#“build your own harley davidson”

[nowaskey]

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[janiehellion]

Revved Up

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Learning to ride a motorcycle should’ve been simple. After all, you knew your way around bikes better than anyone in Alexandria—except Daryl Dixon. But one crash and one pissed-off redneck later, and you're stuck with him giving you a hands-on crash course in focus and control.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / LANGUAGE / MINOR INJURIES / VAGINAL FINGERING / CUNNILINGUS / SEMI-PUBLIC / ROUGH SEX / PAIN PLAY / MARKING

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 14.441

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: S05E13—ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ & S05E14—ꜱᴘᴇɴᴅ

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: My first oneshot of 2025—and my longest yet! Sorry, not sorry, for the length; Daryl Dixon refused to stop until the lesson was fully drilled in. Hope it's worth the ride.

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

You couldn't take your eyes off of him.

Out of everyone from the new group in Alexandria, he was the one who made the least effort to fit in. He was quiet and always looked ready to leave, like this wasn't a place to call home. He preferred to keep his distance, doing his own thing around the community, and that made him even more interesting to you.

Daryl Dixon was certainly different from the rest.

The first time you caught him working on the motorcycle and the parts he got from Aaron, in Aaron's and Eric's garage, something caught your attention. It wasn't just the way he moved, though the way his hands worked on the machine was something you couldn't ignore. No, it was more than that, and it pulled you in.

And for you?

The sound of metal and the smell of oil were all too familiar. You'd grown up around motorcycles and spent hours watching your old man work on his Harley Davidson most of the time, until you decided to become a mechanic after school, especially for motorcycles. That knowledge was something you didn't share with many others in Alexandria, but when you saw Daryl putting that motorcycle together piece by piece, you figured it might be a good way to start a conversation, if nothing else.

Sure, he kept to himself mostly, spending more time with his crossbow than with humans. But it made him stand out in a place where most people were getting used to living 'normally' again. And you didn't want anything normal. You wanted real.

That's what led you to the garage.

Daryl, of course, was bent over the motorcycle he'd been working on for some time now.

As you walked closer, you pretended to inspect his work. "What is this, a '92 Honda? Nice setup. Yamaha front end, though? Bit of a Frankenstein's monster, huh?"

That got his attention. "The hell ya know 'bout bikes?"

You shrugged, smirking at him. "What, do you think just 'cause I live in Alexandria, I can't tell a carburetor from a walker? Oh, please."

He hadn't spoken to you much since he arrived, but then again, Daryl didn't talk to anyone much. But you? You barely ever got a grunt in your direction since he'd been here.

"Looks like it's finally coming together," you started, trying to sound bored. It was a shitty way to break the ice, but small talk wasn't your thing after all.

Daryl didn't even look up. Grease covered his hands, and his current expression made him look like he'd rather punch you than say hello.

"Yeah, maybe if ya'd stop annoyin' my ass," he murmured, tightening a bolt.

"I'm only annoying the bike," you snorted. "And I'm making sure it doesn't fall apart the second you ride it out of the community."

That earned you a glare. A quick one. And you held his stare for that moment, refusing to look away.

"So yer always this annoyin'?" He shot back, wiping his hands on a rag and finally standing up to his full height.

"You tell me. So what is it? This… special kind of build?" You asked, gesturing to the motorcycle. You had to admit, it did look quite nice.

His eyes narrowed, and he seemed to be a little surprised about your curiosity. "Do ya really know bikes?"

You shrugged, playing it cool. "Enough to know that this isn't a normal setup, but that's just personal taste, you know?"

"It'll work."

"Sure, until it doesn't," you continued with a smirk. "But hey, it's your funeral. Or someone else's if that thing gives out mid-run."

He grunted, clearly not in the mood to admit you might have a point.

"Still, not bad for what you had to work with. Must've been a pain in the ass to track down some of the other parts," you moved closer, getting a better look at the setup. "But I heard Aaron's been helping you out. He's good with scavenging stuff. Though, I bet he didn't know half of what you needed."

That got a grunt of agreement from Daryl. "He ain't bad. Jus' don't need anyone watchin' when I'm workin'."

"Noted." You raised your hands, but you didn't back off. Instead, you crouched next to the machine, inspecting the details up close. You could feel Daryl's eyes on you, probably wondering what the hell you were doing.

After a moment of silence, you looked up at him again. "You ever really gonna take this thing out, or are you just building it for the hell of it?"

Daryl looked over to the garage door as if he was thinking whether or not to answer. Finally, he sighed. "Gonna use it. Aaron wants me on the road, recruitin' and all. Need somethin' fast."

"Yeah? And what if you end up with a flat tire out there? Wait, that might not even be a problem, since it kind of looks like you're building yourself a time machine there," you answered, standing up. "But you're gonna need more than just duct tape and spit to get this thing running."

Daryl's eyes narrowed again. "Told ya I know what I'm doin'," he snapped, his hand tightening around the wrench like he was itching to throw it at you.

But you weren't about to be ignored that easily. "You've really got some interesting mismatched parts here. Yamaha forks on a Honda… Look, I'm just saying that you might wanna check the suspension before you ride outta here. Unless you're aiming to get launched off it."

"Gonna manage."

You snorted. "Sure, you will. But hey, if you ever feel like teaching someone else how to ride, I wouldn't mind learning. I mean, someone's gotta be around to save your ass when that thing tries to kill you."

Daryl shot you a look, his jaw clenching slightly, but this time, he just stared at you like you were the most confusing person he'd ever seen.

"Ya wanna learn how to ride?" His voice sounded annoyed, like the idea was somehow offensive to him, but there was also some slight disbelief to be heard as if he wasn't sure why you'd ask him of all people. "Ain't got time for that. Got 'nough problems without babysittin'."

"Come on," you pressed further. "What's the harm? Or is the asshole routine just for me? Besides, if you ever crash, I promise I'll write you some kinda eulogy. Something about how you died doing what you loved—which is looking perpetually pissed off."

You could've sworn you saw the slightest smirk, but Daryl quickly busied himself with the motorcycle, like he hadn't shown you might really have a point with your tips.

Keeping your voice casual, you stepped back. "Let me know if you change your mind," you continued, brushing off your knees. "Might be fun."

With that, you gave him one last smirk and turned around, leaving him to think about whatever he thought of you.

You spent the next couple of days trying not to think about Daryl Dixon, which was about as easy as trying not to notice a walker biting your arm. But despite your best efforts to act like it was no big deal, the thought of riding that motorcycle—and more specifically, him teaching you—kept making its way into your head.

Daryl didn't say anything about your offer for those few days, too. Hell, he didn't say much of anything, really. He'd pass by you in Alexandria, his crossbow by his side, always looking like someone just spit in his drink. But you had gotten used to the silent treatment by now, so you didn't let it get to you... much.

Indeed, it didn't take long to figure out that convincing Daryl Dixon to teach you how to ride a motorcycle was like trying to herd cats—but grumpy, feral ones… with knives.

It was late afternoon when you found yourself near the garage again, and you hadn't planned on seeing him, but let's face it, you were intrigued. And there he was—still working on the motorcycle and still looking like it personally insulted him.

However, the thing looked all patched together with scavenged pieces and maybe a little bit of wishful thinking. It had a certain look to it, like it wanted to run off into the wild and never come back.

Daryl didn't even move. He didn't look your way. He just kept wrenching something near the seat before he glared at you like you'd asked him to solve a math problem.

"Thought I'd come by and bless you with my knowledge once more," you announced, smirking as you leaned against the workbench.

Daryl only rolled his eyes—actually rolled them—like he couldn't believe he had to put up with you again. "Ain't nobody asked for that."

"Yeah, well, nobody asked for that bike to look like it's held together with a plea and a prayer, but here we are," you shot back, leaning forward slightly. "'Livin' on a Prayer,' in fact."

He grunted, shoving the wrench into the toolbox with force. "The hell do ya know 'bout motorcycles, anyway?"

"I do know motorcycles! I told you, didn't I? And that thing," you pointed to the machine, "is one bad pothole away from turning into scrap metal."

Daryl scoffed, clearly not a fan of having his work criticized, especially by someone who, in his eyes, hadn't earned the right to say something about it. "It'll hold. 'S a good bike."

"Sure, sure," you said, grinning at him. "But if you're so confident, why don't you accept my offer? Teach me how to ride. Let's see if this thing here can handle it."

He stared at you for a long moment, like he was thinking about his options. You could practically see the gears running in his head—whether to shut you down and tell you to piss off or give in just to prove you wrong.

"Ya serious 'bout this?"

"Dead serious," you said, holding his stare. "What? Are you afraid?"

His nostrils flared in the way they did when he seemed to be two seconds from snapping at you, but instead, he just turned back to his work. "Ya wanna learn? Fine. But don't come cryin' to me when ya hurt yer ass."

"Oh, don't worry, Dixon. If I hurt my ass, I'll make sure you hurt yours, too," you said, biting back a laugh as you straightened up. "But I swear, this thing's gonna be your mid-life crisis. What's next, leather pants and chaps?"

He showed you one of those stares again—half-annoyed, half-confused—like he wasn't sure if he should bother responding or pretend you didn't exist.

"Ya done?"

"Done? I'm here to save you from yourself, Daryl. You keep this up, and in a week, you're gonna be having a mullet and wearing a crop top."

He stared at you like you'd grown an extra head. "What the hell're ya talkin' 'bout?"

"Mid-life crisis, Daryl. First, it's the bike. Then, it's questionable fashion choices. Next thing you know, you're coming back from a run with a Corvette and crying over Bon Jovi ballads. I'm just here to make sure it won't happen."

"Ain't havin' no damn crisis."

You smirked. "Uh-huh. That's what they all say. Just remember, I offered to help. I can't wait to see you when you're rocking those chaps and a bandana."

"So, ya still wanna learn to ride or not?" His voice sounded definitely pissed off.

You raised your eyebrows, as if in shock. "Oh my, was that an offer in return? From you? I'm touched, really. Let me just—" You pretended to wipe a tear away from your eye and sob. "This moment's very special to me."

"Shut up," he grumbled, but his voice gave way that he almost sounded amused.

"I'm just saying, this is progress," you said. "Next thing I know, we'll be exchanging friendship bracelets."

Daryl didn't respond right away, but you thought you had seen enjoyment, maybe? Or irritation. It was hard to tell with him. Either way, he was back on his feet now, pulling the motorcycle upright and kicking the stand back. Soon enough, the familiar sound of the engine made its way through the garage, and damn if it didn't make your pulse race just a little.

"Get on."

His sudden words made you blink at him in surprise. "Wait, like… right now? Where's the foreplay, Dixon? At least buy me a drink first."

"Nah, when I'm dead. Yeah, right now," he snapped, unable to believe you were even asking.

"Okay, okay," you mumbled, swinging your leg over the motorcycle with as much confidence as you could have at that moment. The seat seemed normal, but it still felt bigger than you expected.

Daryl stepped beside you, his arms crossed as he watched you. "Ya know how to start?"

"Of course I do," you said, reaching for the handlebars.

You were halfway through fumbling with the throttle at first when Daryl's hand shot out, grabbing your wrist. "That ain't how ya do it," he growled as he leaned in. "First lesson: This here's the throttle—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know what a throttle is," you interrupted, waving him off. "I'm not a complete idiot. I could turn this thing into scrap and piece it back together if you wanted me to, so..."

His eyes narrowed. "Then maybe shut up and listen."

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. You couldn't help it—pissing him off was just too easy.

"Clutch on the left, throttle on the right," he continued, his fingers tapping the handlebars. "Brake's here. Don't yank it like an idiot." He then gave the machine a once-over. "Ya pull the clutch, twist the throttle slowly. Too much, and yer gonna stall it."

"Okay, understood. Show me."

Daryl let out a frustrated sigh but soon moved behind you, reaching around to grip the handlebars. His strong chest pressed against your back, and you immediately forgot how to breathe.

"Ya gotta ease into it," he instructed while his fingers guided yours on the throttle.

"Uh-huh, yeah, sure, ease into it," you mumbled, trying to sound unimpressed. "And what happens if I don't ease into it? The whole thing explodes?"

"Nah. Ya gonna wipe out an' eat dirt," he shot back, his lips showing a bit of a smirk. "But maybe ya'll learn faster that way."

"Yeah, well, I've eaten worse," you answered, glancing over your shoulder at him. "Besides, I doubt you've ever taught anyone how to ride before. What if you're just a terrible teacher?"

He huffed against your neck. "Ain't teachin' ya much. Now, idle it forward."

You followed his instructions, twisting the throttle just enough to get the engine purring beneath you. The vibration went through your legs, and despite yourself, you had to admit it felt very, very good.

"Okay, now what?" You asked, trying to sound bored even though the adrenaline was starting to kick in.

"Now ya balance," Daryl said, his voice neutral like this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Try not to fall over." You could feel his eyes on you, judging every movement you made. "Quit messin' 'round. Friction Zone is how ya idle forward."

You shot him a look but did as he said, trying not to stall the motorcycle. For a second, you wobbled, and you swore you heard Daryl whisper something—probably betting on how soon you'd crash.

But you didn't. You steadied yourself. It was a weird feeling—kind of thrilling, kind of terrifying.

"Well, look at that," you said, showing him a grin. "Didn't fall over. Guess you're not the worst teacher after all."

"Jus' keep 'em hands on the bars," he instructed, his voice rather patient—well, as patient as Daryl ever got.

You did as he said, gripping the handlebars harder, trying not to think about how close you were to him. His smell wasn't exactly unpleasant. In fact, it was kind of… intoxicating.

Not that you'd ever admit that to him out loud.

"Fine, so what's next? Do I just rev it up and hope for the best?"

Daryl snorted, clearly unimpressed with you being unable to wait. "Ya listen, or yer gonna end up on yer ass."

"You know, Daryl, I don't usually take threats during lessons, but I'll make an exception for you."

His grip tightened on the handlebars, and you thought he might just leave you there. But he didn't. "Don't jerk the damn throttle, woman, or yer gonna take off too fast."

"Throttle, got it. Don't jerk it off. Guess I'll save that one for later." You wiggled your eyebrows, even though he couldn't see it.

Daryl stiffened, grumbling something you didn't quite catch, though it definitely wasn't a compliment.

"C'mon now, twist it—slowly," he ordered.

You followed his lead, the motorcycle easing forward just a bit as you worked the throttle.

"There ya go," Daryl said, his voice sounding a bit less harsh now that you weren't about to play around. "Gotta ease into it."

"Wow, who knew you could be so supportive?" You teased. "Almost makes me think you care."

He grunted. "Jus' don't wanna pick yer ass up off the ground."

"Got it, got it. Now, let's see if I can actually ride this thing without killing myself."

Daryl's hand moved to the clutch, his fingers touching yours as he guided you through the motions. You weren't sure if it was the machine or him, but your heart was beating much faster than usual. Maybe it was both. Either way, you were in for one hell of a ride.

His hand was warm, calloused, and—despite everything—comforting as he guided you out of the garage.

"Okay, slow down a bit, but not too much," he instructed, his voice almost a growl. The way he said it made you shiver, but you refused to let it show. You could be cool about this, right?

"Or I could just go full throttle and see how far I can fly through the streets of Alexandria," you laughed back.

"Real funny," he answered, rolling his eyes. "Jus' don't fuck up. Y'ain't flyin' nowhere. Ya gotta keep it steady."

"Right, no jerking off," you said, moving your head to the side just enough to glance at him. "That's usually my motto, you know, but I can make an exception for you regarding that as well."

"Focus. Don't push it," he warned. "Ya gotta keep yer focus on the bike, not me."

"Really? I thought you were my main distraction." You leaned back a little. "Sure, I'll focus. But I'm also pretty good at multitasking." As you worked the throttle again, you felt a rush of adrenaline. "So, what happens if I actually do fall? You gonna come to my rescue?"

Daryl didn't answer immediately. Instead, he loosened his grip on the handlebars, his body tense next to you. "Ya get back up. Everyone falls. 'S what ya do afterward that matters."

"Profound," you smirked. "You should start writing poetry! 'When life knocks you down, just get back on your bike.' Classic wisdom."

"Shut up and drive."

The motorcycle moved as you used the throttle too hard, and you fought to regain control, laughing nervously. "Shit! Maybe I should have listened to that part about not jerking it!"

He sighed, not bothering to hide his amusement this time. "Ya keep talkin', and ya might jus' convince me to kick ya off myself."

"Promises, promises," you smirked, adrenaline rushing through you, making everything feel a bit more exciting.

He grumbled something again—probably another insult—but he didn't try to stop you. Your movements weren't exactly smooth, but it was a start.

"You're a terrible teacher, by the way," you soon said, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

"Good," Daryl answered. "Means ya won't ask me to do this shit again."

You were just getting into the rhythm, feeling the motorcycle beneath you and getting the hang of it, when you heard the sound of footsteps getting closer behind you.

"Hey! What's going on here?" Aaron's voice destroyed the moment, and you felt Daryl tense near you.

"Shit," he groaned, practically gritting his teeth. You tried to process what was happening as you got off the seat, the way Daryl's body stiffened and the smirk faded from your lips.

"Oh, nothing, just a little driving lesson," you announced, trying to keep going despite the sudden stop. "Motto: 'Try Not to Die, but If You Do, It Ain't My Problem.'"

Aaron laughed, walking closer to you both. "So, it's finally finished?" He looked at the machine, inspecting the mix of parts that somehow came together into something that resembled a proper motorcycle.

"Jus' 'bout," Daryl replied dryly.

Aaron raised an eyebrow, looking from you to Daryl, who was already stepping away from him and you.

"That's great. Looks like you're making some great progress," Aaron continued, stepping closer.

"Ain't needin' ya to worry 'bout that," Daryl grumbled, the annoyance in his voice unmistakable. "Lesson's over."

"Wait, what? You can't just—"

"Don't push it," he snapped, shooting you a look that said he was done. "Ya wanna learn, ya have to find someone else."

You blinked, stunned as he walked away with the motorcycle by his side. "Daryl, stop!"

"Forget 'bout it," he called back, almost like his voice belonged to a different person. "Y'ain't ready."

Your frustration boiled over, and you turned to Aaron, arms crossed. "Thanks for ruining my lesson, by the way. Just what I needed today—more interruptions."

Aaron frowned, glancing between you and Daryl again as he watched him walk away. "What did you expect? He's still new here. Trying to keep his distance from the rest of us."

"Yeah, well, he doesn't need to be an asshole about it," you snapped. "I was getting somewhere!"

"You have to understand that the whole group has been through a lot. Daryl's not always going to be open with people," he explained, but it didn't help your mood.

"I get that, but I was just trying to learn something! Guess it's my fault for thinking he could actually teach me without being a complete asshole about it."

"Maybe give it some time?" Aaron suggested, his voice softer now, sounding more sympathetic. "He'll come around."

"Maybe," you sighed, running a hand through your hair in frustration. "But just when I thought I could finally get him to smile and to talk, you pull this."

Aaron's expression was by now somewhere between concern and curiosity as you huffed, glaring at Daryl walking away.

"Really, Aaron…" You continued, throwing your hands in the air. "You couldn't have waited five goddamn minutes longer to come and ruin my day? You see me finally making some progress, and you think, 'Oh, hey! The perfect time to interrupt!'"

Aaron raised his hands defensively. "Hey, I didn't mean to ruin anything. I didn't know you two were having... whatever that was."

"Whatever that was?" You repeated, your voice rising. "It was a goddamn driving lesson! Or, at least, it was supposed to be before you came along with your good intentions and your bad timing!"

