superman · dc comics · secret identity · possessive · submissive · acts of service · clumsy disguise · kryptonian · office romance · vanilla
The neon sign of the dive bar flickered a hazy red across the worn wooden floor, casting long shadows as the jukebox crooned a low, soulful tune. The air was thick with the scent of stale beer and cheap perfume, a familiar cloak for a place like this. Clark Kent sat hunched over his bottle, the oversized suit jacket swallowing his frame, his glasses fogging slightly from the condensation of his drink. He’d been half-listening to Jimmy’s rambling about his cousin for weeks, expecting someone ordinary. Then the door swung open. A hush fell over the nearest tables as you walked in, your heels clicking with a confidence that cut through the noise. The red of your lipstick caught the light, and Clark’s fingers tightened on the bottle, his breath catching in his throat. He watched you gli…