flat seat

anonymous asked:

Andreil 2

2. “You’re too young to hate the world.”

Neil wasn’t particularly keen on doing talk shows, even though he wasn’t in hiding anymore, and even though Riko was no longer in the picture to make unexpected appearances and ruin everything. There are just some things that one never quite grows accustomed to, and putting on a friendly facade for the media is one of the things Neil knows he will never, ever get the hang of.

The whole lineup of the Foxes had been invited to TV shows all over the country to be interviewed after their historic defeat of the Ravens, and while Wymack got them out of most of them, there were some offers that he couldn’t back out of. Which is why on one particular Wednesday, the Foxes piled onto the bus to head to an afternoon interview with one of the most popular afternoon talk-show hosts in the Exy world.

“Now listen up you rascals,” Wymack hollered from the front of the bus once they had started moving, “don’t you even think about fucking around on this interview. If we want to boost our public image and show that we’re honorable athletes and competitors, be on your best behavior. Dan, you do most of the talking if you can help it. Kevin and Matt, you two back her up. Neil, I swear to god, if you even look like you’re going to be snide I will have you off that stage in three seconds flat.”

Neil, seated in the very back with Andrew at his side, nodded. He thought he could manage to keep quiet for a 20-minute segment, especially if there were eight other people up there with him.

He was wrong.

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anonymous asked:

Can you do Yullen +30? I can just see Allen awkwardly telling Kanda his feelings this way ☺️

Late, but this was so nice to do!! Thanks for the request hun ♥

Too quick, mumbled into his scarf

Allen breathed what little warm air was left in him out, exhaling hot on his red tinged fingertips. He drew his knees up to his chest, feet flat on the car seat, and felt Kanda’s side-eyed glare.

It was too cold, Allen thought defiantly. Kanda’s heater had broken and it was chilled enough the windows were iced over. Let him say something.

But Kanda didn’t, merely decelerating as they approached a red light. The car idled, and Allen wondered why, when his car stalled at four in the morning it had been this grumpy asshole Allen had thought of and not, say, friendly cheery Lavi, or understanding Lenalee?

Well. He knew. Knew it as sure as he did the bill the wrecker was going to be sending him as they towed his car away.

“Rotten luck,” Allen grumbled, and Kanda scoffed.

“No, not rotten luck,” he corrected sharply, driving forward as the light cast green rays on falling snow flakes. “I told you to get your engine checked.”

“Just because the light is on doesn’t mean you have to,” Allen said, the proud owner of a dime a dozen used cars that always proclaimed to have something wrong with them. “It was just bad timing!”

There was another humph and they fell silent. Allen wound his scarf tighter and drew his knees closer, wrapping his arms around them. He hadn’t been prepared to sit in an ice box for forty five minutes and he was paying for it with violent shaking.

“Oh Jesus, just, here-” still driving, Kanda reached back with one arm and hauled something huge, cloth, and bulky from his backseat. Allen squawked indignantly as it landed on him in heaps, hastily rearranging it so he could breath.

“What is this?” Allen asked, finally peering over the edge and bringing it to just under his chin. It smelled like crisp winter chill, Kanda’s cologne a few days old, and the comfort of Kanda’s home. Warm. He huddled under it, tucking himself in every where he could. Without thinking he ducked his nose back under and closed his eyes, inhaling.

“The blanket Lena made me bring,” Kanda said waspishly, and Allen laughed lightly. This was from the unseasonably warm weather they’d had a few weeks ago - nice enough to picnic in, even. It had smelled nice then, too, lulling Allen into a light nap under the bright sun.

He settled and looked back through the windshield. It wasn’t snowing hard enough to warrant the wipers, but occasionally Kanda flicked them on to brush away what snow clung over intervals of time. The road still stretched long and dark, empty, and Allen hunched over.

He’d been the first person Allen had thought of, and despite the hour, the distance, the cold, his own broken car, Kanda had come.

He laughed at his own stupid tears that sprung up, because he wasn’t used to mattering enough to warrant such kindness.

“Are you crying?” Kanda demanded in disbelief. Well. As much kindness as Kanda could give.

Spades more than Allen deserved, really. “It’s just,” he sniffed, rubbed his nose, “I don’t know. It’s late and it’s cold and your car and it was so sudden but here you are and I didn’t expect you to or anyone really but here I’m sitting and you gave me your blanket and it smells like you and it’s warm, and-”

His breath hitched on a hiccup and he pulled the blanket high enough to cover his eyes. “And I just kind of realized I love you.”

