#SUPERDICK (PART ONE)
PART TWO
pairing: clark kent x reader
summary: the girls learn about your situationship with clark after snooping through your phone, and a domestic morning forces you to face the truth.
warnings: fluff, situationship final boss, mentions of sex, big dick clark, mentions of vomit, general drunkenness, reader is commitment-phobic bc of past relationships
a/n: again not proof read but c'est la vie <3
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
“Who’s #Superdick?” Lois drunkenly guffawed as her and Cat scrolled through what you thought was your dating app messages, but clearly they had veered onto your actual text messages.
"Your dad, that's who," You blew a raspberry, reaching for your phone across the table, "Give it back."
Lois and Cat were supposed to be making you feel better about the pathetic guys you matched with, but instead they were snooping. Drunk you was far too trusting with your unlocked phone.
Sitting back in her chair, Lois pulled your phone out of your grasp and continued to snoop with a wide grin and bleary-eyed stare. Journalistic nature undeterred by copious amounts of alcohol. It was the annual Christmas party so drunken warfare was inevitable.
"Give it back," You whined with a pout. The two women ignored you, as Cat hooked her chin over Lois' shoulder and eyed your phone intently, "Is that Clark?!"
Your heart fell into your ass.
"Where?" You weakly asked, looking behind you as if to distract from what you knew they had found. Lois and Cat fell into a fit of giggles, both staring at your phone and pinching the screen to zoom in and out. "Farm boy is yolked," Cat gawped at the screen as Lois whistled lowly.
Almost jumping onto the break room table, you reached over and snatched the device out of Lois' hands, knocking over a paper cup with golden snowflakes etched onto the sides. Whatever was inside spilled across the table and dripped onto the floor of the break room.
Looking at your phone, an image stared back at you; with his phone positioned in front of his face, Clark stood in front of the mirrored wall at the gym. Not that he needed to go but with such a physical upbringing, he said it felt wrong to no longer work his body. A Metropolis Sharks sweater hung around his neck to show a fitted t-shirt underneath and baggy sweatpants, biceps bulging against the dry-fit material. Hidden behind his phone, his raven curls stuck to his forehead and his glasses balanced crookedly on the bridge of his nose.
Jesus, this was from months ago. The motherfuckers took liberties with your slow, drunken reflexes.
It took months to get him to send you any pictures back. He relished in your incessant teasing, dozens of pictures of you in your text thread, but hesitated at the quid-pro-quo nature of the gesture.
It started with more innocent responses; you would send a picture in the fitting rooms of your favourite Metropolis lingerie boutique and he would send one of his large hand around a coffee cup; you would send a picture lying in bed and he would send one of him lounging on the sofa.
His face was never in them, but fuck if you didn't like looking at him in all of his glory. The gym ones eased him into the less innocent ones, usually waiting until the place was practically dead before snapping a quick photo of his flexing muscles for you.
Shit, they might have seen his lying-in-bed ones.
"It hurts, god my stomach hurts," Lois clutched her stomach as she almost literally died of laughter, and Cat swatted her hands against whatever was in reaching distance, losing a battle against her unrelenting giggles.
Scrolling through your shared media, you realised how much they had seen. Months of pictures. Gym pictures, getting in the shower pictures, getting out of the shower pictures, in the bathroom at work pictures... Most of them were fairly tame but the ones that were a little more... out there; all unbuttoned shirts, messy hair and flushed skin. Much to your chagrin, he drew the line at full nakedness but given what just happened, he was right to keep that for in-person.
There was one particular photo that was the worst (or best, in your eyes) that he ever sent, when your schedules didn't align for weeks, and he found himself at a journalism conference across the state. A mirror picture, his face was covered like usual but his body was visible in the low light of the hotel room. Just his tight boxers covered him, a hand firm against his bulge, and his stacked physique on full display.
Oh shit.
Sweet, innocent, shy Clark is gonna go fucking nuclear if he finds out that Lois and Cat know about your little tryst. Little feels a redundant after a year of casually hooking up.
Initially it was to scratch an itch. Last year's Christmas party was a total bust, and it was four days after your ex dropped an atomic bomb on your relationship and moved in with another woman, so inevitably you were feeling very sorry for yourself. And Clark, he received a wedding invitation that morning. His high-school sweetheart was getting married and the news sent him into a spiral of his past mistakes and present loneliness.
