alettesletters

[alettesletters]

SHOWING UP MATTERS - C. SNOW

mary jane!reader

Your sad face had been continuously replayed in his head as Coriolanus took his seat in the box.

“But it’s my show’s debut!” You whined softly, sat in bed in your silky night gown.

“I know, my love, but it’s a very important string of meetings.”

You sighed softly and watched him take off his tie, lean over and kiss your head. “You really can’t make it? Maybe—“

“Darling.” He cut you off and gave you another kiss, this one to your mouth. “I’m sorry.”

Theatre was everything to you and the President had all respect and support for your passion. You were very, very good.

He felt terrible for his lie but he knew it would all be made better.

Just near the end of your final bows, when he was worrying you wouldn’t notice him at all, your eyes found the private box he was in and they physically lit up.

You couldn’t help waving excitedly up at your husband before following your fellow cast members backstage.

His heart had skipped a beat when you noticed him at last, waving excitedly like you always did when you saw him. Your excitement and eagerness to have him there was almost infectious — he couldn’t help the smile that came to his lips.

Coriolanus was absolutely enraptured by how beautiful you were. You could act like nobody else could, he believed.

And when you went backstage, he wasted no time hurrying down to find your dressing room, knocking on the door.

Not even a second later, you opened the door and immediately launched yourself into his arms. Coriolanus laughed softly and caught you in his arms, burying his face into your neck as he squeezed you against him warmly.

“You came!” You squealed.

Once you were both in the room and he had shut the door behind him, he lifted you up, sat down on the couch and placed you on his lap, still holding you tightly against him.

You fit into his arms like you were made to be there, face still tucked into his shoulder. Coriolanus sighed contently as his fingers traced patterns on the bare skin of your back.

He pulled back to properly look at you, hands moving to cup your chin and tilt your face up towards him. The expression of admiration and adoration on his face was unmistakable.

“You, my beloved, are magical.”

You blushed at the compliment, ducking your head shyly as you always did, which he found absolutely endearing. His thumb gently tipped your head back up.

Coriolanus chuckled softly, moving to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear as his eyes traced over your face and body.

God, you were lovely.

“Did you really like the show?” You whispered to him as he gently rubbed your chin with his thumb.

Coriolanus nodded without hesitation, his eyes bright.

"Of course I did. You were wonderful. Incredible, even.”

He gave you a slight squeeze as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, then to your chin, nose, then finally both cheeks.

Your cheeks burned even more at the kisses he gave you and you let out a soft sound of contentment, burying your head in his shoulder again to try and hide how much you were blushing. Coriolanus took that opportunity to hold you tighter around the waist and press more soft kisses to wherever he could reach.

“I love you, my angel,” he murmured against your skin, lips moving against your neck.

You shivered as he kissed your skin, letting out a soft sound at his words, which always sent a wave of butterflies through you.

You wrapped your arms as far around him as they would go, returning the hug tightly.

“.. I really thought you weren’t coming.” You mumbled against his expensive suit which you were sure you were smudging your makeup over.

He pulled away slightly to look at you, gently cupping your face, his thumbs tracing over the high points of your flushed cheeks.

“I would never miss your big night. Not for anything, my beautiful girl.”

Your heart beat quicker at his words and you smiled at him, resting your hands over his on your face.

You could tell he was sincere, your husband couldn’t stand letting you down. He’d kill before he missed one of your debuts.

You leant into his touch, nuzzling your face into one of his hands before turning your head and pressing a kiss to his palm.

His eyes softened at the sweet gesture, a warm feeling spreading through his chest as you nuzzled his palm like an affectionate cat. He pulled you closer, shifting again so you were properly in his lap, facing him, straddling his legs. “Flowers and champagne are in the car whenever you’re ready.”

He gently traced over your features again, taking in how beautiful you looked, how your skin felt like silk to his touch. Coriolanus adored you.

[alettesletters]

DINNER - L.G.BAIRD

boot!reader

You watched your girlfriend physically wince as you hung up the two dead rabbits you’d hunted, followed by your bow.

You rolled your eyes. “Sweet, don’t give me that look again.”

“They’re bunnies!” Lucy Gray cried out as she crossed her arms and involuntarily stomped her foot. “Why can’t we just eat vegetables instead?”

“Because—“ You stepped towards her, cupping her face. “Nothing will grow in this weather. Not for months now. Do you want to starve to death?”

She rolled her eyes, knowing you were perfectly right. She just didn't like the idea of hunting cute little animals. It seemed cruel. No other way around it though.

"Fine.” She mumbled, leaning her head into your palm.

You grinned softly at her little pout.

She was just so… soft. In every sense of the word. From her soft, sweet voice all the way to her gentle, caring personality. Honestly, she lived in a fantasy world. She didn’t understand why her family just had to stay put in one District. She didn’t understand why the Hunger Games existed. You, on the other hand, understood everything and made sure you were prepared to deal with everything the harsh world could throw your way. Lucy Gray always saw the good in every situation. And as she stood there with her cute scowl, you couldn't help but pull her into a tight embrace.

"C'mere." You muttered into her hair.

Lucy Gray immediately leaned into the hug, burrowing her face into your neck. Her annoyance with the dead rabbits melted away as she held onto you. Being in your arms made her feel safe and warm, and it was a much needed comfort in this harsh and cold world.

“You’re mean.” She mumbled into your skin.

“No, I went out and got us food.” You pointed out as your hands found their way to her waist, holding her close.

“I know, I know…” She sighed, reluctantly admitting that you had a point. She wrapped her arms around your neck, playing with the hair at the nape of your neck. “Thank you.”

Your heart swelled with her thankfulness. It was hard to keep both of you well fed. You were constantly on the hunt, always checking traps, and scavenging for the bare necessities, like water. Life was no easy task.

“I managed to start the fire, by the way.” Lucy Gray mentioned.

You raised an eyebrow at her new information.

“You did?” You’d been teaching her for months how to properly start a fire. She wasn’t exactly the most proficient survivalist.

Lucy Gray blushed a little at your surprise, though she felt a small sense of pride in herself. It had taken her quite a few tries, but she’d finally managed to get it right.

“Uh-huh.” She said, nodding in confirmation. “I got it on the fifth try. My fingers are all burned, though.”

Your amusement with her adorable demeanor quickly turned to concern once she mentioned her burned fingers. You grabbed her delicate, little hand to inspect the damage. Sure enough, she had some pretty nasty burns on a couple of her fingers.

“You burned yourself?” You asked with a mixture of surprise and frustration. You were proud that she’d successfully started a fire, but more worried about her getting hurt.

Lucy Gray shrugged a shoulder as if it was no big deal. “It’s not too bad. Burns heal.” She replied casually, playing it off until you got through to her.

“It’ll hurt to play guitar.”

Upon mentioning the guitar, her eyes widened a fraction and you knew her little façade was about to crumble.

Lucy Gray loved playing guitar with you, and she hated nothing more than not being able to do so. It was her pride, her joy, her passion.

Sure enough, your girl’s expression fell when you pointed out that fact.

“Crap…” She grumbled, realizing you had a point. Her guitar playing was a huge part of her life, and not being able to play because of some burns seemed like a huge tragedy in her eyes.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at her reaction. It was cute, and you were amused at how seriously she took her guitar playing. But more than that, you didn’t like seeing the look of distress on her face.

“Hey, it’s alright,” You assured her. “It’s just a few little burns. The wounds will heal, and you’ll be picking that guitar in no time.” You gently kissed her fingers.

