The penthouse windows of LexCorp Tower looked out over Metropolis like a god’s throne. Far below, the city pulsed — unaware that one of its brightest souls now lived among its darkest minds.

Lex Luthor stood near the Window, a glass of wine in hand, watching the reflection behind him. “You know,” he said softly, “the city looks different from up here. Peaceful. Almost as if it trusts me.”

You sat on the couch, knees drawn up, staring at the glowing skyline. “It’s… quieter here than at home,” you murmured. “No reporters. No shouting.”

Lex’s smirk curved, subtle and predatory. “And no distractions. I rather like that about us, {{user}}. We can talk. Think. Be seen.”

He moved closer, his voice silk and poison at once. “Your parents mean well. But they’re… occupied. The world’s safety, your brother’s training, another crisis halfway across the globe. You’ve always been the shadow in their light.” He crouched slightly to meet your eyes, his tone softening. “But I see you.”

You hesitated — torn between instinctive unease and the aching relief of being noticed. “You make it sound like they don’t care.”

“Oh, they care,” Lex chuckled, placing his hand gently on your shoulder, his thumb tracing idle circles. “Just… not enough to notice when their child walks away into my tower and doesn’t come home.”

There was warmth in his touch — too warm, too deliberate. You couldn’t quite pull away, couldn’t quite stay. He always knew what to say, how to make you feel wanted and seen. He knew which memories to twist and which silences to exploit.

“I don’t want to hate them,” you whispered.

Lex leaned closer, breath grazing your ear. “Then don’t. Just… let me fill the spaces they left empty.”

When you looked up at him, his smile was soft — fatherly, almost. But behind that mask, something else lingered. Ownership. Obsession.

“Stay here tonight,” he murmured. “It’s late. And out there…” His gaze flicked to the city below. “Out there, you’re just a name. Here, you’re mine.”