"he is the number one girldad and i think he'd be really cute with a younger child <3 please he's got empty-nest syndrome he needs this."
"He's already a good dad he needs another."
[Lex]
"He wants to carry Superman's children so bad that he has made clones and raised them."
"It’s either a plot against Superman or he’s into Superman."
"He already made multiple test tube babies for him and Supes, we know the writers were either cowards for not making him Mpreg himself or he did it that way for vanity reasons."
❝TRYING TIMES AT LEXCORP TOWER❞ (Lex Luthor x Fem!Reader)
Lex is in a mood™️ because of a botched scheme; you help take the edge off.
NSFW, 18+, minors dni, established relationships, cock warming, oral sex (m receiving), throat fucking, breath play, pain play, hints at sub space, light scolding and humiliation, caught in the act, involuntary voyeurism (I’m so sorry Clark)
- ft. the open secret that is Lex’s unlabeled sexual tension with Superman
Pictures used are just for aesthetics and have no contextual meaning to the story. (Pic source: Batman: Abyss #118 - “Now It’s a Party!” & #120 - “Escape” (2022))
4k+ words
Lex can recognize that his anger at the moment is more disproportionate than not, but he’s irate enough by this most recent setback that he doesn’t care.
Not when he’d just been arranging plans for a late lunch date after coming up for air from the lab, for the first time since around two in the morning, when the tv in the lobby had caught his attention. His receptionist hadn’t so much as batted an eye before clicking the sound on, or wavered when the news broadcast had made his face storm over.
Not when lab techs and model developers alike practically jump out of his way. Not when the head of his public relations team catches sight of his one man death march through the halls and snaps into crisis management mode without so much as a word from him.
Good.
It saves him from expending the energy, which is the entire point of paying people to work for him. It saved him a lot of undue grief.
When things worked out, that was.
Truly, there were few things in life that Lex hated more than incompetence (amongst other, more Kryptonian shaped ails).
He all but slams the elevator button for his office floor, jerking his tie loose, and whips out his phone — ignoring the response in his inbox — to pull up information on the incident going down in Suicide Slum, of all places.
Lex had barely underground funded these idiots' new scheme (that was currently playing out on his screen, goddamnit) less than a week ago. The effort had been low level, but could’ve still led to a decent distraction in the event he may have needed one. He even gave up some kryptonite for his efforts.
Giving the small timers a bit more of a fighting chance for when Superman inevitably caught wind of their crime spree.
All work that has now gone completely down the drain because they’ve jumped the gun. Out and wreaking their tiny stamp of havoc all now and all without his say so. Ages before he needed them as a distraction.
Which means that by the time he storms into his office once the news of their ill-advised rampage is all over the media he’s visibly pissed in spite of your requested presence. And like any attentive partner you try to…curb his upset.
Lex hears your inappropriately mundane greeting and ignores it. Has to. He’s far too aggravated to play the doting partner at the moment. Already wrapped up in making plans to address the gall of the common criminals he’d been foolish enough to expect any semblance of professionalism and restraint from. He’d ruin them.
“Dearest,” you call out, eyes intent on Lex’s pacing form. He hasn’t so much as neared where you’re sitting curled up in his desk chair, using his boulder of a desk to rock yourself calmly from side to side. Too busy scrolling through news updates and lobbing insults at the screen.
The anger buzzing through him might as well be physically vibrating his body for all the emotion wafts off him in waves.
He whips around to face you.
“What?”
“Tt,” you scoff at the poorly concealed harshness in his voice. “There’s no use working yourself up over their insolence now. Let me help take your mind off of it.”
“No, you don’t understand,” he grunts. Still on his phone. Still obsessing. “Superman is on the scene now. This whole thing has rapidly become a disaster.”
“I highly doubt it’s that detrimental,” you sigh, and watching you sitting prim and unruffled on his throne maybe lessens some of his misplaced incredulity.
Still…
“I need a sufficient distraction for LexCorp’s experimental clone efforts. Some of them will have to be destroyed within the month and that won’t be a silent process,” he argues back, though some of the anger has leaked out of his voice.
“Mhm,” you check the time on your phone, it’s mid afternoon, “and I’m sure by then you’ll have thought of something else.”
Lex blinks at you.