Lucy Gray’s expression lightened ever-so-slightly, comforted by your kind words and the flutter in her stomach when you kissed her hands.

She still couldn’t help but pout a little, though.

“But I can’t play now.” She lamented.

“You can survive a few nights without playing the guitar, sweetness.” You pointed out, amusement evident in your tone.

Lucy Gray’s pout deepened as you teased her. She knew you had a point, but that didn’t mean she had to be happy about it.

“But it’s my baby…” She whined, referring to her guitar. “I need to play it at least a little every day.”

“I think you’re addicted to playing that thing.” You teased, finding her insistence on playing so often ridiculous yet entertaining.

Lucy Gray huffed and crossed her arms defiantly, not appreciating being called out for her obsession with her guitar.

“I am not addicted.” She protested. “I just really enjoy it.” She then muttered under her breath, “And it’s better than your hunting obsession.”

“Hunting ensures we survive.” You defended. “Playing guitar ensures what exactly?”

“Free alcohol at the Hob.”

She had you there.

“Well played.” You conceded with a nod.

Lucy Gray grinned. She knew you couldn’t argue that the music she played got you free drinks at the Hob because you and her both loved getting drunk together… mainly because it usually ended in sex.

“Thank you, thank you.” She said with mock bow. “I’m a genius, I know.”

You shook your head at her exaggerated sense of self-importance, but smiled nonetheless. Her confidence was one of the things you adored about her.

You had the confidence to yell at anyone in the wrong in front of a whole crowd, the confidence to kill but the idea of getting on a stage and performing to people was horrifying.

“So you started the fire?” You said after a while. Your eyes were shut, entire being softened at the feeling of her playing with your hair, undoubtedly creating little braids.

Lucy Gray’s grin turned into a shy smile as she sheepishly admitted, "Yeah… I did."

She couldn't help but feel a little proud of herself for accomplishing something that you taught her. But at the same time, she knew it was a small feat in the grand scheme of things.

You nodded and leant forward, letting your mouth gently touch hers. “Wanna go lay down?”

Lucy Gray’s heart fluttered as you closed the gap between you and kissed her. She melted into the affection immediately, her body relaxing in your arms.

At your question, she nodded eagerly. “Uh-huh.” She murmured against your lips, her hands coming up to tangle in your hair.

[alettesletters]

BARK BARK

HFJEKEJFJDJFJD

[alettesletters]

CLARK KENT HEADCANONS

- Clark who lets his fingernails be just long enough to scratch your arm and back how you like when you’re sleepy

- Clark who is oblivious to any romantic interest directed towards him

- Clark who heats noodles with his heat vision

- Clark who is a total switch

- Clark who accidentally stole a tiny bag of candy when he was 6 and went to repay the manager when he was 17 and got a job

- Clark who trusts you with everything

- Clark who has one of your baby pictures in his wallet

- Clark who always forces you to let him pay for meals

- Clark who loves showering with you

- Clark who never gives you a half-assed answer when you ask if he likes your outfit or nails or something

- Clark who is very good at doing taxes and always does yours for you

- Clark who would rescue all the animals in a pound if his daughter asked him to

- Clark who goes to sleep beside you and wakes up on top of you to the sound of you whining about how heavy he is

- Clark who spends days off visiting children’s hospitals and nursing homes as Superman

- Clark who adores Christmas

- Clark who would figure out you’re pregnant by hearing the baby’s heartbeat before you even got symptoms

- Clark who doesn’t know how to drive a car because in his defence ‘why would he ever have to’

[alettesletters]

he IS a puppy oh god i love the way @milliesfishes writes sm

౨ৎ꣑ৎfixing clark౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x clark kent thank you my darling @phantomamour for proofing <3

The papers you were holding were a tangled mess, but you figured you’d sort them when you returned to your desk. It wasn’t an urgent assignment anyways. Your shoes clicked on the shiny tiles as you made your way down the hall, determinedly keeping your eyes ahead. A strand of hair fell into your eyes, but you kept moving, mind far away from your body.

It wasn’t terribly busy at the Daily Planet today, meaning you were walking down the hallway alone. Your steps slowed the closer you got to your desk, and you mentally sorted through latest assignments, chores you still needed to do at home. When you passed the big window on the left side you stopped, standing still for a moment and looking out at the city. One of your favorite parts about working on a higher floor was the view. Shiny glass and endless rows of cars and people like little dots scurrying through each other. It was live art, art that didn’t know it was being observed. You wished you could fit it onto a page or capture the fullness of it in words. One of your favorite parts of Metropolis was the pure life that radiated through it and the way you could fit into its veins. 

Footsteps behind your back snapped you out of your trance and you turned your head to find none other than your own Clark Kent hurrying forward. He stopped in his tracks when he saw you, clearing his throat and casually folding his hands in front of him.

You took one look at him and burst into laughter, nearly dropping all your papers again as you tried to steady yourself. He smiled, but there was a confused furrow in his brow. “What?”

Covering your smile with your fingers, you shook your head, shifting your things to balance against your hip so you could take one of his big hands. “Come here.” To your right was a door leading to a spare room where teams of reporters would meet to discuss assignments. You guessed that it was empty and you were relieved when you were right. Shutting the door and locking it, you set your papers on the long table and turned back to Clark, trying to hide another giggle.

He was a mess. His hair was wild, his shirt had a few buttons undone and others were stuck through the wrong loops. The dark tie around his neck was loose and when you looked down, his pants weren’t zipped up all the way. You couldn’t help it- another laugh clear as a bell echoed around the empty room. 

“What?” Clark took off his glasses, running a hand over his hair and turning it into even more of a mess. 

“Baby,” you started, reaching up to smooth his collar. “What was it this time? A stolen purse? A monster on Fifth Avenue?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it, looking down and fidgeting. “A…kitten. Stuck in a tree.”

You couldn't hold in your smile as you reached up to kiss his cheek. “You’re too sweet for words.” Clark smiled bashfully, and you smoothed a lock of hair from his forehead. “But I think you need a mirror wherever you keep your suit.”

“Huh?”

Giving him a knowing look, you let your hand drop to tap on his fly. He blushed when he realized what you meant, letting go of your waist to fix the issue. You smiled fondly, cupping his cheek. “Let me help you. It’s okay.”

Flipping his tie over his shoulder, you untucked the hem and undid the buttons of his shirt and started to slip them into the correct openings. He watched you quietly, corners of his mouth turned up. Once you were finished with his shirt you reached up for his tie and straightened it, hands lingering on his chest after. It made your heart flutter the way this big man let you fix him up. He was perfectly still as you moved to his hair next, smoothing his curls the best you could.

“There,” you said softly, looking up at him. “All better.”

He leaned down, kissing your nose. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Superman.” You hooked your arms around his neck, tilting your head up as he bent and caught your lips in a slow, lazy kiss. Melting into it, you sighed when his arms fell around your middle again, lifting you up so you didn’t have to strain yourself.

His mouth was soft on yours, and he moved you backwards to ease up onto the table. You let yourself get lost in him, the faint scent of sweat on his skin, the warmth exuding from his big body. He inhaled softly when he pulled away, nosing against your cheek. “Why would I get a mirror when I like it when you fix me so much?”

You laughed, forehead leaning against his shoulder. “You’re lucky you ran into me, silly.”

“I’ll be more careful,” he promised, smoothing the stray strand of hair from your eyes. “What’re you working on?”

“Oh, nothing really,” you mused, kicking your feet out to hook around his waist. “I’m just sorting through things now and cleaning out files. Everybody left after you did.”

