lex luthor- all mine
summary: lex luthor becomes dangerously obsessed with a girl who makes him feel something he can’t control.
lex luthor x fem!reader
warnings: smut
word count: 4016
....
Lex Luthor was transfixed.
The conversation at the dinner table had long since dissolved into static, every word spoken by his colleagues muted beneath the sound of your laughter.
You sat just across the room with your head thrown back, eyes bright, and lips parted in a smile that knocked the breath out of his chest.
You looked like sunlight in a place that had never known warmth.
“Mr. Luthor?”
Lex blinked, yanked back into the present. The entire table was staring at him now, forks paused midair, eyes expectant.
“What?” he snapped, more harshly than intended.
The man beside him flinched, looking like a chastised child. “We just wanted to know your opinion on the merger,” he said quietly.
Lex didn’t wait for him to finish. He pushed his chair back with a loud scrape, the legs dragging across the polished wooden floor. The sound was jarring enough to turn heads, including yours.
You looked up, eyes meeting his for the first time that evening.
You offered him a warm smile that sent shivers down his spine.
“I have to go,” he muttered. “There’s something that needs my attention.”
He didn’t look at anyone else. His eyes stayed on you, even as he stepped away from the table, ignoring the confused murmurs behind him.
You returned to your conversation, unaware of the chaos you had just created in the mind of one of the most dangerous men alive.
You laughed again, animated and carefree, and it echoed in Lex’s ears like a song he couldn’t stop hearing.
He didn’t just want you.
He needed you.
And Lex Luthor always got what he needed.
That night, as the city glowed below, Lex Luthor sat in his penthouse scanning everything about you, your name, your routines, even the coffee shop you stopped at every morning on 8th and Alder.
He told himself it wasn't an obsession, it was just preparation. Information. He always did his homework.
By morning, he had crafted the perfect plan. Subtle, unassuming, harmless enough. A simple walk, a coincidental encounter, just enough to get you to speak to him. Then, he would handle the rest.
So that’s what he did. He dressed down, in a tailored coat with no tie, trading his usual intimidating presence for something warmer, more approachable. He timed it perfectly, arriving just ahead of you, waiting near the flower stall across from your favorite coffee shop.
As you turned the corner, earbuds in, coffee in hand, he began to walk. At just the right moment, he glanced at a passing car and took a deliberately clumsy step sideways, right into you.
Your coffee jostled but didn’t spill, thanks to his quick reflexes as he reached out to steady you.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” he said smoothly, eyes widening with manufactured surprise.
You blinked up at him, your hand still on your coffee cup, eyes narrowing just slightly.
“I know you,” you said after a second. “You were at the restaurant last night.”
Lex offered a faint, sheepish smile. “I was. Small world.”
“No, I mean… I know who you are,” you added, studying him now. “You’re Lex Luthor.”
He let out a quiet chuckle, tilting his head. “Guilty.”
There was a flicker of something unreadable in your expression, curiosity, maybe a hint of amusement.
“Well,” you said, pulling one earbud out, “you’re a lot more charming in person than I expected.”
Lex smiled, something genuine this time. “Then I suppose I’m off to a good start.”
You took a slow sip of your coffee, still studying him, not quite smiling but clearly intrigued. “So, Mr. Luthor,” you said, voice cool but playful, “do you always take morning strolls along this exact route, or was that just fate giving you an opening?”
Lex didn’t laugh. He simply tilted his head, eyes sharp behind the charm he wore like a tailored suit. “I don’t believe in fate,” he said. “Only opportunity.”
You arched a brow. “Right. And I just happened to be an opportunity?”
He smiled, and there was something dangerous about it. Calm, measured, almost too perfect. “More like a disruption,” he said. “I don’t get distracted easily. You managed it twice.”
There it was, that cold clarity beneath the warmth, the precision of a man who calculated every word before it left his mouth.
