#manual car driving instructor

[embarkdrivingschool]

Learn to Drive Easily with a Skilled Driving Instructor for Automatic and Manual Cars

The process of learning to drive seems intimidating at first yet proper tuition will convert this initial doubt into an energizing conquest. Embark Driving School creates straightforward and worry-free learning opportunities to maintain safety for each education taker.

 Visit us for more details: https://www.embarkdrivingschool.au/learn-to-drive-easily-with-a-skilled-driving-instructor-for-automatic-and-manual-cars/

[adarkermiserablecrow]

I know that auto cars have taken over America in recent decades, and according to the internet a lot of younger generations can't even drive stick

That said, Buck's Jeep has manual transmission in my heart

[drivingacademyuk]

Pro Drivers Academy – Driving Lessons in Chingford & Surrounding Areas

Welcome to Pro Drivers Academy, your local and trusted driving school based in Chingford, London. We offer both manual and automatic driving lessons, tailored to suit learners of all levels—from complete beginners to those looking to brush up their skills before the test.

Although we’re based in Chingford, we proudly serve students from a wide range of surrounding areas, including Enfield, Loughton, Woodford, Walthamstow, Tottenham, Wood Green, and Chigwell.

At Pro Drivers Academy, we believe that the key to becoming a confident driver starts with a calm, patient, and knowledgeable instructor. Our team has years of experience behind the wheel and on the road, and we’re dedicated to helping you become a safe and competent driver for life—not just for the test.

You’ll be taught on all the key test routes used by local examiners, so you can become familiar with the exact roads and conditions you’ll face during your practical test. We cover all major roads including Station Road, Rangers Road, Epping New Road, the A406, and a variety of country roads and tight residential streets—perfect for practicing meeting traffic and dealing with real-world situations.

You’ll also get hands-on experience with all required manoeuvres, practiced both in car parks and on the road, so you’re fully prepared for anything the test (and real life) throws at you.

Whether you’re just starting your journey or looking to fine-tune your skills, Pro Drivers Academy is here to help you every step of the way.

[shahdrivingschooluk]

When it comes to learning how to drive, many wonder whether budget-friendly driving schools offer the same quality as their more expensive counterparts. At Shah Driving School, we provide low-cost, high-quality driving lessons that focus on safe, effective, and efficient driving education. Learn from experienced instructors in a comfortable environment, ensuring that you’re fully prepared for your driving test—without breaking the bank.

Explore what to look for when choosing a driving school, and discover the balance between affordability and quality. We believe that affordable doesn’t mean compromising on excellence!

Visit https://shahdrivingschool.uk/ today to book your lesson and start your driving journey with Shah Driving School!

[creative9blogs]

How to Pass Your Driving Test Fast in Bolton – Crash Course Guide by SHAH DRIVING SCHOOL

Learning to drive is one of the most empowering and life-changing skills anyone can acquire. For many new drivers in the UK, especially in Greater Manchester, time is of the essence—and that's exactly where a driving crash course in Bolton comes in. At SHAH Driving School, we understand that some learners want to pass their test quickly, efficiently, and affordably, without sacrificing the quality of training.

Whether you're a complete beginner or someone who needs a refresher before their practical test, this comprehensive guide will take you through everything you need to know about crash driving courses in Bolton, and how to find the right driving instructor or course for your specific needs.

Why Take a Driving Crash Course in Bolton?

A crash course, sometimes referred to as an intensive driving course, is a condensed and focused driving program designed to help learners become test-ready in a short period. These courses can span from a few days to a couple of weeks, depending on your prior experience and how quickly you grasp the essential driving skills.

With Bolton’s busy roads, roundabouts, and dual carriageways, it's essential to learn from experienced professionals who understand local test routes. Choosing the right driving school in Bolton makes all the difference, and SHAH Driving School is proud to be one of the most recommended centres for automatic and manual car lessons in Bolton.

At SHAH Driving School, we cater to every learner’s individual needs. Whether you're looking for automatic driving instructors in Bolton or prefer to learn with manual transmission, our expert team is here to help. Our instructors are DVSA-approved, patient, and fully qualified to prepare learners of all backgrounds.

Some learners feel more comfortable with a female driving instructor in Bolton, especially those learning for the first time or returning after a break. At SHAH, we respect these preferences and proudly offer professional, friendly female instructors who will support you throughout your journey.

We also provide cheap driving lessons in Bolton without compromising quality. Our goal is to make driving education accessible to everyone while ensuring 

that each student gets the attention they deserve.

Benefits of a Driving Crash Course in Bolton

There are many advantages to choosing a crash course, especially in a town like Bolton, where time is often limited for students, professionals, and busy individuals.

Faster Progression

A driving crash course allows you to concentrate your learning in a shorter span of time. Instead of spacing out your lessons weekly, you can absorb the skills more quickly with consistent daily practice.

Cost-Effective

While a crash course might seem like a significant investment upfront, it can actually save you money in the long run. With cheap driving lesson packages available in Bolton, learners can often spend less overall than they would with traditional weekly lessons spread over months.

Test-Focused Learning

Because a crash course is structured to prepare you for your test in a short time, it places strong emphasis on the practical driving test format, helping you learn exactly what examiners are looking for.