“Hmm.” He thumbed up and down your waist. “I can help you if you want?”

“You have nothing else to do?”

“No.” Clark kissed your nose again. “All the kittens are saved for now.”

“You’d be a good cat dad,” you mused, and he smiled.

“Maybe on the way home we can go see if there’s anyone in the pet store window,” he suggested, and you squealed. You loved to watch the cats playing with one another at the old pet store near your apartment building. “Honestly I thought I was a dog person until I met you.”

“You’re kinda like a puppy,” you laughed, playing with his big fingers. “You like head scratches and you’ve got big eyes and you get so excited that it’s contagious.”

That made him smile, and he kissed your forehead. “Do you think Krypto would like a cat?”

“He’s so friendly that I don’t see why not.” You kissed him briefly. “I think he’d like a friend while we’re away all the time.”

“Yeah.” The moment dissipated into silence and you relaxed against him, cheek against his chest. You only remembered where you were after a few minutes.

Reaching over, you plucked his glasses off the table and popped them onto his nose, pushing them up. Clark lifted you off the table to stand on your two feet. He lifted your mess of papers to hold against his chest and held out his hand for you. 

You twined your fingers through his and unlocked the door, which he propped open with his foot to let you go through first. This time as you walked down the hallway there were two sets of footsteps and you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face.

[alettesletters]

MAINTAINING - C. KENT

boot!reader

You’d met Clark at work.

He was a clumsy, sweet man. He was often late, always dropping his bag or whatever.

The complete opposite of you. You panicked at the existence of imperfections in your life.

About a week ago, he grew the balls to ask you out on a date despite being your only real work friend — you stayed true to not having time for a social life so you could always prioritise work.

You both ended up on your apartment building’s doorstep when he accidentally said something that just came out wrong — the poor baby.

And out came your defence.

“Clark, you didn’t have to take me out. I know you probably feel bad for me but really, you didn’t have to. I know I’m a pain in the ass because it take me twenty minutes to get my coffee right and I struggle with spelling. I know I’m a high maintenance bitch with-“

“You’re not a bitch.” He frowned behind his glasses before shyness hit him. “I- I mean, yes, you’re pretty high maintenance but that’s okay! It’s... I think that’s okay because I want to be the one who… maintains you.”

His little declaration was the softest, shyest thing you’d ever heard. And the only affectionate speech you’d ever heard.

He rubbed the back of his neck shyly, nervous about how you’d react to his claims. His ears were turning red as he tried to look at you through his glasses, and Clark’s blue eyes darted around the wall, avoiding eye contact.

He hadn’t expected this night to go so wrong, and you could see the fear of being rejected written all over his features.

He’s a giant, bumbling, sweetheart — and you could tell he was beating himself up for ‘ruining the night’.

He stumbled over his words again, still nervous.

"I- I meant that I like that about you. I like that you’re picky about how you take your coffee. It suits you. I..."

Clark blushed heavily, looking down at his feet before back up at you.

"I like being the one who gets you coffee how you like it. I like bringing your papers to your desk so that they aren’t scattered—“

He kept going, kept listing but it was slowly becoming white noise as you stared at him.

“I like being the one who-“

You interrupted him by taking a step towards him, your hands grabbing his face and pulling him down for a kiss.

He stilled immediately, his body completely stiff, caught by surprise. His hands flailed for a moment before they rested on your waist, still too stunned to do much more than react.

Eventually, he relaxed a bit, his arms wrapping around your torso and holding you to him as he responded to the kiss.

You felt the tension leave him in waves, the nerves from earlier gone as your body pressed against his. He tilted his head, kissing you with more confidence once he realized you weren’t pulling away.

Clark’s body was warm and hard, every part of him firm muscle. He was towering over you, your head tilted back in an effort to keep the kiss going.

His grip around you tightened slightly as he pulled your body even closer, wanting to feel every inch of you against him. One of his hands gripped your hip, fingers digging into the soft skin.

He parted your lips slightly with his tongue, seeking entry, not even trying to be subtle about it as he moaned softly into your mouth.

You drew back at the feeling of his tongue, inhaling deeply and gesturing to your apartment building. “You wanna come up?”

He’d never agreed to something faster in his entire life.

It was a little past two in the morning when you returned to bed from the bathroom, sighing blissfully as you straddled Clark, cupping his face.

His large hands found your hips, gently massaging the skin with his thumbs.

You whined softly as you lifted his glasses off of his face. “You’ve got such beautiful eyes.”

A shiver went down his spine at the praise, blue eyes flickering across your face as you moved atop of him.

His pupils dilated at the feeling of your hands touching his face. The man’s eyes followed your fingers as they placed his glasses on the nightstand, meaning he didn’t notice your changing expression.

“Mm..” You hummed out of pure elation before you hesitated. You stared at him for a few moments and hummed again, tilting your head. “Hm.”

Clark furrowed his brows in question, his hands stilling on you. “What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You ignored him as you leaned down, observing his face closely once more. You took his chin in one hand, the other holding the other side of his jaw.

You turned his face left and then right, squinting suspiciously.

Clark’s lips parted with a slight frown, confusion evident on his features.

“Hey, what are you-“ he began to ask, only for you to shush him and continue your observation.

Despite the silent interrogation, he couldn’t help but notice how you looked on top of him, in his white T-shirt and underwear.

You still hadn’t responded, just continued to look at his face intently before your eyes narrowed. His cheeks were squished between your hands as you spoke.

“I’ve never seen you without glasses and… I can’t- You really look like someone but I can’t put my finger on it.”

Clark’s eyes widened at your words, his heart beginning to pound a little quicker at the realization that you might figure out his identity. “Yeah?” He asked in the most regular tone he could muster up.

“Yeah.” You squinted even more, the grip on his jaw tightening. Clark winced slightly with a grimace at the pressure but you were too focused to notice.

You still weren’t able to figure it out, letting go of his jaw to put your face closer to his. You rested your hands on the pillow beside his head and leaned down a bit more.

“You look like someone I know and it’s really bugging me.” You muttered, observing his features closely again before rolling your eyes and once again standing up. “I need to stop thinking about it and then it’ll come to me. You want tea or coffee? I’ve got decaf.”

Clark let out a silent sigh of relief when you pulled away from him. The man sat up slightly, resting against the headboard.

He shook his head at your question. “Oh. No thanks.”

There was a pause as he watched you leave the room before he put his glasses back on and came to a realisation.

You were the only person in the whole world that he would reveal his alter ego to. You were different. At work, you’d often mentioned a strong admiration for the work of Superman — the first clue that you would keep the secret. You had a heavy work ethic which, for some reason gave the same impression. You were so smart. So smart. Smarter than anyone he could ever name. He wouldn’t be shocked if you figured it out all on your own. He was also your only real friend and now… Well, he didn’t know what he was to you now. But it was something.

He wasn’t about to go into the kitchen and announce his secret to you, but he felt a certain peace of mind in knowing that if you ever did find out, it was safe.

[alettesletters]

butcher my love

@muldermuse I LOVE YOUR BLOG ITS SO UNHINGED

okay but what do we think butcher’s fave lingerie colour is

THIS IS FUN

ok i think its red

what does everyone else think????

[alettesletters]

HITCHHIKING - B. BUTCHER

stiletto!reader

A/N: inspired by sabrina’s ‘manchild’ teaser 💋

You huffed, stomping your heeled boot against the dusty concrete, as another car just drove on by.

