#The Inbetweeners One Shot

[petrichoraline]

belt move: success WE ARE EP.4

[hay-389]

A little snippet of something I’m working on. It’s mainly supposed to be from Morgan’s POV, but there will be a little of Tony’s, Pepper’s, and Peter’s added in the full story.

So, at the end of the school day, roughly around 12:00 pm, she sat coloring at a table waiting to be picked up. It was a Friday which meant her dad would be getting her. Usually Uncle Happy and her dad rotated shifts and on occasion when her mommy didn’t have any work she would show up and surprise her. Morgan knew the schedule like the back of her hand so she wasn’t surprised when her dad strolled into the classroom like clockwork wearing his usual pair of black shades and baseball cap.

“Daddy!”

“Hey there Morgana, ready to make a prison break?” He knelt down to her level, eyeing the picture she had all her focus on before he interrupted.

“Whatcha got there, kiddo?”

Tony picked it up off the table and held the slightly crinkled paper up to the light to get a better look.

“That’s you daddy,” Morgan informed him, slightly rolling her eyes and huffing because it was obviously him dressed up as Iron Man. She used the perfect shade of red and yellow to color his suit in. How could he not tell?

“Right, of course, that’s me. And I’m totally kicking those guy’s butts because they’re the super villains hell bent on ruining the day.”

Geez, did she have to explain everything to him?

“No daddy, you aren’t fighting them, you’re flying away.”

“Now why would I fly away from them when I have perfectly good repulsors on my hands that can blast them into next Sunday? Hmm.”

“Because, those are the bad people who took you away. That’s you escaping them.”

For just a moment Morgan watched as the wide grin across her father’s face fell into a grim expression. It didn’t last very long, just a few seconds, but she knew she saw it because it was very similar to the one he sometimes wore when telling her stories about her dead brother.

“Who told you that, Morgan?”

“Ethan.”

“Well,” her father spoke, exchanging his rather sad look for a smile. Morgan thought it looked kind of fake. “I think Ethan is too nosey for his own good. Let’s get out of here.”

Her father didn’t say anything else, instead grabbing her book bag and lunchbox from her cubby, then waving goodbye towards her teacher and helper as they left the classroom. She held his hand as they walked to the car and occasionally looked up to see her dad staring down at her drawing. It didn’t seem he liked it all that much. Had she upset him by coloring it?

Morgan stayed quiet as she was buckled into her car seat and even when they pulled away from the school and started heading towards the ice-cream shop she knew he was taking her to. It was normal every Friday for them to stop—it was their own little secret. She would get two big scoops, one cotton candy and one chocolate, in exchange to keep quiet about it from her mommy who didn’t like it when she had loads of sugar.

“What’s wrong, Mo? You're usually bursting my eardrums with all the talk about how school went. Why so quiet?”

“Daddy,” she asked, a serious expression on her face she clearly inherited from her mother. “Did I make you sad?”

Tony startled at the question, his fingers drum, drum, drumming on the steering wheel trying to think back on why she would assume such a thing.

“When you saw my drawing you looked unhappy.”

Huh, maybe she had inherited Pepper’s scary ability to be able to read him like an open book too.

“No kid, your picture didn’t make me sad. I love your drawing. I just…I haven’t thought about that in a really long time.”

“How come?”

That was certainly a good question. A complicated one asked by someone way too young that if she really understood the horrors that went on in that cave in Afghanistan, then she probably wouldn’t have asked it in the first place.

It’s been over a decade since Tony found himself clawing his way out of there, about 13 years now. Since then he’s had so much happen in between that time. He became an avenger then fought aliens. He watched his son grow up into this bright brilliant teenager only to lose him in his arms not long after. He got married to Pepper and had Morgan. He gave up being Iron Man and moved upstate to a quiet little cabin in the middle of the woods. Those were just the major events, not even including all the other shit he had to deal with along the way.