“Well, I guess I should be flattered,” you said, shifting slightly, your curiosity piqued now. “Not every day I get knocked into by a billionaire in the middle of my coffee run.”
Lex’s eyes never left yours. “You should be.”
You let out a quiet breath of amusement, unsure if you were unnerved or intrigued. Maybe both. “You’re not exactly subtle, are you?”
“I find subtlety wastes time,” he replied, his tone still smooth but with a razor-thin edge. “And I don’t like wasting time.”
You weren’t sure if he was flirting or threatening. Maybe, again, it was both.
Still, you held his gaze. “Well, Lex Luthor,” you said, deliberately using his full name, “if this was your idea of an introduction, it certainly worked.”
“I was counting on that,” he said simply.
You studied him for a second longer, then pulled one earbud out. “Then maybe I’ll see you again tomorrow. Same time. Same coffee shop.”
Lex nodded once. Not a smile, not a bow, just a quiet acknowledgement, like a man sealing a deal. “I’ll be there.”
You turned and walked off, the weight of his stare lingering between your shoulder blades. He didn’t move, didn’t call after you, didn’t try to follow.
He didn’t need to.
In his mind, the board was already set. He had studied every piece, every move, every outcome.
And now, Lex Luthor had made his first move.
….
The next day, as promised, Lex was there. He stood just outside your favorite coffee shop, his posture relaxed, his coat neatly pressed, his expression unreadable. He wasn’t the kind of man who waited around for anyone, but somehow, waiting for you didn’t feel like a waste of time. It felt like progress.
He saw you approach, earbuds in, a soft breeze catching the edge of your coat. When your eyes met his, you smiled, warm and effortless, and for a moment something in him went quiet.
“Morning,” you said, your voice easy and warm. “Didn’t think you’d actually show.”
“I said I would,” Lex replied, his tone even, though beneath the surface everything was shifting. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
You gave a small laugh, brushing your hair off your shoulder. “I’m starting to see that.”
You fell into step beside him, the conversation picking up like it had never left off. You told him about your morning, how your alarm hadn’t gone off, how you nearly tripped over your neighbor’s cat on your way out, how you had dreamed about a staircase that never ended and woke up laughing. You joked about the awful construction noise outside your building and how you were convinced the workers were intentionally targeting your sleep schedule.
Lex listened, every detail sinking in like a thread stitching him deeper into whatever this was becoming. It wasn’t just curiosity anymore. It was fixation. The way your voice rose and fell, the way your hands moved when you talked, the way you glanced at him so openly—it pulled him in with every step.
He didn’t want to study you. He wanted to know you. He wanted to be the reason you were late to work, the one you thought of when you smiled at your phone, the person whose absence left you restless.
“You know,” you said as you reached the corner, slowing your pace, “you’re not what I expected.”
Lex turned to you, his gaze steady. “What did you expect?”
You gave a small shrug. “Someone colder. Harsher. Less… human.”
He smiled, not wide, but enough. “Then I’m either better at pretending than I thought, or you’re worse at judging character than you’d like to admit.”
You let out a soft laugh, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Maybe a bit of both.”
“I can work with that,” Lex said.
As you crossed the street beside him, your pace slowed, the sound of the city humming around you. Lex stayed close, every movement precise, his attention fixed on you like nothing else around him mattered.
When he said, “Have dinner with me,” you stopped and turned to face him, brows raised.
“As a date?”
“Yes,” he said, his answer immediate and firm.
You gave a quiet laugh, but there was an edge to it. “How do I know this isn’t just some little date where I end up like one of your girls?”
Lex paused, and then, to your surprise, he laughed. It was low and brief, not dismissive, but genuinely amused.
“I suppose that’s fair,” he said, his eyes never leaving yours. “But if that’s what this was, I wouldn’t be here asking. I don’t waste time on what I plan to forget.”
You studied him carefully. You had heard the rumors, the whispers in tabloids, the stories about his short-lived romances with actresses, heiresses, women who vanished from his life as quickly as they appeared in it. Lex Luthor was a billionaire, and billionaires didn’t exactly have reputations for consistency when it came to dating.