You were a girl in short shorts, your thumb willingly stuck out in need of a ride and no one was pulling over? Not one person? When did men get so respectable?

You’d been to a big music festival with some less than responsible friends and you ended up alone, cashless on the side of the road in the desert with no way of getting anywhere besides grabbing a ride from a stranger.

You shielded your eyes from the setting sun with your hand as you heard yet another approaching car engine. You groaned before sticking your thumb out again.

However, you were surprised to see the car slowing.

It was one of those old cadillacs, pulling off the shoulder of the road before slowly pulling up behind you. The tinted window on the driver rolls down, prompting you to step closer.

“You alright, darlin’?” Asked a gruff, unmistakably English with a tinge of cockney dialect.

The driver’s head poked out of the window and- Jesus, that was probably one of the most handsome guys you’d ever seen. It was hard to make out much given the intense sunlight behind him but you caught his rugged strong features, complete with a strong jaw, a handsome mouth and a thick, dark brown beard.

Your hand found your hip as you groaned again. “Not really. Been on this road literally all day.”

He grimaced and climbed out of the vehicle. Now you could see him in full.

He was tall compared to you with broad shoulders. From what you could tell, he didn’t have anything but well toned muscle under the Hawaiian shirt he wore, tucked into black jeans that clung to his well built legs.

“Shit, poor girl, you look exhausted,” He commented, stepping towards you and getting a good look at you.

His hazel eyes flicked down at the sight of your short shorts and tank top. While he eyed you, you could feel yourself eye him up just as much.

His dark shirt was so tight, it left little to the imagination about what lay underneath. And you had to admit, you were very curious.

You bit your lower lip, before asking with a sarcastic tone. “You gonna offer me a ride or what, mister?”

He chuckled at that, crossing his arms across his chest which only served to make the already tight shirt tighter.

“Mouthy little thing ain’t ya?” He tutted, before nodding. “C’mon, hop in.”

You nodded and quickly said your thanks, before picking up your bag, moving to the passenger side of the car and climbing inside. The AC had been on and you sighed at the instant relief of escaping the harsh beating sun, sitting back against the leather of the seat.

Billy rounded the car to the driver’s side, climbing in himself and reaching to the AC panel to reduce the temperature even further until the car was nice and cool.

He shifted the car into gear as you exchanged names before pulling back onto the road, glancing at you as he did so.

“So where’re you headed?” he asked.

You groaned, running your hands down your face. Where you really needed to get was a hell of a fucking drive. “Well, I live in New York but I know that’s over a day away. You can just drop me off at the nearest town or something.”

He seemed to stiffen at that comment. “New York?” he repeated, frowning.

You narrowed your eyes at the sudden change in his tone. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” he murmured, seemingly too quickly as he kept his gaze fixed on the road. “Just where I’m going anyway. You can just stick with me if you want. Might have to stay in a few dodgy motels, though.”

Your eyebrows raised. “Oh, shit. Yeah, I’ll do that.” You shrugged, leaning down to open your bag and take out some gum. “But you should know I’m literally broke. I can’t pay you back.”

He scoffed, stealing a quick glance at your legs, stretched out in the passenger seat.

“Yeah, I figured. I’ll handle it.”

“Thanks.” You shrugged again and looked out the window, not pressing on with the topic.

After about a half hour of driving, Butcher frowned. You were so… normal about this. You weren’t on edge, weren’t trying to protect your privacy.

It was like you really had no problem with getting into a car with a complete stranger and staying in motels with them.

“Y’know, hitchhiking is actually dangerous as shit.” He commented. “You’re not scared?”

You looked over at him. “Scared of what? You? I can handle a man. No offence, but you’re a bit of a teddy bear.” A cocky smirk tugged on your lips as you put yourself at ease.

He scoffed once again.

“A teddy bear?” He repeated, his ego bruised by that comment. He glanced your way again. “You got a big mouth. And, frankly, no survival skills. You openly admitted to having no money. Y’know what most men think when they hear that? They think ‘great, I can get this girl to suck my cock as a payment’.”

“And did you?” You asked casually, blowing a bubble with the piece of gum into your mouth.

Billy was taken by surprise by your bluntness, before he narrowed his eyes at you. The question had no anger or judgment, just simple curiosity.

“No,” He grunted.

You grinned. “Liar.”

“I didn’t.”

“You definitely did. Maybe you didn’t actually decide you would do that, but it definitely crossed your mind that you could.”

He huffed. How the hell was he getting roasted by a little girl half his size and age?

“You don’t know what went through my head.”

You leaned back in your seat, chewing on your gum. “You men are so easy to figure out.”

“You’re acting mighty cocky for someone who just got picked up on the side of the road by a stranger- and in the middle of a desert no less.”

“Guess I have a sense of who’s good and who’s not.” You shrugged, putting your feet up onto the dashboard.

He shook his head, amused by the conversation. “Yeah? You reckon you’re a good judge of character, love?”

You nodded. “Definitely. I’m good at reading people.”

“Right, so…” Billy took a moment, figuring out a scenario. “Let’s say we get to a motel tonight and we do fuck. And then we go to sleep and you wake up the next morning and I’ve taken off. What does that say about your judgment?”

“It means my ego’s probably gonna be a little bruised but within twenty minutes I won’t care.” You saw him roll his eyes and immediately defended yourself. “I’m serious! Why would I spend time dwelling on it? I’d just think, ‘wow, what a dick’ and then figure out a new plan to get home.”

“Well, aren’t you just the optimist.” He glanced over you again. “So is that it? You’d just sit pretty for however long, hoping that every man that drives past your little pretty ass has nice intentions?”

“Don’t need to hope. If he has bad intentions, I have pepper spray and the ability to run in heels.”

[alettesletters]

COPYCAT - B. BUTCHER

any reader

Billy didn’t expect to ever be a father, let alone enjoy being one. He’d always assumed he’d be like his own — an abusive piece of dog shit.

Maybe if he’d had a boy he would have turned out that way, though you definitely didn’t believe that. But, no. You and him had a baby girl who was named Melanie after her late uncle Lenny.

Billy was happy. Content. He had a tiny little human that was all his, that loved him unconditionally. Seriously — Melanie was a huge daddy’s girl.

Now, at just over a year old, she sits on the floor of her nursery with some pink stacking cups, her father before her.

“Can you put them in order, baby? Where does the big one go?

Melanie giggled and organised her cups, getting two out of seven in the correct place which was enough for Billy to gasp and proclaim her as a genius.

Melanie grinned back at her father, her small hands clapping together as she laughed. Her laugh was beautiful, full of delight.

Billy beamed at the sound, picking her up off of the ground and holding her at eye level.

“You’re a bit of a smartarse aren’t you?” he mumbled, reaching forward and tapping her nose.

She giggled again, clapping her hands against his shoulder.

He lowered her to his lap, allowing Melanie to settle against him and lean back against his legs, playing with her stacking cups again. Billy watched her for a moment, unable to take his eyes off her. He could’ve watched her all day.

After a moment of silence between the father and daughter, he spoke up again.

“You’re the smartest girl in the world, right?” he murmured, running his fingers through her soft dark hair.

Melanie was both too young and too focused on her stacking cups to give any response to her father’s question.

Billy chuckled under his breath, taking her lack of answer as a yes. He leaned back against the side of the crib, resting his head against the edge.

After a little while, Melanie got bored of the cups. Instead, she chose to crawl over to her father and start tugging at his shirt.

He looked down at her and arched an eyebrow, “What you after, princess?”