[kathybluecaller]

when I give up on fully drawing Strive so my boy despawns for a solid 6 frames

(don’t mind the animation rant in the tags that I may continue on a later date)

[inkspottie]

I love Laughing at Tradgedy. It honestly is one of the better pics I have read in a while. I love it when the animatronics are given a more human side but also shown to be capable of inflicting harm. My favorite part of this is how you decided to focus on the perspective of an animatronic. Especially Lolbit, a character who has only appeared in a few games. Honestly it makes me want to write my own fanfic about Lolbit. Of course, I would have to sit down and do it if it would ever get off notepad! In any case, hope we see the next chapter soon. Also, I think it would be cool to see your take on Shadow Freddy and Bonnie alongside Funtime Chica. Those three animatronics have vastly different appearances but are also interesting in their own right.

Thank you for the lovely words! I am glad you’re enjoying it, I love writing the animatronics and having them be sentient but still be the killing machines they were made to be lol

But I wish I could add more things into the fic, with all the animatronics we have in the roster it just would be so bloated lol also have a hard time writing with a very big cast (cuz I want to make sure everyone at least has something to say)

They are interesting and I had to make sacrifices to make sure the plot stayed on the track I had planned. With this being the last chapter, I hope none of you are disappointed on me not adding certain characters/animatronics

[dexaroth]

[spoonyruncible]

I'm not gatekeeping, I just have some gates and I've sort of vaguely known they're there, I haven't kept them and the hinges are so rusty i doubt they'd close if I tried. But, like, for ages all that came through those gates were stray geese and a dog I think belongs to a neighbor but might just belong to himself and of course there's the hunching afflicted wrathbeast. That's just having a garden. Things grow there and random folks stumble in sometimes, mispronounce the names of my favorite varietals, say stunningly inaccurate things about them, and wander bemusedly back out.

As a surprise to probably no one I was a deeply lonely child. No one really got me or what my deal was, so when I found something I loved it was mine and mine alone to treasure. As I got older I found other people who liked 'my' things. Some of those people were horrible! But there was a kinship and it was okay to be a bit horrible so long as we could be odd together. Gardens are resilient things, they tolerate mistakes and abuse. It's absolutely wonderful to share, to dance to the same music, that imperfection becomes part of the joy of it, becomes a unique thing unto itself.

So imagine my shock when there is a garden party that rapidly becomes a festival. No one has ever really been here before, it's been me and the geese and that one dog and a few other weirdos. Suddenly my things, things people beat me for loving, are things everyone loves. All at once the landscape is unrecognizable and if I acknowledge that then I'm being a hipster. I don't mind the festival, it's nice, now it's much easier to get things I need without having to put on my trekking gear and hike out to the one obscure location that has The Supplies. It's not bad, it's just weird. It feels like there is something wrong with me instead of something wrong about liking what I like.

I'm not really talking about one specific thing here, there have been a lot of these moments where what used to be unusual or even shameful is now the big thing. And it's good, it's can be great sometimes even with the unforeseen bizarre bad parts. But there is this selfish little part of me that wants to cling to my unloved love, to put a raggedy LP on a barely working record player and lay on the wooden floor of my childhood home staring at a painting of a ship in a storm that is right beside a picture of a young man in a cap and a too large jacket and listen to sea shanties belted out by people not very good at singing while I drift and drift and drift away on the sound and the whitecaps to a place where there is only this. I love the new versions like a drowning man loves air, I am happy that people have found this beautiful thing and can enjoy it, but there is a tinge to it I don't like. A prick of pain every time I see this joy over my joy, over my joy that I was punished for, humiliated for, shamed for. I'm glad people can love these things without suffering but it makes my suffering seem so fucking stupid.

There is a certain temptation, a bitter agony, that makes me want to hiss like an abused cat and cling jealous to my silly little toys. It's not that I want them all for myself, it's that I can't let go of that little kid with a bruisy eye sulking because no one wants to play with him. It's the whisper of, "We can be friends but only in secret. I don't want people to know I'm like you." It's the enthusiasm that rapidly becomes muted because the whole world is demanding to know why you can't just be normal for once. But that same temptation to lash out is the one that makes me reach out my hand instead, especially to people who are like, "Wow! I've never been to a garden before. I'm gonna screw this up. How do I not screw it up?" because now they're that bruisy eyed kid no one wants to play with. I can't protect the person I used to be by becoming the exact thing that hurt me. Gotta keep the gate open, gotta get used to new things even if it takes noise cancelling headphones and an entirely rational amount of backsliding, gotta wake up every day and keep trying even though the world keeps throwing curveballs that no sane person could anticipate. It's all okay. We're in this together and we're all gonna be okay,

[loreweaver-universe]

The fourth and final part of my first playthrough of OneShot is up on Youtube! Click here for the complete playlist!

