two can play that game. (yan! sugar daddy! lex luthor x sugar baby! gn reader x yan! superman)
reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.
— masterlist !
a/n: all i ask for is comments/inputs, alongside reblogs, and that's it. this is a very fun concept to write for honestly. the thought of being sandwiched between two buff guys, one rich, one a hero. both powerful... yummy.
the potential of yandere! sugar daddy lex luthor x sugar baby reader x a yandere superman with a savior complex insistent on "getting you out" of the "terrible" situation you've (willingly) put yourself in...
just imagine the bloody game of tug of war between these two.
lex doesn't understand why, superman, of all aliens, wants to save — the word angers him so much to the point you have to hold his body back with all your weight to cease him from throwing another desktop item across the already jagged floors — his sugar baby when the contract and your consent has been all set before superman even came into the picture.
you're aware of the risks of being in a relationship with lex, you've slept in his bed for nearly a year or two, you've been by his side every time he enacts another one of his evil deeds, dolled in the clothes he chose for you— you're really just in it for the bag and the easy life. and yet this monster keeps insisting you're not truly happy, that he must've done something, threatened you perhaps, to keep you obedient by lex's side.
superman claims that nobody sane should be able to stand beside lex without the fear of messing up and turning into a lab experiment. so you must not be sane, you must be under a spell or heavily drugged.
a claim which enrages him so much. not just because superman paints him out to be under such insufferable light but also because he had the audacity to believe you're incapable and crazy for choosing him?
no, lex luthor is a better choice than all the other contenders asking for your hand in marriage. superman doesn't stand a chance when you've already decided. he's just a bitter man for being too late to claim you for himself.
and even if he wasn't, you'll still choose lex because he's infinitely better.
seriously, what part of his brain can't comprehend that irrevocable fact?
out of irritation, he'd almost have built an anti-superman chamber meant to lock you inside just so he could have a day of peace with you without the annoying hero always clambering and knocking on the glass windows of his highrise penthouse, taunting the billionaire to let you out or he'll be "forced" to let himself in to "save" — once again!? — his so-called hostage.
if he thought the level of delusion was already bad enough before, then the longer you and lex have been spotted out on fancy restaurant dates, which somehow find its way conveniently plastered on the very front page of the city's newspaper every time— the more lex is inclined to actually build that chamber because superman's already been spotted the next day flying over your oblivious figure, ready to go about another session of "talking" you out of your beneficial relationship with lex.
and of course, lex knew about this for certain, because the second you find yourself alone with superman somehow, away from the security guards hired to scout the area, the advanced recorders and superman recognition devices plastered in every inch of your belongings have already picked up on the sound and presence of superman's irritating, grating voice greeting you in that condescendingly nice crescendo.
you, already used to superman's own tactics, and also bound by contract to never entertain any of the hero's questions, let alone even be near a four foot radius within him, would only shrug at his concerned questions — about your wellbeing and domestic life. if lex is treating you right. if you're not satisfied blink twice. if he's keeping you hostage, blink thrice.
to which you don't.
to which superman is dumbfounded at your calm reactions.
you keep your cool demeanor when you hear the heavy thud of his boots landing on the ground as he approaches you.
if you're being honest, you never really cared about the hero. despite your questionable standing with lex, you're quite grateful that he remains the palpable symbol of hope for your city. it's a hypocritical take, really, since you're well aware how even if you're almost always by lex's side, and he has had his fair share of secret misdeeds he's skillfully hidden from you— it wouldn't truly discredit any service superman has done for the city, for the entire world. he's kept it safe and sound from extraterrestrial force and from another one of lex's plans.
but as it stands, you're still tempted to pull out the kryptonite ring in your bag. not because you hate heroes, but because he's yet again stuck in a trance worriedly asking you if you're really safe, and willing, and content with lex's treatment while his hands have found its way on your shoulders. his gestures akin to an old friend displaying concern over a friend with a problematic relationship, akin to a 911 dispatcher asking questions to assess violence against a victim.
which you're not, you really are not.
before you can even peep another word in, a bunch of your guards (finally) have already pointed their weapons against superman. you can see some of them visibility shaking whilst they announce, with quivering voices, for superman to halt. you're aware their hesitance is not from the fear of facing the metahuman but from messing up and leaving you with superman instead.
ah, you'll have to talk lex out of punishing these poor workers once again.
(it was no wonder why every supervisor from a division would always confront lex about problems on his upcoming projects in front of you. you're the only person allowed to speak your mind and promise lex he could take his anger in a completely different way with you instead. it's corny, but it's what works. it's what makes them survive from his petty retributions).
realistically, superman could take out these people without incapacitating them— yet there you go again, pretty eyes batting towards him (you're glaring at him), begging (asking, exasperated) to let the topic go for now because you already feel bad enough for the people forced to babysit you.
your request was enough to hold him off. of course it does, every worker surrounding you two could see it's not just lex infatuated with you but the superhero too. they don't complain, though, because it at least made the job easier when superman had instead given you a small, sheepish smile and a nod, finally flying off to god knows where.
at least today was easier. the previous attempts to tell him off were... something else.
you don't have to remember that, though, because a phone is already shoved in your face with lex's name as the contact person before you could even take a step.
you can feel exhaustion settle into your bones. you could already hear his frustrated voice chatting your ear off about the dangers of kroptonian exposure.
but you're too tired for a massive sermon right now...