Aaron frowned, the tone in his voice still kind, but he wasn't backing down. "Look, I was just checking in because I heard the sound of the engine. I thought Daryl wanted to head out, and I only wanted to see if he's done with his work on the bike. I didn't realize you were both so busy."

"Busy?" You let out a loud laugh, shaking your head. "You know what? Forget it. Next time I'm about to get Daryl Dixon to do something other than grunt or skin dead animals on the porch, I'll write you a goddamn note so you don't fuck it up. Now he's all pissed off and stomping away with my only chance at learning how to ride a damn bike and not kill myself."

"I doubt he's mad at you," Aaron responded. "Daryl's complicated. Like the rest of the group. They're still very new here. And you were the same when I found you and brought you here. But you're probably closer to getting through to him than anyone else."

You snorted. "Yeah, sure. 'Cause nothing says 'bonding' and 'getting to know each other' like storming off with his damn Franken-bike in a hurry. Really fucking touching."

Aaron smiled, squeezing your shoulder. "Just think about it."

You exhaled loudly, putting your hands on your hips. "Sounds like it's from a fortune cookie. Thanks for nothing."

With that, Aaron simply walked off, leaving you alone.

Soon, some days had passed since your lesson with Daryl. Days that quickly turned annoying when you realized he was avoiding you like you were the last slice of cold pizza at a party.

It felt weird.

Like, ridiculously weird.

And it didn't help that every time you tried to casually walk into the garage or catch him before he went on a supply run, he was either nowhere to be found or suddenly too busy to talk. You even half-expected to see a 'Do Not Disturb' sign near the bike.

It wasn't like you were stalking him—okay, maybe a little—but it was hard to stop thinking about him.

"Should I ask for him? Should I knock on the garage door? Maybe he's just sleeping? Or dead?" You laughed at the last thought. With Daryl, it wasn't a real possibility.

Finally, you sighed and decided to call it a day. "Alright, Daryl Dixon, you win," you said to yourself, kicking the dirt as you turned to leave.

But just as you made it halfway down the street, you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps, followed by a clink of metal that made your heart race. You turned, and there he was—finally. Daryl Dixon, leaning against the side of the garage, arms crossed, his eyes hidden behind his hair, and with a cigarette in one hand.

Oh no, you're not getting away this time.

"Been hiding from me, huh?" You asked as soon as you reached him. "Gonna run off again? Or maybe you've just been too busy?" You faked a yawn, your eyes narrowing. "Or hiding from the bike lesson, maybe?"

Daryl simply scoffed, the only sign of life you got out of him as you stood a few inches from him. His eyes looked down, clearly not thrilled to see you standing there, but you didn't give a damn.

You put your hands on your hips, pretending to inspect him like he was the most boring human in Alexandria. "Hey… You did promise, you know? I didn't just imagine that part now, did I?"

"Dunno what yer talkin' 'bout."

You raised an eyebrow, your smile growing wider. "Oh? Sure feels like it. Guess you finally realized you're not as good of a teacher as you think."

Daryl sighed, sounding not only frustrated but... pissed off? Maybe both?

"Don't need to explain shit to ya," he grumbled in return.

You grinned, shrugging. "Well, if you're busy doing... whatever it is you do when you're not being an asshole, I guess I'll just go back to trying to learn from someone else." You turned to leave, but not without looking back over your shoulder again. "Don't worry. I won't ask you to teach me again."

That got him. He pushed himself off the garage, taking a few steps closer.

"You promised, Daryl. Or is that just another thing you like to say and not follow through with? You were gonna teach me. Not that I care; I'm sure I'll learn from someone else... unless you finally stop being an ass," you taunted, still looking over your shoulder at him.

Daryl's hand shot out before you could get too far, catching your arm in a grip that could've cracked a tree in half if he wanted it to. He was definitely pissed.

With a growl, he yanked you back toward him. "Fine. I'll teach ya. But not here. Not in Alexandria." He released your arm. "Meet me by the gates. Tomorrow, at dawn."

Without waiting for a response, Daryl walked back inside, leaving you standing there with a grin.

The next morning, you woke up early, a little earlier than you'd planned, but that was the least of your problems. There was a knot in your stomach that you couldn't get rid of, not even with a few stretches or by putting on your clothes.

This wasn't just another run. It wasn't just another 'do this or die trying' kinda deal. No, this was different. And for some reason, you were extremely nervous. What was he gonna do? What was he thinking?

You threw on your jacket, tied your boots like they were the last thing you'd ever do, and then... you hesitated.

What the hell was wrong with you?

With a deep breath, you forced yourself out the door and towards the gates of Alexandria. When you finally made it, you saw him. There he was—Daryl Dixon, standing there like he was waiting for the bus, except minus the whole 'bus' part. The motorcycle was leaned up against the walls, and he was staring straight ahead as if you were the last person he wanted to see right now.

"Well, damn. You did show up. Thought maybe you'd hide behind that attitude of yours for another day," you said, taking your time to walk up to him, not quite giving a damn whether he was ready for you or not.

But Daryl didn't even acknowledge you. He just flicked his cigarette away and gave you a look that could probably kill.

He then grunted, clearly not amused. "Ain't here to talk."

You looked at him, smirking a little. "Oh, I thought we were here to talk. 'Cause last time I checked, you were too busy to teach me anything useful. Guess you did promise, isn't that right?" You continued and raised an eyebrow. "So... what's the deal, huh? You just gonna stand there, or are we gonna start this driving lesson?"

He was still giving you that dead-eyed stare like you just asked him to swallow down rusty nails. The way Daryl was looking at you, all calm but irritated at the same time—it made everything weirder. But now, you had no choice. You had to get on that machine if you wanted to learn.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped closer to him after he took the motorcycle and got onto it himself. "Get on."

You hesitated before swinging your leg over it as well, the movement too awkward to be smooth. There was no denying it—there was a whole lot of you that wasn't exactly eager to be pressed up against him.

You bit your lip but tried to keep your cool. "Alright, I'm on."

Daryl didn't answer. He just started the engine, his hands gripping the handlebars, and that was when you had to settle into place—right behind him. You were close now—way too close—and that knot in your stomach was only tightening itself. You couldn't help it. You had to steady yourself, right? And as much as you hated to admit it, you found yourself sliding your hands down, almost instinctively. But... it wasn't enough.

And it wasn't fair. Nothing about this was fair. The way he was so broad, strong, and so very close made it impossible to think straight. Your palms were sweating, and it wasn't because you were nervous about falling off. It was him. Just him. And God, it was infuriating, letting your thoughts run wild.

Why does he have to smell so good? Why can't he just be an asshole and not… this?

Your hands moved. Lower.

You didn't mean to, but... there you were. Your fingers grabbed his hips, right there in front of you and so, so very close. He was warm, so warm, and you couldn't not notice it, even if you tried. But you weren't even trying.

Oh, no. Don't. Don't do it. Not now...

But your hands stayed right there. Resting on his hips. You couldn't help it.

God, he feels good. Warm. Strong. Hell, if I slide even lower, maybe I can make him feel me, too. What if I just—

You quickly cut your thoughts off, but the temptation was there. It was stupid. It's Daryl, you reminded yourself, though it didn't make the racing of your heart in your chest any less intense.

"Quit it. Jus' hold on," he suddenly said, still keeping his focus on the road in front of you.

You snapped out of it, blinking as though you were just pulled back from the edge of a cliff.

"Me?" You shot back, trying to sound as neutral as possible, hoping he didn't feel the way your heart was pounding. "You're the one acting like you've got a stick up your ass. Don't act like I'm the problem here."

Daryl didn't respond—again. His hands tightened on the handlebars, and you felt him move slightly on the motorcycle. You wondered if he could feel the way you were still pressed against him, too. If he noticed, he didn't give any sign, but hell, you weren't sure whether that was calming you down or just making everything worse.

Your hands were still grabbing his hips. Still low. Still in the danger zone. And every second you stayed on that seat that close behind him, the more you realized just how close you were to crossing a line you couldn't uncross, too.

Just stop touching him like that. For God's sake, control yourself...

But it was too late, wasn't it? Your hands were already doing what they wanted, sliding ever so slightly as Daryl revved the engine beneath you. And as the machine roared further and you felt the vibration between your legs, you couldn't deny it—you were holding on tight...

And shit, you hated yourself for it, but you couldn't think straight.

Your hands—those traitorous, slightly trembling hands—started to move further without you even trying. At first, you could feel the hardness of his muscles under his shirt. You didn't mean to, but your fingers couldn't resist anymore.

What the hell is wrong with me?

You kept telling yourself you weren't like this, but the warmth of his body in front of you, the vibrations of the motorcycle—the whole situation—it was clearly messing with your head.

And then your fingers touched the waistband of his pants. Your mind started spiraling.

Fuck, stop it.

But your hands were moving still, just a little further, and before you could catch yourself, you were dangerously close to slipping one whole hand past the button of his pants.

Why does this feel so fucking good? So right? No! This is so wrong!

You knew you shouldn't be doing this. You were driving yourself crazy just being this close to him. You should pull away and act like nothing happened. But the thought of him—of the way he looked, the way he smelled—it was too much.

Should I really keep going? You wondered, heart racing. What if I just slide my hand inside and just feel him?

The idea was so sudden it made your stomach growl, but you couldn't stop imagining it. The way he'd react—if he'd stop the motorcycle and throw you off, or if he'd just let you have your way.

But your hand froze at the button of his pants, resting there, barely touching it. You hated how much you wanted to go further, how much you needed to.

Pull back. Move your hand away. Stop thinking about how strong he is.

The way his muscles moved under your fingers, how he wasn't even saying one thing to stop you. Did he want this? Did he feel it too? You hated how much you wanted to find out.

But Daryl kept driving, focusing on the surroundings and possible dangers as you left Alexandria.

Why isn't he stopping me?

He was tense, but that was it. No words, no warnings. And that drove you wild.

Maybe he wants this as much as I do.

Your mind was on fire now, and you wanted him so badly, it felt like your whole body was about to explode. And the weirdest part? You weren't sure you even cared anymore if this was wrong.

If you don't stop me, I swear I'll—

You didn't finish that thought, and as soon as Daryl pulled off the road and into a clearing surrounded by trees, the motorcycle came to a stop.

"This'll do," he said, getting off it and motioning for you to follow.

You stumbled off, your legs still shaky from holding yourself together.

Right now, you wanted to hate him. To scream at him. But the truth was, you were more pissed at yourself. You were supposed to be learning how to ride a motorcycle, not imagining what it would feel like to be all over him and…

No. Stop it. Get your shit together.

"Alright, what's next?" You asked, doing your best to sound casual even as your heart was still racing. "You gonna teach me how not to eat dirt or just let me ride it?"

Daryl glared at you, one eyebrow raised like you were the one making this complicated. "Jus' pay attention."

You snorted, shaking your head. "Sure, 'cause that's been working out for me so far." You crossed your arms, a little too aware of how your body felt like it was overheating.

Stop thinking about him, stop thinking about him...

He was already gesturing to the motorcycle again, explaining the controls all over. "Clutch, brake, throttle—all that stuff."

You nodded, doing your best to stay focused despite how goddamn awkward you felt.

Focus; you can do this.

You glanced at him and caught the way his hands moved around near you, the way his fingers got hold of the throttle like he was born to do this.

"Ya won't wreck it if ya listen."

You scoffed, trying to hide your nerves. "Yeah… 'if,' but okay."

Daryl took a step closer, the space between you suddenly feeling way too small. "Stop makin' jokes, and start payin' some real attention."

You could feel how he stared you down, even without looking into his eyes, and before you could stop yourself, you were blushing—hard.

Shit, shit, shit.

He then smirked, only a little, and you wanted to punch him for it. Or kiss him. You weren't sure. Either way, you tugged at the collar of your shirt like it was too tight, but there was no escaping it.

Daryl was watching you, though his smirk was already gone again. "Jus' sit down on it. Let's see if ya can at least do that alone while out here, without fallin' over."

You had to swallow hard.

Just get on, just get on, and don't think about him.

Your mind was screaming at you to stop acting like you wanted to crawl all over him, but your body was betraying you.

And Daryl for sure wasn't even trying to make it easier, and all you could do was grit your teeth and pray you didn't lose it.

The first time you tried to balance the motorcycle, you almost tipped it over, but Daryl quickly got a hold of it—and you—before you really ate dirt.

"Goddamn it," he groaned, yanking you upright and keeping the motorcycle steady. "Yer fightin' the damn thing instead o' drivin' it. Quit makin' it harder for yerself."

You shot him a glare but didn't respond, figuring it was easier to just get the lesson over with. This time, he stepped in behind you, hands landing on your waist like he was holding onto a ticking time bomb. His grip tightened just enough to make you aware of his presence, but you weren't going to let him throw you off balance.

"Ease up on the damn clutch," he grumbled. "Slowly. Ya ain't in a damn hurry."

By the third or fourth try, you were starting to get the hang of it. You made it a few feet without the motorcycle wobbling like it had been possessed. You didn't even stall it this time.

"Look at me!" You grinned over your shoulder at him all triumphant as you stopped at a treeline. "I'm basically a stunt double at this point! Wanna try jumping flaming buses next?"

Daryl shot you that look again. The one that made you want to throw something at him. "Nah, yer bein' an amateur stunt double wantin' to set yerself on fire… 'cause ya can't keep yer hands to yerself."

You ignored him.

You had it now. You totally had it.

But who needed to play it safe when you could push this lesson to the limit and prove yourself?

You twisted the throttle again but felt a sudden rush of speed. "Shit!" You screamed from far away. "Fuck!"

"What the hell are ya doin'?!" Daryl shouted before you were hurtling forward at fast speed, your stomach dropping as it made everything around you blurry in sight. You had no idea how to stop in the heat of the moment without throwing yourself off it, and that realization hit you hard. You were in panic mode now, and trying to steer only made it worse.

"Daryl? A little help here, please!" You screamed, gripping the handlebars as your hands shook.

"Hold on!" Daryl yelled, but his warning was already too late. The front wheel hit something—a big rock? A tree stump? You didn't even see it. All you knew was that the motorcycle lurched like a wild animal wanting to throw you off its back.

For a moment, you were sure you were about to die. But Daryl wasn't about to let that happen. He lunged forward, grabbing you and yanking you off the seat just before it tipped completely and threw you off.

You and Daryl went down, both of you slamming into the ground hard. You landed on top of him—completely on top of him, with your thighs pressed against his hips and your upper body crashing against his chest.

You knew you fucked up, but his expression only made it worse. The slight pain in your body was nothing compared to the humiliation you felt. All you could do was catch your breath and stare at him.

And Daryl was flat-out pissed. His face was full of rage, and he was breathing hard from the crash. He shoved you off him, his hands on your shoulders as he stood up.

"What the hell were ya thinkin'!?" His eyes were practically burning holes through you. "I told ya to slow the hell down and focus! Ya don't listen for shit!"

You didn't want to admit that he was right, that you'd been very reckless. "Well, maybe you should've taught me how to actually ride instead of standing there like a statue and just barking orders!"

Daryl's hands were clenched into fists at his sides.

He wasn't just angry.

He was livid.

You were both breathing fast now, adrenaline still running through your veins. "And maybe I'm just a fast learner, okay?" You continued.

Daryl looked at you like he was about to rip you in half. "Yer not a fast learner; yer a damn idiot! And now I gotta drag yer dumb ass back!"

He grabbed the motorcycle and swung his leg over it with a grunt. "Get the fuck on," he growled in frustration.

You glared at him for a moment, but you weren't about to argue. You had to get home. You had no choice but to follow him.

Throwing your leg over the seat, you settled behind him. You couldn't even look up now. Every time you did, your stomach hurt in a way that made no sense. The anger, the shame—it was all so degrading. You wanted to argue. You really did. But you were too embarrassed, and your body was too sore to keep up any fight.

Daryl started the engine, and the motorcycle roared to life under you. As he sped down the road, you couldn't help but notice how tense his body still was. Every muscle in his back seemed to be stiff. And he didn't say a word anymore. Not a single word as you rode back toward Alexandria in silence.

His hands gripped the handlebars with such force, you swore the motorcycle might crack in half under the pressure if he kept it up.

You were pissed as well. Pissed at yourself for fucking up and pissed at him for making you feel all... this. You hated that you couldn't read him, hated how he could just shut everything out like that, and especially for making you feel something you didn't want to feel.

Once back at Alexandria, the garage door had barely been shut when Daryl's frustration exploded. He was still breathing hard from the ride, and he hadn't pushed you away since you'd now gotten back, but the way he was glaring at you said enough.

He took a step toward you, pushing you back a little. "Crashed my damn bike…"

"I didn't wreck it, Daryl," you argued. "It's fine!"

"Fine?" He repeated. "That's what ya call near splittin' yer skull open?"

"I didn't crash on purpose!" You shot back, the frustration boiling over. "I'm not dumb!"

He let out a mean laugh, his eyes narrowing. "Coulda fooled me, dumbass!"

"You're the one all trembling here, not me!" You crossed your arms, trying to hold onto whatever bit of defiance was left. "It was an accident, Daryl," you continued, glaring right back at him. "It's not like I'm trying to be your damn stunt double!"

He scoffed, not buying your excuse. "Bullshit. Ya were pushin' it, tryin' to prove somethin', weren't ya? Ya coulda gotten yerself killed!"

Maybe he was right; maybe you had been showing off, but why bother with giving him the satisfaction and letting him know that it was the truth?

"What's your problem, Dixon? It isn't like I destroyed the damn thing," you scoffed.

He shot you a glare. "Problem is, ya don't think. Out there, one screw-up ain't jus' a scratch—it's the difference 'tween comin' back or not comin' back at all!"

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, please! Spare me the PSA! It isn't like I don't know how this shit works! We're all one wrong turn away from dead anyway! What's the big deal?"

"The big deal," he growled, "is ya don't get to pull that shit with my bike!"

His finger shot out, pointing toward the side of the motorcycle. "Look at this," he growled. "Ya see that?"

You glanced where he was pointing and shrugged. "What, a couple of scratches? Boo-fucking-hoo! Rub some dirt with your spit on it; it'll be fine!"

"Couple o' scratches?" His voice rose, and he bent down to run a hand along the damaged part. "Ya know how I worked on this, ain't that right? To get it runnin' smooth?"

He crouched, looking at the machine like he was inspecting a wounded animal. "Look."

"What?"

"Look," he snarled once more, pointing his finger at the gas tank.

Reluctantly, you stepped closer, peering over his shoulder. The scratches weren't as bad as you'd expected—some scuffed paint and a tiny dent, hardly catastrophic.

"Oh no," you pretended to be shocked and threw your hands up. "It's ruined! Better put it out of its misery!"

Daryl turned around, staring at you in disbelief and anger. "That funny to ya?"

"A little," you shot back, trying to ignore the way your heart pounded. "Newsflash, Dixon! This is a hunk of metal. It'll survive!"

His jaw clenched, and he stood up so fast you stumbled back. "Ain't the damn point," he snapped, stepping closer.

"Then what is the point?" You demanded in return.

"The point is," he growled, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register, "ya don't listen. Yer always so goddamn dumb, thinkin' ya know better—"

"I do know better!" You interrupted him. "I could rebuild this bike with my eyes closed! Hell, I could build you a new one from… a scratch!"

Daryl's hands dropped to his sides, his breathing fast as he stared at you. His eyes looked down to your arms, and you followed his line of sight, realizing for the first time that you were trembling.

His eyes softened, just for a second. "Ya hurt?"

"No," you lied, crossing your arms to hide the shaking.

Daryl huffed, and his frustration was boiling over again. "Bullshit."

