Vanilla not does not mean boring or bad. Sex can just be sex. Some of y’all are just too porn-brained to realize that.
Not every smut fic needs to turn into the movie Hostel (2005) or a WWE smackdown. Please tell me why the majority of tags for men like Clark Kent, Steve Rogers, and Spencer Reid have them acting like some dom!daddy or that dude from Haunting Adeline.
At this point y’all are just writing OCs and slapping the name of already established character on it.
It’s your first year as an elementary school teacher, and you feel you don’t have enough holiday spirit for your class. Clark hears this and comes up with his own way to help you out.
Warnings/Tags: Fluff, fluff, and more fluff! They're both hopelessly in love, teacher!reader, reader overthinks, supportive Clark, pet names (Sweetie, Honey, Love), just Clark being the best husband he can be </3, Abbot Elementary mention
W/C: 2.3K
Notes: I wanted to make a Christmas story and was binging Abbott Elementary, so I combined the two AO3 link
Paper scraps of various colors are scattered across the living room floor. Paper cut-outs of snowflakes, snowmen, and winter gear are piled high around you. Your laptop is open to a Pinterest board titled “Craft ideas for 1st graders,” almost taunting you.
Clark can’t help but feel bad for you in your hunched-over, visibly overwhelmed self. “I can work on the gingerbread men if you want?”
As gently as someone of his stature can, he plops down next to you. He ignores the glitter that most definitely has infected his pants. You look up and take a deep breath before turning towards him and holding his cheek. “I’d love to let you, but that’s not exactly the problem.”
He turns his head slightly, and you continue. “It’s just…since it’s my first year with my first class, I want to do something big to celebrate them, but…I’ve got nothing.”
You sink down into the rug more and push your laptop away with your foot. “I know they’re going to love these, but should I get them like gift bags? We’re already watching a movie, and I have hot cocoa for them, but will they like that? They didn’t teach this to me, and what if-”
Clark cuts you off, smiling fondly at you, “Sweetie, six year-olds think it’s cool when a dog is a different color. They’ll absolutely love whatever it is you bring them.”
He holds your face the way you were holding his. You smile and lightly snuggle into his hand. He brings you in for a soft and quick kiss.
Clark picks up a snowflake from the cut-out pile and holds it up, “Besides, I would personally love to put googly eyes on a snowflake.” This gets you to finally laugh, and he stares at you with all the love in his heart.
You heave out a sigh and begin to pick up the mess around you. Clark helps out. “You’re right, I shouldn’t care too much about what a bunch of six year-olds have to say.”
A genuine laugh comes out of Clark, and the two of you sit there laughing at the absurdity of caring about a bunch of first-graders ’ opinions.
The moonlight illuminates the room as your brain refuses to fall asleep. It’s not that you don’t want to disappoint 20 six year-olds, but you don’t want to disappoint others. You’ve already made some rookie mistakes this year, and already have the experienced teachers looking at you sideways.
“Honey, it’s going to be fine.” You turn over to see Clark with his eyes closed, but clearly aware of your hyper-awake status. He wraps his arms around you from behind and tucks his head into your neck.
He sleepily mumbles out, “You know who you remind me of?” You hum in a questioning tone. He snuggles closer, “That girl from the school show you watch.”
You ask in a low tone, “Janine?” Clarks hums, “Yeah, that’s the one. She’s always so nervous, but it always works out in the end.”
You sigh, and he continues, “I know it’s not about the kids, but…” He trails off for a second, “You’re learning, and that’s fine. Now go to sleep ‘cause you can’t learn while tired.”
You breathe out a laugh, “Thanks, Mr. Kent.” He smiles into your neck, “No problem, Mrs. Kent.”
Quiet giggles flow out of both of you as your mind calms down enough to let you go to sleep.
Clark stands at the stove, dressed in only a (too-tight) short-sleeve shirt and Christmas pajama pants he’s had since high school. He’s humming a random tune and subtly dancing to it.
He notices you speed walk into the kitchen and turns to see your arms hoisting bags full of every Christmas activity Pinterest recommended. He shakes his head fondly and walks over to you.
It seems the bags float out of your arms with the ease with which he grabs them from you. “Are you sure you included every activity?” You snap your head at him as he laughs at his own quip.
“Not funny, Kent.” He continues smiling and kisses your cheek a little too cheerfully. He walks back to the stove to plate the festive pancakes he made for both of you. He places them on the table and guides you to sit.
He sits next to you and stares at you as if he wants to say something, but is holding himself back. You notice this, “Spit it out.” He shrugs, “It’s nothing.”
A deadpan look is evident on your face, which causes him to smirk harder. He shoves a forkful of pancakes into his mouth. “I’m being honest, it’s nothing. Jimmy just pitched a funny story, and I thought of it.”