[harley-style]

How do yall feel about your readers commenting a second time on your fics because they read it a again and again and couldnt help themselves?

[landoftheway]

Split between being bummed I don't have the money to afford SMTVV and excited at getting to try out a new TTRPG character this weekend.

[space-ninja-fashion-show]

I am officially shit out of forma after feeding one to my revenant prime and another two to my felarx in preparation for learning how to one-shot archons. I refuse to face them any other way

Not there yet, I'm not trying until at the Very least i have a max rank Primary Deadhead, and then I'm hoping i can coast by on 8 pips on the 10 pip mods and pushing as much strength as i have available to me into Xata's Whisper

We'll get there eventually or die trying (probably die trying)

[musesofthesun]

"AAAAAAGH!"

"Just-- Just SHUT UP! I'm going to the landing pod, and I DON'T KNOW when I'll be BACK."

((hello Ender here is ur pain delivery as promised--))

N has had so many questions that he needed to ask ever since uzi saved both V and he. he'd thought V would want to talk about it. he thought that maybe she would be more willing to tell him why she kept things from him. talking about all of that would definitely help them both!

at least, that's what he estimated. evidently, he said something wrong. maybe he said too much. everything came rushing out of his voicebox before he knew it because he needed to talk to her. he needed... he needed V's company. he wanted her to help him solve the puzzle, like he wanted her help before! it's frustrating. she isn't saying anything back and it's irritating him-

it hits him, once she snaps, that she probably needs far more allocated time to process anything. it must have been horrible for her, and all he was thinking about was himself. he shouldn't be pressing her.

stupid N, always messing up.

N flinches, head lowering and posture purposely making him seem a bit smaller. his tail threads between his legs, stinger pointing away from V.

"i... okay. i'm... sorry. i'm sorry, V. take your time."

she's already gone before he can finish. he stands, simply watching until she's gone. it's... fine. she probably needs a lot of space right now.

[civilization-illstayrighthere]

how trying to write recently has been like

[murmeloni]

I need more fanboy Clark Kent in my life.

Like, he's seen Bruce Wayne interact with a child once and immediately fell in love with the guy. Now his bedroom walls are plastered with posters and he follows several social media accounts focused on capturing pictures of Bruce with kids and/or animals etc. He defends Bruce to anyone, no matter the antics he gets up to and it has become a bit of a running gag around the office.

Then, one day, Cat is out sick and someone jokingly suggests Clark should cover the gala in her stead, seeing as Bruce Wayne will be there and maybe this'll be Clark's shot to finally get his man? To everyone's surprise, Perry really does assign the gala coverage to Clark, who spends the days leading up to the event in a state somewhere between absolute panic and ultimate bliss.

But when the day finally arrives, Bruce doesn't show.

Of course Clark does his job and interviews everyone there (yes, even Lex Luthor) but a part of him spends all night waiting for Bruce to crash the party late, like he so often does.

Eventually, Clark gives up hope and it's shortly after that, that he stumbles upon one of the children dragged along to the event by their parents. Because apparently someone thought a charity gala was a good environment for an eight year old. The parents are nowhere in sight and the child is close to tears, so Clark makes it his mission to cheer the little girl up, regaling her with stories from his upbringing on a Kansas farm while he searches the crowd for her family.

With Clark thus occupied, he doesn't notice Bruce Wayne finally making his appearance for the night. But Bruce definitely notices him. The gentle giant who's all kind smiles and corny jokes... Until he finds the girl's parents. Uncaring of the fact that he's here on a job and that these people are richer than any one person should be and could easily sue him into oblivion, he takes them aside, fire in his eyes, and tears them a new one for losing track of their kid like this. Anything could have happened to her and maybe the readers of the Daily Planet would like to know about that? After all, how reliable and trustworthy could a company whose CEOs won't even look after their own daughter really be?