Boost in Confidence

Repetition and consistency improve confidence. When you're practicing every day with your automatic or manual instructor, you build momentum and self-assurance, reducing test-day nerves significantly.

Comparing Driving Course Options at SHAH Driving School

Here’s a quick breakdown of the types of courses we offer, depending on your skill level and preferences: Course TypeTransmission OptionsIdeal ForDuration Beginner Crash Course Manual / Automatic Complete beginners 20–40 hours (1–2 weeks) Intermediate Refresher Course Manual / Automatic Learners with some previous experience 10–20 hours Test Rescue Course Automatic Only Failed test recently, need fine-tuning 5–10 hours Female Instructor Crash Course Manual / Automatic Learners preferring a female instructor Flexible (based on need) Budget Crash Package Manual Only Cost-conscious learners Customized

FAQ

1. How fast can I pass with a driving crash course in Bolton? Most learners who take an intensive driving course in Bolton with SHAH Driving School can be test-ready in 1 to 2 weeks. The exact duration depends on your starting skill level and how quickly you learn.

2. Are automatic driving lessons easier than manual? Many learners find automatic driving simpler because it removes the need to manage the clutch or gear changes. Our automatic driving school in Bolton is perfect for those who prefer a smoother, stress-free learning experience.

3. Do you offer lessons with a female driving instructor? Absolutely. If you're more comfortable with a female driving instructor in Bolton, we have several experienced female instructors available. Your comfort and confidence are our top priorities.

4. Can I take driving lessons if I’m on a tight budget? Yes! We offer cheap driving lessons in Bolton with flexible payment plans. Whether you’re learning in an automatic or manual car, we have packages designed to suit all budgets.

5. Is it better to learn manual or automatic? This depends on your needs. Manual lessons give you a broader driving license, but automatic is often preferred for city driving and for learners who want to pass quickly. We offer both manual car lessons in Bolton and automatic instruction, so the choice is yours.

Ready to Start Your Journey? Contact SHAH Driving School Today!

If you're serious about passing your driving test quickly and safely, then SHAH Driving School’s driving crash course in Bolton is the way to go. Our experienced team of manual and automatic driving instructors are ready to help you achieve your goal, whether you're a new driver or looking to retake your test.

Visit us now to book your first lesson or get a free consultation: https://shahdrivingschool.uk/ . Let’s get you on the road to success—fast, safe, and confident with SHAH Driving School.

[anytime-driving-school]

Are you ready to explore roads with tech based driving power? Get behind the wheel with highly qualified instructors. Our expert team at Any time Driving School guide you in customised driving lessons in Frankston

[sincerelyneo]

life is a highway | n.jm

“i wanna ride it all night long”

💿now playing: life is a highway by rascal flatts

❯ summary: Being a nervous learner driver is hard enough, but throwing in your older brother’s hot, smug, patronising best friend to be your instructor? Yeah...definitely not making things easier.

❯ pairings: jaemin x fem!reader

❯ genre: enemies to...fuck buddies? smut

❯ words: 3.5k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, arguing, hate sex, public sex, car sex, swearing, heavy petting, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do this!), creampie, dirty talk, very tame degradation kink, literally them just arguing with each other for the entire 3k words.

an: this is very influenced by the british driving experience—hence the manual car propaganda.

Look, driving a manual is hard. There’s just too much stuff to remember all at once—gears, pedals, mirrors, observations. Honestly, you don’t understand why anyone who values their sanity would choose to drive a manual car. If it were up to you, you’d be driving around in an automatic. But it’s not up to you. Because your brother, Mark, is paying for your driving lessons.

And Mark, being the car-obsessed gearhead he is, insists that everyone should learn manual—“So you can drive any car, no limitations,” he preaches. Even when you dragged yourself through the front door on the Friday night of your third failed driving test, you thought maybe, just maybe, your stubborn older brother would show a little grace. Let you switch, take the easy route.

He didn’t. Of course he didn’t.

Instead, he did something worse.

He sent Jaemin.

Na Jaemin.

Mark’s old college roommate—who, according to your brother, is the best teacher in the world, a saint suited with endless patience and encouragement. But if those qualities exist, they’ve never made an appearance around you. Because, from the very first lesson (four torturous sessions ago), Jaemin’s been nothing but a snarky, patronising ass. 

You hate him. And he hates you—clearly.

Sure, you may have driven on the wrong side of the road once. And stalled on a hill. And very nearly veered the two of you into oncoming traffic. But those were all accidents—you’re a learner. It’s not your fault.

Honestly, it’s Mark’s fault. 

Because you’re already a nervous driver, and throwing in a hot, built guy who slouches into the passenger seat like he owns the car doesn’t exactly help. Not with his long legs spread wide, and that muscled arm draped casually along the window, long fingers tapping a lazy rhythm against the doorframe.

It’s a distraction. He’s a distraction. A hot, smirking, condescending distraction with perfect teeth and zero empathy.

“The light is on green,” Jaemin says flatly.

You blink. “W-what?”

He doesn't even turn to look at you. Just gestures lazily toward the windscreen. “If you stopped checking me out, you’d see the traffic light has changed. That means go.”

Your jaw drops, and you finally peel your eyes off him, squinting at the green hue now glaring in your face. “I know, asshole.”

“Then go.”