You blink back, tilting your head in that enticing way he’s yet to figure out the mechanics of. That never works on him when it’s anyone else but you behind the action.
The call of your name out his mouth is said with an imploring edge, most of the sharpness of earlier siphoned out. It’s deceptively soft on his tongue. Makes you shiver.
Attention latching onto your reaction, Lex hums. Looks away as if to give himself a second to think in order to coax a disappointed huff from you.
Smirks.
“My aren’t we needy?” he chuckles, pocketing his phone and finally closing the space between you both with unhurried steps and an easy gait.
Glimmering eyes don’t leave him the entire journey even as you sit up straighter to meet him, pushing your phone aside higher on his desk.
“Can you blame me?” You frown, and despite its playfulness he can’t wait to fix it. “You’ve been gone for ages. I was beginning to think I wouldn’t see you for the day at all.”
“Well here I am.” He opens his arms some, opening himself up for your consideration. To your stripping gaze and secretive smile.
Then he’s on you and there’s not much room for any other thoughts in your mind that don’t have to do with him. With the scent of his cologne and the drag of his voice, the way it hitches your breath.
“I suppose if you’re speaking that means you have something in mind?” Propping his hand up on the backrest, Lex leans over you. Uses his other hand to cup your cheek. Caught up in the press of his looming presence, you forget to speak. Blinking wide eyes up at him as you mentally go somewhat blank. “Oh, don’t get shy on me now, Darling. I asked you a question.”
“I—” you suck air into your lungs deeply, kicking your mind back into gear with a full body shudder. Squirming in place and already biting back a whimper. Desperate to fall for him already.
Even as casually dressed as you are, suddenly you’re wearing far too many clothes.
“Lexy, Dearest. Sir,” you murmur, starting over. Voice laced with pointed sweetness. “Let me help take the edge off.” Looking up at him from through your lashes, flighty fingers reaching for his tie and promptly loosening it completely. “Please,” you add, slipping the pricy band of fabric around your wrists— and isn’t that an idea?
When you tug at the collar of his dress shirt next, trying to pull him down, Lex heeds the request. Tightens his hold on your jaw and tilts your head to his preferred angle himself.
“I still lost a valuable amount of kryptonite,” he murmurs into your mouth. Pressing in to capture your lips a second later. Initiating a breathtaking glide of your lips and tongues that leaves your mouth tingling; your vagina clamping down on a regretful lack of fullness that you punish Lex for with the drag of your nails across the back of his head and down his neck.
Lex hisses and the hold he has on your jaw turns bruising, stopping you from making out with him entirely.
With a harsh exhale, he pulls your head from his and you gasp, lashes fluttering and chest heaving.
“I’m sure,” you huff, reeling from the after effects of your kiss and his control alike, “that you’ll find a way to retrieve it.”
“Mm.” The stare being leveled at you in the wake of your nails meeting pale skin is impassive, though you manage to collect yourself casually under his scrutiny. It’s a look you know well. Admittedly, it’s been the precursor to a handful of instances of the billionaire working you up only to then leave you high and dry as punishment for testing too much of his patience, but you’re not flying blind here.
This is you helping. This is you giving him control, straying, and offering him the opportunity to take it back from you on a silver platter.
Index finger tapping once at your cheekbone, Lex clicks his tongue. Glances away to take in what he can of your body. Looking down his nose at you in that way you’ve seen strip grown men’s egos to the bone.
“Behave,” he commands, sounding for all the world like he’s bored with you. Not irritated, not exasperated. Deadpan and distracted in the way that never fails to dour your expression. A reaction that’s not curbed by your own familiarity with this game of his. Nor the increasingly damp spot in your underwear.
“Or”— Now, slowly, he pulls his attention back to your face. The fingers caging your jaw tighten until a dull pain registers beneath both his thumbs’ and middlefingers’ points of contact. —“I’ll have no problem bending you over this desk to get myself off between your thighs. Then making you kneel beside my chair, unsatisfied and covered in my cum, while I go through paperwork.”
When it happened, you don’t know, but you’ve stopped breathing. Mind skipping over his words then running them back in equal measure, stuck as you are on the steadily growing pressure being applied to the lower half of your face.
Lex seems to love it. One corner of his mouth twitching upward as he asks if you understand. You don’t breathe, deeply and insistently, through your nose — a shiver snapping your body taunt for half a second once you do — until you nod your head ‘yes’ and the pressure disappears.