Bruce is immediately smitten. The passive-aggressive lecture and subtle threats - not to mention the broad shoulders and handsome face - are incredibly attractive to him and he wastes no time cornering the man afterwards.

Clark, who is so starstruck by the mere sight of Bruce coming towards him that he loses the ability to speak, nearly faints when Bruce just straight up shoves his tongue into his mouth. They end up in one of the coat rooms and Clark thinks that's it, just a one night stand. It sucks that he won't see Bruce again, but the night was amazing and at least he has the memory to treasure, right?

He thinks that right up until he gets to work the next day and two dozen red roses are waiting for him on his desk. There's a handwritten card nestled inbetween the petals and on it is the name of a restaurant along with a date and time. It's signed by Bruce.

And that is how Clark gets together with his celebrity crush.

[servicpop]

obsessive ( nsfw ) obsessive toji f. x oblivious bttm male reader

Toji hated how oblivious you were.

You could run your pretty little mouth to a cafe worker and overlook the yearning in their eyes, or you would turn a blind eye to when your co-worker at your part-time job asks so blatantly for your number, but you just disregard it as just so you could be called in when they call sick.

He doesn't say anything about it, not when you two are out getting drinks — since it was your payday — and he sees a girl approach you, batting her eyelashes blotted black with mascara and throwing meaningless compliments at you. He only glares, his hand slipped around your waist, squeezing the soft flesh there as if he was voicing his complaints through actions.

But of course you brush him off, saying something along the lines of 'she probably wants to be friends,' which undoubtedly ticks him off.

A smile, however, graces his scarred lips when he sees the girl's eyes flicker to the hand around your sides and backs off ever so slightly and he swears he would never but he most definitely flipped her off while your attention was on her.

When your drinks were finally done, the worker handed it to you, and god did Toji almost throw a straight punch when he saw your fingers brush together. Why was everyone gunning for you? When he first started going out with you, he simply assumed that no one would dare come close because of his looks, but now, people didn't even look in his direction, only yours.

"You're like a fucking angel," He grunted under his breath, placing the paper straw that would eventually disintegrate from him chewing on it inbetween his lips to take a sip. You turn your head to ask him what he said, not being able to hear it through the rumble of his voice, but he replies with a blunt, "nothing."

Throughout your whole 'date,' Toji was just getting increasingly pissed off about the whole ordeal. Guys and girls were approaching you, trying to start up a conversation, and as the sweet little oblivious boy you were, you'd engage, which always ended in Toji having to scare them away with a glare and a hand wrapped around you.

The ride home was fairly quiet; Toji wasn't a man of many words but he couldn't shake off the jealousy that he desperately wanted to bury. His fingers brushed against his scarred lips, a habit he's adopted over the years, and his leg bounced repetitively before the words just spilt out from his mouth like gates opening. "Does it not bother you?" he speaks in a rather hushed tone, almost like he's trying to restrain the jealousy in his voice.

"Bother me how?" You question, getting out from your seat once you've reached your home. Toji is left trailing after you like a stray dog while the key chains on your keys clink together as you unlock your front door.

"When people are always coming up to you," Toji grumbles, extending an arm above your head to hold the door open for you. "They're interested in you, can't you see that?" His hands find their way to rest on your waist and he pulls your back to his chest. "I'm right here and you still wanna shoot your shot with someone else?" Toji has forgotten all about keeping his obsession over you at bay, all he wants to do is knock some sense into you.

Before you can even refute his words, Toji already has his hands crawling underneath your shirt. His large, thick fingers finding your chest to pinch at your nipples, twisting them lightly. One hand leaves your chest while the other is splayed across it, holding you back as he pulls at your waistband, stretching the elastic out to look down at you.

"Already hard and I've barely touched you," He tsked, and contradictory to his words, his hand wanders down to touch you more. He pulls at your pants, slipping them down until they pool at your ankles before he runs a finger along the bulge at your boxers.