... guess it's time to use your pathetic card against lex again tonight.
it always works somehow.
still, you remind yourself that lex's sermons are better than whatever complex the superman feels for you. at least it doesn't feel superficial in your eyes, at least you're aware that lex is constantly tracking you while superman is a wild car. always finding himself to you even if lex locks you up in the most isolated part of the world.
but don't think that just because he relented on bothering you for today guarantees no visit within the next hours.
apparently, even a supposedly intimate night with lex — complete with hot, expensive, and scented candles already blazing through the dark, the low hum of the music from the premium speakers, and silky bedsheets topped with petals from your favorite flowers — is all ruined by superman bypassing all the locks the moment the sound of your body hitting the bed is registered through his super-hearing.
it doesn't matter wherever he is in the world, he always blitzes back to metropolis at the sign of any danger towards you.
... but is it imperative that lex fucking you silly is one of it?
if your almost naked body didn't already feel incredibly warm from the jacuzzi you'd just gotten out of, then by now it's already overheating when even in the darkness can you pinpoint the tip of superman's ears reddening from the sight of your own chest exposed to the hero.
fuck.
if you're going to be honest once more, it'd be kind of hot if superman joined in on the fun. being sandwiched between superman's big, burly chest and lex luthor's clean-shaven ones sounds like great news. include their desperation to be devour every part of you is basically double the people wanting to touch you, please you—
pleasure you.
two powerful men trying to one up each other to win the favor of your heart felt all too reminiscent of pompous peacocks flaunting their colored feathers to their future mate.
it's hilarious, but also endearing to your already far too gone imaginations.
but telling your ideas to lex would be a damage to his ego. telling that to superman, too, would make him believe you're not actually satisfied with your arrangements.
it should be losing game.
but.
if these two were always in an intellectual fight on who gets to actually claim your mind, body, and soul. if you don't want lex to throw another fit and possibly destroy the earth uprooting every piece of land just to find kryptonite to murder superman. if you want superman to stop acting all hot and bothered every time you kiss lex too deeply in front of the paparazzi cameras, just by giving him a small taste of your body, then...
it's only fair if you make them prove they deserve it.
hi, guys! ✶ this is my first kinktober! i’ll be posting 21 fics throughout october, spaced out every few days. all of these pieces will be maxed out in freakness. take care of yourselves. read the tags before diving in. 18+ only. these pieces will vary in length as your girl is extremely busy!!!
Hey, I saw requests are open can I ask for college student reader with either Lex Luther or Superman (or both)
Thanks for the ask anon!! I’m super fond of intern! and student! readers so I decided to combine them. I really wanted to write something about Luthor because he has so much potential!!! I think that the concept of an entitled yandere is absolutely delectable hehe. 🥰
Defeated, yet again. Lex’s fist tightened and his jaw clenched. Superman always managed to find his weaknesses. All except one, that is. He carefully picked out a small wrapped gift from a large bin of similarly wrapped presents. He brushed the imaginary wrinkles off of his shirt and took a few deep breaths before opening the final door to his most secret and secure bunker.
“Sweetheart, Dad’s home! Come say hello!” He called as he took his shoes off in the entryway.
The bunker perfectly replicated a luxurious highrise apartment. Sunlight from an artificial sky streamed in through large windows and lit up the leaves of your houseplants with a beautiful green glow. A warm breeze flowed through an open window, keeping the cool apartment at your preferred temperature. Cozy furniture covered in plushies, pillows, and soft blankets filled the living space covered in fluffy rugs and abstract modern art. The apartment was clean but lived in, though you were nowhere to be seen.
“Sweetheart? Dad had a bad day. Come give him a hug to make it better and you’ll get a present.” He said a bit more sternly.
He was getting frustrated. All he wanted was to cuddle you and enjoy how soft and sweet you always were with him. You used to be his intern. You visited him in prison every Wednesday and wrote him letters about what you had been up to every Saturday. You were such a devoted employee that he couldn’t help but start to think of you more fondly. You became his companion. You were his source of comfort as he rotted in jail. Over time, you became his mentee. You would confide in him and he would make things all better and teach you how to do well in life. You told him about your awful landlord and he had one of his people buy the building and fix all of the issues that you complained about. He listened when you talked about rude professors and sent them bribes, then threats, until they treated you with the respect that you deserved. He taught you how to fix your TV when it wasn’t working and told you stories about his own successes to help you feel more confident at meetings.
Once he got out of prison, it wasn’t hard for him to reintegrate himself back into his role at LexCorp. What was difficult was when you would leave to go home, leaving him without anyone to talk to. He had become reliant on you for conversation and attention and whenever you weren’t at his side, he felt empty. He had grown so fond of you that it felt impossible for him to go on without you. He had a bunker built and made sure that everything was perfect for you. His normally strict personal and professional boundaries had blurred so much that he couldn’t help but see you as his child. Maybe he had one too many concussions or maybe he was just subconsciously desperate to have some kind of family to care for. He didn’t care about the cause. What he wanted was to be able to come home to his kid after a hard day and you were being difficult again.
He felt a weight off of his shoulders when you peeked out from the doorway to your room. You were finally listening again. The isolation that he kept you in was finally doing its job. You slowly approached him and then hesitantly wrapped your arms around him in a loose hug. He hugged you back and nuzzled into the top of your head. The soap that he picked out for you smelled like oranges. He liked it. It was much better than the cheap old one that you used to use. He enjoyed being able to practically customize you. You were his precious child and he would only give you the best.
“There you are! Tell Dad about your day. Did you use the new markers he got you?” He cooed as he lifted you and carried you to the couch.
He could feel how tense you were. He didn’t care. He wanted to hold you so he would hold you. You’d start loving his affection eventually. He knew that you’d come around eventually. Anything that Lex Luthor wants, he gets. That includes you.
synopsis: you accidentally text the dc characters, thinking you're texting someone else, that you can't stop thinking about them
including: lex, clark, jimmy, lois, michael (mr terrific), guy, kendra (hawkgirl), kara (supergirl), and bruce
a/n: first smau of a long run, lets go!!!
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.