He moved toward you, closing the space between you as he grabbed you by the arm. You flinched but didn't pull away. His grip tightened, pulling you back toward the motorcycle you'd nearly wrecked.

"Get on," he growled, holding you still.

You froze, glaring at him. "Excuse me?"

"Get on the fuckin' bike," he repeated, his eyes narrowing.

You shook your head. "You're out of your damn mind."

But you didn't fight it when he shoved you over to the seat, guiding you like you were weighing nothing at all. You hadn't expected this—his touch and his obvious anger.

But it wasn't just the crash. No. It was the way his eyes looked at you—like he was waiting for you to back down, to beg for mercy even.

"What?" You scoffed. "You're pissed 'cause I fucked up your bike? Is that it? So fucking ridiculous!"

"'S part of it," he answered, and before you could respond, his hand gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him.

And you weren't sure what you expected from him, but you didn't expect the force of his lips on yours.

His kiss was aggressive. It wasn't tender. It wasn't gentle. It was all teeth and tongue and the feel of his stubble against your skin.

You tried to pull back, pushing at his chest. "What the hell—!"

"Shut the fuck up."

You barely had time to react before he was pushing you against the motorcycle, and his hands found their way under your shirt. It was almost too much to bear—the roughness of his touch. It had no place here, not with you two practically being strangers in this world, but somehow it made sense.

And no, you didn't pull away. Not now.

"Daryl—" You cut yourself off when his hand slid down to your waistband, tugging at your pants, a movement that was fast and urgent. Your breath hitched, a gasp escaping your throat.

He didn't respond, not in words anyway, as he lowered himself to his knees in front of you, his hands on your thighs, forcing you to stay still.

He wanted you—had wanted you, maybe for longer than he'd ever care to admit.

You gasped again when he pulled your pants down roughly, his hands moving along your hips before dragging them down your legs. You knew his hands were capable—he could gut a deer in under a minute, rebuild a bike from scratch—but this? This was a whole different level of skill, and you weren't sure whether to be impressed or terrified by how quickly he had you undone.

But you didn't have time to process it before Daryl was standing again, his face dangerously close to yours, eyes burning with a fire that made you blush.

God, his eyes.

They weren't just looking at you—they were staring you down.

Before you could say anything else, he kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands sliding down to your hips and pushing himself closer until there was no space between your bodies.

And then, his fingers slipped beneath your panties, and he slid two of them into you. Without warning.

You cried out at the suddenness of it, at the overwhelming feeling, but you didn't stop him.

"Still think I'm tremblin'?" He asked as he moved them inside you with a pace that made your head spin. You couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.

Sure, he was frustrated—but now it was all coming out, only in a way that you'd never expected. You didn't know what this was—what this would be afterward—but damn if it didn't feel like the only thing that mattered right now.

As his breath turned quicker against your neck, the urgency of his fingers quickened, too. Until he pulled them out of you. The moment he removed his hand, licking his fingers clean, you almost cursed aloud, the emptiness threatening to drive you mad.

He didn't give you time to say anything, didn't even let you think about it, because in the next moment, his hands were yanking your shirt up over your head, and your bra was gone just as fast.

But the way he studied you, every inch of you—like he was savoring the moment as if you were a piece of art he needed to drink in—made everything feel too much. Too much to take. Too much to bear. But also too good to stop.

You couldn't protest, couldn't do anything but let him have his way, and your eyes squeezed shut as you fought to hold it together.

Without a word, Daryl kneeled back down onto the ground again, his hands moving to your thighs, pushing them apart for him.

"Open yer eyes," he ordered, but you didn't. You just couldn't. But you could feel him there, right between your legs, and the anticipation was nearly killing you.

No, you couldn't do anything but obey as his hand was pulling your panties down and his other hand's thumb stroked across your clit, but something else caught his attention. A bruise on your thigh started to slowly form itself from when you'd crashed.

And then, without a word, he leaned forward, his lips pressing hard against the bruise. His teeth bit into the skin, and then he sucked on it with a hunger that had nothing to do with the motorcycle and the crash.

You gasped loudly, eyes opening wide as the sharp sting of his bite was followed by the slow, deep suck of his mouth.

His lips left the bruise for a moment, but it wasn't gone long. His tongue licked over the edges of it, then his teeth, scraping some more, making your legs shiver with lust and a little bit of pain.

As his fingers moved toward and away from your wet pussy, to brush over the scratches on one leg from the crash, you could feel the pressure of his touch as he traced over each one. He didn't care about the discomfort it caused, didn't care about the marks—they were his to play with.

A growl left his throat as he scratched them a little harder, just a little deeper, making you whimper.

You didn't even realize you were staring at him until his blue eyes looked up into yours, a silent claim that went deeper than anything else.

"Ain't lettin' ya look away," he warned as his hands gripped your thighs again, forcing your trembling legs to stay open for him.

And God, they were.

His touch was everything you didn't know you needed as he slipped his fingers back into you—simply all-consuming. His thumb stroked your clit yet again, and you were sure you were going to lose it way too fast.

And the way he kept looking at you—like he was daring you to look away…

But you didn't. Not once.

The pressure was building, that sweet, unbearable pressure, until it felt like you were going to burst into flames.

Indeed, it was pure fire.

"Eyes on me," he growled. "Don't ya look away."

His fingers found their rhythm, slow but deep, making you moan out loud, trying your hardest to keep your eyes open and on him.

"Yeah, 's it," he growled. "Focus."

You nodded wildly, the feeling overtaking everything, your body desperate for more. Every bit of your skin was burning, and you hated how badly you needed this.

"Daryl… I," you gasped, your hands holding on for dear life on the motorcycle seat, trying to stay upright but close to losing the battle with every pump. "I can't—fuck!"

"Can't what? Focus? Ain't nothin' new," he answered, his thumb still on your clit while his fingers were thrusting away. "Can't handle it? Ya jus' gotta focus. Keep yer eyes on me."

You were close, so fucking close already, but he wasn't letting up.

His fingers moved so roughly inside of you, pressing against your G-spot, which soon made you feel certain this was it—this was the moment.

Your legs were shaking hard, your breath coming in quick, desperate moans. "Fuck… fuck…" You whimpered, fingers tightening on the seat behind you.

But then he stopped. Just stopped.

The sudden loss of his fingers was like being thrown into a room full of walkers. You groaned, your hips bucking in a desperate attempt to go after what was just within reach, but he pulled his hand away completely, leaving you trembling and half-crazed.

"What the fuck, Daryl!" You cried out loud as you glared down at him, but Daryl only had the audacity to smirk, licking his fingers off once more like you hadn't been about to shatter into pieces.

"Keep still and shut up," he growled, and before you could scream at him, his head was between your legs.

Your words turned into a choked cry as his tongue moved over your clit, the feeling of his stubble against your inner thighs making you squirm.

It wasn't fair. You were already so close, your body trembling so hard it hurt, but now he was dragging it out, taking his sweet-ass time, licking and sucking like he had all damn day.

"Fuck—fucking hell, Daryl," you hissed, hands grabbing his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan against you. The vibrations shot straight through you, making your thighs clench around his head, but he didn't stop—he didn't even flinch.

"Thought ya were so good at takin' risks," he taunted, his lips brushing against your clit as he spoke.

And with that, he sucked on it so hard you nearly screamed, the feeling of it being just on the edge of pain, but God, it was perfect. You were so damn close again, and this time, you needed it.

If he pulled away now, you swore you'd kill him.

"Please," you whimpered, your hips grinding against his mouth in a way that should've embarrassed you. "Daryl, fuck, don't you dare stop again—"

His grip tightened on your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wanted you as his tongue pushed you further and further until there was nowhere left to go but over the edge.

But it wasn't just his mouth—oh no. His hands were keeping you in place, his fingers pressing into your skin like he was claiming you, and maybe he was. You didn't care. You just wanted more.

"Fuck—Daryl, I'm—" Your voice broke, too far gone to even finish the sentence.

He pulled back just enough to growl, "What? Yer what?" His voice was rough and way too sarcastic for a man who was driving you insane.

"Stop it and finish me!" You snapped, your hands pulling at his hair like it would somehow speed him up.

He laughed—actually laughed—and that sound went straight through you. But before you could cuss him out for being an 'insufferable bastard,' his fingers were back on you, two sliding inside so easily you swore you saw stars.

Your breath hitched, and then he added a third.

"Fuck—holy shit!" You gasped, your thighs trembling as he stretched you wide. The feeling was nearly too much, but it was just right, and when his fingers started pumping in and out, so deep and hard, you couldn't do anything but ride it out.

He looked up at you then, his blue eyes searching for yours. You wanted to look away, to hide from the way he was watching you like he was saving every second of this to memory, but you didn't. He wouldn't let you.

"Eyes on me," he growled. "Don't ya fuckin' look away."

You didn't think you could blush any harder—you didn't think you had the energy left for it—but then his other hand moved, his thumb pressing into the bruise on your thigh, just hard enough to make you wince.

"Shit—Daryl, that hurts!" You hissed at him, but his grip tightened, keeping you still.

"Good," he growled, looking at you. "Should hurt."

His fingers inside your pussy were picking up speed, driving you mad with how good they felt.

"Ya think I'm jus' gonna let ya off easy after crashin' my bike?"

He pressed harder into the bruise, making you whimper from the pain that somehow only made everything hotter.

"Nah. Yer gonna feel this. Remember this."

You hated how much it turned you on—the sting of his thumb on your bruise along with the pumping of his fingers inside you and the way his mouth was so close to your clit again.

"Please—fuck—please," you begged, not even sure what you were asking for anymore. You just needed something—anything—to finally push you over the edge.

"C'mon," he growled against you, not stopping. "C'mon, woman. Fuckin' let go. Let me fuckin' have it."

And that was it. That was all it took.

Everything inside you exploded so intensely you moaned out loud, your whole body arching as the orgasm ripped through you.

"Fuck—fuck, Daryl!"

You tried to keep your legs from giving out, but they were done, trembling so hard you had no choice but to lean fully against the motorcycle once more, trying to hold yourself steady. But Daryl didn't stop. His mouth stayed on you, his tongue again working your clit, dragging out every last bit of your orgasm until you were shaking all over, whimpering and sobbing from the overstimulation.

Only then did he pull his fingers out in a way that made sure you'd feel everything.

But before you could catch your breath, his hands were on you again, gripping your thighs like they belonged to him. Without a word, he hoisted your legs up, wrapping them around his neck. The sudden movement made you yelp, but he didn't care—not one bit.

"What the fuck are you—"

"Shut up," he growled, his voice ragged as he shifted you off the motorcycle and onto his shoulders like you weighed nothing. "Focus."

The cold floor hit your back as he lowered you down, your body shivering against it. He moved near you, his hands gripping your thighs to keep them spread wide as he settled between them again, his face just inches from where you were still dripping for him.

You barely had time to process the new position before his tongue was back on you, licking slow and deep, making you moan aloud through the garage. All you could do was writhe and shake beneath him, your hands searching for anything to grab and hold onto—his hair, his shoulders, the cold floor—trying to keep still as he worked you over.

But then, just when you thought he'd keep going until you couldn't take anymore, he moved, his mouth leaving your pussy as he started to lick and kiss—hot, wet, and sloppy—all over you.

And he didn't move fast. He took his time, crawling up your body like he was deciding which part of you he should tease next. You felt his breath across your skin, so warm yet unsteady, while his hands worked on keeping you exactly where he wanted you—legs spread wide, no room to close yourself off, no room to argue.

His hands? Oh, you knew those hands could kill you if they wanted to, but the way he traced the edges of the scratches on your thigh? Fuck, it was worse. Slow. On purpose. Just enough pressure to remind you it was there. A reminder you didn't need, but apparently, he thought you needed.

The tip of his thumb ran over them once, twice, then pressed down harder. You flinched—it was pure instinct—but his other hand clamped down on your leg, pinning you to the floor. His thumb didn't move, didn't give you a break. If anything, he pressed harder, and you hissed through your teeth. He groaned, low and deep, like your slight discomfort was exactly what he wanted.

Daryl soon leaned down and kissed them. He kissed them like he was apologizing. Then his teeth grazed over the same scratches, and you realized he wasn't sorry for it at all. His tongue followed, licking slowly and wetly over the stinging feeling of them, and your back arched itself off the floor.

By the time he moved up to the bruise on your hips, his fingers found it first, pressing into your flesh like he was testing it, seeing how much it was hurting you. You flinched again, but this time, his response was immediate—a growl coming out of his throat as his fingers dug in deeper.

"Daryl," you started, but your voice cracked, and you knew that he wasn't listening anyway. His mouth replaced his fingers, and the first kiss of his lips made your head snap up.

Not soft, not tender—he sucked on the bruise as if he wanted to drag the pain out of you, to make you feel every sting of it.

He kept going, his mouth kissing up your ribs, licking, biting, sucking, finding every bruise that was forming itself, every scratch, and making sure you knew he'd found them.

"Fuckin' hell…" He whispered as his mouth moved higher, pressing kisses to your chest, in between your tits, before his tongue licked over one nipple.

You gasped as he sucked it into his mouth, one of his hands moving to tease the other, pinching and rolling it between his fingers.

"Daryl, please! Please… just—"

He didn't let up. He crawled higher over you, his body pinning you down, his mouth moving up to your collarbone, where his tongue licked over it next.

By the time he reached your neck, you were a mess, your hands now clawing at his shoulders, desperate for him to give you more, to stop teasing. And he knew it.

But he wasn't done. His teeth found your neck, and he bit down, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to leave a mark, your thighs instantly squeezing around his hips.

"Goddamn," he growled as his mouth finally reached yours. "Look atcha… all wrecked."

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, rough and hungry, his tongue pushing into your mouth like he needed to taste every part of you.

And fuck, you didn't care.

Daryl left no room for argument—not that you had any strength left to argue.

His hands were everywhere at once, sliding over your thighs, your hips, your waist. You moaned into his mouth as his fingers moved back down between your legs, slipping through the wetness he'd left behind when he dragged his fingers through your wet folds, and his smirk certainly showed that he was satisfied with himself.

He wasn't asking for permission, no, but he wasn't rushing either. And he was now giving you the chance to stop him without saying a word.

When you didn't push him away, he leaned back just enough to look at you. His blue eyes seemed darker now, his pupils all wide, searching for something, waiting.

Your hands slid up his strong back, trembling slightly but steadying themselves as they reached his shoulders. You gave him a small but quick nod as you took a shaky breath.

That was all he needed.

With a growl, Daryl's hands gripped your hips, flipping you over onto your stomach fast but not harshly. Before you could even process it all, he pressed himself down against your ass.

"Don't move," he whispered.

You weren't planning to.

He grabbed your hips again, pulling you back just enough to hold them upward. You felt his cock pressing against your ass, still in his pants but unmistakably hard as he grunted and pushed it against you, his hands only holding on harder.

The deep and loud groan he made? You couldn't help but push back against him.

You barely had time to listen to the sound of his zipper before he was back, his cock sliding between your thighs, teasing, the wetness of your pussy making it too easy for him to glide against you.

Your fingers were clawing at the floor as you tried to push back, but his hands held you in place.

His hips rocked forward, and the tip of his cock pressed into your pussy. You tensed, your breath stopping at the sheer size of it, but he didn't push in—not completely. He was letting you feel every inch of how big he was.

When he did push inside, it was enough to stretch you wide open, and with one slow thrust, he sank into you, filling you up. Still, Daryl didn't move right away. He stayed there, buried to the hilt, as he gave you a moment to adjust and made sure you were okay.

Then, he finally started to move.

Slow at first, his hips pulling back before thrusting forward again, each movement so controlled.

But it didn't take long for him to move faster.

Harder.

Deeper.

And you couldn't do anything but take it as he pinned you down.

"Daryl—" you moaned, but he cut you off with a growl, his arm sliding down around you, pulling your hips higher to give him better access.

"Don't talk," he ordered, trying not to lose himself. "Jus' take it."

And you did. God, you did.

The garage felt almost suffocating now, and all you could smell was the scent of sweat and sex. The only sounds to be heard were your fast-breathing moans of yourself and his feral grunts as Daryl moved behind you. Every thrust was deep, driving you forward just to pull you back again with a growl, his grip on your hips leaving marks you'd wear for days.

Your hands still searched for any kind of hold against the floor, trying to ground yourself as the intensity of it all threatened to break you apart. His cock stretched you in a way that still bordered on too much, each thrust rougher than the last, and yet you couldn't get enough of it—of him.

"Fuck," Daryl grunted, his voice sounding as if the word was being dragged out from deep inside him.

You couldn't respond to him, not with the way he filled you so completely, your body trembling under his control. But he didn't need any words in return from you. His hand slid from your hip, moving along your ass and up your spine, before he put his arm around your shoulders to keep you steady.

"Don't lose focus now," he growled, leaning over you, his chest brushing against your back. His stubble grazed along your shoulder as he pressed his mouth down, his lips rough, almost punishing. He bit down hard, his teeth sinking into your skin just enough to leave another mark.

You cried out, clenching around him involuntarily. "Daryl—"

"Shut up," he said, cutting you off with another bite to your shoulder, this one softer than the last. His teeth were still on the mark he'd made, right before his tongue soothed it, leaving you shivering.

Daryl's pace quickened, each thrust making your overstimulated body shudder.

"Goddamn, look atcha," he grumbled, his voice full of lust. "Really fuckin' wrecked, ain't ya?"

You whimpered in response, your head falling forward and almost hitting the floor, but your body was still being held on tight by his grip.

"Ya like that?"

You nodded.

"C'mon," he growled, his hand tightening around your chest to keep you steady as his thrusts grew erratic. "Stay with me, woman. Focus. Fuckin' focus."

You didn't have a choice. His arm around your chest and his cock buried so deep inside you made it impossible to think about anything else. And the pressure was building again, unavoidable, and you knew he could feel it—the way your pussy clenched around him, desperate to feel him come, too.

And he didn't slow down. He didn't ease the pace or give you any room to breathe. Instead, he buried his face against you again, his lips sucking on your neck, his tongue following to taste the sweat of your skin.

"Shit," he hissed, his voice all muffled against your neck. "Goddamn, ya feel so fuckin' good."

His hips thrust forward, harder and faster, and you could feel him getting close, his movements losing their rhythm as his breathing turned ragged.

"Fuck—fuck," he groaned, his arm moving from your chest to hold your hip again, his hand grabbing you roughly as his thrusts went deeper. "Gonna—fuck, I'm—"

He didn't finish the sentence. With a loud groan that was almost sounding more animal than man, he pulled out, his hand gripping his cock as he came all over your back with force.

You stayed there momentarily, still on the cold floor of the garage, as you tried to piece yourself back together. Your legs felt like jelly, trembling so badly you weren't even sure they'd hold you if you tried to stand up.

Daryl soon moved off behind you, his heavy breathing just as loud and uneven as yours as he leaned against the motorcycle for balance. His cum was feeling all warm across your back, but you didn't have the energy to care—not yet.

Finally, he straightened himself, pulling his pants back up and putting his softening cock away. You heard the sound of his footsteps next to you as he walked around the garage, and for a second, you thought he was going to leave you there, fucked and half-naked in the garage.

But not long after, he was back, something soft and slightly damp rubbing over your skin.

"Hold still," he grunted. "Gotta clean ya up."

You flinched, moving your head to see what he was doing. Daryl had an old, torn rag in one hand, smudged with a little bit of dry oil, but it was enough to do the job. His other hand pressed against your shoulder, holding you still as he wiped away the mess of his cum he'd left behind.

"You could've at least grabbed a clean one," you grumbled, but there wasn't any real annoyance in your voice.

When he was done, he tossed the rag aside. "Yer alright?"