He was a bit disappointed the car didn’t swerve a single iota. It remained horribly still, and Allen wondered if he’d been obvious and Kanda had already known, or if Kanda simply had nerves of steel.

He was so lost in his own self-doubt he didn’t notice the car pulling to the side and stopping until Kanda was harshly yanking the blanket down, forcing Allen to meet his eyes. They were an alarming blue, vivid against his chill-nipped cheeks and nose, against all the gray of the winter storm outside.

“What did you say?” Kanda felt impossibly close, sounded horribly loud. Allen shied away, not ashamed, no, but suddenly terrified of Kanda’s possible response.

“Nothing!” Allen said hurriedly, glancing out the passenger window, darting to all the spaces between the clinging snowflakes. “It’s cold! Don’t stop,” he added, feebly.

“No,” Kanda said, turning fully in his seat. “What did you say?”

Curling in, Allen laced his fingers beneath the blanket, chapped skin pulling at his knuckles. He’d just sighed when Kanda grasped his chin and forcibly turned him. He wondered if Kanda could feel the heat of his blush.

“I love you!” Allen snapped, almost irritably. “God, I do, even though you’re an asshole, and you curse a lot, and you’re impatient, but you’re here for me of all people and I. I’m.”

Don’t cry, he thought to himself fiercely. Don’t you dare cry!

But Kanda didn’t reject him, or shove him away, or even speak crass words.

He leaned in and covered Allen’s trembling mouth with his own, the first spot of warmth Allen had felt in ages.

Relief pooled from him and his entire countenance relaxed, and despite the cold snap Kanda’s lips were impossibly soft. Allen returned the kiss as if afraid, but the fear followed his tension and vanished into the winter air, replaced by warmth, relief, love.

When Kanda finally pulled away Allen couldn’t help smiling at the blush rising in his cheeks, too.

Here is a nice top!Baek drabble (from TAOGU) for a lovely person who asked for this on AFF. Hope you enjoy it!

He’s thrown against the wall, pressed into it, hands pinned beside his head. He bites his bottom lip and lets his head thud against the wall, the lips working at his neck feel way too good. When his arms are released his hands slowly slide down, unbuckle his belt and rip it from the loops, letting the leather fall to the floor. He moans when his shirt is tugged roughly up his body, over his head and thrown to the side. It’s hot, too hot, and he’s so turned on and needy and he cant catch his breath.

“Fuck me Yeol,” he moans as teeth sink into his shoulder, “oh god, fuck me!”

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anonymous asked:

if i'm not mistaken you have experience with traveling and sleeping in your car, right? could you tell about some of the things you took into consideration when deciding to do that? i'm planning on making a trip across states sometime in the next several months, and trying to do it as cheaply as possible.

I did this last year from Maryland to Ohio, and also from Maryland to Vermont. During the Ohio trip, I spent the better part of the week living in my car. The Vermont trip was much less time spent in the car because I was staying at Hotel Boyfriend. I cannot drive for more than 3 or so hours before I faint, so for these long trips I ended up having to make several stops and that significantly slowed my progress, creating the necessity of learning how to live out of a car. Having experienced it short term, I can say that I feel fairly prepared for any situation that would require me to live out of my car long term as there was a lot that I hashed out between both trips on what I did and did not find an acceptable tradeoff on hotel vs car.

First things first: parking. In a lot of places, to combat homelessness, you actually aren’t allowed to just park and sleep in parking lots and such anymore. As a result you either need to get really creative on where you leave your car (or risk being towed or having the cops called and knock on your window while you’re sleeping) or you need to figure out where the safe places to park actually are. My car was mostly parked in the lot of rest stops or truck stops at night either near the outbuilding or right under a light for safety. Note: I also had Creed with me, and he is a very good deterrent and also “someone’s approaching the car” alarm, so I was also able to park and sleep just about anywhere and feel very safe. I debated parking behind a Walmart a few times but didn’t want to risk a disgruntled employee calling the cops and me being told to move. Don’t try hotel parking lots. You will be towed. Most make you pay for that shit nowadays.

Second: bathrooms! This is the other reason I hung out near rest/truck stops, access to running water and a (relatively) clean toilet. Some rest stops also have showers or some other way to wash yourself if you’re a stinky motherfucker. You want to find a spot that you can readily access these things or somewhere you can enter looking somewhat like a slob with minimal judgement. It’s been suggested to me that some rec centers and gyms will let you in if you show up super early, but I haven’t tried it yet.