Sitting in the corner of the bar, you were both hopelessly trying to avoid backsliding out of sheer loneliness and holiday-fuelled desire, couples of all ages enjoying their festive high spirits. It was enough to make you hurl with jealousy. One thing lead to another and you woke up in Clark's bed, all manner of bodily fluids dried on your skin and the taste of him in your mouth.
It was hard to brush off the incident as a mistake when it felt so unbelievably good, the pleasure coated your emotional wounds like orgasmic bandages. A year later and sex with Clark only got better.
You knew about the Superman shit - the rainbow of kryptonites included - and saving his contact information as #Superdick was a successful attempt to make him stutter and blush.
Thank god Lois and Cat didn't have the sober sense to question the nickname.
"Will you two shut up?" You hissed, trying to quieten them like a teacher chaperoning a school trip, "You sound like hyenas."
Lois and Cat couldn't fight their huge grins as they zipped their lips and shared soft giggles.
"Seriously, you and Clark..?" Cat began with amusement crinkling at the corners of her eyes as she shoved a finger between her loose fist repeatedly, "Is he good?"
Playfully, you pressed your fingers into your ears and loudly sang an impromptu made-up song, the lyrics inappropriate and making fun of your two invasive friends.
"Now that we've establish who Superdick is," Lois giggled, pulling your fingers from your ears, her cheeks rosy as they pulled into a taut grin, her hands pressed together, "Just say when."
Widening the gap between her hands, her and Cat stared between you and the growing gap. "That's insane," Cat jaw dropped, and the gap grew bigger as you stared at them, trying to keep a neutral expression, "No, this- this is not even like humanly possible."
Kryptonionly possible, you thought with a smirk.
"Start again, start again," Cat swatted Lois' hands and took over, using her own small, pampered hands instead, "Just say when."
Grabbing her hands, you stopped her and a smile broke from you, drunken amusement be damned, "I'm not telling you how big he is."
"So it is big!" Cat pointed her sleek acrylics at you, a journalistic ah-a in her eyes. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the bottle of wine you were supposed to be sharing and took a large mouthful, "What, Superdick didn't tip you off?”
"But how thick?" Cat slurred, circling her hands in different sizes and a laugh erupted from you, spraying your mouthful of wine across the table. "Jesus, Cat!" Lois jumped back, the three of you cackling like witches in the corner of the party.
The bullpen was still lively with holiday spirit, karaoke blasting from the other side of the room. Clark stood with Jimmy, polishing off their beers with loud laughter.
Your high-pitched cackles caught their attention. Jimmy grinned as he made his way over to you, Clark at his heels, “Ladies, what’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” Cat giggled, unable to meet their eyes. Clark lingered behind Jimmy, timidly catching your gaze and assessing your drunken state.
“I think it’s time to go home,” Jimmy laughed, helping Cat and Lois onto their feet. Holding out a hand to Clark, he wordlessly helped you up and stabilised you against his solid frame.
The alcohol in your system eased your inhibitions as you carelessly put your hands on him in ways that were not platonic or appropriate for the workplace, albeit work ended hours ago. Thankfully the others were too drunk to notice the way you slid your hands under his suit jacket and groped at his muscles.
Clark let you indulge for a few moments before guiding your hands away. He loved how obsessed with his body you were.
Leaning into him, you waited for the elevator to arrive. Your eyes drooped and you slowly blinked as Cat and Lois made crude gestures at you; Cat's tongue prodded against the inside of her cheek as she flicked her wrist, hand fisted loosely.
The next morning you woke up in your bed with no memory of anything after the giggly elevator ride to The Daily Planet lobby. The first thing you noticed was the soft banging about in the kitchen - if you were getting robbed the last thing you wanted to do was get up - and the second thing you noticed was that you were completely naked.
"Clark!" You shouted weakly, your face smushed into the pillow as you waited impatiently to no avail, "Clark!" A heavy sigh rushed from your chest, your head was pounding and the sunlight creeping through the curtains was like a laser beam to the brain.
"Morning," Clark waltzed into your room, steadying the door with his foot and carrying an array of hangover helpers in his hands. He was a sight for sore eyes if you ever saw one; bed head, no glasses and flannel boxer shorts. Domestic Clark, your favourite.
He grinned at the state of you; your hair was a mess against the pillow, your naked body sprawled across the bed diagonally and your face was buried in your arms.