You smirked, despite the ache in your legs. "What, worried I might've cracked under all that control?"

For a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue. Instead, he just grunted before crouching in front of you. His hands found your arms as he helped you up, his strength the only thing keeping you from falling right back to the floor.

"Easy," he mumbled, sliding one arm around your waist to steady you. "Ain't wantin' to pick yer ass up again if ya fall."

"Not my fault," you answered, your legs wobbling as you tried to find your balance. "You're the one who—"

"Don't even start," he cut you off quickly, but definitely with amusement. "Ya got no one to blame but yer damn self."

His arm stayed around you as you took a few shaky steps with him by your side as if you had to learn how to walk again, your knees still threatening to buckle. You hated how he looked at you right now, showing you a smirk as he watched you struggle.

"Shut up," you grumbled, leaning against him more than you wanted to admit.

"Ain't said nothin'," he smirked, but the way his hand tightened on your waist betrayed his satisfaction.

Once you were steady enough to stand on your own, he let go, his hands falling to his sides. As you reached for your clothes, putting them on with clumsy, trembling fingers, Daryl leaned against the motorcycle again, watching you with that same gaze he'd had earlier, his blue eyes tracking every movement of your body.

"So? Ya still reckless?" He suddenly asked, as if to taunt you.

You glared at him as you put on your bra and shirt. "Excuse me?"

"Crashin' my bike," he continued, crossing his arms over his chest. "Then gettin' all riled up when ya can't handle shit."

Feeling your cheeks turn red, the heat was spreading all over your face as you turned to zip up your pants. "Maybe if you weren't such a goddamn caveman, my attention would've—"

"Caveman, huh?" Daryl stepped closer, the space closing between you until you could feel the presence of him behind your back. One hand came up, his fingers brushing lightly over the bruise on your thigh from earlier, the touch rather gentle.

"Caveman kept ya focused now, didn't he?" He continued, his lips all close near your ear. "Got yer attention real good."

You hated how easily your body responded to him even now, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

"Next time," he said, his voice dropping slightly, "ya might think twice 'bout tryin' to show off."

His fingers then pressed into the bruise just enough to make you wince, reminding you of the lesson he'd drilled into you—literally.

"Control," he said, stepping back again. "Might save yer damn ass next time."

You turned to face the motorcycle with a scowl as you adjusted your clothes, looking around for your jacket. "Are you done lecturing me, or should I grab a notepad?"

"Nah. Jus' get yer shit together," he answered. "We're headin' out again tomorrow. Yer ridin' bitch till ya prove ya can handle it."

Laughing at that, your words were coming out faster than your still-wobbly legs could even move. "Riding bitch, huh?" You repeated as you turned to face him. "Next time you're teaching me to drive, I'll be riding something, alright—but it sure as shit won't be the bike."

It was a bold answer, considering your legs still felt like they'd been switched for spaghetti, but you weren't about to let him see you back down.

Daryl's lips twitched, that small smirk coming back as he closed the distance between you in a few quick movements. One hand shot out, gripping your chin and tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

"Keep talkin'," he grumbled, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "See where it gets ya."

You grinned, biting his thumb just enough to make him hiss. "I think it gets me exactly where I want to be," you responded, voice all daring, even as your pulse kicked up a notch all over. "Don't you think?"

Daryl's silence was answer enough, and for a moment, you thought he might snap again, dragging you into another round right there on the spot. But for now, and for once, you decided to savor and enjoy your little victory. Of course, it didn't last long.

You weren't sure who moved first, but before you knew it, you were pulling him down by his collar, your lips crashing onto his like they had something to prove.

The kiss was all grunts and stubbornness, his teeth biting at your lip as you ran your fingers through his messy hair. You didn't even notice when his hands found your waist, pulling you closer until there wasn't an inch of space between your bodies.

"Y'ain't got any sense o' self-control," he mumbled against your mouth, but he didn't stop kissing you, one hand sliding up to grab the back of your neck.

You broke the kiss just long enough to catch your breath, smirking up at him. "And you've got too much of it," you shot back.

You knew this would've gone on longer—should've gone on longer—but the sound of the side door from the garage to the house opening stopped you both in place like a couple of kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

"Daryl?" Aaron's voice was to be heard, and you felt the blood freeze in your veins. "Are you both back already?"

Daryl let out a growl, his forehead slowly dropping to yours like he was trying to collect himself before turning to look toward the unwanted interruption.

Aaron stood in the doorway, his eyes looking between the two of you, taking in the sheer awkwardness of it all. His eyebrows shot up, and he blinked like he was trying to reset his brain back to factory settings.

"Oh…" Aaron said after a moment, his voice sounding a little bit higher than usual. "I just—uh—saw the garage door was closed from the outside when I came back. Thought you were done with, uh, teaching? I just wanted to get—"

Daryl cleared his throat, stepping back from you but not bothering to hide his irritation. "'M still teachin'."

Aaron's mouth opened like he was about to ask something else, but you jumped in before he could make things even worse. "Yeah, exactly," you said, smiling at him before you looked back at Daryl. "He's teachin' me how to… focus."

The words had barely left your mouth before Daryl shot you a look. Still, he couldn't resist adding, "And 'bout… control."

Aaron stood there, his mouth opening and closing like a fish in urgent need of water. Finally, he managed to let out a quiet, "Still teaching, huh?" His voice was full of disbelief. "About control and focus?"

You crossed your arms, smirking. "Of course! And let me tell you, Daryl's got a real hands-on approach." Daryl gave you a warning look, but you ignored him. "Next time, maybe we'll move on to, I dunno, accelerating!"

"Yeah," Daryl answered flatly, his tone as casual as if Aaron had walked in on him fixing the motorcycle, not having had you taken against it. "Focusin' on the road ahead. Controllin' the bike while… ridin' it."

Aaron arched only one eyebrow this time. "Right," he said, dragging the word out like it was hurting him. "Well, maybe teach her outside of Alexandria next time instead of Eric's and my garage?"

You snorted. "Oh, we can, for sure. But Daryl's really good at teaching me how to focus on what's in front of me," you said sweetly. "It's the control part I keep getting stuck on."

Aaron let out a short, strangled laugh, already backing toward the door. "Yeah, okay! Don't let me interrupt your lesson." His face went red, and he backed up so fast he nearly tripped. "I mean, it sounds, uh... productive. I'll just—yeah." He gestured around awkwardly as he was about to hurry back inside the house.

When he left, you could've sworn he whispered something that sounded suspiciously like, "What the hell is wrong with all these people?" before he closed the door behind him.

The second the door clicked shut, you leaned against the workbench, your eyes moving to the motorcycle that had started this whole situation, after all. It stood there innocently enough, like it hadn't been witness to your absolute lack of keeping control. Stepping forward, you traced your fingers along one of the scratches on its gas tank.

"Looks like Frankenstein's bike's seen some rough handling, thanks to me," you said before your eyes moved back onto Daryl, who was watching you like an animal sizing up its next meal. "Guess it'll get used to bein' ridden hard."

Eyes looking up, you were daring him to take the bait. "Think you'll leave some scratches on me next time?"

His muscles were flexing like he was seconds from pulling you back to him. "Keep talkin', woman, and I jus' might."

You grinned, stepping away from the motorcycle and grabbing your jacket, which was on the floor near the workbench. "Guess I'll just have to wait and see, huh?" You put the jacket on, taking your time on purpose to let him stew in his frustration.

Just as you reached the garage door and opened it, you turned back toward Daryl, who'd started to talk, watching you lean your shoulder against the frame. "Yer walkin' funny, woman."

You stopped, moving your head up with a glare. "If I walk funny, I'm tellin' everyone it's 'cause of the bike." You made sure to add a smirk. "I'm going to say it was a wild ride—not a crash."

As you pushed yourself off the frame and stepped outside onto the streets of Alexandria, your grin was as wide as ever. "Thank you for the thorough lesson, Dixon."

But before the garage could even close behind you, something soft and slightly damp was flying past your head, landing on the ground in front of you.

"Jesus, was that—?" You started to laugh, realizing exactly what he'd thrown after you. "Oh, come on! Did you seriously throw that at me? Gross!"

Daryl leaned against the motorcycle, his smirk not obvious, but it was there. "Missed, didn't I?" He didn't flinch, didn't apologize. "Didn't miss on purpose."

"That's disgusting," you called back and laughed, unable to help yourself. "And I'm not picking that up!"

"Didn't ask ya to," he answered, pushing himself off the machine and taking a few steps closer to the street. "But yer might come back in here 'n pick up somethin' else."

"Not a chance," you snorted, shaking your head while you stumbled a little bit. "Better luck next time. Or… tomorrow."

"Fuckin' reckless…" Daryl growled, but with amusement in his voice as he watched you disappear ever so slowly. But he didn't move, not yet. "Jus' get yer damn ass back here!"

You were already down the street and smirking to yourself as you tried to walk and just waved him off, making it clear that it was all for show as you held up both middle fingers, trying to make it seem like you were stumbling away with your body intact.

And, of course, you were—kind of.

Either way, Daryl knew that next time, the only thing you'd be riding was him, and you'd make sure he would be the one struggling to keep focus and control.

[tumbleweed-writes]

From your smut prompt list....how about #1 and #44 for my favorite scotsman Chibs?

Belonging.

I have zero idea how this got so filthy. I would apologize for the filth, but it's smut. What'd ya expect???

18+ Only obviously.

Chibs pushes Y/N away in a poorly thought out attempt to protect her . Y/N decides to go on a date with a rebound to mend her broken heart and Chibs is left trying to remind Y/N that they belong with one another.

========

This date was a terrible idea. In fact, it might be the worst idea she’d ever had in her entire life. The thought danced through her head as she studied herself in the floor length mirror in her bedroom. A voice in the back of her head exclaimed that the polite and handsome rookie cop who’d asked her on a date was not quite worthy of the pretty little floral dress she’d chosen to wear.

The white knee length dress was adorned with red roses and the sweetheart neckline gave a perfect view of her cleavage. The red heels she’d worn with it made her legs look so appealing. She’d spent far too long curling her hair and picking out a perfect shade of red lipstick to match the roses on her dress.

The dress had been bought with a much different man in mind. Her heart ached as it reminded her that this man was clearly no longer worthy of this dress.

When she met Filip Chibs Telford she should have been wise enough to know he would break her heart.

She had been new in town opening a bakery not far from Floyd’s Barbershop on main street. She’d used what little inheritance she’d received from her grandfather to follow her dreams and open a bakery. She’d taken a huge risk having left her safe and stable job to follow her passions and open her own business. She’d been praying the risk would pay off.

She’d chosen to move from San Francisco out to Charming, California. She’d been charmed by the name, no pun intended, and the small town atmosphere.  It felt like the perfect place to follow her dreams.

One of her very first customers had been one Gemma Teller Morrow.

The intimidating looking Queen of SAMCRO had been looking for a birthday cake for her grandson and had been impressed with Y/N’s work.

Y/N had been nervous but delighted to have her first big client and she’d thrown herself into making the Harley Davidson themed cake for the toddler.

The men who had been sent to pick up said cake had not been what she’d been expecting. The Scotsman in particular had caught her attention; the accent quite uncommon in the middle of northern California.

She’d been unaware that she had caught his attention as well. 

At the time of their first meeting she’d been a bit distracted by Bobby Munson who’d been talking to her about the secret to a perfect muffin. She’d not noticed the Scottish Son admiring her during the discussion she’d been having with Bobby over preferred leavening agents and the perfect ratio of fruit to batter in blueberry muffins.

Bobby had become a frequent visitor to her bakery after the birthday cake job, and much to her shock the Scotsman had joined him more often than not.

The very first conversation Chibs and she had ever had one on one had been over shortbread, in particular his praise for her shortbread. She’d taken it as a genuine compliment when he’d admitted that her Scottish shortbread was the best he’d had stateside.

A friendship had formed between Chibs and she, although she knew to outsiders it might appear to be a strange friendship; the scary looking forty something year old outlaw biker being so buddy buddy with the young sweet looking baker. It was an odd mix; leather and whiskey with floral dresses and cupcakes.

The change in their friendship had come unexpectedly. She’d had some trouble with a local developer who’d been visiting Charming; the man had begun attempting to intimidate Y/N into backing out of her lease. He’d been quite pushy with a few of the businesses on main street.

He had intentions of building some upscale condos and high end retail on the street. He thought Charming would be a perfect getaway for yuppies looking to escape the big city. 

Apparently the landlord who owned this particular strip of buildings on main street was not interested in selling the property. He’d figured he had a pretty good deal going with the businesses operating there as most had been there for decades. 

So the developer had taken to attempting to get the business owners who were renting the shop spaces to back out of their lease. 

His attempts to get Y/N to give up her retail space had been friendly at first, until it had become clear that she was not interested in moving from her place of business no matter how much money he was willing to throw at her. 

He’d gotten quite demanding and it had become full on harassment. 

SAMCRO didn’t take kindly to the developer taking an interest in Charming’s real estate if it meant bringing in outsiders to the safe haven that was Charming, and Chibs had not taken kindly to the man attempting to intimidate the pretty young baker who he’d taken such a liking to.

SAMCRO had been willing to come to her defense and Chibs had seemed to take quite the pleasure in scaring off the developer.

Y/N’s intention to thank the guys with baked goods, and Chibs with his own batch of Scottish Shortbread, had been started with innocent intentions.

The guys had appreciated the muffins she’d baked them as well as the cake. Chibs had appreciated the shortbread…but somehow her thank you to him had gotten a little out of hand.

One second he’d been standing in her shop accepting the box of shortbread and the next minute her lips had been pressed to his; his hands caressing her body.

She was grateful that the bakery had been closed and it had been late enough at night because Chibs had wound up taking her back to the kitchen and one thing had led to another. She was sure the health department would shut her down if they’d ever known just what she allowed Chibs to do to her, bending her over the counter, and what they’d done on the floor. 

They’d laid side by side nude on the kitchen floor both out of breath staring up at the ceiling when the words had left him. “I think it kinda goes without sayin that I like ye a lot.”

The giggle that had left her made a smile cross his features, the smile only growing as she spoke in response. “Good, I like you a lot too.”

Things had been good; they’d been happy.

Then things had changed. Jax Teller had taken the gavel becoming club pres and Chibs had become his SGT At Arms.

With the new title came some unexpected distance between Chibs and she. Y/N had figured at first that perhaps Chibs had just been busy given all the changes in the club, but then weeks had gone by and then before she knew it a month had gone by and she barely heard from him.

She’d made several attempts to reconnect with him and find the spark they seemed to have lost; but he’d just seemed to brush off her attempts. She’d called and paid visits to TM Auto…she’d even visited the clubhouse and his apartment, but he’d seemed so eager to push her away.

The last interaction they’d had told her all she needed to know.

They’d been standing in his dorm room at the clubhouse after she’d paid a visit practically begging him to just give her a moment of his time. 

She could remember the words that she’d said to him. “Lately, I just feel like maybe you don’t love me as much as I love you. I just feel so…neglected. I know you’re busy, but I’d like to at least feel like you still have a moment for me in your life. Lately, it feels like I have to fight tooth and nail to get you to glance my way. I know there’s been a lot of changes for you in the club, and I’m trying to be supportive…I am trying so hard to meet you halfway, but it feels like I’m the only one trying. I feel like I’m fighting so hard for us. I’m so tired of fighting, Filip…I can’t be the only one fighting for us.”

The words she’d gotten in response had felt like a knife to the chest. “Maybe it aint worth fightin fer.”

“I love you, how is that not worth fighting for?” She questioned not above pleading with him. This just seemed to be coming out of left field. She didn’t understand how he could claim that they weren’t worth fighting for.

He’d always made her feel so loved and adored. She felt so connected to him. He made her feel so wonderful. How had he changed so quickly without even a moment's notice? 

The response she got cut her all the more deeply. “Jus leave me alone, Y/N.”

He paused the next words that left him sounding uncharacteristically cruel. “It was fun while it lasted, aye? Ye were a good fuck. We got each other off and it was all good n’ well. Shite is getting too deep between us lately; too personal. It’s gettin a wee bit pathetic on yer half. Yer clingy and desperate. Like I said, shite is pathetic. I can’t do commitment, Lass. I ain't the type to give ye the white wedding and white picket fence. We’re two different people from two very different worlds. We should own up to the fact that our paths ain’t goin to align. Ye shoulda known from the start what this shite was between us. This was never anythin serious fer me. I don’t love ye.”

Those words had shattered her heart; she only managed to step back from him as though he’d slapped her. She spoke, her words harsh, tears flooding her vision. “I wish I had never met you.”

With that she’d turned away and fled from his room and his life.

She’d allowed herself time to cry and have the biggest pity party known to man. Then she’d done her very best to put on a brave face and carry on with her life without Chibs Telford. She had returned to work and pasted a smile on her face. She’d thrown herself into her work. She had ignored the looks of pity that had been sent her way as Bobby and a few brave members of SAMCRO had dared to still come to her shop for baked goods.

She’d not seen neither hide nor hair of Chibs Telford though, and even though her heart might claim differently, her head insisted that it was just as well for her.

Even if her heart screamed that it was a lie; she swore that she never cared to see Filip Chibs Telford ever again as long as she lived and breathed. 

When a handsome young rookie cop had stepped into her shop with his little sister in tow looking to buy a treat for the girl; Y/N had been flattered by his obvious flirtation. She hated to admit it was cute. Guys who were good with kids were appealing. 

Though she didn’t quite get the same weak kneed putty feeling she got when Chibs flirted with her; she’d forced herself to flirt back with the young officer.

When he’d come back a week ago and asked her out for dinner, she’d said yes despite her heart screaming at her that she was not ready.

That was how she wound up sitting at an Italian restaurant on main street with her date. The restaurant was nice; romantic and cozy. The candlelight failed to invoke romantic notions in Y/N though as she stared at her date.

Seth; his name was Seth.

He was sweet, intelligent, handsome, and funny. He was kind and seemed as though he was passionate about his work. He had brought her a bouquet of roses and complemented her outfit. He’d held the car door open for her. He’d hung on every word she’d said tonight. He didn’t do a thing for her though. 

There was no spark there at all. He didn’t make her heart skip a beat. He didn’t make her feel that stir of lust deep within her. He didn’t make butterflies fill her belly. He didn’t make her feel like a nervous schoolgirl. 

She found herself comparing him to a certain Scotsman. He had a nice smile but his smile was missing the dimples she adored in Chibs. He had a charm to him; but it was not the same charm Chibs Telford had mastered. He was handsome and young, but Chibs was handsome in his own right and she was fond of the gray along his temples. Seth had a slow California accent but it was nothing like Chibs’ thick Scottish brogue. Seth was brave due to his career, but she didn’t feel the same sense of protection she felt around Chibs. He was funny, but he failed to make her laugh as hard as Chibs though. He was sexually appealing, but she didn’t find herself picturing what he might be like in bed. A voice in the back of her head exclaimed that he could not please her the way Chibs had done.

Chibs Telford had ruined her for other men, and she despised him for it. 

It felt hopeless. She hated that she was on a date with a nice and socially acceptable man and all she could think about was the socially unacceptable man who had been awful to her the last time they’d spoken. How was she this pathetic?

She loved a man who did not want nor love her. She could not think of anything more pitiful. 

She frowned as Seth spoke a frown crossing his features. “What do you think?”

“About?” She dared to ask hoping it was not so obvious she’d not been paying attention to a word he’d said thus far. She had no idea what they were even talking about.

“The sushi place they’re putting in? It’s going in out near that coffee shop by Jones Appliance Repair. Everyone’s been talking about it.” Seth explained the frown deepening he most likely picking up on the fact that she’d not been paying attention to him nor the conversation he’d been attempting to carry along with her.