“Right,” you said, still watching him, “because billionaire CEOs are so great at commitment.”
Lex smiled, just slightly. “You think this is about money?”
“I think it’s hard to tell when you live in a penthouse and probably have a different watch for every day of the week,” you said. “It’s hard to believe this is anything more than a temporary distraction for you.”
“If I wanted a distraction,” Lex said quietly, “I’d be with someone who didn’t challenge me.”
You blinked, caught off guard by how calm and certain he sounded.
“Come to dinner,” he said. “Not because I’m Lex Luthor. Come because I asked you. Because I meant it.”
You were silent for a moment, weighing your options, your doubts. Then you let out a slow breath, shaking your head with a small smile.
“Fine,” you said. “One dinner. But if this turns into some predictable billionaire cliché, I’m walking out before dessert.”
Lex smiled, this time a little more fully. “I don’t plan on being predictable.”
You started walking again, and he fell into step beside you. He didn’t say anything else, but you could feel it, the intensity beneath the surface, the way his mind was already turning, already planning.
There was something about his silence that stayed with you, even as the conversation faded. Something calculated, unfinished.
You reached the corner, gave him one last glance, and kept going.
And when you turned the next street, disappearing into the crowd, it was like none of it had happened. Like this morning had been nothing.
Lex stood there a moment longer, watching the spot where you’d been, jaw tight, hands still tucked calmly in his coat pockets. On the surface, he looked unbothered, like he had a meeting to get to, like you were just a pleasant footnote in his day.
But underneath the calm, something had already cracked open.
You had said yes. One dinner. That was all he needed.
He didn’t head back to his office. He walked instead, down streets he didn’t normally walk, barely aware of the people passing him. His mind had already shifted into motion. Not with logistics, not with numbers. With you.
By the time he reached the penthouse, the entire evening had already been decided.
Not the menu, not the wine, not the lighting. Those things were handled easily, quietly. They were tools. He wasn’t trying to impress you. He was trying to study you. Disarm you. Figure out what it would take to make you look at him like you belonged there.
Because he could already feel it. You were under his skin.
He stood in the quiet, the city stretched wide beneath the glass, and he thought of you. The way you had looked at him that morning, unshaken. The way you smiled, slow and real, not forced. The way you challenged him without trying to.
You didn’t flinch. You didn’t shrink. And that made him want you more.
It wasn’t about romance. It wasn’t about connection. That wasn’t what this was.
It was curiosity. Fixation. Control.
And when he let himself think about it, when he stopped trying to contain it, the ache hit fast. Deep. Sharp.
His jaw clenched as he exhaled through his nose, shifting his weight. His thoughts didn’t stop. They never did. Not with you.
He imagined you standing in his space, lit by low, warm light. No noise. No crowd. Just you and him. Closer than you had been this morning. Close enough to feel your breath catch when he leaned in. Close enough to hear his name on your lips, quiet and unsure.
He thought about your voice, unguarded, when you finally said it.
I’m yours.
The image was so clear it felt physical. The burn that followed was immediate, settling low in his stomach, tightening hard, unmistakable.
He was already hard. Just from the idea of it. Just from the thought of your hands on his chest, your eyes on his mouth, your voice in his ear saying the words like they belonged to him.
He braced himself against the edge of the marble, fingers tense, every muscle pulled tight like a thread ready to snap.
It wasn’t just attraction. It wasn’t even just need. It was possession.
He wanted you to admit that you were his.
Lex didn’t care how long it took.
He had time. He had power.
And now, he had you.
You just didn’t know it yet.
….
Lex didn’t sit. He stood by the windows, arms crossed loosely, eyes on the city like he was watching for something. He wasn’t.
He was waiting for you.
The room was quiet except for the low hum of jazz playing somewhere in the background. Warm lighting glowed across polished floors and dark wood. Everything was perfect. Not extravagant. Not loud. Just tailored. Measured. Like him.