You instinctively whine and grasp his forearms in a futile attempt to stop his hands but you just end up twitching in his hold. "What? Don't want it? Thought you loved attention," Toji slips his hand lower, trailing down so he could press the pad of his fingers to your hole through the fabric. There's barely any friction or penetration to get you going so your hips jerk back, pushing against Toji which elicts a low groan from the man.

"Yeah, yeah you do, you fucking love it," His laugh comes out harsh and he's folding himself ontop of you, getting you to bend over more. Both his thumbs link underneath your waistband and pulls it down with a small whistle. Toji's arm then constricts around your waist where your body bent, holding you up so you didn't fall or escape. For a second he holds you still and all you can hear is the clink of his belt coming off and the small pops of his buttons.

"Stay still for me yeah?" He growls in your ear, tugging at his own clothing to get them off. He snakes his hand to your front, curving underneath to slip a finger inside. His arm is brushing so lightly against your now erect cock, but he refuses to touch it.

You could feel every knuckle pushing into you, squeezing against his fingers as you panted. His other hand finally makes it to your dick, using his fingertips to pull your cock against your stomach, tracing his nails along the underside. This ripped out a moan from your throat, your arms thrashing around from the feeling but Toji's arms are so tangle with yours its hard to move.

"Oh? So that's where you're sensitive, huh?" He's blatantly mocking you, taking his anger out on you. You whine again when Toji starts to spread the fingers nestled inside your walls, scissoring you to stretch you out. "Open up for me baby, I know you ain't shy," he keeps his fingers apart, taking his own dick and lining it up to your gaping hole.

He pushed in, and once you fit his tip through, he pulls his fingers back out, plugging you with his thick dick.

Toji hums contently, grabbing both your arms and pulling them back to his sides. You're already arching and he's got a great view of your back. "I feel like you're gonna split in half, God," its a shaky laugh because of how much you're squeezing him, wringing him out of whatever he has to offer. He pulls his hips away from you before he slams back in, the hands on your wrists pulling you against him with each thrust.

You can't do anything with your hands pulled behind your back, Toji's just using your body, handling you like you were a puppet and your arms were the strings.

You can hear Toji groan in frustration but before you could question it, Toji moves his hands, gripping your thigh and pulling it up. His other hand holds your side, as he pistons his hips into you in this new position. "That's deeper, yeah?" He groans into your ear, and you wobble from being forced to stand on one leg but Toji just tightens his grip around your waist.

Your whole body shudders when Toji finally reaches your prostate, hitting right up against it. A grin slowly emerges onto Toji's face when he sees your eyes go blank, and he knows he's found your sweet spot. "There we go, shit I was getting mad 'cause you weren't reacting that much." Toji's fingers dig deeper into the plush flesh of your thigh, and he laughs breathlessly at the obscene sound of his balls hitting against your skin.

"You take it like a champ y'know," he whispers through his teeth, "I'm so mean to you but you don't complain, huh?"

You're too far gone to even hear his words, your warm, wet walls clenching around him as you let out a small cry before coming as hard as you could, the sticky liquid falling straight onto your wooden floors. Toji's condescending laugh rings through your ears as the hand on your waist moves to your tummy, pressing down so he could feel himself rearrange your guts.

And apparently, that gets him off. Alot.

With one more thrust, Toji groans loudly, emptying for all he's worth into you. He pulls out almost immediately so he could see the white globs drip down your inner thighs. He lets go of your thigh that he was previously holding in the air and squishes them together, slotting his cock back between your sticky thighs to ride out his high.

He's peppering light kisses and small bites on your shoulder before speaking in a husky voice, "You gonna let people hit you up?" He asks, and you can barely reply from the physical exhaustion, "...No."

[loreweaver-universe]

Part 2 of my first playthrough of OneShot is up on Youtube! Click here for the ongoing playlist!

[littlebirdy0301]

I am,,,, debating. on if I should

try and get to know a guy I’m kinda into. slowly and naturally-ish over time because I’m friends with peeps he’s friends with & even tho next semester he’s not taking classes in the same department I am, he still said he’ll probably be around there and I’m sure would go to the events. So I can manufacture ways to naturally see him & try to hang out

or just instagram message him & ask to hang out and shoot my shot?

or to do none of the above and tell myself to vibe being single for awhile without looking for dates