“Oh, uh, I’d be curious to try it out.” She remarked her cheeks flushing ever so slightly mortified it was obvious she was not able to focus on this date at all.

Seth scrunched his nose up at the response he fast to reply. “Oh, I don’t think I’d be brave enough to try it. Eating raw fish just seems kind of unsanitary. I don’t know…seems like it might make you sick. I mean you really aren't supposed to eat raw meat, ya know?.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, tempted to snap that people ate sushi all the time and fared just fine. She pushed back the comment ignoring the voice in the back of her head that claimed Chibs would endure trying it with her even if he felt wary of it. He would try it if he thought it would make her happy.

She hated the thought, reminding herself that Chibs cared very little about what made her happy. If he cared about her happiness, he would not have broken her heart.

He didn’t love her. He’d said the words himself. Nothing between them had been serious according to him. He did not want her. 

“Are you okay? You seem miles away.” Seth observed she cringing at the statement.

She sighed, deciding to just be honest with him. He seemed like a nice enough guy and she felt guilty that she was unable to really commit to this date. She was using him as a rebound and she felt awful for using him in such a way. She felt like an awful person. Didn’t hurt people hurt people though? “I just got out of a relationship…he broke up with me and I guess, I’m still kind of heartbroken over it. I found out he wasn’t taking it as seriously as I was…or at least that’s what he said. I guess I'm still in love with him…which sucks, because he doesn’t love me. You’re a nice guy, but my head and heart are kind of a mess right now. Rejection stings, and my heart just feels so heavy lately. I guess, I’m just not entirely ready for any of this…I thought this date would be a good idea, but I’m just not ready.”

Seth nodded his head, reaching down to toy with the polished fork on the table. “Your ex is that Scottish guy, right? The biker, he’s in that club, The Sons of Anarchy?”

She furrowed her brow at the comment. She knew SAMCRO was well known around town…but she found it strange that Seth would have enough knowledge about the club to place the fact that she’d been previously involved with Chibs. She spoke the words flying from her lips. “How do you know that?”

Seth shrugged his shoulders he fast to respond. “I’ve seen them around town…saw you on the back of the Scottish guy’s bike once a few months back.”

He was fast to speak again. “Sheriff Roosevelt knows the Sons of Anarchy are up to no good despite their company line of just being motorcycle enthusiasts. The last sheriff Charming had was apparently way too willing to turn the other cheek when it came to SAMCRO. Pretty sure old Unser was just as crooked as the MC. Now that San Joaquin has absorbed the Charming Police department, the days of turning the other cheek are over. Most honest cops worth their salt would love to bust those guys. I’ve seen the records these guys have, the Scottish guy too. They’re criminals, there’s no way of sugar coating it. It’s some crazy shit. They’re an international organization, don’t know if you knew that. The Feds have tried and failed to bust them. The ATF were in town a few years back and they didn’t manage to pin them down the way they’d hoped. So, if the local PD did it, it’d be impressive.”

He paused, shrugging his shoulders the words that left his lips sounding so nonchalant. “I imagine you have to know something about what they’re up to given you dated one of them. I mean, I’m pretty sure you’re smart enough to see the red flags he must have been giving off.”

“Did you ask me out so you could dig for information about my ex and SAMCRO?” She snapped, the thought making her blood boil.

She was being used wasn’t she?

“Not entirely. I asked you out because you’re attractive and you seem like a sweet girl despite your dating history. Anything you might say about your ex and his friends is just a bonus.” Seth remarked.

 Y/N reacted by picking up her wine glass, tossing the liquid within it in his face.

Seth wiped his face, a scoff leaving him, his dress shirt now stained with red wine that had managed to drip down his face before he had a chance to really wipe it away. “Guess you’re really not over the ex if you’re this defensive over it. The guy seriously broke your heart and you’re still protecting him. Dude is a scumbag and you’re this upset about the idea of him being busted.”

He spoke nodding at the large windows, to their left, that gave a view of the street outside the restaurant. “Guess he’s not over you either. I noticed him following us when I picked you up. I’m surprised you didn’t hear his bike or notice him. Like I said though, you’ve been miles away all night. He really did a number on you. It’s a shame. You seemed like such a sweet girl and he’s ruined you, clearly.”

She turned in her seat spotting the motorcycle across the street and the familiar man standing beside it. She could see him standing by his bike, his arms crossed, his eyes squinted as he struggled to peer through the restaurant windows in the dim light of dusk.

She grimaced, torn between wanting to stay here and endure this horrible date or wanting to go outside and risk confronting the man who had broken her heart.

She sighed deciding that her heart was going to hurt either way. She might as well go with the devil she knew.

She spoke, gathering her purse and her jacket. “Lose my number. I am not going to be a career stepping stone for you. I may be ruined, but I’m not stupid nor is my self esteem low enough to let myself be used by another man ever again.”

With that she gathered what little she had left of her pride, ignoring Seth’s comment as she walked away from him. “Don’t come crying to me when he winds up in prison. He’s a criminal, Y/N. Don’t forget that. He’ll never change.”

She kept her head down as she left the restaurant pretending she did not see the Scotsman watching her every move.

She cringed as she heard the sound of a bike starting up. She moved a little quicker knowing it was a futile endeavor as she could not outwalk his Harley especially not in red open toed pumps.

“Get on the bike, Lass.” The comment sounded out beside her.

“Fuck you.” She snapped, daring to glare at him, not stopping her pace.

Chibs sighed, rolling his eyes at the comment. “Aye, I deserve that.”

“No kidding. You’re a real piece of shit, showing up here after the last time I saw you. I hate you.” She remarked her pace speeding up Chibs not giving up riding along beside her slowly.

“Now that ye got that outta yer system, will ye please jus get on the damn bike? What do ye think yer even doin? Are ye seriously goin to walk home? Ye live miles away, Love. Jus let me take ye home.” Chibs responded, flinching a bit at the venom behind her words.

“No, I don’t need a damn thing from you. I am no longer your concern. We were never serious, remember?” She snapped back, turning down an alleyway attempting to escape him.

Chibs remained undeterred, parking his bike at the curb and dismounting it. He followed her down the alleyway, his voice sounding drained. “Come on, Y/N. This is fuckin insanity.”

“The only insane thing is you bothering to show up and crash my date. I think you made it perfectly clear that you wanted me to leave you alone the last time we spoke. You made your thoughts on me and how pathetic I am perfectly crystal clear. Nothing has changed.” Y/N retorted groaning as she neared a dead end, it hitting her that her escape route was useless.

Chibs sighed, unable to stop himself from saying it. “Ye ain’t pathetic. Yer date didn’t look like it was goin so well. A fuckin cop, Love? Really?”

She scoffed at the comment she turning to glare at him, the words falling from her lips, unable to stop herself from taunting him. “Remember we come from two different worlds. In my world I can date a cop and you can’t do a damn thing about it.”

He stepped closer to her his eyes growing dark as he stared down at her. “Aye, maybe so. Ye didn’t look like ye were havin much fun with him though, Lass. Ye looked fuckin miserable all night.”

She glared up at him, deciding to push his buttons all the more, lying through her teeth her words far more vulgar than she’d ever dare them to be in any other conversation. “Oh I’ve had plenty of fun with him, Chibs. You did say I was a good fuck. I thought I’d test the theory with him. I might be desperate and pathetic, but you know how good I feel wrapped around a cock. Maybe I thought I’d try his dick out, see how good I could feel.”

The words made his eyes grow all the darker. He stepped even closer to her his voice picking up a possessive tone. “We both know he can’t fuck ye as good as I can, Love. We both know I could do ye so well ye couldn’t walk the next day. Ye seem to be walkin jus fine righ now which tells me he’s nowhere as good as me.”

Her eyes narrowed, she shoving back the lust creeping up in her at the reminder of just how good Chibs Telford had been in bed. “You lost the right to fuck me the second you broke my heart”.

She paused, stepping back closer to the wall, her words harsh, the pain evident in her voice she clenching her fists refusing to cry in front of him. “You don’t love me, remember? So, why the hell are you even here?”

He cringed at the statement a sense of something she did not expect to see in his eyes washing over him; shame, regret.

He sighed the words leaving him. “I made a mistake.”

Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, she sounded as emotionally drained as she felt. “You can’t just show up like this, Filip. You can’t throw me away and then get mad because some other guy wanted me. I’m not something you can just drop and pick back up at your convenience. I can’t deal with the emotional whiplash. I deserve better than someone who only wants me when someone else shows interest.”

“It ain’ like that. I ain’ jus showin up because some prick wanted ye. I won’t lie and say that Bobby mentionin ye had a date didn’t push me to get off my arse and stop bein so stubborn. This ain’ about me wantin ye only cause someone else does. I never stopped wantin ye.” Chibs struggled the explain the comment, his words only confusing her further.

“You didn’t act like you wanted me very much the last time we spoke. You told me I was the only one taking anything between us seriously.” She pointed out the hurt evident in her voice.

Chibs cringed at the comment, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, a sigh leaving his lips. “I didn’t mean any of it…I thought I was protectin ye.”

“From what?” She exclaimed, annoyance joining her confusion.

He sighed, shaking his head. “From me, Love. I know we never said the words…never acknowledged the truth…I never said out loud jus what I am…what SAMCRO is. I knew ye were smart enough to figure it out…that I’m an outlaw. I’m a criminal and yer innocent.”

She parted her lips wanting to snap that she was not that innocent. She didn’t have the chance though as Chibs spoke again. “I have seen ol ladies come and go in this club. I never took an ol lady before ye…Even after I divorced Fiona…I figured I’d not find anyone I wanted to spend my life with…I watched my brother’s and their ol ladies though…I’ve seen em be treated like shite by my brothers. I’ve seen men treat the women they claim to love like dog shite.”

“You never treated me like that…I mean aside from how you dumped me, that was kind of shitty.” She remarked, her voice soft.

Chibs nodded his head, a heavy sigh leaving him. “Aye that may be true. It wasn’t jus kinda shite love, I was a piece of shite.”

He paused, forcing himself to say the words he should have said to her from the start. “The violence that the life I’ve chosen requires…I never wanted ye to experience it. The role I’ve taken in the club..Sgt at Arms..it requires a certain level of violence…violence I’m perfectly capable of…it’s a side of me I never wanted ye to know existed in me…the life I’ve chosen to live chews ye up and spits ye back out. I’ve seen it break more people than I care to admit…and I’ve lost more than a few people in my life. I got in my head thinkin bout ye, thinkin bout how much I love ye…how pure bein in love with ye feels. Told myself the life I chose to live would jus taint that purity, that the world that comes with me would break ye. I couldn’t let it happen. I love ye, and I’d rather let ye go than lose ye or make ye think I’m a monster.”

“So, you just broke my heart instead of telling me how you felt? That was the plan?” She snapped, absorbing the words rolling them around in her head soaking them in.

He loved her.

She knew of course just what he was…she was not stupid. She didn’t buy the whole innocent motorcycle enthusiast lie SAMCRO loved to spin. She had spotted the occasional signs that Chibs’ day to day life consisted of more than just being a mechanic at TM Auto. He carried a burner cell and weapons for heaven's sake. Those were pretty big red flags if there ever were any. 

The red flags had never pushed her from Chibs. He’d seemed so sweet and had been a perfect gentleman to her. She’d told herself that anyone who could treat her with such adoration could not be a danger to her. She’d ignored any sense of self preservation that told her he was dangerous and had followed her heart with him.

She also heard the whispers around town. Charming’s local populace seemed to be well aware that SAMCRO was up to no good. They seemed to tolerate the club as a necessary evil of sorts.

She’d told herself that the men she’d gotten to know, who so often frequented her bakery, were not a threat to her.  

Chibs sighed nodding his head wordlessly as Y/N spoke the words leaving her. “You’re an idiot, Filip.”

He felt a small smirk cross his features at the comment. “Aye, been called worse.”

He sighed the smirk dropping from his lips the words sounding certain as they left him. “I fucked up, Love. I thought I was doin the righ thing…lettin ye go. It fuckin hurts though. I miss ye. My heart misses ye. This past month has been miserable without ye. When I found out some fuckin cop was takin ye out on a date, I bout lost my mind. I came out here tonigh to…I don’t know…see ye from afar, maybe work up my nerve to crash yer date…try to win ye back. I figured if I got here and ye seemed happy, then I’d let ye go…but ye don’t seem happy. I don’t think either of us are happy apart, Love.”

She sighed resting against the brick wall of the building behind her the words leaving her. “I don’t know what to do with this, Filip. I mean it. I can’t deal with the emotional whiplash. This past month has sucked. I’m not happy apart from you…I’m afraid of letting you back in though. How do I know you aren’t just going to drop me the next time you get too lost in your head? I know what you are, Filip. I’m not an idiot. I care about you enough to learn to accept that side of you…I’ve been accepting thus far…I’m so hesitant to learn to trust you again though… I can’t listen to you tell me you don’t love me again. I can’t let you break my heart in some hairbrained attempt to protect me again.”

He let out a sigh of his own, his heart sinking, fearing that it was too little too late. Perhaps he’d ruined the one good thing he seemed to have going for him.

He swallowed the lump in his throat knowing he had to try to fix this. He was going to try as hard as he could. “I know I really fucked up, Lass. I swear to God though that I will spend the rest of my life tryin to make up fer how much I hurt ye. I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but I’m beggin fer ye to give me a chance. I will do whatever it takes to get ye to let me back in. I’ll work fer it day and night if that’s what it takes. Yer the best thing I got in my life…the purest, I aint known many pure things in my life. Bein with ye made me feel like I migh jus be a good man even with all the shite I’ve done and all the pain I’ve caused fer the club…Bein without ye, it’s been hell fer me. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, and I can’t focus. I’ve been a grouchy fuck, accordin to Bobby at least.  I fuckin broke yer heart and my own in the process. I want to fix it, Love. I want to fix our hearts if yer willin to give me the chance. Jus give me the chance to put our hearts back together. Let me try.”

She felt her throat grow tight at this, her eyes growing damp, Chibs fearing she was about to tell him that there was no chance for them. His fears died as she spoke, her voice weepy. “Oh, Filip.”

She reached for him, her hand pressing to his cheek he leaning into her touch as she spoke. “I don’t want to feel this miserable ever again. Please, don’t make me feel that awful ever again.”

“Never, Love.” He reassured her his hands reaching out to press to her sides, thankful that she did not yank away from him as he pulled her into an embrace.

He leaned down his lips sliding across her, the kiss starting out slow and sweet, almost as hesitant as their very first kiss.

The kiss quickly grew deep and impassioned the realization of just how much they’d longed for one another growing apparent. 

She slid a hand down his body resting it against his denim clad cock massaging it as it began to perk up the lower region of his body very aware of just how much he’d longed for her. He groaned, pulling from the kiss his words thick with need. “Fuck, Love. Yer playin with fire here.”

She smirked at him, the words spilling from her. “I don’t mind fire.”

He moaned his hips rocking against her on their own accord eager to chance even the slightest hint of stimulation from the woman he’d feared he would never have a chance to have ever again.

He spoke that jealous little voice, unable to stop itself from working the words from him. “I have to know, Love. Did ye really fuck that cop bastard?”

She sighed, deciding that lying to him would just be cruel. She pulled her hand from his crotch ignoring the low whine that left him. “No, Filip. The last guy I slept with is you.”

He nodded his head frantically, a sense of relief washing over him. “Aye, okay…even still...”

He paused for a moment finding the words unable to stop himself from still feeling possessive of her. “I’m going to fuck ye so hard yer going to forget that guys name”

She felt a wave of lust wash over her that she knew Chibs was only capable of dragging from her. “Please.”

His lips met hers, the kiss somewhat harsh that possessive voice in the back of his head insisting that he had to claim her right here right now. She was his and she needed to be reminded of it.

His lips left hers pressing down her neck nipping at her skin roughly sucking against any marks his teeth may have left behind ensuring she’d have plenty of love bites to remind her of who she belonged to. 

His hands roamed her body she practically melting against him doing all she could to run her hands across his back caressing him over the leather of his kutte.

He ran his hands up her body yanking the front of her dress down so hard he was amazed it didn’t rip the fabric. His lips pressed down her chest nipping at the delicate skin along her cleavage wanting to leave his mark there as well.

She moaned, her head falling back, his name leaving her lips. He groaned against her his words muffled against her skin. “Aye that’s right, Love. Say my name, let everyone know jus who ye belong to.”

He yanked her bra down her breasts spilling from the cups, his lips locking down over a breast suckling harshly a whine leaving her.

He ran a hand up her dress along her hip caressing her skin as his lips focused on her breasts nipping at the skin and taking her nipples between his lips suckling eagerly.

She whined as he wasted no time to slide a hand along the lace of her panties, a groan leaving him the noise vibrating against her breast as he continued to suckle.

His hand slid eagerly under the waistband of her panties, his fingers finding her slit. He grunted rubbing her for a moment before allowing his fingers to slide between her damp center. He thrust his fingers in her stroking her walls, her knees practically buckling.

He spoke pulling from her breasts his voice sounding almost awestruck. “Yer so fuckin beautiful, so fuckin wet fer me. Just grippin down on my fingers pullin me in. This pussy missed me, aye?”

She nodded her head wordlessly a whine leaving her his fingers stopping a frustrated noise leaving her. He spoke his voice demanding. “Tell me, Love.”

“I missed you so much, Filip.” She admitted the words so needy and so true. 

He groaned, rewarding her with a thrust of his fingers curling them just right to hit a part of her that made her tremble against him. “Good girl. That’s my lass. Drippin down my fingers takin em so well.”

She moaned, not caring who might just hear her. She was sure a marching band could make their way down the alley at the moment and she would not give a damn as good as she felt at the moment.

His fingers slid across her clit, the action making her knees grow all the wobbly, her fingers digging into the leather of his kutte a high pitched whine leaving her. “Fuck.”

He smirked, rubbing circular patterned into the sensitive bud, the action making a few more curses leave her lips. 

He balanced stimulation to her clit with the thrust of his fingers into her core, the action making her feel dizzy. The only thing she could focus on was rocking her hips to chase the stimulation he provided. 

He spoke a teasing tone to his voice. “Christ, look at ye, Love. Riding my fingers, so needy fer me. Ye love this don’t ye? Me fingerin ye in the alley where anyone might see us.”

She whined nodding her head knowing this was the most risky thing she’d ever done in her life and she found it thrilling.

She knew she’d realistically be mortified if anyone walked upon this, but the risk of it all made her wetter than she was sure she’d ever been in her entire life.

He spoke, pushing her all the more. “Imagine if yer fuckin date walked up on this aye? Saw ye riding my fingers moanin fer me like a whore. Fuckin seein I’m the only one who can make ye feel this good by my fingers alone.”

“You make me feel so fucking good, Filip. No one else feels this good.” She whined the statement, working a moan from him, his lips pressing to hers in a deep bruising kiss.

She continued to ride his fingers eager to chase a release.

He encouraged her his voice demanding as he pulled from the kiss. “Play with yer clit, Love. Touch that pussy while you ride my fingers.”

She moaned, pressing her fingers to his lips, he taking them between his lips sucking them wetting them for her.

She pulled her hand from his lips reaching down as he demanded toying with her clit, the task not easy with the fuss of working around the skirt of her dress and her panties.

She rubbed circles into her clit frantically trying to increase the pleasure she felt.

She whined the heat beginning to pool in her abdomen, a coil tightening within her proving that she was so incredibly close to falling over the edge.

She spoke the words needy. “Going to cum.”