Melanie just cooed in response before starting to properly climb up his legs. Not that Billy minded. He always found it funny when she used him as a human jungle gym.

Melanie was a determined little thing and managed to pull herself up to his lap, using his shoulders for support. Once she was settled atop his legs, she sat there happily and began to pat at his face.

Billy let her, smiling softly as she patted the sides of his face and touched her small fingers to his nose.

“You’re very handsy, huh?” he mumbled, bringing a hand up to tickle her stomach.

Melanie squealed with laughter, flinching away from his fingers that were attacking her stomach. Her reaction, of course, just encouraged him to keep doing it. He tickled her for a moment longer, revelling in the sound of her laughter.

After a while, he eventually stopped, instead resting his hands on her sides to keep her steady.

He brought one of her little hands up to press a kiss to her palm, causing Melanie’s laughter slowed to a stop, big doe eyes gazing at her father. There was a moment of silence between the two. Billy found himself unable to look away from his daughter, taking in her soft features. She was so small, so sweet. And she was his.

Melanie, after a moment, brought her free hand up to copy him, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek.

Billy’s heart swelled at the action, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.

He adored this girl more than anything. Loved her more than he could ever put into words.

He leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Melanie’s forehead, before pulling away and meeting her eyes again to see if she’d return the gesture again.

As soon as he leaned back, Melanie grizzled and leaned up quickly, puckering her little lips to press a kiss to his head.

Billy grinned and pressed another kiss to her cheek, followed by her other cheek, then her nose.

Then it became this. A new game of ‘keep-the-kisses-coming.’ No matter how fast Billy pressed kisses to her face, Melanie followed closely behind, trying to return the favour.

Soon enough, he’d brought her into the bedroom and was gently shaking you awake.

You groaned, peeling your eyes open and slowly rolling onto your back. Billy was stood above you, with a very happy looking Melanie sat on his hip. “What?” you croaked, propping yourself up on your elbows as you rubbed at your eyes.

“Melanie kissed me,” he murmured, as if those three words were the best news he’d ever heard.

You blinked at him, still half asleep.

“You woke me up for that?”

“Look at her,” he murmured again.

You let out a quiet sigh and looked to Melanie, who was watching you with bright eyes. She giggled and waved her chubby little hand at you.

You couldn’t help the small smile that spread across your lips at the sight of her. You lifted your hand and waved back. Melanie was a beautiful baby and never failed to get a reaction out of you.

Billy seemed very proud of himself as he walked further into the room, dropping down onto the bed and placing Melanie between the two of you. She immediately rolled onto her tummy, facing you.

“Okay, okay, now kiss her on her cheek.” Billy instructed.

You raised an eyebrow skeptically but leaned towards Melanie anyway, puckering your lips to press a kiss to her cheek. She giggled at the feeling, leaning up to kiss your own cheek.

“Again,” Billy murmured as he sat there watching, a large grin plastered across his face. “Somewhere else.”

You did as you were told, kissing her chin again. Another kiss was returned, this time on your own chin.

You couldn’t help the genuine smile that spread across your face. “You copying?”

The two of you took turns to kiss random parts of her face, and almost every time she’d mimic the kiss on your own skin.

Billy was loving this, and you couldn’t deny the little burst of happiness you received as your daughter copied your simple actions.

“God—“ You spoke between kisses. “Remember— when you— didn’t even— wanna have her?”

Billy paused where he was pressing kisses to Melanie’s forehead at your words, looking at you.

“I didn’t not want her,” he mumbled defensively.

You couldn’t help the quiet laugh that slipped through your lips. “You so did.”

He rolled his eyes, going back to his kisses.

“Shut up.” He grunted, kissing the corner of your own mouth which caused Melanie to hesitate.

There was a beat where it seemed she didn’t plan on doing anything, but then Melanie slowly leaned forward and pressed a sloppy open mouthed kiss to your mouth too.

You weren’t surprised, but a small squeak of amusement slipped out anyway.

You looked back down to Melanie, taking in her big brown eyes.

You could see her father in so many features. In the shape of her eyes, the curve of her nose, even the arch of her cupids bow. She had his mouth too, a constant pout on her lips.

You lifted your own hand to her chin, running your thumb over Melanie’s bottom lip.

“She’s got your pout.” You murmured. “Your grumpy face.”

Billy glanced back down at Melanie, watching your thumb as it traced over her lower lip. “Yeah,” he murmured. “She’s got my frown face too. That’s a nightmare.”

[alettesletters]

no thoughts at all- just this

[alettesletters]

CHARITY - C. SNOW

doc!reader

Of course you were aware of the big difference between you and Coriolanus. Your genes were built up of folk music and the smell of coal while his were built up of galas and three piece suits.

Your gazes shouldn’t have ever even met but he was the newly appointed President and so was obligated to go to each District and give a speech.

And that was when he reunited with you. The girl he’d mentored years ago.

Within a week, you were on talk shows in bedazzled, glorified versions of your woven frocks from home. Yours and Coriolanus’ faces were on the covers of magazines with headlines about the two of you rivalling Romeo and Juliet.

Your move was a little over a year ago and you didn’t mind your life in the land of riches. Coriolanus really did love you, he cherished you and protected you.

But the past month, you’d barely seen him due to work and ever since you’d gotten to the Capitol, people talked.

Comments were made and, yeah, a night of loving from the most powerful man in the country reassured you. But there were cracks in your demeanour.

One stupid night, your whole world caved in. You’d been out to dinner with your fiancé and another important couple, some senator and his wife.

The woman laughed and gestured to you. “Well, you’re certainly doing your part for charity, Mr Snow.”

Both the senator and your love laughed along. He laughed. He laughed. He laughed. He. Laughed.

Your ears were ringing for the rest of the night. When you got home, you sat quietly on the bed as he took off his suit jacket. You stared numbly at the floor, not hurriedly taking off your heels like usual.

Coriolanus sensed the shift in your demeanour the second he looked at you. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, rolling them up to his elbows as he observed you.

His hands were on his hips. “You’re quiet. Are you feeling unwell?”

You’d normally argue back, or give him a short snappy reply that was the standard in District 12.

Instead, just like at the restaurant, you remained quiet.

Coriolanus began to kneel in front of you. His hand lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze head on, those piercing blue eyes studying you intensely.

“There you are.” He spoke softly, his thumb beginning to rub your cheek gently.

Coriolanus observed your expression for a few more seconds before he spoke again. “Something’s wrong. Has something happened?”

You didn’t know how to get the words out, but they slipped from your tongue anyway.

”It’s nothing.” You muttered. Even then, you were still acting stubborn, refusing to let him in without a fight.

His gaze hardened slightly before he let out a small sigh. He stood up straight again, placing a hand on either side of you.

”Stop it with the stubborn act. Tell me. What happened?”

You bit your lip for a moment, staring at his tie, before you met his gaze. It took a few attempts to speak but you managed.

“You know the Senator’s wife? The one we were out with tonight?” You started soft before you expressed your anger. “She said you were with me out of charity. And you laughed.”

Coriolanus was surprised. For some reason, he’d expected the problem to be bigger, more catastrophic. He almost smirked, but he knew you well. You didn’t take comments like these lightly.

“She was joking, darling.”

“No, she wasn’t.” You shook your head, smiling sadly. “She wasn’t.”

Coriolanus was taken aback, his eyes narrowing slightly as he spoke lowly.

“Of course she was. Why would you think otherwise?”

You stood up fast, shrugging off his touch on your shoulders.

