiting for your go ahead. You nodded, so he unhooked it, letting your breasts spill out.
He sighed, instantly latching his mouth onto a nipple, sucking gently as his fingers played with your other one. “So perfect,” he murmured into your skin.
You arched your back, reaching to slide down your underwear. “Clark, please,” you begged.
He grinned, his pupils dilated and hungry, “Let me,” he breathed, “I’ll take care of you.”
Clark carefully pulled down your underwear, leaving messy kisses against your inner thighs. He pressed his tongue to your clit, causing you to shudder, a chill running down your spine. He smiled up at you, and you instinctively thrusted your hips towards his mouth.
He gripped your thighs, holding them apart as he began to lick and kiss your clit without mercy.
“Clark!” you squealed, gripping onto his hair, leaning your head back into your pillow, “Shit!”
“Language,” he teased, bringing a finger to your entrance, slowly pushing it inside you.
You let out a broken moan at the size of his middle finger alone. You had remembered how his hand dwarfed yours when you held it earlier that evening, but nothing prepared you for this feeling. He let you adjust for a minute, slowly moving in and out of you before he added a second finger.
Clark picked up his pace, making your thighs start to twitch. He shifted his grip, forcefully holding them in place. “Clark,” you whined, “I’m close.”
He pressed his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you.
You felt your orgasm building in your stomach, one of your hands grasping onto the sheet, the other still fisting his curls. “Clark!” you cried out, your release gushing out of you.
He grinned proudly at you, readying his fingers to re-enter you when you grabbed his wrist.
“I need you inside me,” you told him.
He nodded, letting you help him take off his dress shoes and pants. You couldn't help but stare at his bulge through his boxers, climbing into his lap and grinding down onto him. He whimpered at the pressure, holding onto your hips.
“Careful,” Clark sighed out.
“What’s wrong?” you asked, halting your movements.
“I’m not going to last if you keep doing that,” he admitted, turning his face to hide his embarrassment.
You kissed his nose, pushing him onto his back and crawling on top of him, sliding his boxers down. His cock sprung out, slapping his stomach with a loud noise.
You stared at it, dumbfounded, your brain still attempting to process the sheer size of him.
Clark noticed your expression. “It’ll fit,” he reassured you.
“It better,” you answered, bringing your hand to stroke him and up and down, “I need you so bad, Clark.”
He groaned your name, attempting to keep himself from finishing from your hand alone. “I need you,” he heaved when you traced a thumb down his vein, “I need you more.”
“I’ve wanted you so bad,” you confessed, continuing to stroke, “I can only cum when I’m thinking about you,” you said without thinking.
Clark's face turned red, and he reached down to hold your wrist and stop your stroking. “We should’ve done this years ago. Let me make it up to you.”
He lifted you up as if you weighed nothing, moving you and slowly pushing himself inside of you. You gasped at the sharp pain, tears filling your eyes. “It’s too much,” you cried.
Clark instantly stopped his movements, holding you still. “We can stop,” he reassured you.
“No,” you snapped, “don’t you dare, Clark.” You took a few deep breaths before encouraging him to try again.
He nodded, pushing all the way into you, making you cry out in a mixture of agonizing pain and the greatest pleasure you’d ever felt. He filled you entirely, fully stretching you out, making you claw and drag your nails down his back.
“You feel so good,” Clark moaned, his head leaning back onto the pillow, “Are you okay if I move you?”
You didn’t answer him, only began to lift your hips, his big hands coming to your hips and helping you bounce up and down.
“Gosh,” Clark sighed, his eyes rolling back, “You’re so,”
You crashed your lips into his, sloppily making out with him as he increased his pace inside of you.
“Clark!” You squealed, “it feels so good,” you felt Clark twitch inside of you, making your obscene moaning even louder.
You were embarrassed by how loud you were being, but Clark loved it, your noises only heightening his pleasure.
“Keep moaning for me,” he pleaded, rubbing his thumb against your clit, causing you to buck your hips.
The stimulation was all too much. His massive cock inside of you, the rough pad of his thumb abusing your poor clit — you couldn't take it anymore.
“Clark, I’m c-close,” you managed to say, the tension in your lower stomach building and building.
He smiled at you sweetly, letting you ride him while his other hand moved to palm your breasts.
“Too much!” You sobbed, reaching your peak, your entire body shaking, but Clark didn’t slow his pace, immediately fucking your release back into you.
As he fucked you through your orgasm, he felt himself getting closer, tightening his grip onto you. “I’m almost there,” he sighed out, his pace now even faster.
You could only nod, unable to focus on anything but the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling.
“Please, inside me,” you pleased, making Clark nearly stop mid-thrust.
“Are you– are you sure?” He groaned, trying to restrain himself.
“Yes, please,” you continued to beg, “I need to feel you.”
Clark looked at you, stunned, but unable to stop himself as his load shot deep inside of you, hot liquid filling you up and making you moan uncontrollably.
Clark fell unceremoniously onto the pillow, catching his breath.
You both made eye contact, then, there was a sobering pause between you, cut off by your lips desperately meeting once again.
A/N: ok i'm sorry about this one... i just had to ...
also i'm going to be doing a bunch of parts related to clark kent with reputation that may or may not be related to this one!!