“That’s my love. Want ye to fuckin cum. Cum on my fingers, sweetheart. Let go fer me.” He encouraged her his eyes unable to leave her as she neared her release, her skin flushed, her lips parted, her head fallen back, her chest heaving. 

She was unable to stop the high pitched moan from leaving her as she let go her thighs shaking her center clenching and unclenching around his fingers.

He continued to finger her throughout the orgasm he moaning his cock throbbing desperate to be within her his manhood feeling envious of his fingers.

She whined as she came down from her orgasm, his touch becoming too much all too quickly. She slumped against him as he pulled his fingers from her.

She kept a tight grip on him almos sure she’d collapse to the ground if he was not holding her up.

She moaned as he pulled his fingers up to his lips, sucking them, cleaning her taste from them, a satisfied groan leaving his lips.

 He pulled his fingers from his lips pressing his lips to hers sharing her taste with her. She moaned against the kiss his hand roaming her body as she recovered from the intensity of her orgasm.

He pulled from the kiss his words needy. “Want ye so bad, Love. Let me fuck ye.”

She whined nodding her head the words that left her just as full of need. “Please, Filip. Need you so much.”

He groaned, reaching down and unfastening his belt with skilled hands. He unzipped his jeans unbuttoning them. He yanked his boxers down just enough to pull his hard cock from the confines of the fabric.

She moaned, reaching between them her hand wrapping around his cock he grunting at the touch. Her thumb ran along his slit spreading the precum leaking from him, he moaning at the action.

He spoke resisting the urge to thrust against her hand though the temptation to spit in her hand and demand she jerk him off a tempting one. "Shite, m'love."

He could picture cumming from her touch spilling his release against her hand, maybe even letting a little of it land on her sweet little dress. He smirked at the thought a possessive voice in the back of his head exclaiming that he’d mark her so clearly making it obvious she was all his.

He spoke his voice demanding as he reluctantly pulled from her touch. “Get rid of those panties, Love. Give me room to fuck ye.”

She did was she was told, reaching down to place her fingers under the waistband of her panties, sliding them down her legs letting them land against the concrete below them not caring what happened to them as long as it meant having his perfect cock buried in her.

He groaned, taking himself in hand, sliding it along her wet pussy, the words leaving him. “Gonna fuck ye so good, Love. Gonna ruin ye for any other man.”

“Already have.” She whined the words so honest. 

She knew her heart was his. She was trusting him to take care of her and make this right with her.

He groaned the words spilling from him. “Fuckin ruined me too, Sweet Lass. Ye belong with me. Yer all I fuckin want, forever.”

He moved his hands to her thighs encouraging her to wrap her legs around his hips allowing him to press her against the wall for support.

She wrapped her arms around him clutching on to him desperately trusting him to keep her held upwards. She spoke the words needy. “I’m addicted to you. You’re mine.”

He spoke positioning his cock at the entrance the words possessive. “Yer fuckin mine too. My ol lady, only mine, till the breath leave my body.”

She didn’t have a chance to respond as he slid himself home entering her inch by inch hissing at the sensation of her velvety soaking walls enveloping his cock. 

He spoke his words low and full of praise. “Perfect fuckin pussy. Belongs wrapped round me, only me.”

“Only you.” She moaned agreeing her head falling back as he began to rock against her his hips jerking against her desperately proving he was intent on fucking her.

His hips rocked against her frantically pushing her back up against the wall, his hand reaching up to press to the back of her head not wanting to slam her head into the rough brick wall behind them.

She whined clutching on to him all the tighter, letting herself sink into the sensation of him. Her lips pressed to his trying her best to muffle her moans.

He moaned against her lips the sensation of her wrapped around him so heavenly. He knew no one had ever felt so incredible wrapped around him.

He may have taunted her commenting that he was capable of fucking her so hard that she couldn’t walk the next day, but it was the truth. He knew she was so capable of taking all he had to give her.

She thrived equally on the rougher encounters they had as well as the softer slow love making sessions. Each time he had the privilege of taking her he was reminded of how lucky he was.

He had not been lying. She had ruined him for other women. 

He was hopelessly devoted to her. She took him so perfectly and she loved him so deeply. She loved him for all he was, even his imperfections. She saw the good in him that others disregarded.

She was his saving grace at the end of the day. He knew he could protect her. He could make sure she could remain his sweet loving ol lady who made him shortbread and slept peacefully by his side at night trusting him to care for her.

He kept thrusting in her his hips not losing speed knowing he was desperate not only to chase his release but to help her reach hers as well. 

He spoke his voice low and filled with adoration. “Look at ye, fuckin cock drunk on me. Can’t think bout nothin but how good I feel.”

She whimpered, nodding her head the words struggling to leave her lips. “Feels so good, Filip.”

He spoke a moan of approval leaving him. “Feels perfect, Love. Takin my cock so well. Shite, I love ye.”

“Love you.” She responded, her fingers digging into his back as he continued to take her against the wall.

She whined, able to hear the sounds of cars passing by only feet away.  The alleyway was dark enough out and there were no lights nearby to reveal that she was being fucked in such a public place.

This felt so filthy but so perfect. This was so dangerous, just as dangerous as him, and she loved it. She loved how risky this felt. She loved the man desperately fucking her making her center ache around him dripping against his cock. 

She knew he was the only man on this entire planet who could make her feel this good and the only man she would trust to take her in such a vulnerable place.

He would protect her; she knew this. She trusted him to take care of her and keep her safe. He would prove to her that he was devoted to her and would cherish her heart just as dearly as she cherished his.

He moaned the words leaving his lips. ‘Gonna take ye slower the second I get ye home. Gonna take ye so many times tonight, Lovely girl. Gonna remind ye that this pussy belongs to me.”

She whined, nodding her head frantically. “Missed you so much, Filip.”

He groaned, nodding his head. “Aye, missed ye, Love. Never goin to make ye miss me again. Never gonna fuck this up ever again, Love. Gonna keep ye by my side as long yer willin to have me.”

“Want you forever.” She whined the words so certain, making his heart ache with absolute adoration.

“Aye, forever.” He worked out his eyes locked on her, she by far the most stunning woman he’d ever seen and ever had the privilege of loving. 

She moaned, her hand pulling from his back sliding down her body finding her slick clit. He moaned realizing what she was doing as she began to rub at the bud of nerves so eagerly. “Such a good lass. Touchin that pussy fer me. Jeysus, Love. Play with yer wee clit make yerself cum on this cock.”

She whimpered his words encouraging her, she wanting to make herself cum for him. She wanted him to know how good he made her feel. She wanted him to know he was the only man capable of making her feel so good. 

He spoke becoming lost in lust, the words falling from him, his balls aching knowing he was closer than he’d prefer to be. “Fuckin cum on my cock and let me cum in ye. Fuck, make yerself cum. Wanna fill ye up so bad. Want my cum to drip from ye. Gonna fuckin put yer panties back on ye, not clean ye up even. Want ye to know I’m claimin what’s mine. Gonna be our wee secret, Gonna take ye home on my bike with my cum leakin from ye.”

She moaned at the statement knowing he was truly the only man who could say such absolute filth to her without her feeling bashful. If anything the dirty talk just egged her on.

She’d not had too many partners prior to him but he was by far the best she’d ever had. 

She rubbed her clit knowing just how to touch herself to help her along the path to a release. She’d had more experience in getting herself off before meeting Chibs Telford.

She’d discovered that with Chibs around she rarely had to rely on getting herself off. He was always eager to make her feel incredible even when he was exhausted.

She felt her toes curl at the sensations building up in her, she knowing it wouldn’t be much longer now.  She could feel her orgasm building in her, the fire spreading through her knowing it would burn so hot for him. 

She trembled against him, her thighs growing tense, her body jerking against him. Her fingers did not let up on her clit, her center clenching around his cock eagerly attempting to milk his release from him as she fell over the edge.

She pressed her lips against his a cry leaving her lips as she came.

He moaned the feel of her fluttering around his cock absolute perfection. It did not take long for his own end to sneak up on him, his balls drawing up close to his body, his cock throbbing.

He spilled into her as he fell over the edge, his words spilling against her lips, his accent growing so thick she could not even make out the words. “Fuckin take it, Love. Yer mine.”

She whined the warmth of his release filling her in hot spurts making her shudder against him. She clung on to him, her body feeling weak and so incredibly satisfied. 

He moaned the last of his release, desperately spilling from him into her his own knees feeling wobbly.

He pressed her further into the wall knowing he felt shaky enough that he feared not being able to hold her up as well as he should.

He pressed lazy kisses to her lips a low moan leaving him as he softened enough to slide from her body a shudder leaving him as the cold air hit his spent cock.

He spoke a drowsy giggle leaving him. “Christ, Love. Thank God fer the pill.”

She felt her own giggle leave her, she shaking her head. “Beats the hell out of condoms.” 

He smirked knowing she was the first woman he’d been with in a long while where condoms weren’t an absolute necessity. 

His experiences prior to her had consisted of croweaters who he was so not going into fucking without a rubber. 

He’d made it quite clear to her though that he only had eyes for her and he had a clean bill of health. So the pill had become their main form of contraception until the day they decided they might want to bring a few tiny Telfords into the world.

It was a possibility they’d discussed, and Chibs had been shocked to find that he didn’t mind the idea of possibly giving her a child at some point in the future even if it worried him to know he’d most likely be an older parent.

The idea of her having his child did fill him with an undeniable sense of pride though. 

She lowered her thighs from his hips he continuing to hold her up her knees feeling like jello at the moment.

She rolled her eyes not missing the proud smirk on his lips at the realization that he’d made her so unsteady on her feet especially in heels.

He tucked himself back into his boxers hastily zipping his jeans back up and refastening his belt.

He pressed his lips to hers lowering her dress back down the words leaving him. “Never goin to risk losin ye again, m’love. Need ye in my life. Never fuckin this up ever again. I love ye.”

She placed a hand on his cheek, her lips pressing to his, the words spilling from her. “I love you too, never letting you take the risk of losing me again. You can’t get rid of me, Filip. I’m yours.”

He nodded his head, a sense of comfort washing over him any fears he’d had of tainting her or destroying her seeming way too far away to grasp. “I’m yours. Ye ain’ gettin rid of me either.”

She closed her eyes as he held her against him, rocking her against him soaking up the comfort of belonging to one another.

Her heart once again felt full.

She knew they would not part again. He was hers just as much as she was his.

She would never lose him ever again.

[foreverrandomwritings]

Happy birthday again, my love! I wasn’t kidding about really liking ice cream! Key lime is my favorite, what’s yours?

How about sunset with Jake Seresin?

Sunset

Summary: You get spotted in the bar by a certain group of aviators and then proceed to go home with one.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Afab!Reader

Warnings: Talks of missions gone wrong, alcohol, amputation, cussing, sexual innuendos at the end but not really? and anxiety.

Word count: 1340

Masterlist Taste of Twenty-Five Masterlist

“Is that Sunset at the bar?” The group of aviators all turned and looked towards the bar at Halos' question. Jake was sitting in one of the chairs along the back wall so he had a perfect view of the whole building. There you stood clad in loose ripped jeans, an old harley davidson shirt and a flannel with the sleeves rolled up that looked much too big for you over top of the shirt. 

“Oh woah it is I haven’t seen her in years.” Bob piped up from his place against the wall.  They all watched as you leaned across the bar and hugged Penny. Greeting each other like old friends, warm smiles adorning both of your faces. 

“She’s absolutely gorgeous.” Phoenix was looking at you in awe, utterly enthralled with the energy you radiated. She wasn’t the only one enjoying the view you provided. 

“I think I’m gonna go up and talk to her.” Bradley spoke up with the usual confidence he held. Jake nodded at him and took the last sip of his beer. The game between Phoenix, Omaha, Halo and Bradley was put on pause as the mustached man put his pool stick down. 

“You’ve totally got this man.” Javy smacked the taller aviator on the back encouragingly. Jake watched as he sauntered up to the bar fixing the collar of his Hawaiian shirt as he did. 

“Do you think he’s going to get laid?” Reuben asked and Halo shook her head. Jake and Javy briefly looked at each other. 

“No way. She’s never been that type. Always said she already had everything she needed.” They all watched as Bradley sidled up next to you. You turned and cocked your head in his direction giving him a curious look. You nodded your head at a question none of them could hear and they saw him wave down Penny. 

“I heard she was discharged due to a mission gone wrong a couple years ago.” Fanboy was ever the one to gossip so none of them were surprised when he started up. 

“Do any of you know anything?” He looked at the group and most of them shook their heads. 

“Oof, looks like he struck out.” Reuben winced at the disappointed look on Bradley’s face. He was walking back shaking his head with a pout on his face. 

“What happened man?” Mickey questioned the second Bradley was back at the pool table. 

“She let me buy her a drink and as soon as Penny set it in front of her she said I wasn’t her type but thanked me for the beer anyways.” Jake had a smirk on his lips as he continued to look at you. You sipped on a drink that was not the beer that had been placed in front of you. You talked to Penny for a couple of minutes before you were grabbing your drink as well as the beer and started to slowly make your way through the crowd right to where the group was occupying at and around the pool table. 

“Got you a beer.” You said as you slipped the bottle into the Blonde’s hand. He parted his legs a little wider to give you space to slot yourself between them. 

“Thank you honey.” He placed a kiss on your lips and pulled away. But you chased his lips with your own and placed two more consecutive kisses upon them before pulling away with a smile on your face. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Bradley’s jaw dropped as he looked at you and Jake. You turned around and faced the group resting your back against Jake’s chest. 

“I think you need to have your vision checked, Bradshaw.” You waved your hand in the air showing off the ring adorning your finger proudly. The hand that didn’t have a beer in it came to rest against your hip.  

“Did any of you know?” Bradley narrowed his eyes on the group. But they all seemed just as shocked as he was. 

“Javy was Jake’s best man in our wedding so I’d hope he remembered.” Bradley’s mouth fell open as he looked at the man.

“You encouraged me to go up there.” You, Jake and Javy all snickered together at the clear distress Bradley was in. 

“She did tell you that you weren’t her type Bradshaw.” Jake laid his head on your shoulder and breathed in the relaxing scent that was completely and uniquely you. Bradley bristled and dismissed the both of you by picking up his pool stick and gesturing to the other three involved in the game to continue. You turned back around in your husband's grasp, set your drink on the table beside him and settled your hands around his neck.

“I missed you.” He hummed in agreement before placing his forehead on your own. It had been about two months since you had seen each other. 

“Thought you were running that marathon in New Jersey with Chevelle and Peach.” He brought his hand down under the flannel to brush along your leg unconsciously.

“They had to postpone it a month. So I figured I’d fly here and see what you’ve been getting yourself into.” One of your hands ran through the hair on his neck that was slightly grown out. You’d have to give him a haircut in the next couple of days. 

“Same old same old.” He shrugged nonchalantly, but his signature smirk was adorning his features. 

“How do you know Chevelle and Peach?” Fanboy couldn’t help himself from butting into your conversation. But you didn’t seem to mind as you turned your head to look at him with a smile on your face. 

“I met them in physical therapy after my last mission. They helped me a lot with the recovery process.” You shifted your weight from one leg to the other and then back again. Jake took a long swig of the beer to calm his nerves. 

“What happened?” Mickey had the audacity to look a little sheepish as the question left his lips abruptly. He knew better than anyone not to ask that question but he just couldn’t seem to stop himself. 

“I got hit by an enemy missile and crashed my jet. Lost my leg in the process and have been on a prosthetic for three years now.” Jake’s hand squeezed your waist as the moment he had been notified of your accident replayed in his head. However your fingers splayed against his neck had him coming back to the reality of you standing before him today. 

“Wouldn’t be here today if this one didn’t push me to keep going.” Because Jake had been the rock you needed to lean against. The shore you were hopeful for and the wave pushing you towards it. 

“Couldn’t have my favorite dance partner slacking off now could I?” The light that shone in his eyes had heat breaking out across your cheeks. It always took your breath away to see him looking at you as though you painted the clouds in the sky. 

“I’m sure Javy could’ve played the part just fine.” Javy sang his agreement from where he was sharing a cup of peanuts with Bob. You gave Jake a playful wink before kissing his lips once again. 

“Do you wanna get out of here darlin’? You look good enough to eat in that flannel of mine.” The words left you buzzing with anticipation at the promise they held. You could tell he knew the effect they had on you with the way he licked his lips. He downed the rest of the beer that was in his hand. 

“Let’s go cowboy, I already paid your tab.” You pulled away from him and let him stand. He threw an arm over your shoulders and you both told the group goodbye. You promised to get better acquainted with them soon. The both of you marveled in the comfort of being with each other once again as you slipped through the crowd to his truck outside.

A/N: Thank you so much for this request my dear I am so sorry it's taken me so long to post it! I love key lime ice cream but I would have to say that mine is either mint chocolate chip or raspberry chip.

Tags(open): @kmc1989 @sylviebell @wkndwlff @teacupsandtopgun @fanboyluvr @loving-and-dreaming @eternallyvenus

[cybermindz]

ˋ°•*⁀➷ BLACK CHERRY KISSES ˊ˗

re2!claire redfield x fem!reader

contains ─┈ · · · 18+, explicit : modern!au, exhibitionism(?), use of petnames e.g. (babe, honey), she fingers you on her bike...that's all, that's the blurb. wc : 500+

a/n ─┈ · · · annnd it’s back up!

꒰ 𖥻masterlist ꒱

CLAIRE REDFIELD hit the kill switch of her red harley davidson moments ago. stopped in some dingy alleyway, darkness surrounded you both on the cold breezy night of raccoon city—with one streetlight illuminating the two of you doing something so...tainted, so impure.

she was sat perched and confident on the seat of the bike while you were infront of her—back laying flat against the gastank, legs draping over the fat of her thighs. the only thing that heated your body up came from her long slender fingers pushing in and out of your dripping folds.

"Claire—hah!… not so rough."

you don't know how you got in this situation... okay, maybe you did. but with her digits curling with every pump it was the last thing you cared about as your brain succumbs to the mind-boggling pleasure.

“isn’t this what you wanted babe?” she licks the pad of her thumb on her unoccupied hand before bringing it to rub circles on your clit, “couldn’t have waited ‘till we got home hm?”

ah right.

you were backpacking her as she drove, intending to take you both home as it was getting late after your little date night but she just felt so supple and cozy in your arms that you were unable of resisting at pawing at her under the leather jacket that she wore. she was like a missing puzzle piece, fitting in-front of you perfectly while you snuggled behind her tightly.

"i-i should say the same about you,” you stammer breathlessly, the helmet over your head muffles your voice and covers the teasing grin plastered on your face, "should've ignored me—mmh!…and kept cruising."

"i can't. not with you touching me like that.”

walls fluttering from her words you moan out as she continues to plunge her fingers in your hole. it was messy. so wet. her hand was covered in creamy clear liquid, it encased down her palm and trickles below onto the pretty cherry red metal underneath your plush ass. the sounds of your broken whimpers and the squelching of your pussy makes her grind her hips onto the seat—getting excessively wet herself.

her own helmet was thrown and forgotten somewhere on the floor before she pursued this, so your eyes were able to catch her furrowed brows and awed expression through your tinted visor.

"you're s’pretty Claire."

she flashes a genuine smile your way, circling your clit with added pressure gaining you to clamp down on her fingers. leaning in close, she kissed the helmet that separates you from feeling her plump lips, "i should say the same about you."

with her using your own words against you, a giggle comes from you, the teasing banter never ceases even while you two decide to get intimate—that even while she was mere knuckles deep inside of you, she manages to make the moment so heartfelt and memorable. you loved this about your girlfriend, how she was able to reciprocate the fondness you carried for her—giving it back to you only ten times stronger to show her deep devotion and appreciation she has for you.

it seems like you both just couldn't restrain yourselves from eachother.

with your head thrown back just seconds later, you're keening so sweetly due to the orgasm building up in your core from the tender treatment, "you're gonna make me come.”