“Are you really that oblivious?” You asked, your voice raising. “You’re the President. You could be with anyone and you’re with me? A girl from the Districts with calloused hands and hair still sticky with coal dust. Everybody thinks you’re with me to create a union, a bond across the country!”

“I’ve told you that’s ludicrous.” His own voice was raised now, the usually so composed man becoming exasperated as his eyebrows furrowed. “I’m with you because I love you. They can think whatever they want-”

“It doesn’t matter if you’ve told me.” You let out a short, bitter laugh, throwing your heels across the room. “Every day I walk through this penthouse and I’m reminded it’s not my home!”

“But it is your home!”

“It’ll never be my home, Coriolanus!” You finally snapped, the argument fully breaking out. You turned to him, glaring. “It’s too fancy, too perfect, too ‘Capitol’.”

“And are you saying you’d rather be back in the Districts, freezing in a hut and starving?!” Coriolanus retaliated, moving closer. He was just as fired up. “And, sweet, you enjoy being here! You get a little sparkle in your eye whenever the stylists try a new hairstyle on you, you love the heated blanket we have — you don’t get those things in the Districts!”

“Maybe I would be happier back home!” You exclaimed, your cheeks reddening now as your voice became sharper, more heated. “At least there people wouldn’t whisper ‘charity girl’ as I walk by! At least they wouldn’t grimace before shaking my hand!”

“Wouldn’t they?” Coriolanus was getting more fired up by the second. “Because I’m sure there’s many in Twelve who wouldn’t hesitate to throw you out on your ass because you’re mine.”

Your expression faltered in the slightest, and Coriolanus caught it. He spoke a little softer this time, but it wasn’t any less harsh.

“Don’t forget, darling. The Districts don’t want someone who’s been with the Capitol, the ‘enemy,’” he made air quotes with his fingers. “They’d tear you to shreds if you went back.”

You stared at him for a few seconds, the fight draining from you. That was something you’d thought about but hearing it from him hurt in a different way.

You exhaled slowly before you sat back on the bed, bringing your knees to your chest resting your forehead on your knees.

Coriolanus knelt in front of you, his hands sliding on your legs. He lifted your head in his hands gently, observing you.

He could have easily stayed stern, let you suffer for your words, but his heart ached to see you so dejected.

You obeyed, locking gazes with the man knelt before you. He softened at the sight — your eyes were glassy, full of unshed tears.

He sighed softly, rubbing your knees gently. “You’re a smart girl, darling. You knew the moment you left the Districts that you couldn’t go back.”

Coriolanus’ hands moved up a little, rubbing higher on your thighs. “And I don’t say that to hurt you. I just want to remind you, love, you’ve left that life behind. You’re here with me now.”

You sniffed, forcing back tears. Some of the pain melted away with each soothing touch from your fiancé, his fingers sliding up your inner thighs.

You knew he was right, deep down, but admitting it was another thing entirely. “I still feel.. out of place. So beneath everybody here.”

“Why? My love, you’re a victor.”

Coriolanus moved onto the bed so he was beside you, taking you in his arms.

He pulled you into his chest, pressing a gentle kiss to your hairline. His hand moved to your hair, scratching gently against your scalp.

“They know exactly who you are, my darling.” He told you softly. “And they may whisper, sweetheart, but you hold your head high. You’re marrying the President.”

You huffed a laugh. The soothing effect of his hands in your hair, combined with his words, finally started to calm you.

You leaned into him, your body relaxing against his own. Coriolanus had a magical way of making you fold. That was the power he had over you.

[alettesletters]

grumpy old man 💔

Used a photo of my cat for butch inspooo

[alettesletters]

AFTERPARTY - B. BUTCHER

mary jane!reader

You’d been out with some girl friends which meant your husband, Billy, was your chauffeur.

He’d picked you up from the club and dropped your friends off at their respective homes before getting you home.

He carried you through the doorway as you giggled, completely deadweight in his arms as you chewed on a bit of red liquorice you’d bought on the way home.

“How’s the baby?” You asked bubble-ily, referring to yours and his puppy, Terror.

“He’s fine, love.” Billy muttered softly as he laid you down on the bed, making your legs hang off the edge so he could take your heels off for you. “I put a bottle of water in the freezer for your headache.”

“I don’t have a headache!” You drunkenly protested. “I am excellent at handling my liquor.”

“You just keep on telling yourself that while you suck on your liquorice.”

He sat next to you, taking your heels off for you before dropping them to the floor beside the bed. He laid a hand on the back of your leg, his thumb tracing your skin gently as he looked down at you. “C’mon. Roll over.”

You groaned, rolling over obediently onto your stomach with the bit of liquorice still hanging from your mouth. And, with that, Billy went to work on your back, hands finding their way to the top of your dress and gently unzipping it.

He was just pulling a pair of his boxers up your legs when you suddenly paled. “You—“

“Oh, God no—“ You groaned, quickly slipping from the bed and stumbling to the en suite, where you quickly threw up into the toilet.

Billy followed quickly and knelt beside you, rubbing your back in comfort as you emptied the contents of your stomach into the bowl.

“Never drink again, my love.” He instructed softly as your overwhelmed state caused tears in your eyes. He took a washcloth and wet it before cleaning the sick from around your mouth.

Once you finished and you’d spat into the toilet water, Billy flushed. He wet the washcloth again and used it to cool the back of your neck as you knelt by the cold porcelain.

He gently lifted you away from the cool relief of the porcelain. “Up you get.” He said softly, standing you up slowly before putting your arms around his shoulders. A hand went to the back of your thighs and he hauled you off the floor and into his arms, carrying you from the bathroom back to the bed.

You were a tired mess by the time he got you on the bed, curled up against him and looking like a lost soul. He rubbed your back as he leaned against the headboard, your bare back against his chest.

“Can I have that water?” You mumbled pitifully.

“You can.” He nodded, feeling your forehead’s temperature before getting up and making sure you were comfy. “But you have to sip it. Not gulps.”

Billy quickly went to the kitchen, retrieving the bottle of water and bringing it back into the bedroom.

He shook his head amusedly at the sight of Terror cuddling up in your lap. “I thought we weren’t letting him on the bed.”

“He’s being an angel.” You defended your actions of cuddling the puppy in your arms, feeling your eyes droop as you began to drift off to sleep.

“He always is an angel to you.” Billy said affectionately with a roll of his eyes. He sat beside you on the bed, pulling you against him so your head rested gently on his chest as you sipped your cold water.

“Do you know that I love you?” You asked softly after a while, the sound muffled against his chest and your eyes shut against the pain of your headache.

Billy smirked, running his hands through your hair as he held you close to him. “Yeah, I know.” He said softly, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “I love you too.”

Despite your drunken haze and tired state, you snuggled closer to him, inhaling his familiar scent that was still vaguely tainted with the smell of cigarettes. “And I’m sorry you had to pick us up from the club.”

He ran his hand up and down your back in a soothing motion, holding onto you tightly. “I don’t mind.” He murmured, not mentioning how he hated that you’d even gone to the club in the first place — he worried. “I’d rather pick you up than you be drunk in an Uber.”

“You’re so good to me.” You mumbled against his shirt, tiredly cuddling into him as his heart warmed.

You had a talent for making him feel incredibly sappy. You’d had it from the day he met you.

[alettesletters]

ORGANISED - C. KENT

boot!reader

Clark. The love of your life. The disorganised, clumsy, messy love of your life.

You. The love of his life. The borderline OCD, organised messiah of his life.