Third: sleeping! Find somewhere you feel relatively safe or take your dog(s) with you or both, have a good back-up plan if things go bad, LOCK YOUR FUCKING DOORS WHILE YOU SLEEP, and you should be golden. I personally find car seats super uncomfortable to sleep on so what I did was purchase the thickest dog bed I could find, put human bed memory foam on top of it, and pull a fitted sheet around it, then laid my back seats flat and slept on it back there. It actually was a really decent, if somewhat truncated, mattress that afforded me a decent night’s sleep. I also had Creed’s wire crate folded under it and flipped upside down to serve as a makeshift springboard and I can tell you that I have never slept better in a car. Not even those air mattresses can compare to that. I had my fleece blankets and bathrobes as covers, my regular bed pillows as my pillows, and used a thin sheet to cover my back windows so that I could sleep without the street lights disturbing me.

Fourth: balancing air vs bugs vs rain! This is something I ran into on the Vermont trip- I’d balanced this with bugspray and a popped sunroof in Ohio but then in Vermont Thor decided he hated me and sent various thunderstorms and sadly I must report that bugspray does not protect you from rain. I later went out and purchased anti-bug screens for my windows and a portable sun screen to go over my car that, in theory, should somewhat protect me from downpours. It also will let me sleep in the car without pressure cooking as I’ll be able to have my windows all the way down and the worst of the sun reflected off my car- so we will be hot but we won’t die.

Fifth: electricity! Have a good backup plan for when your electronics because you no longer can charge things overnight without risking that your car battery will not be alive the next morning. Another reason for me to hang out near rest stops- no one minds if I use their sockets for a few hours until my phone is charged. Carry one of those portable batteries, it’s saved my ass more times than I can count.

Sixth: food! You can’t cook without a kitchen, you can’t store anything except nonperishables without a fridge, and if you think you can live on PBJs and stale chips for a few weeks while also driving around or being physically active you’ve got another thing coming. Find somewhere you can easily either purchase or make food and keep a case of bottled water in your car. You’ll need it. If you know how to start a fire and you’re somewhere fires are allowed, purchase food that you can cook but only enough that will last 10ish hours because you’ll have no where cold to store it. You can increase how long your food will last if you buy a cooler and ice but, ice gets pricey especially in the summer and depending where you go there’s no guarantee you’ll find a cheap steady supply of it. Otherwise find the nearest place you can get to for decent, filling food that won’t cost you a fortune, and factor that into your trip costs.

Seventh: car trouble! AAA or some other rescue service is a MUST because if something CAN go bad, it will, as evidenced by the Vermont trip in which I drove up there one way and then did a combination of hitchhiking and rental cars in order to get back home because my car was very, very dead on the side of a mountain in Vermont. A trip that was going to cost me a total of $200 ended up costing me $7000 (and remember I don’t make more than $12k/year) which completely destroyed my savings and my inheritance and I am still paying off and will be for the next 2.5 years. You guys want to know why I don’t have a second dog and haven’t taken more trips? You’re looking at the reason right here. I’m not saying plan for something major to happen and go more than 40x your original budget but you probably don’t want to hitchhike 500 miles back home like I did. I mean, I’m still alive and the other person was not an ax murderer and we’re actually FB friends now but still, that should probably be avoided.

Eighth: dogs! If you’re taking your dogs, you’re going to need to balance what they need too. Food, potty, and travel costs are all a thing, and just like car trouble can get you in some serious financial dire straits, so can a sudden health problem with a dog. Especially because you will be away from your regular vet and you may not know where to find the closest DECENT vet in the area. Creed is a road warrior and really likes this camping in the car thing but he also doesn’t really like being cooped up long term, so we had to find places where I could walk or run him and also know my car would still be there by the time we got back. That’s frequently easier said than done. Also, if you have a BSL breed, expect to not be welcomed when walking around with the dog. You’re a stranger with a scary dog. Suck it up and find somewhere you don’t make people uncomfortable.

That’s all I can think of right now, but I’m sure I’ll remember some others tomorrow morning. Cheers.