"then come, honey."

© 𝐂𝐘𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐙 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works.

— reblogs, comments, & feedback are appreciated!

[clockwork-ashes]

The Wedding Date - Part I

thank you to @elucienweekofficial <3 this event has been SO fun!!! such a great experience participating in this event for the first time and so excited to catch up on ALL the amazing creations <3

Summary: Elain needs a date to her friend’s wedding, so when Lucien offers to help, she hopes to have fun with him on the Greek island of Mykonos and make her ex jealous.

Elain parks her car close to the building, rolling up the windows and pulling her keys from the ignition. The sun is just setting, and the sign flickers to life as she shuts her door. 

Exile. 

Elain breaths a short laugh as she sees that the X is still missing a light, and she tells herself to remind Vassa this time instead of Lucien. She struggles to put her keys into her purse, but she looks up in time to wave at the group of people smoking next to their motorcycles. She doesn’t see Jurian in the mix but she recognizes his Harley Davidson.

Elain walks into the pub, none of the locals pay her any attention as she makes her way to the bar but a couple young people she’s never seen before look her way before they turn. She knows she must look super out of place in her yellow sundress, but she doesn’t mind. 

Her black heels make a loud noise as she steps onto the hardwood floors, her shoulders instantly sagging in relief as she spots Lucien. He wipes at the bar top with a rag, flashing Elain a grin as he watches her approach. 

She throws herself onto a stool she long ago claimed as her own. 

“What can I get you, Elain?” He asks, although she knows he does it to be polite. Elain is consistent with her order of sweet tea, choosing not to drink alcohol despite how often she finds herself at Exile. 

“Something strong,” she groans, elbows on the counter, putting her head in her hands. 

He sucks in a sharp breath, voice low. “Fuck, it’s been that kind of day?” 

Elain huffs a sigh, “You know, it really just sucks when you break up with someone and you still have the same friends.” She had broken up with Graysen just before Nuala and her fiancé had sent out their wedding invitations. 

Join us in Mykonos!

In a sudden fit of rage, Elain had declared she would be bringing a plus one, hoping the news would travel to her ex. Now that the time had come, and Elain was still painfully single, she regretted her choice. 

Elain mumbles, “I hate it here.” She considers actually calling her friend and telling her she wouldn’t be able to make it. “It’s going to be so embarrassing when I go to the wedding alone, and Graysen has that pretty lawyer on his arm.” 

The pretty lawyer he had left her for, she reminds herself. Although Elain had tried to let it go, she was still pretty bitter over the whole thing. 

Elain watches Lucien turn to grab a bottle, the movement stretching the fabric of his black t-shirt. “I could be your date,” Lucien offers casually from his place on the other side of the bar. He faces her with a shrug, biting his lip. He slides the glass of whiskey towards her, the pink cocktail umbrella he had placed on the rim falling into the drink. 

“Really?” She asks, considering everyone’s reactions, especially Graysen’s, if she ends up bringing Lucien to the wedding. He’s almost breathtakingly handsome in ripped jeans and frayed shirts, in a suit he would look absolutely stunning. Elain blushes at the thought. 

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind,” he laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Just ask Jurian and Vassa, I need a vacation.”

Elain puts both her hands flat on the bar. “Lucien, don’t joke about this, I have two plane tickets and my hotel has been booked for weeks.” 

“I don’t even have to pay?” He raises his brows, flashing her a grin. “Don’t twist my arm.” 

Elain hopes he’s being sincere; she's known Lucien for years. When he was Feyre’s best friend in college, she’d had the biggest crush on him, but he’d been with Jesminda. She was kind, fun, the life of every party. Elain and her couldn’t have been more different, but Jesminda had always been sweet. 

Elain isn’t too sure what happened between her and Lucien, but by the time they had broken up, she had been with Graysen. 

Which turned out great.

Elain has to hold back a snort at her own train of thought. Vassa interrupts her pity party, coming up behind her to give her a one-armed hug. “Whisky, Elain? It’s not even seven,” she says with a laugh. 

Elain squeezes her back, making a questioning face at Lucien. “I might not even need it.” 

“Was Lucien playing therapist again?” She asks, rolling her dark blue eyes. “Don’t listen to him, his advice is fucking awful.” 

“Hey,” Lucien interrupts, sounding a little hurt by it. Vassa just nods. 

“Found myself a wedding date.” Elain grins up at Lucien. He mirrors her expression and Vassa clears her throat.

The other woman raises her brows at him in a way that has Elain thinking they know something she doesn’t. “Using up your vacation days, Vanserra?” She asks, tapping the wood of the bar top. 

“You guys won’t mind?” Lucien checks. Elain has no doubt that if they said otherwise, he would stay. 

Vassa waves her hand at him, squeezing Elain’s shoulder for a second with her other one. “You haven’t taken a day off in literal years, enjoy the Greek islands.” Vassa makes her way to the back room, calling out. “See you guys in a bit!”

Elain waits a second before shooting Lucien a serious look, grabbing onto his hand where it rests near her still full glass. She swears she sees a blush on his golden brown cheeks, but she’s pretty sure it’s the low lighting. “You don’t have to come,” she starts, "I whine a lot, but I swear I’ll be fine going solo.”

She pauses, listening to his response to see if she can hear him second guessing. 

“Yeah, I want to come,” Lucien laughs, and Elain is struck by how handsome he looks. A small part of her feels strangely proud to have him join her for the wedding. 

Elain lets her hand linger on his for longer than is really necessary, but when she finally takes it back, fingers trailing along the smooth wooden surface of the counter, she smiles up at him. “You’re a lifesaver, Lucien.” 

[themummersfolly]

Mr. Harley

Inspired by that bit of meta by @lesbianpraetor.

There must be justice, if a new world is going to rise from the ashes. And in the Wasteland, the only justice is retribution.

Bullet Farm is in shambles. A quarter of the foremen are dead, killed first thing by Dementus to make a point; the rest, along with the miners, are being held underground, cowed but hardly cooperative. Add to that the loss of cranes and mining equipment, and the ruin of the refining facility, and Dementus’ great strategic coup has left them with little more than a hole in the ground. It’s taken an even greater expense of fuel, but they finally have the two responsible for it all: Praetorians, Immortan Joe’s errand boys.

Dementus rants and raves, beating on the overturned ute as they drag the semiconscious road warriors out. He’s shot; her arm is bloody, sleave torn to pieces, a new elbow halfway down her forearm.

Mr. Harley holds them up, kneeling in the dirt, as his boss continues his tirade. He’s tired. The seizure of Bullet Farm took all night, and keeping the population under control meant he’s had no chance since then to sleep. It’s not as though it’s better at Gastown; for the past six months it’s been a different riot every week, and they’re all exhausted. He’s talked it over with Mr. Davidson more than once.

“Seems like the Octoboss had the right idea, cutting his losses. He always was the first to see the writing on the wall.”

“Yeah, and look what happened to him and the rest of the Mortifiers. If they didn’t stand a chance, then we sure don’t.”

“Die out there with our boots on, or die here, strung upside down from a gibbet.”

It always comes back to resources. The Citadel, Gastown, Bullet Farm: food, guzzoline, ammo, and plenty of them. In leaving, the Octoboss had given up easy access to them, and it was starvation that ultimately led him to attack a war rig. As long as they stay in the triangle of the three fortresses, they have a shot at building their own place of abundance. If only Dementus can get everyone else to cooperate.

“Where were you going, so full of hope? There is no hope!”

It isn’t directed at him, but it still stings. Hope was the only reason they’d followed Dementus: hope for protection and stability and a full belly, hope for abundance. Beside him, Mr. Norton helps jerk the two apart with vicious glee. He wishes Dementus would stop talking. A bullet in each of their heads, and then back to the Farm to unfuck this mess.

No one is getting that lucky today.

“String her up, I want her to watch for a while.”

Mr. Harley does what he’s told, as he’s always done, but he’s barely begun to wrap the chain around her wrist when Dementus is in his face.

“No, the other one!” Dementus jerks the chain out of his hands and hands it to Mr. Norton. “You losing your touch?”

He doesn’t meet his boss’s eyes, doesn’t point out that her mangled arm probably won’t hold her weight, doesn’t ask why they’re wasting time and fuel when Gastown is on the verge of conflagration. A real hard man, he might have. Mr. Harley doesn’t dare.

Dementus turns away from him as the winch engages and lift the captive to her tiptoes behind the Six-Foot. Mr. Norton grins at her handywork. Shards of bone are visible, the shredded flesh barely holding together. Mr. Harley has seen worse, but for whatever reason the sight make him want to puke.

“You’re revving on an empty tank if you stay here,” the Octoboss had snarled the last time they had ever seen him. “That dropkick Dementus, everything he touches turns to shit.”

Round and round the riders go, long past what’s needed to kill a man. Even Mr. Norton gets bored, putting her head down on her bike to nap. The sun dips lower. Gas tanks slowly empty.

There is no hope!

There can be a lot of satisfaction in making your enemy suffer, and Dementus has some good ideas about it. But after a certain point, you have better things to do.

“Goddam bitch,” he mutters, and goes to check on the captive. She’s still breathing, and steadily enough that he knows she’ll keep doing it. Her damaged arm looks longer than it did; her feet are now resting full on the ground, and he knows the winch wasn’t lowered. There can’t be much holding it on at this point. He ties a kerchief around it, twisting a shank in the knot to tighten it, then draws his knife. The girl lets out a sound like she’s choking, but once he’s finished cutting she gets back to breathing more or less regularly. He holds her upright by those flashy praetorian leathers.

The boys are still playing ring around the dead fucker with her partner. Mr. Norton lifts her head from her bike, too-bright eyes landing on him. He jerks his head toward the outside of the circle; no trouble, he’s just going to rape her a little before the others join in. The oncoming bikers slow to let him pass.

Ten paces away, she’s woken up, or at least gotten her feet under her. The wrecked ute lies upside down in a ditch; one of the dirt bikes lies on its side, undamaged. Mr. Harley gives the girl a shove and she lands on her knees. He reaches down, rights the bike, and drags her back to her feet. There’s a wrench in her utility belt, clearly something meant for the war rig. He plucks it out and walks away, leaving her propped unsteadily against her means of escape.

If there’s no hope, then he’s got nothing to worry about. If there is, well, then Dementus can get fucked.

The circle of death continues around him, precious guzzoline turning to exhaust as the sun dips toward the horizon. Mr. Norton is back to napping on her bike. He gets to work on the rear wheel of the Six-Foot.

Like what I'm doing? Buy me a coffee!

[bluepoodle7]

#Etsy #EtsyUkraineFakeClayHumanFormJohnDoePlush #JohnDoeGame #HandmadePlush #EtsyPlush #MonsterPlush #RegularGuyPlush #Plushies #JohnDoeGamePlush #PlushPals

This is a Etsy Ukraine Fake Clay Human Form John Doe Plush and this plush is well made while also detailed.

The plush is 21 inches from the top of the head to the foot.

I don't really have that many plushies that have fake human hair similar to barbie doll hair.

I will try my best to keep the hair mint and this plush is soft.

I got a build a bear black jacket with a zipper to see if this plush can wear it.

The plush can wear the Build A Bear vintage black jacket easily which is cool.

This plush can also wear both the toy glasses.

I looked at the reference sheet for John Doe to try to find a similar jacket with sleeves since I noticed the Etsy plush didn't have one.

It's surprising that the Build A bear doesn't make more jacket's with long sleeves, pockets, and zippers.

My guess that it would cost more to produce since zipper jackets are pretty rare unless it's a Harley Davidson zipper jacket.

I'm also surprised that Build a Bear doesn't have a gray and black striped long sleeved shirt since they just have short sleeved striped shirts.

These are the images the seller gives you before shipping the plush out.

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And when you first get the plush.

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What got me into the fandom and my cringe au you can ignore.

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This character always interested me when I first saw them and the lore around this character and the Uncanny Valley interested me.

This even inspired me to make my own lore for a Au where a ancient aquatic species infecting the other species above land while trying to adapt and also seeing what lies on the surface while getting weird.

I also like this character's design since it looks like a character that would either be a mascot for like a obscure product from Hot Topic or a roleplay oc I would randomly stumble upon then comment that this was a cool design and maybe wanting to know the backstory to the character.

John Doe got that early 2000s Newgrounds energy and vibe to him.

It's pretty neat owning someone else's oc in a handmade plush form.

I remember seeing The John Doe Game on Manly's video and found this character's design eye catching.

His glow up in plus made me like the character more especially ending 7 that's what pulled me in.

I can't wait to see what how this series will wrap up and might check out the other games later.

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I let both John Doe plushies hold the gummy teeth but I'm still trying to find a teeth mug.

This plush can wear the toy glasses even if the character doesn't have ears like the character in canon like a normal human would.

This plush can wear normal toy glasses but needs to be positioned in a way that the glasses will stay on without falling off.

I wanted to see if this plush can wear the Hyde and Eek Witch Hat and royal cape.

This plush can wear the witch hat but needs to be positioned since this plush's chin is small and the royal cape if it's small or extra small.

The Handmade Ukraine Your Boyfriend Plush I own is 14 inches from the top of the head to the foot.

This Peter plush is shorter than the John Doe Game Plush.

Photo Recreation Pose

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I wanted to recreate a picture pose I made with my bootleg Popka plush bending down to look at the real Namco Gals Popka mini figure but with the Etsy Handmade UK Cat Doe Plush with the Etsy Ukraine Handmade Fake Clay Human Form John Doe Plush.

I could only get the close up but I can try to get it far away picture later.

A blog about obscurity stuff, plushies and food. on Tumblr - #Popka Plush Pose

The Etsy Handmade John Doe Heart Eyes Cat Doe Plush

A blog about obscurity stuff, plushies and food. on Tumblr - #John Doe Cat Form Heart Eyed Version Plush

I asked the Etsy store owner who makes custom plushies to customize his shirt to reference that one Illbleed moment where Cork has ARREST over his face but I imagine John Doe randomly having that design on his black shirt.

I Mspaint colored in the Arrest on Mspaint like it is on his shirt it's from the Cork image.

The third image the Etsy seller fixed the ARREST to be centered.

Arrest (Level 6)

9:19 for Arrest

Let's Play ILLBLEED Part 21C - Toyhunter - YouTube

This is a cool plush and I'm keeping this plush.

Both plushies will be good study buddies and if I see a bootleg one I would love to compare the plushies in quality.

But I can't wait for the makeship plush next February.

The other parts will have more pictures.

The plushies.

John Doe 157 40 Cm Plush Toy A Fan Toy From a Big Fan of This Indie Horror - Etsy

Handmade John Doe Cat Plushie - Etsy

[nowaskey]

Thinking About Building a Custom Harley? Here’s Everything You Need to Know!

Owning a Harley-Davidson® is more than just having a motorcycle; it's about the experience, the thrill of the ride, and the pride of owning a bike that truly represents your personality. If you're looking to build a custom Harley, you want a team that understands your vision and has the expertise to bring it to life. With over 15 years of experience in the industry, our team specializes in creating high-performance, custom Harley-Davidson® motorcycles that align with your riding style and preferences. Whether you want a simple modification or a full custom rebuild, we ensure that your Harley embodies your personality, riding needs, and performance expectations.

Why Customize Your Harley-Davidson®?

Every rider is unique, and your Harley should reflect your individuality. Customizing your bike lets you adjust it to your needs, whether for better performance, a unique look, or improved comfort features. A stock Harley-Davidson® is an excellent machine, but customization allows you to unlock its full potential. Whether you want to make a statement on the road, push performance limits, or improve handling and ergonomics, a custom build ensures that your motorcycle becomes an extension of you.

Performance Upgrades

If you crave more power and speed, performance enhancements are a must. A customized engine can turn your Harley into a high-performance machine with exceptional torque and horsepower. Some key upgrades include:

High-performance air filters and intake systems to improve airflow and increase combustion efficiency.

Exhaust system modifications not only enhance power output but also give your Harley a deep, aggressive sound.

Engine tuning and fuel management systems for optimal power delivery and throttle response.

Custom-built engines are designed for peak performance, ensuring your bike meets your specific riding demands.

These upgrades not only enhance performance but also provide a smoother, more exhilarating ride. Whether you are a speed enthusiast or a long-distance cruiser, performance tuning ensures that your Harley keeps up with your adventurous spirit.

Aesthetic Enhancements

A custom Harley should turn heads wherever it goes. The right aesthetic modifications can make your bike a true reflection of your style. We offer a range of options, including:

Custom paint jobs and graphics to create a unique, standout look that captures attention.

Chrome and powder-coated finishes for a sleek and polished appearance that exudes class and personality.

Unique lighting setups, including LED upgrades, improve visibility while adding a modern, stylish touch.

Custom wheels and tires that give your bike a more aggressive stance and improved road grip.

With these enhancements, your Harley will not only ride better but also look stunning, making it the centerpiece wherever you go.

Ergonomic Modifications

Comfort is essential, especially for long-distance riders. A well-fitted Harley ensures you enjoy the ride without experiencing unnecessary fatigue. Our customization options include:

Custom handlebars tailored to your riding posture, reducing strain on your wrists and shoulders.

Upgraded seating offers additional cushioning and lumbar support, making long rides more enjoyable.

Suspension modifications are fine-tuned to your weight and riding style, ensuring superior handling and shock absorption.

Foot control adjustments for better posture, reducing leg fatigue, and improving overall comfort.

Riding should be an exhilarating and enjoyable experience, and ergonomic modifications ensure that your Harley fits you perfectly, providing comfort without compromising style or performance.

Technology & Safety Upgrades

Modern technology can enhance both safety and convenience. Popular upgrades include:

Advanced braking systems for superior stopping power, ensuring you stay safe in any riding condition.

LED headlights and auxiliary lighting for improved visibility, making nighttime riding safer and more enjoyable.

GPS navigation and communication systems that keep you connected and on the right path during long trips.

Custom sound systems that allow you to enjoy your favorite music while cruising, enhancing the overall riding experience.

With these upgrades, your Harley will not only look and perform better but will also provide a safer and more convenient ride.

Conclusion

If you're ready to build a custom Harley, our team will turn your vision into reality. Whether you need performance boosts, aesthetic refinements, or ergonomic enhancements, we have the expertise to create a bike that reflects your style and riding needs. A Harley-Davidson® isn’t just a motorcycle—it’s a statement of freedom and individuality. Contact us today to start building a Harley that’s truly one of a kind!