You walked into the apartment most nights, seeing things in a little bit of a state, the bed never made if Clark had been the only one home. You would get your clothes for the next day ready before going to sleep while your boyfriend would even forget to brush his teeth.

This particular night, though, you entered the apartment to find Clark sat on the couch, in the middle of a spotless home.

“Clark!” You squealed, running over and throwing yourself at him. “You cleaned!”

He grinned as you squeezed him tight.

Your perfectionist tendencies were a pain in the ass to everyone around you but instead of being awful to you like a lot of others, he considered how it felt to suffer from it first hand.

Clark chuckled and wrapped his arms around you, hugging you back tightly.

"Thought I would try and be a little bit more organised," he admitted, grinning.

He was the most organised he'd ever been. Every book in correct alphabetical order, clothes put away, the floor hoovered, the washing up done...

There was even a bouquet of your favourite flowers on the table.

"I even cleaned underneath the couch," he said, rubbing your back soothingly. "There was no dirt left for me to sweep up."

He pulled away from you and looked directly into your eyes, a soft smile on his face. "I know you've been stressed lately, and I wanted to make sure you didn't have to worry about anything tonight."

You could feel your heart melting. He had no idea how much this meant to you, he was trying so hard and you loved him so much.

You leaned in and kissed him tenderly, hands grabbing onto his biceps.

He kissed you back, arms sliding around your waist. This wasn't just any kiss, it was a kiss filled with love and appreciation. His lips moved fervently against yours, his fingers tracing patterns on your hips.

Pulling away from you, he nuzzled his face against your neck, kissing you there softly. "I did something else as well..." he said, his breath warm against your skin.

You raised an eyebrow in surprise, intrigued by what else he had done. "What did you do?"

Clark took your hand in his and gently led you into the bedroom. When you stepped inside, you could’ve dropped dead. There were candles everywhere, their warm glow illuminating the room and casting romantic shadows on the walls. Your bed was made, with fresh sheets and a new comforter perfectly placed on top. On the bedside table was a box of your favourite chocolates.

"Oh, Clark..." You breathed, completely in awe of the scene in front of you. It was so beautiful, so romantic. “Clark, baby, you didn’t have to do this.”

Clark, ignoring the last comment, wrapped his arms around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. "Do you like it?" he asked, his voice filled with hope.

You turned around in his arms, reaching up to place your hands on his chest. "I love it," you said, looking up at him with adoration. "It's perfect."

He smiled, happiness radiating from every inch of him. Then, he took your hand and led you to the bed. As you sat down on the edge, he kneeled in front of you, taking both of your hands in his.

"I know how much you struggle with your… problem..." he began, his tone sincere. "And I know it causes you a lot of stress and anxiety. But I also know how hard you work to manage it, and I wanted to show you how much I appreciate that."

He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to each knuckle.

"I wanted to show you that I'll always be here for you, no matter how messy things get or how stressed out you are." he continued. "And I wanted to create a space that's safe and comfortable for you — a place where you don't have to worry about anything."

His gaze never wavered from yours as he spoke, his eyes filled with love and understanding.

You could feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. His words were so sweet, so thoughtful. He knew exactly how to make you feel loved and cared for, and you couldn't have been more grateful.

You let out a shaking breath, trying to keep your emotions in check. "I don't deserve you," you whispered, your voice wavering. You cupped his face in your hands and pressed kisses all over his face. “You’re so good. You’re *good*. You’re so good, Clark.”

Clark grinned and pulled you onto his lap, holding you tightly against him. "You deserve everything," he said, his grip on you firm yet gentle. "You deserve happiness, you deserve love, you deserve peace of mind."He ran his fingers through your hair, his touch sending chills down your spine. “And… I want to be the one who gives all of those things to you.”

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. "Oh my God, you are getting so lucky tonight.” You murmured amusedly, your lips brushing against his skin. "So fucking lucky.”

His chest rumbled with laughter as he gently pulled your heel off of your foot. "Yeah? Maybe I should clean more often.”

[alettesletters]

CARE - B. BUTCHER

PT. 2

stiletto!reader

Obviously you and Butcher were attracted to one another. Very much so. But there were restrictions and rules at the club which helped to reinforce that metaphorical line.

But after your very clear display of genuine care for his wellbeing, a switch flipped. In what felt like a blink, you were on his couch, wearing his stupid Hawaiin shirt and so close to coming.

You were riding his lap in the middle of his living room, his shirt unbuttoned as you wore it. He was sitting on the couch, hands on your hips as he guided you up and down his thick length.

Your head was thrown back, moans escaping past your bitten lips. He was big — not the biggest you’d ever had, but still had a significant size and fuck if he didn’t know how to use it.

“Fuck!” You whined, head thrown back.

One of his hands left your hip to curl around the back of your neck, bringing you forward harshly so you were practically leaning on his chest. His mouth found your neck, trailing open mouthed kisses up the column. “You like that, sweetheart?” He murmured between kisses.

You were unable to form any words so you just continued to mewl.

He used the grip he had on your neck to push your head down and into the crook of his neck, his hot breaths fanning against your ear.

His other hand moved up to your ass to get a better grip on you. He started to bounce you faster on his cock, making you let out louder moans against his neck.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? You needed this.” He hissed huskily in your ear, making you shiver before retorting.

“Like you didn’t need it just as bad.”

“Tsk. Mouthy brat.” He sneered before he spanked you, the impact being enhanced by the fact that you were riding him at a fairly fast pace.

You gasped, tightening your nails into his shoulders at the action.

He hissed. “Easy, love. Don’t need you drawing blood.”

Later on, he had an arm looped behind you to keep you pressed against him while you took a drag of his cigarette.

“So...” You exhaled the smoke. “Why did you get yourself messed up tonight?”

He had his arms behind his head, eyes closed and expression blank as usual. “Don’t want to talk about it.”

You rolled your eyes, taking another drag. You were still sitting on his lap, now only in his boxers.

You leaned your head against his chest, feeling the soft chest hair. “You’re so annoying sometimes.” You muttered. “Next time you come in bruised, I’m not giving you a lap dance.”

This actually made him laugh, which was rare for him. You looked up at him in surprise. He opened his eyes, looking down at you with a small smirk on his face. “You wouldn’t.”

You raised an eyebrow, sitting up and crossing your arms. “Oh, really?”

“You like me too much for that.” He murmured lowly.

“I can leave right now.” You challenged, shifting off of his lap to stand.

You didn’t get far before his hands darted out to grab your upper arms to keep you in place. You glared down at him as he let out another hoarse laugh.

“Try it.” He dared, pulling you back into his lap.

You grumbled, making yourself comfortable on his lap despite being still miffed.

His hands moved from your arms to wrap around your waist, sliding under the material of the dress shirt you’d stolen from him. The contact of his heated hands against your skin made you shiver in response.

He must’ve noticed because you could feel him smirk again as he rested his chin on your shoulder. Bastard.

“Still mad at me?” He murmured against your ear, his hands stroking your bare thighs.

“I’m not mad, I’m worried.”

You heard him scoff at your words. “I don’t need you worrying ‘bout me.” He murmured as his hands slid higher up your thighs.

His fingertips were reaching dangerous territory, which you could tell was by accident judging by how he stopped when you shifted in his lap.

“Yeah, well I do.” You mumbled, staring at a wall.

His hands moved lower down your legs, now resting just beneath your ass.

He uttered your name softly and you raised an eyebrow at him, turning to face him despite it being at a very awkward angle.