You want to scream, but you don't. Instead, you slam the clutch, jam the car into first gear with more force than necessary, and the car jerks forward. You thank God, because you just narrowly avoidied stalling again, but Jaemin is never grateful. 

“You’re snapping the clutch up too fast,” he comments. “You have to find the bite, then add gas. Keep revving the engine like that and you’re gonna wreck the clutch.”

“I was not revving the engine,” you mutter, mostly to yourself. But of course, that doesn’t stop him.

“You were. Because you’re scared of stalling. But if you actually planned ahead and stopped rushing—”

“I won’t stall, yeah, yeah, I know.” You cut him off, gripping the wheel tighter. 

“Then apply it.”

You’re about to lose it. You hate the way he talks to you like you’re ten years younger than him—like you’re some clueless kid. It makes you want to punch him in that smug mouth of his. But that’d only prove his point that you’re immature and feed his ego. 

So, you grit your teeth, suck in a breath, and try to ignore the way your heart’s thudding against your ribcage and your palms go slick on the wheel. You’re trying. God, you’re trying. But he makes it impossible to concentrate.

“You can’t drive around in first gear, this is a thirty zone.”

“I know—”

“No, you clearly don’t—fuck—pull the car over!”

His voice slices through the air and your stomach flips violently. You yank the wheel toward the kerb, the tires bouncing as the car lurches to a halt. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Jaemin’s lip twitch (about to make some smartass comment about you mounting the pavement) but the fury in your expression makes him think twice.

The second the engine cuts, you explode.

“What the hell is your problem?” you snap, unbuckling your seatbelt and twisting in your seat to face him. “If you hate this so much, then don’t show up! Mark’s not forcing you to sit in this car with me, Jaemin. I could find someone else to help me.”

“Oh, totally. I’d love to make room for driving instructor number eleven,” he bites.

"Then do it," you sneer, slumping back into the driver’s seat with a shrug, arms folded tight across your chest.

He drags a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. "Seriously, Y/N, I’m trying to help you," he says. "But you don’t listen. You never listen—"

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must’ve missed the part where you actually helped. All I’ve heard for the past four weeks is how shit I am at this.”

“Because you’re not even trying! You act like my help is beneath you. You refuse to take any criticism.”

“Beneath me?” You laugh, bitter and breathless. “I’ve failed my test three times, you absolute dick! I clearly am trying! I’m trying so fucking hard. And all you do is sit there and mock me, which just makes it worse.”

“You need tough love! This isn’t a joke—driving is serious. People's lives are on the line. Your life is on the line.”

That makes you swallow.

“If you’re talking about that time I almost hit that cyclist, that wasn’t my fault—he came out of nowhere!”

Jaemin scoffs, shakes his head and tongues the side of his cheek. “You know what your problem is?”

“Oh, please. Enlighten me.”

“You’re so terrified of failing again, so you never give yourself a real chance to get it right. You can’t let go of your pride, so every little mistake makes you panic, and you do something stupid. And then you blame everyone else for it.”

Your jaw drops. Then a furious exhale leaves your lungs. “You are—unbelievable. You’re such a—”

“You’re not listening to me,” Jaemin growls, cutting you off. “Again. You’re not listening.”

“I don’t care. Fuck you—”

But before you can finish the very creative insult forming in your throat, his hand shoots out—fisting the front of your hoodie, yanking you toward him. And then his mouth crashes into yours. Brutal and angry and heated.

You freeze. For one heartbeat. Then another.

Your whole body goes still—except your lips, which betray you, parting instinctively for him. You sink into it before you can think better of it, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket like it might steady the way your heart is rattling against your ribs. It doesn’t. 

Because he tastes like cinnamon and black coffee. So fucking predictable. So him. And, of course, unfairly good. Which just pisses you off more. He tastes good, and you like it. 

The kiss is harsh. Messy. Teeth knock, lips drag, because even now, the two of you are fighting for control. There’s no rhythm. No grace. Just lust and resentment colliding together in the ugliest way possible.

His hand grips your hoodie tighter, like he doesn’t trust you not to pull away. Honestly, he half expected you to slap him for kissing you. He didn’t expect you to gasp, to open your mouth and let him in. Let his tongue slide against yours, hot and wet and so damn hungry.

You feel the press of his thumb against your sternum, the subtle tremble in his wrist, and it hits you—weeks of tension finally snapping loose.

It’s not romantic. It’s not soft. It’s—what the hell are you thinking?

You pull away first, shaking his grip off your hoodie. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Jaemin blinks, looking just as stunned as you feel—pupils blown wide, chest heaving. He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up further. "I don’t know... you just—fuck, you drive me insane," he mutters. "I just wanted to shut you up."

“Oh, so your first thought was to kiss me?” you snap, swiping your sleeve across your mouth like you can erase the feel of him. A small part of you is glad it doesn’t. “That’s how you deal with people who annoy you? Because if so, you need a HR department!”

“No,” he grits out, jaw clenched. “You’re not just people. You’re—you’re impossible to be around.”

"Maybe you’re the one with the issue!” you hiss. “Plenty of people enjoy my company. You just don’t know how to be around me without being a smug, condescending prick!"

His expression twists "I’m trying to fucking help you," he says. "But, clearly, you don’t want help. You just want to fight, don’t you? You want to pick a fight because that’s all you know how to do."