A Million Years || Part I

Title: A Million Years || Part I

Fandom: Star Trek x Wonder Woman 

Relationships: WonderTrev, McKirk, 

Warnings: tiny bit sad and angsty here, also Wonder Woman spoilers so if you haven’t seen the movie you should probably wait to read this until you’ve seen it

A/N: Whoops! My hand slipped :p I promise that this is a fix-it fic! You just gotta bear with me! I finally saw Wonder Woman yesterday (and was completely blown away by how incredible it was) and I now have more confidence in posting more content for it :)

The title come from the song A Million Years by Charlene Kaye. A beautiful song that’s a rather good fit to this fic. Especially this first part :)

Enjoy! ♥

Summary: Steve was her North Star. Still guiding her hundreds of years after…

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young hanzo - reading, absent mindedly summoning a dragon friend as he gets into the flow of the story - being calm, being in control, being kind to himself

dedicated to my love

See the Red

Link to AO3 
square filled: caning
ship: deanxcain (background wincest)
rating: explicit
word count: 2,179
tags: MoC!dean, sub!dean, dom!cain, caning, restraints, s9 canon divergent, angst with a side of porn

summary: Putting himself at the mercy of a Knight of Hell was probably not the best idea Dean ever had, but it was better than the alternative.

written/created for @spnkinkbingo. beta by the beautiful @silver9mm

“Why are you here, Dean?”

Cain’s voice was calm and deep behind that crystal tumbler. Blue eyes watched him over the rim, patient as a stone for a response.

Dean resisted the urge to scratch at the Mark on his arm. The burn under his skin was a constant companion now. Cain took another sip from the glass without a word, settled deep in the red leather wing chair.

“I need your help. You lived with it,” Dean said, voice rough. “Show me how to control it.”

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protagonistically  asked:


This is just the best though? Like, Bruce is this huge, buff, ultra-manly, competitive alpha male, you know? But he just doesn’t get sports. At all. It all seems pretty arbitrary, especially if you’re not even playing. He pretty much thinks everybody should calm down, the stakes are really not very high.

And then you’ve got Tim, who wears the grossest seven-year-old jersey (that used to hang almost down to his knees, but he grew into it) that is literally falling apart because he’s got spirit, and he talks about stats and different plays and how maybe, for the first time in nine years, Gotham might make it to the playoffs. And he’s not delusional, Bruce, he gets that they won’t win, but it would be so nice to not finish at the bottom of the league this year! Right?? And!! Tim could wear a Gotham jersey– wait for it– outside of Gotham, Bruce!! Proudly.

And Tim, cool and collected Tim, YELLS AT THE TV IN THE MANOR when games are on, wearing his falling-apart clothes and four-day scruff and he’s throwing his arms and too worked up to even sit, and citing like. Obscure as shit rules and violations while he paces, and the TV is blaring at full volume and Tim, also blaring at full volume, is shouting back at the commentators and every ref’s decision. 



SPN FanFic

Dean x Reader

2,826 Words

My entry for Bev’s Song Challenge! My first ever challenge. Great song, I hope I did it justice.

              Dean turned the radio on and soulful power chords filled the Impala. Y/N’s head whipped around, looking from the passenger window to the illuminated radio, instantly recognizing the song. Dean must have recognized it too and went to change the station. His hand moved to the dial and she caught it, shaking her head. “No way are you changing my Bon Jovi,” she said.

            “We do not listen to Bon Jovi in my Baby.” He said, pushing his hand further to the dial.

            “You said Bon Jovi rocks,” Y/N pouted.

            Dean held up his finger, “On occasion. I said they rock on occasion. This is not one of those occasions.”

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bedeliainwonderland  asked:

Are headcanons alright? If so, tell me your headcanon about Hannibal and Bedelia's first meeting (which I might steal :D)

Your request for a headcanon turned into a ficlet! I still like to believe they never officially met before he started therapy with her, but here’s another variation on that theme. 

He notices her just as the house lights begin to dim, a lightning flash of gold and silvery grey slicing through the darkness of the opera house. Her profile and the elegant posture of her shoulders would not have been out of place among the noblewomen Botticelli painted into immortality. Her cheekbones remind him of his favorite cleaver, sharp and deadly. He imagines caressing them with the palm of his hand.

For the next forty-five minutes, Hannibal’s sole attention is directed more toward the strange woman in the box opposite his than toward the prima donna on the stage. The latter is a little flat tonight anyway.

The seat beside her remains empty throughout the first act. Had she been waiting for someone—a lover—who stood her up? The idea is impossible. Hannibal concludes this rarified creature must be as lonely as he is. He spends the last fifteen minutes of the act calculating how best to approach her.