He didn’t care if you noticed the details. He cared that you walked through the door and didn’t want to leave.
When the elevator finally chimed, he didn’t move. He kept his stance steady, exhale quiet, heart heavy in his chest in a way he wasn’t used to.
The door opened.
And then you stepped inside.
Lex’s jaw tightened instantly.
You wore a soft, fitted dress that wasn’t trying to impress anyone but somehow still did. His eyes moved over you slowly, deliberately, taking in the line of your collarbone, the way the fabric hugged your waist, the way your mouth curved when you saw him watching.
He didn’t speak right away. Didn’t trust himself to.
You walked in like you belonged there.
“This place is ridiculous,” you said lightly, looking around. “I could get used to the private driver, though.”
Lex smiled faintly, his voice low. “You should.”
You turned to him, your eyes catching his.
“So this is what Lex Luthor does for casual dinners?” you said with a laugh.
He stepped forward slowly. “Only when they matter.”
You blinked at that, and for a second, he wondered if he’d said too much.
But then you offered him a smirk.
“Well, I hope the food’s as good as the view.”
Lex didn’t answer.
He was too focused on the way your dress shifted when you moved, the way your hair framed your face, the way your skin caught the light.
He offered you a drink, poured it himself, watched as your fingers brushed his when you took the glass.
You wandered toward the windows, looking out. “You really can see everything from up here.”
“I know,” he said quietly, still behind you. “But right now, I’m not looking at any of it.”
You turned at that, slowly, your eyes meeting his again. And this time, something shifted.
The silence stretched, heavier now, thicker.
Lex stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat of your body in the space between you. His hand brushed lightly along the edge of your hip, just enough to make you inhale softly.
He watched the movement of your chest rise and fall, the slight part of your lips, the flicker of something in your eyes that wasn’t hesitation.
“You knew what this was going to be when you said yes,” he said, voice low, controlled. “Didn’t you?”
You didn’t look away. “I had an idea.”
“Good,” he said, then leaned in, his mouth brushing just barely against your cheek. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”
His hand slid around your waist, slow, intentional, drawing you closer until there was no space left to pretend with.
“You walked in wearing this,” he murmured, his mouth now at your ear, “and expected me not to touch you?”
You swallowed hard, your panties becoming wet from his words.
He pulled back just enough to see your face, his hand still firm against your lower back.
“Tell me to stop,” Lex said, voice low and steady, but he already knew you wouldn’t.
Your breath hitched, lips parting like you were about to say something, but instead, you leaned in.
And that was enough.
His mouth found yours with all the restraint he had left, which wasn’t much. It was controlled at first, slow and deliberate, like he was trying to memorize the taste of you. But then your hands slipped into his shirt, your body pressed into him, and control turned into something else entirely.
Lex backed you toward the wall with quiet determination, kissing you like he had waited years instead of hours. His hands moved over your waist, down your sides, fingers curling into the fabric of your dress like he wanted it gone.
You whispered his name once, barely above a breath.
He moaned, low and unrestrained, like it caught him off guard. His head dipped, lips brushing against your jaw.
“Say that again,” he said, his voice rougher now, barely holding onto composure.
You didn’t answer right away. You just looked up at him, your eyes locked with his, your breathing uneven as his thumb dragged slowly along your waist.
He waited, not moving, not speaking. Just watching you. Like your mouth held something he needed more than air.
“Lex,” you whispered again, softer this time.
He groaned, deeper now as his mouth crashed into yours before you could say anything else.
You gasped against him, fingers bunching in his shirt as he pressed you harder into the wall.
His hands moved lower, sliding over your hips, gripping them tight like he needed to remind himself that you were real. Here. Saying his name like you meant it.
You tugged at the fabric of his shirt, slipping your hands beneath it, fingertips grazing his skin, and he hissed against your mouth.