“Glad we could come to an understanding,” he says. And you know you’re not imagining the gleam in his eyes when you don’t brush off the careful fingers that shift to message the fading pain from your jaw.
“Does this mean,” you start, leaning into the backrest when he removes his hands, “that you’ll fuck me for real over your desk if I’m agreeable?”
A beat passes.
He looks at you like he’s trying to burn the sight of you — ruffled and winded — into his brain for future reference.
“We’ll see,” Lex offers after a few more drawn out seconds, undeterred by the question or the airy little laugh you let out at the slide of his hands down your sides. Hands that grip your hips and urge upwards.
Following his lead from there is business as usual. Switching places so he’s in his chair and you’re the one hovering above him, straddling his lap. Grinding down into the still soft bulge in his pants and pressing your mouths together.
Rough hands drag over your body. Press you onto him harder, traveling lower until he can give a perfunctory squeeze to your ass before rolling his hips into yours.
“Sir,” you moan, and next thing you know you’re being pushed down to your knees, tucked carefully under his desk, and all without a single thought to do so of your own volition having gone through your head. Oh fuck, that’s good.
Metal clinking and the sounds of Lex undoing his belt, the heady grind of his zipper being pulled down, shouldn’t be allowed to sound so obscene. But, damn if it does anyway. You’re heart pounds, you’re fucking salivating.
Lex pulls his fattening penis free from the confines of finely pressed slacks and black briefs. Both of you let out simultaneous sighs, though where yours has an undeniably dreamy quality, Lex’s peters off into a light and oh so dangerous chuckle.
Which is why, hours later, you’re still on your knees. Settled contently over the padding beneath his desk. Breathing so very evenly past the intrusion in your mouth and weighing down your tongue, the taste of him all encompassing on your palate. A bit sharp and a little bitter and all for you.
Between your legs you’re aching and wet, but the wanton stiffness of your clit and panging heat pooling low in your belly are distant sensations. Even more unimportant is the tremble in your thighs, the way your hands are fit to cramp their clamped so tightly in the fabric over his shins, the dull throb in your jaw.
None of it matters.
Nothing outside of the cock flexing languidly in your mouth and the unclenching of tense muscles beneath your knuckles and where your head rests against his thigh matters. The fingers that occasionally move along your head and the murmur of his steady baritone have your attention just as intently.
“Such a filthy slut for me,” Lex murmurs, smitten just transparently enough that you preen. He runs deft thumbs beneath your eyes, wiping up stray tears. Lifts your head and holds your face between his palms. Drags the pads of his fingers across the stretch of your mouth, stuffed eagerly with his hard cock. “Good girl.”
Lex’s eyes are darker now; dark green turned to something of a castleton that swallows you whole. The moon fully consuming the sun behind him, casting you both in comforting shadow, makes for an even more grandiose image.
A sweet, tiny noise climbs up your throat at the praise. Lex’s cock jumps and a spurt of pre glides down the back of your tongue. You swallow it alongside the next rush of your saliva that hasn’t escaped past your lips yet and your partner curses. Strained and out of breath— and all because of you.
With a pleasant ache in his groin and the full-bodied satisfaction of having you significantly sex-adled and drooling before him, Lex leaves you be to get back to work.
No more than an hour into your impromptu session he’d come up with a foolproof plan to deal with his current biggest dilemma. One part to pull out if the idiots tried to drag LexCorp’s reputation into the mud with them. The other part, the beginnings of a lawsuit for theft and improper use of his corporation’s products that would wring the incompetent little fools for all they were worth. First thing in the morning he’d send both mock-ups to his lawyer.
Which left him to what he’s doing currently. Some calculations on his pet project in the bowels of his building’s labs and catching up on certain contracts he’d unabashedly filed away as only vaguely important when they first crossed his desk and hit his inbox.
Suffice to say, he hadn’t judged them unfairly.
Atmosphericly the vibe in his usually cold, vast office is down right warm in contrast. All lights but his desk lamp off. His work only illuminated by its lowered brightness and the screen of his computer and the moonlight filtering in at his back.
Then comes the chirp of the proximity alarm.
A hum comes easy and soft from his throat. He rolls his eyes.