You squint your eyes at him, but let him off the hook. You poke and prod at your pancakes as you go over your internal checklist.
Paper… check.
Glitter… check.
Tape to pick up the glitter… check.
Hot cocoa packets… check.
“I don’t get paid enough for this,” you say out loud. Clark breathes out a laugh, “I don’t think either of us gets paid enough for what we do.”
You smile and go to wash off your plate. When you come back to the dining room, Clark is standing there, your coat open, and him smiling like a dork. “So, I have your school bag, personal bag, purse, wallet, and water bottle. Not to mention the Christmas things. ”
You grab the bags from him, “Oh, what would I do without you, my wonderful and weird husband?”
He smiles and leans in to give you a slow and cheery kiss. “I think you would do just fine.” The two of you laugh, and he helps you out to place everything in the car.
“No, no! The glitter goes on the gingerbread man, not your hair!”
“Yes, Santa is real, please don’t listen to Lily.”
It was going…about as good as you expected.
Thankfully, the kids absolutely loved the activities you had. They all fawned over the homemade ornaments and loved making “hot” cocoa (really just regular chocolate powder in cold milk).
However, as the day went on, you could see them all getting bored and uninterested in the activities. Surprisingly, using candy canes for the math work wasn’t as big a hit as you had thought.
While they were at recess, Clark texted you to see how it’s going:
Smalls: Are they loving it? I bet they are! 😀
You breathe out an amused sigh.
Oh, Clark and his never-changing positivity.
They are, but I think they’re losing the initial fascination :/
Smalls: It won’t last long! I promise! They love you too much!
You shake your head and turn your attention back to your class. They all seem to have so much energy now, so maybe Clark is right.
Hopefully.
When you made it back to the class, the kid’s energy had perked back up, thankfully. However, you can’t help but shake the feeling that it hasn’t reached that peak yet.
So you take out your secret weapon.
The Polar Express.
Accompanied by blankets lovingly made by Ma Kent and actual hot cocoa. With possibly one too many marshmallows and too much whipped cream.
It was a hit.
The uncanny animation didn’t bother the kids, and they all cheered during the hot chocolate scene. It felt like you were in a real Christmas movie.
At about the halfway point of the movie, the class phone rings and interrupts the somewhat calm atmosphere.
All of their eyes turn to you, and you press your finger to your lips to signal them to stay quiet. Some giggles make it out, though.
“Room 1-C, it’s Mrs. Kent speaking, is something the matter?” You ask genuinely because why would your class phone be ringing now?
“Hi, Mrs Kent! Nothing’s wrong, but it seems we have a guest here to see you.” Your face acts against your will and shifts into one of confusion.
A few kids who overheard it looked around to see if the other kids had any theories.
You subtly turn your chair back and forth, “Oh! Uh- Okay? Is it a parent here for early pick-up?”
The receptionist just giggles, and you can hear a low voice in the background, but can’t quite make out what is said. “Oh no, nothing like that! It’s just…oh! It’s a surprise!”
“Well, I guess send them over? Thank you!” You hang up the phone, and the confusion is evident on your face. The class erupts into question on top of question, and you do your best to try and answer them all.
“Who’s here?!”
“Was that my mommy?”
“What’s a surprise?”
In the midst of their questioning, a knock is heard from the door. The class immediately goes silent as you walk over to the door.
Before you can even open the door, through the long and thin window, you see it.
Of course.
You knew there was a reason Clark was so giddy that morning.
You smirk and turn to address the class before opening the door. “Okay, everybody, we have a very special guest. We’re all going to have to be on our very best behavior? Can we do that?”
The class nods, and kids exclaim out loud about how good of a listener they are. You slowly open the door, and before he can enter the room, the kids begin screaming.
“OH MY GOSH!”
“Superman! That’s Superman!”
“He looks like my Superman toy!”
Without being able to show much, the two of you lock eyes and smile. A silent way of saying “thank you.”
He doesn’t waste a single moment. Clark immediately begins lifting multiple kids at once with ease. He answers all the questions he can and redirects the ones he can’t.
“Can you fly in here?” I don’t think Mrs. K would like that very much.
“Are you real?” I believe so!
“Do you like dogs?” I love all animals! Though my cousin’s dog does get on my nerves a little bit.
One kid asks in a giggly tone, “Are you and Misses K dating?” The class erupts into laughter and squeals at that. You try to suppress your own laughter and look towards Clark, whose face has a slight pink flush to it.
Clark clears his throat, “No, me and your wonderful teacher aren’t dating. Though her husband and I are very good friends.”
The class gasps and turns towards you. You just shrug, and they bombard both of you with more questions than you thought were possible to ask.