“Because you infuriate me!” you shout. “You barge in here, all patronising and hot, acting like you know everything, acting like you’re better than everyone, like you’re better than me—”

You don’t get to finish.

He lunges across the console before either of you can think better of it, grabbing your face and kissing you hard. Again. 

His seatbelt strains as he twists toward you. You meet him with equal force, kissing him back like you can knock some sense into him with your mouth.

He groans into it, deep and guttural, and then he’s hauling you closer, shoving his seatbelt over his head and dragging you half onto his lap. The centre console digs into your hip, but you don’t care. Your knees press against the door, your hand grips the headrest behind him. Every inch of the car feels too small for the way he’s kissing you. Too hot.

His hands are everywhere. One tangled in your hair, the other pressing flat against the small of your back like he’s trying to fuse you to him.

You gasp when his mouth trails briefly to your jaw, your throat. “You’re such a jerk,” you whisper breathlessly.

“Shut up,” he mutters, before his lips crash into yours again.

And you do. You shut up (for once) letting him kiss you breathless while his fingers slip beneath the hem of your hoodie, calloused pads dragging over overheated skin. You shiver, nerves buzzing from the way your body is betraying you in all the worst ways. With the worst person,

“You're a nightmare,” he growls against your mouth. 

“So stop kissing me,” you bite back, fingers fisting his t-shirt.

He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t.

Your back hits the glovebox as he shifts, pulling you fully into his lap. Your knees knock against the dash, thighs bracketing his hips, breath catching as you straddle him in the cramped passenger seat. Your head tips back, knuckles going white where they clutch his shoulders. 

“This is so stupid,” you murmur.

“Yeah,” he says, lips brushing your throat. “Say that again when you’re not grinding on me.”

You shove at his chest—but not hard enough to hurt. “Fuck you.”

His hands slide lower. Gripping. Pressing. Desperate. “Oh you’re going to.”

He rolls your hips against him, firm and rough, and you feel him—all of him. Hardening beneath the thin fabric of his sweatpants. The pressure sends a jolt through you, because if you’re really ‘going to’ fuck him, the size of him already has you intimidated.

You whimper despite yourself. It’s pathetic. Weak. And it turns him on so damn much. 

His head falls back with a dull thud, eyes squeezing shut like he’s in pain. “Fuck—why can’t you make those sounds with me all the time,” he groans, voice hoarse, “instead of running that pretty little mouth?”

You don’t answer. Not with words. Just keep grinding down, breath catching with each pass over his straining cock. You’re soaked. Your jeans are too tight. Everything is too hot. Too much.

“Fuck,” you pant, “you.”

He huffs a laugh, then brushes your hair over one shoulder, exposing your neck. His lips find your ear. Teeth grazing. “We’ve already established you’re going to,” he smirks. “But first—”

His hand slides between your bodies. 

“—you’re going to get yourself off on my thigh like the filthy girl I know you are.”

You’re about to repeat those two words again, but he captures them with a kiss—swallowing them down with a simple swipe of his tongue before he looks down to where you’re rutting against him.

You’re not sure when your jeans became the enemy, but they are now—tight, rough, in the way. Every twist of your hips adds to the unbearable friction, your breath catching in your throat with every grind. You’re not supposed to be doing this. Not here. Not with him.

But Jaemin’s thigh is solid beneath you, and his hands—God, his hands—know exactly where to go, how to hold you steady and drive you crazy in the same breath.

“You’re such a pain in the ass,” he grits, fingers digging into your waist. “Can’t follow a single instruction when you’re behind the wheel, but now? Suddenly you’re fucking little miss obedient.”

You want to slap him. Or kiss him. Or both. Probably both.

“You think you’re funny?” you hiss, but your voice cracks as his thigh flexes, and your hips jolt in response. “You think you’re winning right now?”

He leans in, lips brushing your cheek—just shy of a kiss. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, condescension dripping from every syllable, “I know I am.”

“You’re soaking,” he adds, palm skating down your front before slipping inside your jeans, into your panties.

“You are the most arrogant, insufferable, smug bastard I’ve ever met,” you pant against his mouth. “And I hate you.”

“Good,” he breathes, before surging forward again.

His mouth trails downward—jaw, neck, collarbone. Tongue licking over one of the few marks he just made. Your hips jerk when he bites, just a little too hard—and he groans  like he felt it in his own skin.

“Can’t believe you’re this wet for me and still have the nerve to talk back.”

“I can multitask,” you gasp, grabbing his wrist as he reaches for your jeans. He pauses, looking up so his eyes meet yours—and for a moment, the lust between you stutters.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, low and serious.

You hate how long you hesitate. Hate how breathless you sound when you whisper, “No.”

He smirks. “Didn’t think so.”

Then your jeans are open, and his fingers slide into your underwear—hot, teasing, and maddeningly slow. You cry out, head dropping to his shoulder, clutching at the back of his neck as two of his fingers start to circle your clit. 

“God, you’re shaking,” he groans, lips brushing your ear. “You’re gonna cum like this? From barely anything? What happened to all that attitude?”

“Shut up,” you whimper, grinding shamelessly into his hand. “Just shut the hell up—”

“Not a chance.”