Clark placed a large jug of water and some Advil on your nightstand, lifting your upper body and slotting his body underneath you. Draped across his lap, you hummed contently and relaxed against him, plush muscles and warm skin like a heated mattress beneath you.
The pads of his fingers smoothed along your skin, massaging your back and shoulders, even carding through your hair. It was heavenly. A soft moan escaped you and Clark's body shook as he chuckled, "Feels good?"
You nodded silently, pressing yourself closer to him. Soft touches to your temples eased your pounding headache, whether it was one of his Superman abilities or a placebo you didn’t care.
"What happened last night? After we left The Planet," You asked with a croaky voice, grumbling and sleep-soaked. Clark drove his fingers into the flesh of your back, softly kneading your hips and palming your ass.
"You spent ten minutes saying goodbye to Jimmy, Cat and Lois, most of it on the ground," Clark smiled at the memory, "I was trying to take you back to mine but you threw up in the cab so I carried you here. I wanted to fly you but I didn’t want to be covered in more vomit.”
Groaning at the embarrassing memory-not-memory, you nuzzled further into his lap, pressing your face into the thick muscles of his stomach, "Oh god."
"Then you stripped in the hallway and threw your underwear off the balcony,” He pointed to the bra that was hanging from the telephone pole outside of your bedroom balcony window, “Then you started crying when I refused to have sex with you.” Clark ran his fingers through your hair, the sensation soothed you despite the loud snort you let out.
"I cried?!" Out of everything he just told you, that felt the most mortifying.
Clark giggled - your favourite sound, rare but worth the wait - and lifted you against him, your naked chest against his, your face in the crook of his neck, "Yes, like a little baby."
"Thanks for looking after me," You sighed, sinking into his arms.
"Anytime, honey," Clark kissed your forehead and stroked your hair, "It is our anniversary."
The word jolted you from your droopy-eyed relaxation, now wide-eyed and alert as you pulled back to meet his eyes. A small smile twitched at his lips, "A year ago today, we woke up in my bed for the first time. Look at us now.”
Your eyes roamed his features, unsure of where this was going, "Well then, happy anniversary Superdick." Clark groaned, a deep red flush crawled up his neck, "Happy anniversary, princess."
Eyes met and you stared at each other for a few moments, maybe a moment too long, and smiled before Clark manhandled you to sit against the pillows, “Right, open up.”
Opening your mouth, Clark popped some pills onto your tongue and tipped the glass of water against your lips, watching you swallow the painkillers with a satisfied nod.
“Breakfast will be ready soon,” He kissed your cheek before retreating from the bed. The pep in his step rubbed at your nerves.
“You’ve never had a hangover,” You pouted, watching the muscles of his back ripple as he headed to your bedroom door, “It sucks.”
“I’m sure it does, baby,” Clark turned to you, leaning against the doorframe, “I can see the alcohol in your bloodstream.”
“Don’t look at my bloodstream, pervert!” You dragged the comforter over your body and hid from him as he chuckled. You knew that he could see through solid objects but you just wanted to hear his laughter again.
Watching him disappear from your bedroom, you felt a smile tug at your cheeks. He’s perfect. But reality came crashing down and you needed to tell him about Cat and Lois’ discovery.
Grabbing his brown and navy plaid robe, you hauled yourself to your feet and wrapped yourself in the soft, oversized material, tying it at the waist. Clark ran hot and the winter weather outside spread a chill through his apartment, the floor cold underneath your feet. Stepping into his slippers, you made your way into the kitchen to see Clark bent over the stove, making pancakes.
Chopped fruit and syrup lined the counter and rashers of bacon sizzled in a separate frying pan. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your cheek to the planes of his back.
“You okay back there?” Clark asked, looking over his shoulder. You nodded silently and Clark smiled to himself, “Just want cuddles?”
You nodded again and squeezed him tighter, daring to speak after a few moments of content silence, “I think you should know that Cat and Lois know about us.”
Clark halted in his tracks, putting the spatula on the counter and turning off the hob. He slowly turned to you and lifted you onto the counter top, caging you there and standing between your legs.
And everything came flooding out as he laid his eyes on you, “I’m really sorry, baby. I was drunk and they were going through my phone. I didn’t think until it was too late.”
Your head pounded as you rambled on, pinned in place by his gaze. Clark stole a kiss that shut you up, soft but deep, leaving you wanting more when he pulled away to take the frying pan off the still-hot stove.