During the first few measures of the entr’acte, their eyes meet across the crowded opera house. Hers are a perfect ice water blue, the color of a forget-me-not blooming in early spring. She sees him.

Hannibal drifts to the bar, a lightness in his gait, blood pumping with a heat he had not felt in years. He orders two coupes of French 75 and waits for her to emerge from her box, so he may press the effervescent drink into her hand and whisper flirtations into her ear. He waits and waits, but the blonde woman is not among the crowd of patrons. The ushers flash the lights, signaling the start of the next act, but she is nowhere to be found. The bubbles of the cocktail have gone flat and the drink tastes bitter to his lips instead of sweet.

The woman’s box remains empty throughout the second act. And the third. It makes Hannibal’s heart feel empty in return. He feels this near-brush with destiny very keenly, a nearly physical thing, the teacup once again slipping his grasp and shattering on the floor.


Six months later, Hannibal holds a small rectangle in his hand, a woman’s name and telephone number embossed on heavy-weight linen paper. He had called the number and been impressed with the cultured vowels, the firm but gentle tone of the woman on the telephone. He had been assured that Dr. Du Maurier was the finest Baltimore had to offer, that she was to the mind what a bespoke tailor was to the body. He had become acquainted with her words on paper; her prose was robust, incisive, her deductions merciless. He had never seen her in the flesh, though he got the impression that many of his colleagues found her so beautiful as to be intimidating.

He would have nothing less for himself.

He rings the doorbell at 4:30PM on the dot. The heavy bronze door is whisked aside by a blonde woman; her stature is petite, but she projects an authority that makes her seem inches taller. Her lovely shoulders are covered by a moss and chocolate herringbone tweed, last season’s Chanel, he thinks, and her hair curls around her face in ribbons of spun gold. Blue eyes—that perfect forget-me-not blue—meet his and she says, “Please come in.”

Hannibal smiles, warm and broad. The teacup, for once, has again come together in his hands. He resolves to hold this one very carefully.

Possible unpopular opinion?

I feel like too many non-beginners are emphasizing “heels down” too much to each other.

Why do I say this? Because ultimately the goal should be to have your feet parallel to the ground. Too much weight in your heel leads to bracing.

How do I know? Because my trainer ended up having to tell me to pretend I was “wearing high heels” so I’d stop bracing, because my heels were too far down. Not any further down than many riders I see who are well past beginner stages of riding, if I take their word for it on how well they ride.

Heels angled downward leads to weight displacement into your heel, which leads to bracing your legs and into your seat. A flat foot should be your goal; not just “heels down!” all the time.

Oh my god @dancingalone21 well you just about got me feelin’ better. Dean can be “H2-Ahhhh” and Sammy can be “Captain Thunder”…I don’t even know…blame the cold lmao it’s clouding up my senses.

Ladies and Gentlemen, WARNING, TEASING, LANGUAGE, SEXUAL IMPLICATIONS below the cut.

Dynamic Duo

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Better Than Candy

| Request: “okay okay
so (y/n) is an old friend of phil’s (or dan’s it doesn’t matter) and she comes to visit
they’re wrestling or something fun like that and y/n says "fuck, phil(or dan still doesn’t matter) you’re stronger than I remember”
something triggers his mind and he wants to have sex and yeah" |

| Warnings: Smut |


“It’s been so long.” He spoke softly.

“Too long.” She replied.

Dan had came into contact with a childhood friend, [Y/N], and 15 years later, they’re reunited once more.

Now they lay silently on the floor of Dan’s flat, staring up at the crystal chandelier.

“Hey Dan.” [Y/N] spoke, breaking the comfortable silence.


“Remember when we used to arm wrestle on Halloween to see who got all the candy?”

Dan sat up, looking over at her as she too sat up.

“You’re on, [Y/L/N].”

“Bring it, Howell.”

They stood, walking over to the table in the flat, taking seats across from each other, each of them putting their right elbow on the table and interlocking their hands.

They stared at each other for what seemed like ages, fighting to win.

But suddenly, Dan saw [Y/N] in such a different light.

He saw how her baby face had matured, how her body curved, how soft her lips looked, he was completely distracted.

And he was losing.

And that was not about to happen.

Dan used every ounce of strength to push her arm over.

“Oh piss off, Howell.” She groaned, her arm pinned to the table by Dan’s.

He just chuckled at her, noticing his cheeks heating and making an lousy excuse of having ‘strained a muscle.’