Clark– Superman sits on the class rug, some kids place their heads on his legs, and others stand on their tippy toes to look at the book over his shoulder. He reads as if it’s a Shakespeare play and puts all of his effort into the voices.
One little girl plays with a curl in Clark’s hair, and a group of kids compare their muscles with one another. They’re trying to see which one can win an arm wrestle with Superman.
You sit in the corner of the room at your desk and admire the scene.
You can’t help but let your imagination run wild.
You imagine Clark in a situation similar to this one: him on the floor, a picture book in hand, and your kid’s entire world being focused on Clark. He re-reads their favorite scenes and overacts out the humorous moments.
The students fawn over him, but the questions have now ended. All that’s left is admiration for the hero in front of them.
The TV is the only thing illuminating the otherwise dark living room. You’re asleep on the couch, not bothering to take off the ugly sweater you wore to school that day.
Clark tries to quietly and subtly enter through the balcony, but you sense his presence either way. You wake up and groggily call out, “Clark?”
He kneels down next to you on the couch and caresses your face. He speaks ina hushed tone, “I’m here. Sorry that it’s so late, that freakin’ monster thing wouldn’t go down. It was regrowing limbs!”
You giggle at his tone. He smiles and continues caressing your face. You speak up in a similar hushed tone, “Y’know, one of your close friends came by today.”
He raises his brow and plays along, “Oh really? Was it Mr. Terrific? Don’t tell me it was Guy.”
You laugh at this, “No, it was worse. It was the super guy.” He joins in on your laughter. You sit up, and he sits down next to you and drapes your legs over his.
“That was really incredible of you to do. I knew you were up to something.” Clark laughs, and turns to look at you. His smile reaches his eyes and softly kisses your temple.
“It was hard to keep in, I wanted to tell you last night, but I had to reel myself in.” You breathe out a laugh, “Don’t worry, I can always tell when you’re hiding something.”
The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, Clark still dressed in his uniform. Before you can fall asleep, Clark whispers into your hair.
“I love you, Mrs. Kent. I’ll go to the moon and back for you”
You whisper back.
“I love you too, Mr. Kent. I’ll go to the Daily Planet and back for you.”
Clark laughs and picks you up to bring you both to your bedroom.
Remind me again WHY we are writing about Incest. Why am I seeing older brother!character x reader? I don’t care what people gotta say about “not judging what I’m writing” but writing family going at it with each other is BEYOND disgusting it’s just gross thinking people genuinely enjoy reading that. Please fix yourself and ur mindset if u thinking writing about incest is just a normal thing to do. Sorry It just disgust me how I have to take a breather when I come across an incest post on a character I’m reading about.
am i the only one who hates the older!mature era!michael x younger!reader? that’s just straight up weird to me? why can’t they be the same age? do women really lose their attractiveness and beauty in their 40s? all of this is society,patriarchy and misogyny’s fault /srs
I personally dont necessarily have a huge problem with younger! reader but I do have a problem with how a majority write it. Yall be making her barely of age or very huge gap like a couple of DECADES ( 24 reader with 40 year old michael).
It gives comes off ad weird and predatory, especially when y'all make her come off as very "childish " or " bratty" while making him acts like her " daddy" or "caretaker". It feels creepy and frankly, disrespectful to him and his memory. He had to deal with such horrific allegations being placed on him that was about children being SA by him. ( although proven innocent multiple times )
Imagining him as a man who in a relationship with a Barely Legal girl who acts like a little girl is so fucking gross and he would definitely be a offended for having such things written about him.
It seems like y'all don't even actually give a fuck about being even a LITTLE accurate about his character and who he is as a person. Instead, you just want to put a new face on the the generic " daddy Dom tumblr character " who supposed to fuck reader like an animal and baby her like he is her dad.
I'm not saying I know who Michael Jackson personally but there's no evidence or good reason to write him like that. Honestly people like this need to just be honest with themselves and just be upfront you have a creepy DDLG kink and stop writing real life people in such a Gross Way.
I have many problems with DDLG because it comes off as predatory sexualizing somebody who's supposed to act like a little girl and you as their father. ( now you know it not the same with victims of abuse who agresses to cope and doesn't use it as a way of sexualize themselves while acting like children)
I don't mind people writing Michael Jackson, i love it even but y'all need to be at least respectful and try to be SOMEWHAT accurate. This doesn't just go for Michael Jackson, it goes for many other people and characters.
And before I get arguments in this comment section, Imma say this. Make sure to read twice before saying some dumb shit and trying to misinterpret what I said and trying to act like a victim. Also, if this doesn't apply to you then there's no reason to get offended.😃
am i the only one who hates the older!mature era!michael x younger!reader? that’s just straight up weird to me? why can’t they be the same age? do women really lose their attractiveness and beauty in their 40s? all of this is society,patriarchy and misogyny’s fault /srs
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