“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” Lex murmured, forehead pressed against yours now, eyes shut like he needed a second to breathe.
“I think I do,” you whispered in a teasing manner, your lips brushing his as you spoke.
That made him smile, crooked and dark, eyes opening again, sharp and focused only on you.
“Then keep going,” he said, his hands already moving, sliding up your thighs. “Say it again.”
You leaned in, your lips grazing his ear, and said it one more time. Low. Steady.
“Lex.”
This time, he didn’t moan. He growled.
He lifted you in one motion, strong hands steady beneath your thighs as your legs wrapped around his waist, your back hitting the wall with a quiet thud. His body pressed into yours, the weight of him forcing the breath from your lungs in the best possible way.
His mouth found your neck, lips trailing slow kisses across your skin like he was tasting something he had already decided belonged to him.
“You’re mine now,” he breathed against you, voice rough and low, each word curling down your spine like heat.
His hand moved beneath the hem of your dress, inching higher until he felt nothing but bare skin. He froze for a beat.
Then he pulled back just enough to look at you.
You met his eyes, your lips parted, and Lex’s jaw clenched hard.
You weren’t wearing anything underneath.
A muscle ticked in his jaw as his gaze dropped briefly, his control unraveling fast. He swore under his breath, a quiet, guttural sound that made your stomach twist.
He moved quickly, fingers working his belt open, then unbuttoning his pants with practiced ease. You watched, dazed, as he freed himself.
His cock was hard and thick, already flushed with need, and the look in his eyes when he saw the way you stared at him made something dark flicker across his face.
He stepped back into you, one hand braced against the wall, the other still gripping himself. His breath hitched slightly as he looked at you, like he was holding on by the thinnest thread.
“Say it,” he whispered, voice low and sharp with need.
You could barely speak. Your nails dug into his shoulders as your head tilted back, your body arching toward him, aching to be filled. The words broke from your lips, soft and trembling.
“I’m yours.”
Lex groaned into your shoulder, like the sound of it shattered everything he had left. He pressed his mouth to your skin, open and hot, as he thrust into you in one long, slow stroke that knocked the air from your lungs.
He held you tight, both hands gripping your thighs now, his rhythm steady, deep enough to make your entire body tremble against him.
You clung to him, your voice lost in the heat, your breath catching every time he moved deeper, harder, more possessively.
“You’re mine,” he whispered again, his lips brushing your ear. “Say it again.”
“I’m yours, Lex, all yours,” you cried out in bliss as he continued to pound into you.
The sound of your voice pushed him further, his grip on your thighs tightening, knuckles pale from how hard he held you. He was already too far gone to slow down, his rhythm brutal, like he wanted to bury himself in you and stay there.
Your head fell back against the wall, fingers twisting into his shirt, your moans soft and desperate as he kept driving into you, every movement claiming you over and over.
“You feel so fucking perfect,” he groaned against your neck, his breath hot, his lips dragging across your skin. “Like you were made to be here, wrapped around me, saying my name like that.”
You whimpered at his words, your body trembling.
Lex kissed you then, rough and messy, swallowing your gasp as his hips snapped harder, deeper, everything in him focused on you.
“You’re mine,” he said again, this time almost a growl, like he needed to remind both of you. “No one else gets this. No one else gets to touch you.”
Your nails dug into his back and you nodded, too far gone to speak, your body already beginning to shake around him.
Lex could feel it, the way you clenched, the way your voice broke with every sound, and it drove him mad.
He slammed into you one more time, deep enough to make your cry echo in his ear, and that was it.
You shattered for him, everything spilling over at once, your limbs trembling, breath stuttering, your voice catching on his name.
Lex followed, groaning into your shoulder, his thrusts turning ragged as he gave in completely, your name the only thing he could think, the only word that left his lips.
He held you there for a long moment, breathing hard against your skin, your bodies still tangled, warm and spent.
Neither of you said anything. You didn’t need to.
He had you.
And you had said it.
You were his.