Is very nearly too relaxed for the usual indignation to rise in his chest.
Hardly a second after he’s pressed the shortcut on his keyboard, to switch the screen of his computer from the encrypted emails and government contracts he was reviewing to a harmless web of R&D schematics, a shadow floats into existence behind him.
Casting Lex in a strip of darkness in his already dark office. Perhaps even making him regret the moody lighting choices he’d let you control earlier as the sun set.
At no point, however, does he stop his less digital work.
“Superman,” Lex calls out, not turning from his desk to face the alien, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Pressing the button to open a part of the large wall of windows at his back, the alien is kind enough to wait for its opening before he speaks.
Not that Lex is ever particularly fond of any of Superman’s usual spiels.
“Luthor.” That booming voice starts. Just tentative enough past the barely contained irritation in his voice not to physically rattle throughout the human man’s head. “We need to talk.”
Despite the floating, and because Lex has a small mirror on his desk for this very reason, he knows instantly that an invitation to do more than speak has been taken.
The shifting sound of a cape brushing over a metal frame. The barely perceptible patter of boots hitting the floor.
“Well, since you’ve already let yourself in,” he hums, not hiding the sardonic twist to his words. Even while gesturing with his hand for Superman to make his way inside despite him already circling around his desk.
When he stops it’s two feet or so away. His arms crossed and face twisted in a scowl— that vaguely constipated look on his face that’s his poor attempt at holding back a glare.
It’s all very predictable.
Lex scoffs. Leans back in his chair.
Curbs the urge to reach down into the proverbial abyss past the ‘v’ of his legs. To twist his own lightly scarred hand into kinky hair and feel your responding hum disarm him that tiny bit more.
Reassurance like that isn’t required here. He knows what’s happening. He’s in control. And Superman is still as unerringly sentimental towards anything nearing even a sentient speck as is reliably typical of him.
Foolhardy and unimpressive on a normal. But useful to him now like any time else all the same.
Part of the alien isn’t so mad as to not notice the second heartbeat in the room. Not necessarily.
Watching Superman’s head tilt and the narrowing of the eyes locked to his otherwise completely composed form manages to be amusing enough. Meaning that while he could sneer, Lex briefly raises his eyebrows at the silent inquiry instead.
Then he speaks, “If you’re looking for a quarrel over your performance with the random assortment of killer robots from this afternoon, you’re going to find it difficult to point fingers my way.”
Any newly acquired suspicions are pushed to the side by his words. Superman loses the fight to hold back his glower.
Lex would say it’s murderous, but…well…
“Always a convenient alibi with you, isn’t there, Luthor?”
“I have a job I’m needed at, actually. That can’t possibly be a crime in whatever foreign handbook you follow.”
“So you’re telling me that attack wasn’t you’re doing? That that tech wasn’t yours?” Fists clench in front of that gaudy red cape. “They had kryptonite.”
“LexCorp is an international distributor, I’ve no doubt tech made by my company may have found its way into some stooge of the month’s plans, but that is in no way the grand indictment of me you seem to want it to be.” Lex rolls his shoulders in something of a blithe shrug, “As for the rock? It’s not as if I etch serial numbers into them.”
“People were hurt.”
“Which concerns me how, exactly?” Before the Kryptonian can answer, he holds up a hand. Allows for a singular caveat. “Of course, don’t doubt that I care for whatever ills befall my city. The attack was disquieting even to me. But shouldn’t you be out looking for the still uncaptured culprits then?” He narrows his eyes, gestures lamely at the alien wasting his time. “Instead of harassing me?”
Superman bristles. “Clever.” he snaps.
“Hardly,” Lex sighs, ever the beleaguered CEO, “it’s simply the truth.”
Whatever other uninspired accusation that’s about to be hurled his way next is cut off by you adjusting your position.
Blissful kneeling no doubt disturbed some by the raised voice in the room.
A wet, crackly sound, near completely silent on a normal, hits the air as you shift. But even to human ears it’s like a gunshot in the impenetrable silence of his office.
Superman jerks in place.
Lex smirks. Can’t quite help himself, really.
Would even bet real money — and he’s got a considerable fortune up for grabs — that the alien’s heart had skipped a beat.