His fingers dip lower, circling the wet entrance of your pussy before he presses in deeper, and your whole body tenses, that coil in your belly winding tighter with every thrust.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he breathes. “Come on, sweetheart. Prove me right. I love it when you do.”

You hate him. You really do. But your body doesn’t care. It burns and trembles and demands more. Your nails dig into his shoulders as he curls his fingers just right—and then you’re falling apart, hips jerking, a strangled cry ripped from your throat before you can stop it.

Jaemin doesn’t stop until you’re trembling in his lap, wrecked and slick with sweat. When you finally lift your head to look up at him, he’s watching you intensely. Quiet for once. Hell, if you knew letting him finger you would shut him up, you’d have let him a long time ago.

Then, slowly, patronisingly slowly, he pulls his hand from your jeans, eyes locked on yours as he brings his fingers to his mouth.

You slap his shoulder. Hard. “You’re disgusting.”

He grins around his fingers. “You didn’t seem to mind a minute ago.”

“Whatever,” you mutter, still breathless. You glance down. His hands are still on your hips. “Let go of me.”

“Say please.”

“Fuck you.”

He leans in, lazily sucking another finger. “I already did.”

Your hand moves before you think—gripping his chin, nails digging into his jaw. Not a slap. Not a kiss. Just heat. Just challenge.

“You’re really starting to piss me off,” you whisper. “Keep pushing, and I might actually lose control and kill you!”

That look flashes in his eyes again—that dangerous glint that says he likes it when you fight. But instead of rising to the bait, he just smirks.

“I am pushing,” he says. “But you’re the one currently dripping down my thigh. So tell me, sweetheart…” His fingers slide into your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath catch. “Who’s really in control?”

You don’t answer. Just stare. Flushed. Still trembling, still aching. Then, leisurely, you lean in—close enough that his breath stalls.

“I am,” you bite, nipping his bottom lip as you yank his hoodie up over his shoulders. “And I’m going to prove it.”

He grins—wild and eager. “Then fucking show me.”

Your fingers tighten in his hoodie, dragging it off with enough force to make his smirk falter, only slightly. His eyes are black now—blown wide with want, with need—and for the second time ever in his life, Jaemin is silent.

He just watches.

And you take.

Your mouth slams into his, teeth biting at his lip before you drag your mouth down to his neck, sucking onto the skin to return your own mark. His hands fumble with your jeans again, this time yanking them down your thighs enough to slip your panties to the side. 

You help shove his sweatpants down past his ass—just far enough to free his cock. And then he’s wrapping a hand around himself, fisting his length with slow, deliberate strokes—taunting, as you watch with parted lips. 

He’s so big and thick and pretty, your brain starts pounding like it’s bitten off more than it can handle. You hesitate for a moment, but then you remember—this is about proving you still have control. You want this. You want to prove him wrong.

So, you slide back into his lap, straddling him fully, your bare skin meeting his with a gasp that rips through both of you. His hand slides between your thighs again, not to guide—just to tease. Just to feel how ready you are.

“Scared?” he mocks in a we whisper.

You glare, reaching down to line him up with your pussy. “Shut up.”

Then you sink down—slow, agonising—and you both break at the same time.

“Fuck—” he grits, head falling back, eyes rolling. “You feel—holy shit.”

You can barely breathe. He’s thick, hot, stretching you just past the edge of pain—grounding you in something that feels too good to be allowed. It’s not fair that a guy like him gets to be this good at fucking. But here he is. Fingers digging into your hips, guiding you into a rhythm that’s filthy, desperate, and anything but slow.

You ride him like it’s a fight. Like you want to ruin him. And he meets you stroke for stroke, jaw clenched, sweat collecting at his temple as your bodies slap together—fast, ruthless. No pretense. No sweetness.

Just want.

Just need.

Just hate.

“I hate how good you feel,” you choke out.

He bites down on your shoulder. “Say it again.”

You moan, louder this time, not caring about the volume or the fact that you’re fucking your instructor at the side of the road. Not caring that it’s Jaemin. 

“I hate you,” you breathe. “I hate you, I hate you so much—”

His hand snakes up to curl around your throat. It’s not tight but barely there. A light pressure, just enough, to make your head spin.

“Then cum on my cock,” he growls. “One more time. Hate me for it.”

And you do.

You shatter around him, body convulsing and twitching as your mouth falls open in a broken sob that catches against his lips. He follows a heartbeat later with a ruined, throaty moan, driving into you one last time as he spills inside you—deep, hot, messy.

And then it’s quiet.

You stay there, slumped against his chest  for a moment. His hand drifts up your spine, strangely gentle now, thumb brushing the back of your neck. But then, a moment later, it does hit you. 

You scramble off his lap, cheeks flushed, thighs sticky, panties already ruined as his cum starts to leak out of you. You refuse to meet his eyes.

“I still hate you,” you mutter.

“Sure,” he says, casual as ever, tugging up his sweatpants with a smirk. “I’m giving you another lesson tomorrow. Same time.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re insane if you think I’m getting in a car with you again.”

“You’ll show,” he says,” Because you want to pass your test, don’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

“But nothing,” he chuckles, brushing a finger against your cheek. “Now that I know you can follow instructions, if you listen to me—I'll make you cum again. You seemed to really enjoy yourself.”

You hate him.