“Fuck,” [Y/N] mumbled. “You’re a lot stronger than I remember, Dan.”

Dan’s face went a deeper shade of red. Once again he made an excuse of it being from the arm wrestling.

“I’m gonna go get a drink.” He said, bolting off to the kitchen and downing a pint of tap water.

He returned to the lounge once he felt as if his face was cool enough.

“So Dan,” She spoke as soon as he sat beside her on the sofa. “If we were kids I’d get your Halloween candy, but now that we’re older, what’s my prize?”

For the third time, Dan’s cheeks went red.

He looked over at her, her [E/C] eyes sparkling, a smirk upon her lips.

“This.” He said, leaning in and pressing his chapped lips to her soft ones.

She was shocked, but not angry, in fact, she was a little happy about it.

Sure, when she was 8 and Dan was 10, she thought boys were gross, and even now looking back, she’d have never liked Dan at that age anyway.

But now, things were different. Puberty did well by Dan Howell, making him slim and tall, making his chubby face more handsome, his voice deepened, and his personality had improved so much.

He was basically a walking aphrodisiac.

She kissed him back, leaning into his touch as he placed his left hand on her cheek, his other resting on her knee. Her arms lifted to wrap around his shoulders, pulling him in closer.

His lips detached from hers, earning him a soft whine and a pout, but as soon as he saw it, he attached his lips to her neck, which caused a loud moan to escape her pink lips.

Dan traced gentle love bites across her neck, already marking her as his own.

“Dan, bedroom, now.” [Y/N] mumbled out between moans. Dan’s hands went to her bum, sliding under it and lifting her up.

Dan swore he heard a quiet 'Wow’ escape her lips.

He carried her into his room, laying her on his bed before walking back over to the door and locking it.

He made his way back to her, once again locking his lips onto hers. Her arms wrapped around his back, feeling the slight muscle through the fabric of his black tee.

He broke the kiss, standing over her and pulling his shirt off, the soft lighting hitting his pale chest just right.

He then worked on his jeans, fidgeting with the button before sliding them down and kicking them off, the only bit of clothing left being his boxer briefs.

[Y/N] sat up, reaching to pull off her own shirt, but Dan stopped her, pulling it off himself, taking her bra with it.

He pushed on her chest, making her lay back down, and he removed her jeans.

Both of them left in only their underwear.

Dan laid next to her on the bed, pulling her onto him, reattaching their lips again.

He ran his tongue across her bottom lip, and when her lips opened to moan, Dan slid his tongue in her mouth, heating up the kiss.

He moved his kisses down to her shoulder, locking his plump lips into the skin, sucking on it and leaving a large, purple hickey.

His large hands slid down her body, hooking his index fingers in her panties and pulling them off, rolling her onto her back again and doing the same to his underwear.

“Are you sure?” He spoke.

“Yes, Dan.” She replied.

He reached over to his nightstand, opening a drawer and pulling out a condom, ripping the small packet open with his teeth, sliding it onto his hard member.

He grabbed her legs, standing between them and placing himself at her entrance, slowly pushing in. A soft moan escaping each of their lips.

He began thrusting slowly, picking up speed as he went. Their hands interlocked. Their foreheads pressed together, watching the pleasure cross each other’s faces. Soft kisses stolen every so often.

“Fuck.” Dan groaned through gritted teeth, nearing his climax.

“Dan, baby, cum for me.” [Y/N] said, grabbing Dan’s cheeks and placing chaste kisses on his lips.

He reached his climax, and the intensity caused [Y/N] to reach hers as well, Dan rode out both of their orgasms, collapsing onto
[Y/N], panting and sweaty.

She wrapped her arms around him, softly stroking his now curly hair with one hand, and rubbing his shoulder with the other.

“Hey Dan?” [Y/N] eventually spoke, breaking the long silence.

“Mhm?” He mumbled sleepily.

“That was way better than candy.”

Singer’s Automotive- Part 1

Ever have a day, or week, where everything that can possibly go wrong does? Ever get rescued by someone you can’t resist?

Summary: When your car breaks down, you call the first mechanic you find on google. You get more than you expected.

Word Count: 6100 (oops)

Warnings: language?

A/N: I AM SO EXCITED ABOUT THIS ONE. Thanks to my Mishka ( @abaddonwithyall ) , the babe-iest babe on Tumblr, for letting me use some of her real life events in this story.

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