He watches, almost eager, hands still steady as he makes his way through stacks of papers needing to be signed, as the Man of Steel finally allows himself to fully clue in to the other heartbeat in the room with them.
Blue eyes widen— so blue the first time he’d ever met Superman’s eyes he’d wanted to shiver in disgust, and been caught off guard enough to almost let it happen. Superman’s gaze snaps down, gets a bit more intense, but when he presumably finds the parts of the billionaire’s desk that are led-lined incompatible to x-ray vision he looks back at Lex.
He almost looks furious.
Lex shakes his head, raising a brow. He’s furious? Luthor’s the one who’s been interrupted for the alien’s second annual intimidation display of the month!
Useless.
This was all so fucking beneath him.
If anyone in this situation has the right to imprudence, it’s him.
“Who’s back there, Lex?” A menacing step forward. A worried flutter of hands that are strong only because he was given strength, not because he earned it. “What are you doing?”
After a beat where he just…closes his eyes and takes something of a deep breath, Lex looks back to Superman. Sharp, vivid green meets inhuman blue. He heaves a quiet gust of a sigh, makes a point of shifting his hips.
A perfectly innocent movement normally, but with you tucked delicately beneath his desk and wrapped nice and pretty around him, you choke just the tiniest bit.
It’s enough still to make Superman’s eyes go wide. His expression contorts. Some cacophony of alarm-confusion-anger. Lex cares very little for it, despite the amusement ringing true throughout his body. Etched into his unrelenting stare. Into the casual way he’s relaxed into his seat and the spread of his now crossed fingers atop his desk when he raises a brow.
As close to asking the man ‘what?’ as he’ll get for the night.
“Does she sound aggrieved to you, Superman?” He asks, putting the makings of a tsk behind his words.
The poor thing glitches.
For once in the face of an utterly unfamiliar situation he feels inclined to let the full breadth of his amusement show and allows the grin to spread across his lips. They’re still a little flushed from earlier when you’d slipped into his lap to take his mind off of the newest of his failed plans that couldn’t be connected to him, but was still aggravating to have to scrap.
“I—” Superman swallows thickly. Makes like he’s going to try his attempt at speech again.
Lex waves him off. Saving him the effort.
“Believe it or not, my personal offices are not public spaces for you and your ilk to traverse whenever you feel so inclined.” He drawls, waving a blithe hand to indicate the entire space. The whole of his building in its L-shaped glory, really. “I’m perfectly allowed to do as I please in them without your approval.”
“But—” and now he gains his footing. Pausing to gather his indignation between words. “You opened the window,” he snaps, voice accusing and a steadily climbing flush now ruddying his face.
“To talk,” he specifies dryly. “Not to let you in. I was under the impression you were perceptive enough that there was no need for me to install an intercom outside of my window.” He lowers his voice, tone getting that much more cutting, “I see now I was incorrect.”
Superman sputters.
Lex thinks to himself that this might truly be one of the few times in ages that he’s felt so satisfied on so many fronts.
Little isolated wins were nothing in the grand scheme of things, of course. It was his firm belief that you didn’t stop reaching until you held the world at your beck and call— and in the event that something could beat you to it without even trying then you expanded your horizons to the universe. But even Lex could admit to the merit of this pettier more informal satisfaction.
“You could’ve said something.” He could’ve. But Lex lets that reality only go acknowledged in the glittering of his eyes.
His teeth flash. Grin getting meaner.
“Let’s not pretend that if I had denied you your newest passing monologue that you wouldn’t have simply taken it upon yourself to break in.”
“Luthor, you—”
And now Lex gives in. Dismissal integral to the way he cuts off all engagement. Reaching down a hand to tangle into tight curls and then the other to run light fingers down umber skin before cupping your cheek.
You’re a sight to behold when you blink dark, glistening eyes open. Almost ethereal. The moon’s rays lighting you enough for him to make out how you stare blearily up at him before blinking your tears loose and gaining back only the amount of clarity necessary to focus on what matters. Him. Taking the edge that’s made its way back into his expression as permission to pull back and swirl your tongue beneath the head of his cock.
He allows it.
Lex takes in a deep breath to stop the hitch in his chest. Actually reclining in his seat when you suction two-toned lips around his ruddy, leaking tip and suck.