“Are you mad at me?” You whispered, eyes downcast. Clark smoothed his palms over your thighs, “Never. It was going to happen eventually. What exactly do they know?"
"That we fuck like alley cats," You hooked your hands behind his neck and pulled him closer to you, a soft blush blooming across his cheeks, "And that you're built like tank."
"So all the important stuff," Clark bit back a smile, running his hands across your hips. A crease formed between your brows, "What else is there to say?"
"I don't know," He shrugged but there was a hesitation with his words, "Do they know it's been a year? That we've both been single the entire time? That we flirt under their noses at work?"
"No, no and no," You answered, shifting on the counter, "They know I'm on the dating scene but that I'm still single."
"Your heart's racing," Clark nodded his head to your chest, rising and falling with every breath. Pushing your hands against his chest, he let you knock him back a step. "Don't use your powers on me."
"I can't help it. Your heart is very loud..." He slowly stepped towards you, pressing between your thighs again, "Sweetheart, it's been a year of this. I fight intergalactic threats, catch crashing planes, run into burning buildings... You're the only thing that keeps me sane, the only thing that I can't be brave for."
"Clark, what are you- Where is this coming from?"
"I want more. What we have is not... I love it but I need more. I don't want to pick you up from another terrible date because you're sad and riled up, or meet you in the bathroom at work because Perry talked smack about your article and you need to blow off steam. I want to cook dinner together and watch movies on the couch, I want to hang out with your friends and meet your family... One year of having half of you, just one side.. I want the other stuff," Clark's brow knitted as if he was in pain, as if his confession was tumbling out against his better judgement.
"I love you, sweetheart. More than I ever wanted you to know, and if you don't feel the same, well then I'll get over it, but I need you to know, now that people know about us," Clark nodded firmly, finalising his confession. His chest heaved with adrenaline as he assessed your bewildered expression, your wide eyes staring at him.
"Clark..." You breathed his name like a wince, the hole in your chest from your ex now a sinkhole, "I- I can't talk about this." Fruitlessly, you tried to distance yourself from him but Clark kept you in his arms and eye-level on the counter top.
"Then listen," His warm palms soothed your skin with every rhythmic caress, "I know you want me too. When you call me drunk to take care of you because you trust me. When you bring me lunch at work because I'm too busy. Your heart skips in the innocent moments too."
"Clark-"
"I know you got hurt. I know how bad it was," Clark cupped your jaw, silencing your protests as a trail of tears slipped past your lash line, the wound still as fresh as the day it was inflicted, "But I would never hurt you. Just let me take you to dinner."
"What?" Choking on your tears, his question stumped you. After a year of having him so close, it was the simplicity of his question that shocked you. Clark knew all the ugly sides of you; the drunk and inappropriate, the stupid and forgetful, the loud and disruptive, the angry and defiant.
Scrubbing your cheeks, you flushed at the state that Clark must be seeing right now. You hated crying, but a year later and the betrayal of your ex-boyfriend still stung deeply. Trust felt like a long-forgotten mirage. Opening your heart felt a lot more vulnerable than opening your legs.
"I'll wear a nice shirt and you can wear that new dress you bought. We'll go to dinner and talk about how garishly overpriced it is, and I'll pick up the cheque then walk you home," Clark tilted your chin to meet his eyes, warmth swimming in the icy blue, "Nothing we haven't done before."
A deep breath racked your chest and his loving gaze cracked something inside you, a tear carving its way down the contours of your cheek.
Clark would never hurt you. Even before your relationship formed, he was the sweetest guy and always treated you with respect, never undermining you or turning himself inside-out to get his own way.
Maybe you loved him too.
"Okay."
Clark raised his brows at you and you nodded at his silent question, "I- I want to go."
A wide, elated smile tugged at Clark's cheeks, his dimples popping, "It's a date." Softly, he pressed a kiss to your lips and wiped away your tears with a gentle swipe of his thumb.
Despite the tears, you laughed against his lips, "You should know, I won't put out until the third date." Clark's grin was unwavering.
"I can't wait to tell Ma," Clark lifted you off the counter, wrapping your legs around his waist and bear-hugging you like he couldn't contain himself, "She knew you'd say yes."
Of course his mom knew about you... Your mom kind of knew about him too.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