[wttcsms]

untouchable famous!reader who has a pristine reputation and is known for being “hard to get” (more like hard to earn) x famous character who somehow manages to charm you. except, when he’s trying to take you back to his mansion, he’s kind of drunk and convinces you to play driver and to just take his sports car and he’ll give u the directions. he fails to tell you that his sports car is a stick shift. you’ve never driven a manual car before.

so here you are, in a cute dress and high heels, learning how to drive stick in an expensive car, at night, and your driving instructor is drunk. then he has the nerve to FORGET WHERE HE LIVES, so you end up taking him back to your place. whatever. the night is still somewhat salvageable. not only do you have to haul his large body inside, he still wants to get freaky with you. too bad he’s clumsy and overexcited and his zipper gets caught on the fabric of his boxers. fantastic. mood = officially killed. when you go to the bathroom to freshen up and return to kick him out, he’s already passed out on your bed. as annoyed as you are with him, he’s kind of cute when he’s sleeping so you leave him be. the next morning, he wakes up and is like “did we have sex?”

you roll your eyes, tossing him a disposable toothbrush. he follows you to the bathroom and is presumably gonna start brushing his teeth right next to you, which is oddly domestic.

idk, just something abt reader being the stoic, unreadable one and character being the bumbling lovable idiot who keeps trying to make it up to you and hilariously fails every time but you find him endearing so you continue to let him “bother” you!!!!

[jvlianbashir]

would they have a driver's license (ds9 edition)

sisko: yes. overall a good driver. serious about "defensive driving" and believes everyone should know how to drive manual in a pinch. gets annoyed when people don't respect zipper merging

kira: she got one as an adult after a few attempts, but was definitely driving both cars and other vehicles/equipment illegally as a young teen and had to rein in some of those "seat-of-the-pants" driving habits

jadzia: yes and is a pretty good driver but has collected a few speeding tickets over the years

o'brien: yes and somehow ended up de facto driver's ed instructor for other ds9 folks trying to get one. it is very stressful

worf: yes and is a solid driver overall but the road rage is crazy when people cut him off or drive like assholes

bashir: yes. aced the written exam and knows all the rules well, but you CANNOT talk to or argue with him while he's driving or he becomes a distractible terror on the road

odo: yes and abides by traffic laws and speed limits perfectly (some may say pettily) which ironically makes him a bit of a hazard at times

ezri: no and she's scared to get one, but wants to eventually

quark: license chronically suspended

nog: similar to kira. got one later (after instruction from sisko and o'brien) and is a very good driver now but was an absolute menace on the roads as a teen

rom: yes but drives slow as hell and causes traffic jams that make him anxious so he drives even slower

[shadyfestivalperfection]

CRASH COURSE!!~Oneshot

Summery: When Bucky Barnes is forced to learn how to drive in the 21st century, S.H.I.E.L.D. pairs him with Y/N L/N — a confident, sarcastic, and endlessly patient driving instructor who has no idea her newest student is a former Hydra assassin.

Characters: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

||Main Masterlist|| ||Oneshot Masterlist||

You were used to all types of students. Nervous teenagers white-knuckling the steering wheel, overconfident middle-aged men who thought they knew everything, even the occasional grandma who just wanted to check off a bucket list item.

But nothing prepared you for him.

“James Barnes,” your manager, Kelly, said, sliding the clipboard into your hand. “Goes by Bucky. Veteran. Bit of a special case. Please be patient with him. Like, really patient.”

You raised a brow at her. “How special are we talking?”

“He’s on a referral list from… uh… a government contact. Fury. Ring a bell?”

That made your brain screech to a halt.

“Nick Fury? Nick Fury?!”

Kelly shrugged, as if S.H.I.E.L.D. agents routinely enrolled in driving school.

Your brows shot up. “What kind of instructor do you think I am?”

“The kind who won’t freak out if a guy with a metal arm shows up.”

“…What?”

But Kelly had already walked away.

—

You met Bucky Barnes two days later in the parking lot behind the DMV. He stood awkwardly near the driver’s side of the white Chevy Impala you used for training. Sunglasses. Hoodie. Hands in his pockets. Completely still, like a statue.

For a second, you wondered if he was just a guy loitering. Until he turned, and your brain hit pause.

He was tall. Ridiculously tall. And gorgeous in that rugged, broody way that made your lungs forget how to work. His jaw was clenched, and the moment he noticed you approaching, he looked like he regretted everything.

“Bucky?” you asked, offering a gentle smile.

He nodded once, barely meeting your eyes. “Y/N?”

“That’s me.” You extended a hand, which he stared at for a second before slowly reaching out with his left hand. A metal hand.

Okay, so Kelly wasn’t being dramatic.

You shook it like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“I’ll be your instructor,” you said. “And don’t worry. I’m very good at not dying.”

That earned a slight twitch of his lips. Maybe a smile. Almost.

You slid into the passenger seat, motioning for him to take the wheel.

He hesitated.

“I haven’t… done this in a while,” he muttered.

“How long is a while?”

“Since the ‘40s.”

You blinked. “Like, 1940s?”

“Yeah.”

You stared at him. “So. Before power steering. Seatbelts. And Google Maps.”

“…What’s Google Maps?”

You laughed. “Oh, we’re in for a ride.”

—

Lesson One: Everything is Terrible

It was rough.