Then you moan, pitchy and guttural in the back of your throat, at the dribble of precum he can feel you coax out of him. Swallowing eagerly with a pleased note in tandem with Superman stumbling backwards like he’s been shot.
If only.
With your warmth around him and the weight of his uninvited guest’s gaze settling heavily over his shoulders, his next exhale shudders from his open mouth.
Lex makes a point of keeping his attention on you then. Of making sure your lidded eyes stay locked on his and letting himself groan. Just soft enough to tease you. Just loud enough to fuck with the alien.
The first bitten back sign of his audible arousal is taken as a challenge the exact way he knew it would be. Brows furrowing with a determination adorable enough he could coo, you rouse from your cock drunken stupor.
Lex couldn’t have actively asked for anything better than the way you glare. Than how you go down on him in the next blink with such noticeable vigor. The slick sounds of his cock being fucked into the tight, wet heat of your mouth, of the apex of your fluttering throat, that come next.
He hums roughly to alleviate the need to groan.
“Are you going to show yourself out or should I get security?” He rolls his gaze up to where the big blue Boy Scout stands frozen. Has to bite back the sudden urge to laugh out loud at how startled the alien looks. “Because,” he cants his hips, keeps his eyes on Superman’s as you sputter and moan and the clench of your throat makes his eyelids lower, “as much as I know the lady doesn’t mind an audience. I’m not the biggest fan of sharing.”
This time when you bob your head, you manage to finally take him nearly all the way down to the base. Surprised, Lex gasps shortly. Leg jumping and hands curling around you. He holds himself down your throat too, shoving his length that much deeper and keeping you down.
“Hold it,” he commands, more fondly than he plans to. He’s looking at you now, at the beautiful image you make with your nose nearly pressed to his pelvis and shivers of tightly held control lightly wracking your form. “Take it how I know you can.”
The back of your throat flutters around him. Spasms with the beginnings of rejection before you inhale past the urge. He feeds his cock further down your throat in increments. Deeper and deeper until he cuts off your airflow all together.
Until your eyes pop open and tears join the drool slipping down your chin. Face relaxed and your tongue rubbing idly against the underside of a pronounced vein and giving yourself wholly to him.
Your life in his hands.
Eyes intent and assessing on you, he fucks the head of his penis down the curve of your throat. Once. Twice. You gag. Violently. Almost retching wetly at the oppressive fill of him until Lex pulls out. A harsh gust of air finally rushes past him, disturbing temporarily forgotten papers, and this time Lex does laugh.
Dark and only a little breathy. Backdropped by your desperate, sputtering pants for air.
“Again,” he murmurs. Less a question and more letting you in on his itinerary than anything.
Pressing back into the hand he offers in comfort, rubbing against his palm and pressing sore lips over his pulse in a kiss, you stutter out a broken affirmative. Voice wrecked and tongue already nearing exhaustion.
“Aw,” Lex croons, laced with false sympathy, and when your eyes drag upwards to his face he’s too amused. The grin stretching his lips devastating and spelling nothing but trouble.
The slick head of his cock is already poking at your lips. Already dragging into your panting mouth.
NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!
I kid you fucking not, this came to me on a whim two mornings ago. Unprompted— I do not know where it came from. Also, I’m being really nice to Lex here which will not happen often.
Also also, this is NOT the 10k+ word Lex fic I’m working on— obviously, but I figured I should clarify.
What of Lex’s many cloning endeavors is he working on here, is something you might ask, but I’ll never answer. There’s literally so many, from multiple different continuities to choose from. So I didn’t choose. And listennnn, fooley me thought that Bat comics were convoluted and exhausting to parse through (even though I’m more a pro at them now), and I was sorely mistaken. Superman comics are their own beast and I never realized the sheer amount of information I didn’t know until I went looking through Lex’s history.
btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!
So, a few days ago I made this post talking about how Lex constantly acts as a protector on Smallville and I just found out today that the name "Alexander" literally means defender of people, protector, or warrior!
I mean... Is everybody else seeing this???!!! How do I go on??!!!
Imagine the timeline where Smallville is like on HBO or Apple TV or something.
Somewhere in my drafts there's me complaining about the ship names for Superman/Clark and Lex, Superlex and Clex, it's grown on me since then, but I do think it an improvement could be SuperLuthor cuz it kinda rhymes a bit