His hands were still under the hem of the dress shirt as your eyes met his. You saw the intensity in them, felt the seriousness in the atmosphere. His hands moved up to grip your hips tightly as he leaned forward to be in close proximity, noses almost touching. “You’re too good for me, love.” He murmured quietly.

Your eyebrows furrowed at his words. You knew it was very unlike him to give you a serious conversation like this — especially not while not wearing pants.

You reached up to grip his shoulders. “What is it with you and self deprecation, anyway?” You asked quietly, trying to distract from how your heart rate picked up at the proximity.

He seemed to be having the same issue, but instead of giving you a response he closed the distance between you fully and slammed his mouth onto yours.

You gasped against his mouth in surprise, not expecting the suddenness of it. He took advantage of this by forcing his tongue inside your mouth, making you moan.

His hands gripped your waist tighter, practically crushing you against his chest. He forced your head to the side by your jaw to allow him access to your neck. He wasted no time in leaving kisses and little bites on the bare skin, making you shiver.

God, this man was intense.

“You are not getting out of this conversation with sex.” You scolded even while your hips gyrated up.

“Not a clue what you’re on about, love.”

[alettesletters]

MORNING ROUTINE - C. KENT

boot!reader

You yelped as you felt your boyfriend, Clark, slap your ass from his place on the bed as you bent down to pick up your hair straighteners.

You turned around and whacked his leg but he only giggled like a child, face smushed against the pillow.

You were a very organised person. Your morning routine was simple: wake up, get up and have tea or coffee, put rollers in your hair, do makeup, get dressed and get to work for 8:30.

Clark’s was even simpler: wake up, watch both TV and you getting ready, get up and dressed and be at work for 9:00.

“You look funny.” Clark commented on your hair in rollers before pulling the duvet back and patting the spot by him. “Come back to bed, baby.”

“No, I have to get ready.” You muttered, twirling the next strand of hair around the pink roller before sipping your tea.

“You have two hours. You get to work half an hour early every single day. Come lay with me.”

Clark didn’t understand why you insisted on looking nice for work every single day. You were a reporter for the Daily Planet, not a model. Either way, he didn’t protest. He actually loved you getting dressed up, especially the part where you undressed.

Well, he kind of protested.

He groaned again, this time sitting up and running his fingers through his messy black hair, giving himself bedhead. He was shirtless and covered in the duvet up to his waist, his abs on display as he stared you down.

“Don’t the rollers curl hair?”

“Yeah, they do.” You nodded, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

“So why do you have a straightener?”

“I use straighteners to curl my hair. You have to curl the hair first with heat and then roll it.” You explained as you stood up, having finished putting in the final roller necessary.

After finishing your makeup, you moved onto your clothes and turned to your boyfriend.

“Okay. Skirt or pants?”

“Skirt.” Clark sat up fully and took a sip of your tea. Recently, you’d started asking what he thought about things and went with his opinion. You hadn’t outrightly said it but it was clear you were trying to ease yourself out of your subconscious strict schedule.

“Really?” Your eyes widened as you turned around in your bra and panties, holding up a pair of pants and a black pencil skirt.

Clark nodded nonchalantly. “Skirt. With your red shirt, tights and the black boots.”

You gasped and grinned. “Baby! You’ve got great fashion sense!”

Clark chuckled, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. All those times I’ve watched you dress have paid off.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and pulled the skirt on above your tights.

Clark bit his lip and whistled as he looked at you, making you laugh. “Pervert.”

“I’m an admirer.” He corrected in a low mutter, taking your hands and pulling you to stand between his legs. “You need to relax more in the mornings. You’re perfect.”

“I’m trying to break old habits.” You ran your fingers through his hair, ruffling it up more and smoothing it back down again, earning a groan from Clark. “It’s hard for me.”

“I know.” He pulled you closer so that your legs were straddling either side of him, his hands on either side of your thighs. He looked up at you from under his dark eyelashes. “You’re doing so well though, I’m proud of you.”

“Really?”

You cupped his cheeks and caressed his sharp jawline with your thumbs, feeling the soft stubble growing there.

Clark smiled, looking up at you with a gaze so sweet you could’ve melted. You kissed his forehead, the bridge of his nose, cheeks and the tip of his chin. Everywhere on the road to his mouth.

[alettesletters]

HE’S HOME - C. KENT

boot!reader

It was past three in the morning when Clark finally got home from Superhero-ing.

You were laying asleep on the couch, book just barely still in your grasp, lamp still on with Krypto resting his furry chin on your legs.

Clark clicked his tongue, signalling the dog to move, as he took your book from your hand, bookmarking it and putting it on the coffee table. He then reached behind him and took his cape off, gently laying it over you.

“Hi, baby.” He muttered despite you being asleep as he tucked his cape around you.

He couldn't help himself. He took a moment to just admire the sight of you. The rise and fall of your chest. The soft puff of air leaving your mouth as you breathed.

Clark brushed his thumb across your chin lightly, just barely touching your skin. But the second he did so, he stopped, cursing himself.

“No. You're asleep.” He muttered under his breath as he forced himself to remove his hand.

His gaze moved to the coffee table, taking in the sight of the mug that held your now cold tea mug. It was sitting right next to the lamp that you had left on for him.

He knew he should let you rest, you needed it. You'd probably be irritated if you knew he was trying to wake you. But Clark couldn't help but want to look at your face. He wanted to tell you he was home.

He crouched down beside the couch, gently pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Baby.” He repeated, his voice soft yet still firm enough to try and jostle you awake.

His efforts were only rewarded with a soft grunt as you shifted position, mumbling something under your breath, but staying asleep nonetheless.

Clark chuckled, amused by your stubbornness even in your rest.

He tried to brush another strand of your hair away, but was stopped this time as his hand got stuck between you and the couch.

He let out a quiet huff of exasperation, but still smiling as he tried to work his hand free.

But, the more he tried to pull his hand back, the more you pushed it into the couch. He knew you were a cuddler, but this was just ridiculous.

He tried to gently tug his hand away, but that only resulted in a low grumble, the signal of you finally waking up.

He lowered his head so it could be level with yours. “There she is.”

You sleepily opened your eyes, blinking a few times before they landed on him. You were still tired, but a small smile formed on your face as you let out a soft hum.

“You're home.” You mumbled softly, your voice still laced with sleep.

He returned the smile, his eyes soft and full of love as he watched you.

“Yeah, I'm home.” He responded, the hand that was still stuck in the couch reaching up to brush his thumb across your cheek. “And you’re not in bed.”

You let out a tired huff, tilting your head towards his touch, wanting more of it.

“I was waiting for you.” You mumbled, your eyes already threatening to close again.

“I can see that.” He replied cheekily, his hand now tracing up to your hair so he could continue to tuck it behind your ear. “You have work early, though.”

“Mm. Are you okay? Are you safe?”

“I’m perfectly fine. C’mon.” He murmured as he kissed your head and gently lifted you. “I’ll put you in bed then I’ll change.”

You allowed him to pick you up, cuddling into his embrace as he carried you to your shared bedroom.

You hummed under your breath as he laid you down in the bed, your eyes half open as you watched him walk to the wardrobe and start to strip out of his suit.

Clark tried to be quick with getting changed, but he couldn’t help his eyes from darting over to you in the bed as he did.

You were fighting to keep your eyes open, your gaze heavy on him.

He chuckled to himself as he finished up changing, walking to his side of the bed, and getting under the covers.

As soon as he was settled, you immediately turned over, cuddling into his chest and mumbling something barely comprehensible.

Clark wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I’m home.” He repeated again, a last reassurance before you fell back asleep.