He was stiff, shoulders hunched like he expected the car to explode at any moment. His right hand gripped the wheel, while his metal hand hovered awkwardly. He kept checking every mirror like they might betray him.

The engine purred, but Bucky flinched like it had growled.

“Okay, easy on the gas,” you coached. “We’re not in a Fast & Furious movie.”

He pressed the pedal like it owed him money.

The car lurched forward. You hit the dashboard.

“Okay! That’s alright. You didn’t kill anyone.”

“Yet,” he muttered.

You peeked at him. “You alright?”

He gave a tight nod. “This is… just a lot.”

“You survived Hydra, right?”

He blinked at you. “…Yeah.”

“Then you can survive a roundabout.”

—

It took him fifteen minutes to park. You didn’t say a word.

When he finally shifted the gear into park, he sat back, jaw tight.

You waited.

“I used to ride motorcycles,” he said suddenly. “Felt natural. Cars feel… wrong.”

“Too many moving parts?” you guessed.

He nodded.

“I can work with that,” you said. “Next lesson, we’re doing manual transmission. You’ll have more control.”

He looked at you like you were either brilliant or insane.

“…You’d let me behind the wheel again?”

You smiled. “Yeah. I like a challenge.”

—

Lesson Two: Sparks and Stick Shifts

“Okay, clutch in, now shift to first.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed. “What’s a clutch again?”

You laughed softly. “The third pedal. You use it with your left foot. I swear you used to ride motorcycles.”

“Yeah, but no one ever made me shift gears while talking.”

“Multitasking builds character.”

His eyes cut sideways. “Is that a technical term?”

“Absolutely.”

You leaned over to point at the gear shift. “Try again. Clutch in—no gas yet!”

“I didn’t—!”

“You did. I have proof.”

He growled under his breath and tried again. The car jerked violently, stalled, and let out a dying cough.

You both stared at the dashboard.

“…I killed it,” he muttered.

You snorted. “Rest in peace, 2012 Impala.”

He huffed but you saw it—the corner of his mouth twitched.

—

At one point, you had to reach across him to adjust the mirror. Your hand brushed his shoulder.

He froze. So did you.

His arm was warm. His breath caught. Your fingers lingered.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s fine,” he said, voice hoarse.

You didn’t talk about it, but the car suddenly felt much smaller.

—

Lesson Three: The Trash Can Incident

It wasn’t your finest moment.

You’d thought he was ready for the suburbs. You were wrong.

He clipped a trash can. It launched into someone’s yard like a missile, knocking over a flamingo statue and a gnome.

“Oh my God,” you said, mouth open.

Bucky went completely still.

“Bucky?” you asked softly.

He wasn’t blinking. His hands gripped the wheel like a lifeline. Sweat beaded at his temple.

“Bucky. Hey. Look at me.”

He didn’t.

So you reached over—slowly—and placed your hand over his metal one.

“I’m here,” you said. “You’re okay. No one’s hurt. We’re fine.”

His breathing was shallow. But his hand loosened.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“I know.”

He swallowed.

You leaned back. “Want to get coffee?”

He blinked at you, disoriented. “What?”

“Coffee. It helps after trash can manslaughter.”

“…That wasn’t a real person?”

You laughed gently. “Just a gnome casualty.”

That made him smile—really smile—for the first time.

You decided then and there you were in serious trouble.

—

Lesson Four: Parallel Parking is a Hydra Plot

You introduced him to music in the car. You sang loudly and off-key. He pretended to hate it.

“You have a beautiful voice,” he said one day, completely serious.

You blushed. “You liar.”

He smirked. “Didn’t say you were in tune. Just said it’s beautiful.”

He was dangerous.

—

He opened the car door for you. Every time.

He waited to make sure you buckled your seatbelt before moving.

One day, he showed up without his gloves.

You noticed, but didn’t say anything.

Instead, you reached over and poked the silver knuckles. “Nice manicure.”

He snorted.

—

You had him practice a route with GPS.

“Okay, now follow Google’s instructions,” you said.

The robotic voice spoke: “In 300 feet, turn left.”

Bucky frowned. “What’s 300 feet?”

“It’s… a football field?”

“I didn’t play sports.”

“Just estimate!”

“I’m not a human tape measure, Y/N!”

The voice chirped again. “Turn right—”

“IT SAID LEFT A SECOND AGO!”

You were cry-laughing.

He glared at the phone like it insulted his mother.

—

You were teaching another student when Bucky stopped by early. The guy—college-aged, cocky—leaned too close to you as you explained the clutch.

Bucky stood at a distance, fists tight, jaw ticking.

Later, he drove you home. Quiet.

“You okay?” you asked.

He didn’t answer for a while.

Then: “You… let him touch your arm.”

You blinked. “He was just—”

“I saw him.”

You stared at him.

“…Were you jealous?”

His grip tightened on the steering wheel.

You leaned close. “That’s kinda hot.”

He slammed the brakes at a stop sign, flustered.

You smirked.

—

It happened by accident.

Lesson ran long. Rain came down hard. You were stuck in the car, parked, watching water streak down the windshield.

Your phone buzzed.

“Text from Kelly,” you said. “She says if you stall the engine again, I owe her five bucks.”

Bucky chuckled. “She really hates me, huh?”

“No,” you said. “She thinks I like you.”

He stilled.

You looked at him. “She’s right.”

His eyes searched yours. “Even with everything I’ve done?”

“Yes.”

He swallowed.

“I think about you,” he admitted. “More than I should.”

“Then do something about it.”

He leaned in slowly—giving you time to stop him.

You didn’t.

The kiss was gentle. Rain hit the car roof in steady beats. His hand slid to your cheek—warm, soft—and your fingers curled into his shirt.

When you pulled back, you both smiled like idiots.

—

He passed. Barely.

You cheered. “Look at you! Certified driver!”

He grinned. “Only took half the DMV’s patience and a new trash can.”

You nudged him. “So what now?”

He shrugged. “Guess I don’t need lessons anymore.”

Your heart sank.

“But I do need a date,” he added.

You blinked. “Really?”

He smirked. “Yeah. Thought maybe I’d take my favorite instructor somewhere.”

You smiled. “Drive safe, Barnes.”

He held your gaze. “Only if you’re beside me.”

—

Weeks later, he showed up with a second helmet.

“Your turn,” he said.

You blinked. “I don’t know how to ride.”

He winked. “Good thing I’m a patient teacher.”

You got on the back. Wrapped your arms around his waist.

As the engine roared to life, he glanced back.

“Ready?”

“Always.”

And you rode off into the wind—two hearts, one bike, and a lifetime of road ahead.

-the end

[ninjacat-uchihaparrish]

Would’ve loved more driving instructor ronan and student Adam content, like I wonder is he was actually any good in teaching? I’d think so cause he’d b very blunt and to the point. Ofc then we get more Adam being confused as to y he likes it when ronan cusses him out which is always nice. And I think Adam’s thing for intelligence/knowledge would appreciate ronan being able to explain how to drive manual

Also we’d also get more of Adam’s rando car nerd facts (they didn’t start making the civic until ‘73) and general attitude towards ronan which he most certainly likes.

[drivingacademyuk]

https://issuu.com/driversacademy/docs/how_do_you_become_a_skilled_car_driver_in_chingfor

[shahdrivingschooluk]

How Can Shah Driving School Make Automatic Driving Easy For You?

[i-am-becoming-the-midnight-sun]

My sweet Emily,

It has been almost fifteen months now since I last saw your beautiful face, and sometimes I feel the wound in my heart is growing and deepening, especially when I unexpectedly find little things of yours that scream the reality of your loss.

I am sure you are not surprised at all that I am driving your car now. Remember when we took the test drive and you weren't quite sure if you were ready for a manual transmission? It took about a half second for you to fall in love, and we drove it home that night. I think I love driving it as much as you did!

Sometimes on my way to school, I stop for a giant cup of tea so I can attempt to stay awake on those long nights. Just the other day when I needed an extra large dose of caffeine, I spilled some and was frantically trying to find napkins to clean it up. As I looked in the center console, I didn't find napkins but instead your beloved nail file. It was as if a dagger was plunged into my chest when I picked it up and saw the marks from the last time you used it. For several moments, it took a conscious effort to simply breathe, but I could not stop shaking no matter how much I tried. My heart cannot seem to comprehend that you are gone, and it probably never will. Mothers are never supposed to outlive our babies.

When I arrived at school, I tried to put on my brave face, but my instructor and my friends saw right through it and held me until I could find the courage to continue. There, my precious girl, was the grace in that moment of agonizing grief. I have found this past year that there is always someone or something heaven sent in those times of pain to remind me there is hope, love, and grace that can be as overwhelming as the grief that so often tears at my heart. For that, I am forever grateful.

As the holiday season approaches, there will undoubtedly be many more memories to pierce my broken soul, but in the midst of it all, I will try to remember to look for the grace, sense your eternal presence, and allow peace to flow.

I miss you more than mere words could ever begin to express, but I know in my heart you are always with me.

As E.E. Cummings wrote, "I carry your heart. I carry it in my heart." And I will forever.

[anytime-driving-school]

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[17020]

ᥫ᭡ CAMPUS CRUSH GALORE!

A BLLK X TOKREV MINI SERIES BY 17020.

College is a time for exploring one's preferences, forming connections with others, and creating new memories that will forever be cherished. The University of Tokyo, best known for its football club and its students who were 'former gang members' (but that's just an urban legend, right?), has been struck by the arrow of love. Cupid season has arrived at the University of Tokyo, leaving many of their students lovestruck as the amount of campus crushes reaches an all-time high.

UH OH! STUDENTS HAVE FALLEN UNDER THE EFFECT OF CUPID'S ARROW!

୨ৎ CRUSH 001 — RIN ITOSHI, 20. FILM MAJOR. LOVE LEAVES BRUISES. Rin Itoshi certainly comes up with weird plans to go visit the nurse...

୨ৎ CRUSH 002 — KEISUKE BAJI, 26. VET STUDENT. THE TEACHING FARM. Keisuke Baji gets to work in a teaching farm along with his classmate in order to pass his clinical rotations.

୨ৎ CRUSH 003 — YOICHI ISAGI, 20. KINESIOLOGY MAJOR. NO PRNDL? Because learning how to drive is a one-of-a-kind experience, right? Yoichi Isagi’s side hustle includes being a driving instructor, taking pride in his manual car.