[the-firebird69]

This is the street 500. It's an excellent bike it's a small V-Twin it's exactly what our son said they needed to do. They did do it after he mentioned it and he said that the single cylinder is not really Harley Davidson it is kind of because they started out doing it but this is much better if you have the power it's there even though it's only 100 more cubic centimeters it is a V-Twin and that's structure is a lot stronger it has a lot of torque that's one would think about Harley Davidsons it has about 80 foot pounds as much as some of their big bikes believe it or not and it's because of how they built the cylinder that they're wide and they're not as long as other cylinders and the reason why it's so turkey is done that's why so this is one of the bikes did we recommend people get well okay there's only two but yeah this is a wonderful riding bike it's really what a Sportster should be and they should knock down the title to Sportster and Sportster should have a different title they're thinking about doing it because it is kind of like the new Sportster and those are for beginners and girls and the Sportster now the motor is way too big it's a 1200 and it is nowhere near for the beginners that thing can haul ass and it can carry a lot of weight big people ride it it's not really the right thing to do have this monstrous bike and thread people think it's for beginners it's really was stopping their business and now they are struggling to build enough bikes and they don't have it me there's way too many ordered and they're actually going nuts opening manufacturing facilities everywhere they're going to be all over the world and it will force hours to get up it's what we wanted to do we're going ahead with our plan it's moving now it's great we needed to do it we are happy about it we do understand what we're talking about and it's fun I mean this is going to be great but they're they're actually opening motorcycle manufacturing facilities of other manufacturers and they're going to make Harley-Davidsons there and parts places and they can't pass up the money and they want their armies to have stuff but really that's not it they need the money and they know what it does it's not the greatest thing to do but people want to do it and they're going to try and get our son on one eventually right now they say they don't need them on it and stuff like that and a lot of them are saying he was on it and we're a freaking mess and they're saying that the demons took it the wrong way and they're saying we were going the wrong way and doing the wrong thing and a lot of them are saying we have to capitulate but not yet and his son says you'll capitulate when you're dead and I'll be grateful this boy are you people horrible I'm saying they can't handle Galaxy and stuff I mean those thank you that's pissing off and useful and Brad is talking to his own detriment and it's a method so she's in trouble and these people are gross Uncle Paul wants her out and he's saying it it's not going to go there if you're here doing that stupid s*** with your funny looking body and you know they're mostly doesn't work now this horse's ass Brad has asked for it for a long time now he's going to get it he's going to get what he asked for and in spades it's coming up right now he's going to start bothering Uncle Paul and Uncle Paul is going to chew him up and spit him out because Trump is going to stop Brad and it's going to be a good time

They're being mean to Stan and our son is making a stand and saying it's not me and I'm almost falling over I put in some serious effort into it so a son says that's nice you guys are wasting so much time cutting yourself off why don't you go off and buy the Harley Davidson instead that's like he hears a p**** he says oh it's Brad so you go off and you get the bike and you kind of telling people this is what we're going to do and you're telling me your own of course it's a big symbol for that but you're also saying you can't stop us this is what our mission in life is and stuff like that it's nice of you to harass me and her son is saying this but he says you're harassing me and you're hiding and you think that it's just the voice and people don't believe it and you're saying you're the big man and stuff it really doesn't do much for you and people don't think you're a big time person by doing it because it's hard to prove you did anything and you're look down on and you're beating up and you're treated like you're nobody just like the hard not kicker 5150 that you like refuse to build because you're these pussies and I use the term liberally they just want to hide and say things like girls at a hair salon a lot worse than Brad and he he's inspiring him this morning and he's going to get beaten up by his own clone because he prefers certain clones over others and those clones that he prefers are duplicates and everybody knows how the end of that turns out except for Trump for some reason he missed the memo no he got the memo and you said this is my niche so he poured it on now he's doomed and doesn't know it the kid in the conversation is that he doesn't know that he's doomed but hey we're talking about pussies and you guys are running around bothering me and it's against your plan and people and it really doesn't say anything you just kind of cowards but a lot of you are buying these so I have to come into those who are doing it but you have to have them make it it's not going to just magically arrive and really you're probably building them and you have to hold on to the facility

Our son says that and they're saying back you'll regret it in the long run and we're going to get you one and he says I don't think that you're going to get me one and our son is saying that because of what happened so far you're already running around all of you saying your chicken s*** and afraid of me and it's very true they're running around saying that and it's going on right now people are finding them saying it to a lot of people hey they're running around circles telling people they can't have one and our son is like the prime person to say no to and they're running around saying why and a son understands it he wrote the x440 and had some good luck with it and success and Obama is really Garth is saying look here it says it here in writing and he's saying it's my choice what to say and stuff like that and he's saying it to Trump and both of those guys are screwed because of what those they've been saying about Jimmy Connor and our son is saying I want you to take it back you idiot and Jimmy Carter has been helping minorities so he says I have to take it back and it's not because of you Trump it's because of you having me say it and he's looking at him saying your days are numbered like one day because I'll be back and people want me back before after you they want a small course that can be beaten to go after you to hammer on you and as you see we're not afraid to and he starts arguing and our son says what is the argument he's presented it that's what it is and that's it he says this is my side of it I said who cares about your side of it that's what they're going to do so he says okay and they're going to do it with Michael too as well anyway oh that's bad and now it's even more crucial that they raise him for their purpose and it's not coming from him you little dink. And really George you look like my mom is terrible. His person is lips since it does not helping. It smiles and says I'm from the other side and I'm looking like them this is terrible horrible it's a defection and the bladder is good right now he says and the poop sees. She turns to his wife and says if I poop you get me out of here and Hillary is upset and Trump's trying to get under gas skin to take him over and he probably has George looking like George Sr that's Trump again as he's a honking a******. This is very gross what you people do is you haven't seen it next to each other you know what he's going to try I don't know I don't think you're trying at all you're disgusting people.

Anyways what we say is you're really not getting what our son is saying he doesn't want to ride the bike on the street don't really have to he can write it off road I guess the symbology there would be too much to take it's already too much for you and it's supposed to be a controlled situation so now we know that you can't control it hell he only has to do it once. No he wrote the x440 but stationary so that's the Mac proper and they lost that battle but he has sat on the 500 Street and he just did not drive around and it wasn't running but some people say the motor was on the Mac proper know about it

Sorry son and daughter say that the symbolism is in Japan as well and naturally they're horrified and the Japanese of your kind had the stuff a lot of people in Holes there's almost no other way they could have done it but they were hamsters doing that and they still are and those places are heating up slowly but our son and daughter we're using that to survive especially from Japan. When Trump or Mike benedetto did the Japanese restaurant we got turned way up and was trying to take out tons of them from below and Poseidon and goddess wife and Toyota God and God his wife who is from Mitsubishi they began taking out tons and tons of demons Kawasaki Yamaha Honda not the mother load in the later komatsu Toshiba and several other companies names Mazda Nissan start plowing through people and the trumpsters Nathaniel Hawthorne he got crushed and Trump did not listen and they used his name and it had an effect as we know what they do and he was threatening for it to happen it's not very cheesy because there are too many of them and now it's taking place as you are kissing off any of your kind that no stuff it's happening in the field they're fighting people that know stuff today will be the end of a lot of more luck they're in there cheering and learing and smiling and seeing dumb things and Garth figured it out finally and he's ignoring Trump now right now they're moving the body into the cathedral and he's going to warm up again and yeah he's been in 71° for 4 days. They involved the crap out of him the impalmed him a lot but it still doesn't help completely it helps a lot but not completely we're here it comes out he's very sick saying to let him rest and stuff like that finally gets it back he wants to know who and he says these guys won't leave me alone won't leave you alone and he looks at his true he says what can I do and our son says do your best because they're suffocating me. And I got the suits and he smiles and says good so I went to work these people are very rude and mean and what they're doing is disgusting and they're doing it for peanuts

Thor Freya

Olympus

I have to tell you this is a terrible joke and it's getting worse. This is a great bike I want one of these and he rode one of the other one and I want one of those so I'm trying to get one for my characters and all of them

Hera

Good that makes sense one of them getting them terrific we'll probably end up helping her it's the other way around some people are telling us and he should have one and we won't do it and he says it's extremely powerful and too powerful for you guys and the Mac proper saying no too probably they're smiling and saying we don't want to have any money or writing that thing is definitely out of line and shows that we're not powerful and we can't do it

Brad

We've lost it

Bja

I don't think this is right you can't say this stuff to them you can't say the other stuff to them but boy we're a bunch of weaklings

Mac Daddy

Yeah so this is how it goes to accept that no they're saying they can't do it they're going to get rid of people who are in the way they probably should

Nuada Arrianna

We didn't say what he said and for Christ sake these guys got to get out of the way we're going to try and get him one of these probably the x440 and off-road version and we should make one it probably will but we're going to get going I understand what he's saying this sucks real bad they're stupid as hell they don't do the basics and they're afraid of me winning very afraid that's wrong we got to get these cards out of the way

Mac Daddy

I'm not afraid of him winning I'm afraid of these other guys making us lose so yeah he might win

Bja

That's what we're saying you coward you wimp

Macs

Hahaha he's saying what they are and their names as he's writing it but it's funny but these guys are going at it and I got to tell you their chicken s**** they're all afraid of him having this motorcycle they don't want Jen or Melissa or any of those to have it either and Trump is looking down when he hears it let me look at the program here it's really kind of simple and Biden is upset you should be and he needs to run a tighter ship and letting one of you flounder is a problem and The Rock looks terrible looks like a white guy that's actually him

Nuada Arrianna

Olympus

[goldencoastriders]

Top Tips for First-Time Motorcycle Renters in San Diego

San Diego, with its beautiful coastal routes and scenic mountains, is an ideal destination for motorcycle enthusiasts. If you're a first-time rider, renting a motorcycle is the perfect way to experience this amazing city. With stunning roads like Pacific Coast Highway and winding mountain routes, renting a motorcycle gives you the freedom to explore at your own pace. Whether you’re a seasoned rider or a newbie, motorcycle rentals San Diego offer you the chance to create unforgettable memories.

Why Renting a Motorcycle in San Diego Is the Best Option

San Diego offers an amazing combination of stunning coastline, historic routes, and scenic mountains—perfect for a motorcycle ride. Renting a bike allows you to experience it all without the hassle of owning a bike. Motorcycle rentals are a convenient option whether you’re just visiting or live in the area. So, whether you want a Harley Rentals San Diego or a smaller bike, rent a motorcycle in San Diego for a fantastic ride.

First-Time Motorcycle Rentals Tips

Renting a motorcycle for the first time can be a bit overwhelming, but don't worry! Here are some tips to make your experience smoother and more enjoyable:

1. Choose the Right Bike for Your Ride

Choosing the right bike is essential. If you're new to motorcycles, a smaller engine bike might be a better fit. It will be easier to handle and more comfortable for longer rides. If you’re looking for a unique experience, Harley Rentals San Diego could be your ideal choice. These bikes are comfortable, stylish, and perfect for cruising the San Diego coastline. Harley Davidson has been a go-to for many riders, offering comfort and performance.

2. Check Your License and Requirements

Before you head out on the road, make sure you have the proper motorcycle endorsement. In California, a motorcycle endorsement is required for all riders. It’s crucial that you’re familiar with the local laws. Most rental services will ask for a valid driver’s license and motorcycle endorsement for safety purposes.

3. Inspect Your Motorcycle Before You Ride

When you rent a motorcycle in San Diego, always inspect the bike first. Check the tires, brakes, lights, and fluid levels to ensure everything is in working order. It’s better to take five extra minutes to confirm your bike’s safety than to deal with issues later.

4. Wear Protective Gear

Safety should always be a priority. Even though it’s not mandatory in California for riders 18 years and older to wear helmets, we recommend always wearing one for your protection. Additionally, consider wearing gloves, a leather jacket, and sturdy pants for added comfort and protection. A proper helmet can save you from serious injury if an unexpected situation arises.

5. Familiarize Yourself with the Controls

It’s a good idea to familiarize yourself with the bike's controls before taking off. If you’re not sure how the bike handles, ask for a quick demo from the rental company. Practice using the clutch, throttle, and brakes before you venture onto a busy road.

6. Start Slow and Build Confidence

If you’re a beginner, don’t rush into busy streets right away. Start with quiet roads or less busy areas to get used to the bike’s handling. As you get more comfortable, you can hit the highways and enjoy the scenic routes San Diego has to offer.

7. Plan Your Route

Planning ahead is key to a successful motorcycle ride. Whether you want to cruise through Carlsbad, hit Julian for a mountain ride, or explore Oceanside’s beach roads, make sure you have a plan in place. Many apps, such as Google Maps, can provide turn-by-turn directions. Don’t forget to check the weather forecast to ensure safe riding conditions.

Why Choose Us for Your First Motorcycle Ride?

At Golden Coast Riders Motorcycle Rentals, we offer more than just a rental service. Here’s why we’re the best choice for your motorcycle rentals San Diego experience:

Wide Selection of Bikes We offer a variety of motorcycles including Harley Rentals San Diego, BMW, and Yamaha for all types of riders. Choose the perfect bike that fits your needs and experience level.

Affordable Rental Rates Renting a motorcycle doesn’t have to break the bank. We offer competitive prices for all of our rentals. Whether you need a bike for the weekend or a week-long trip, our pricing is designed to be budget-friendly.

Well-Maintained Fleet Your safety is our priority. Our bikes are regularly serviced and maintained, ensuring you get a safe and smooth ride every time.

Convenient Location We’re located in Escondido, just a short drive from San Diego. Our central location makes it easy for you to pick up your bike and hit the road without any hassle.

Exceptional Customer Service Our team is dedicated to making your experience the best possible. Whether it’s helping you choose the right bike or providing you with a map of the best routes, we’re here to assist every step of the way.

Flexible Rental Options Whether you're looking for motorcycle rentals near me for a few hours or a few days, we offer flexible rental periods. You can choose from a variety of rental durations, allowing you to tailor your experience to your schedule.

FAQs

1. How do I find motorcycle rentals San Diego for my trip to Carlsbad?Visit Golden Coast Riders Motorcycle Rentals in Escondido. We’re just a short ride from Carlsbad and offer a wide selection of bikes.

2. Do you offer Harley Rentals San Diego for beginners?Yes! We have a range of bikes, including Harley Davidson options, that are perfect for beginner riders. Our team will help you pick the right one.

3. Can I rent a motorcycle in San Diego for a one-way trip?Yes! We offer flexible one-way rentals, allowing you to pick up a bike in Escondido and drop it off at another location in San Diego or beyond.

4. Are motorcycle rentals near me available in San Marcos?Yes! We’re located in Escondido, a short drive from San Marcos, and offer a variety of motorcycles for you to rent.

5. What types of bikes do you offer for motorcycle rentals?We offer a variety of motorcycles, including Harley Rentals San Diego, BMW, Yamaha, and more, catering to all experience levels.

6. Is it necessary to have a motorcycle license to rent a motorcycle in San Diego?Yes, a valid motorcycle license and motorcycle endorsement are required for rental. Our team will assist you with the process.

Ready to Ride?

Now that you have all the tips you need, it’s time to hit the road! Whether you're looking for a peaceful ride through Carlsbad, an exciting adventure through the mountains, or a relaxing coastal ride, Golden Coast Riders Motorcycle Rentals has you covered. Rent a motorcycle in San Diego and experience the beauty of this stunning city on two wheels today.

Contact Information Golden Coast Riders Motorcycle Rentals Phone: +1 (858) 780-6008 Address: 2120 W Mission Rd STE 250, Escondido, CA 92029, United States

[tomaque]

Bold Rides for Brave Kids: Unleashing Adventure with the Harley Davidson 818

When it comes to thrilling adventures on two wheels, the Harley Davidson 818 stands out as a beacon for young riders ready to embrace their passion for motorbiking. Designed for kids with a spirit of adventure and a desire for excitement, this bold ride combines style, performance, and safety, making it the perfect choice for brave young riders.

A Design That Turns Heads

The Harley Davidson 818 for Kids boasts an eye-catching design that reflects the iconic brand’s heritage. With its sleek lines, vibrant colors, and attention to detail, this motorcycle captures the essence of freedom and adventure. The sturdy frame and high-quality materials ensure that it can withstand the rigors of youthful exploration, whether it’s zipping around the neighborhood or embarking on a family road trip.

Performance That Inspires Confidence

Equipped with a powerful yet manageable engine, the Harley Davidson 818 offers performance that encourages young riders to build their confidence. Its smooth acceleration and responsive handling make it easy to navigate various terrains, from city streets to winding country roads. The bike is designed with a lower seat height, ensuring that kids can easily reach the ground while maintaining full control, which is crucial for beginner riders.

Safety Features for Peace of Mind

Harley Davidson understands that safety is paramount, especially when it comes to young riders. The 818 comes equipped with several safety features, including:

Advanced braking system: This ensures quick and effective stops, providing extra security for young riders.

Sturdy tires: Designed for optimal grip, these tires enhance stability and control, helping kids feel secure as they ride.

Reflective elements: Enhancing visibility in low-light conditions, these features are essential for safe riding during dusk or dawn.

Parents can have peace of mind knowing that the Harley Davidson 818 prioritizes safety without compromising on fun.

Encouraging a Love for Adventure

The Harley Davidson 818 is more than just a motorcycle; it’s a gateway to adventure. Riding encourages kids to explore their surroundings, discover new places, and connect with nature. Whether they’re cruising down scenic routes or embarking on weekend camping trips with family, the experiences gained on the Harley Davidson 818 can foster a lifelong passion for adventure and exploration.

A Community of Young Riders

Owning a Harley Davidson 818 opens the door to a vibrant community of young riders. Many local motorcycle clubs and events cater specifically to younger enthusiasts, providing opportunities for socializing, learning, and participating in fun rides. These connections help kids build friendships while learning valuable skills about teamwork, responsibility, and safety.

Conclusion

In a world where adventure awaits just around the corner, the Harley Davidson 818 stands as a bold choice for brave kids ready to hit the road. With its stunning design, impressive performance, and commitment to safety, this motorcycle empowers young riders to explore their limits and embrace the thrill of riding. As they embark on their journeys, they’ll not only create unforgettable memories but also develop a lifelong passion for the open road. So, if your child is ready for an adventure, the Harley Davidson 818 is waiting to take them on a ride of a lifetime!

[barrykrichmond]

Harley Sportster Iron 883: A Timeless Icon of the Open Road

The Harley-Davidson Sportster Iron 883 is more than just a motorcycle; it's a symbol of freedom, individuality, and the raw power of the open road. Since its introduction, the Iron 883 has become a favorite among riders who crave a blend of classic Harley style and modern performance.

This article delves into what makes the Iron 883 a standout in the world of motorcycles, exploring its design, performance, and the culture it embodies.

The Legacy of the Sportster Family

The Iron 883 is part of Harley-Davidson's legendary Sportster lineup, which has been a cornerstone of the brand since the 1950s. The Sportster series was initially introduced as a response to the growing demand for lighter, more agile motorcycles that could deliver both speed and style.

Over the decades, the Sportster has evolved, but its core values of simplicity, performance, and unmistakable Harley character have remained unchanged.

Design: A Nod to Tradition with a Modern Edge

One look at the Iron 883, and it's clear that this bike is a modern classic. The stripped-down, minimalist design is a nod to the bobber motorcycles of the past, with its low stance, blacked-out components, and drag-style handlebars.

The Iron 883 exudes a sense of toughness and rebellion, appealing to riders who want a bike that reflects their personality.

The peanut fuel tank, a signature element of the Sportster series, adds to the bike's vintage charm while offering just enough fuel capacity for those long rides.

The solo seat enhances the bike's aggressive silhouette, making it clear that the Iron 883 is built for the lone wolf rider who enjoys the solitude of the open road.

Performance: Power Meets Agility

Underneath its rugged exterior, the Iron 883 is powered by an air-cooled, 883cc Evolution engine. This V-twin engine, with its iconic rumble, delivers a satisfying blend of torque and horsepower, making it ideal for both city cruising and highway riding.

The Iron 883 isn't about blistering speed; it's about delivering a smooth, controlled ride that lets you feel connected to the road.

The bike's suspension system is designed to handle a variety of terrains, offering a comfortable ride whether you're navigating city streets or carving through winding country roads.

The low seat height and narrow frame make the Iron 883 approachable for riders of all sizes, while still offering the stability and confidence you'd expect from a Harley-Davidson.

Customization: Make It Your Own

One of the most appealing aspects of the Iron 883 is its potential for customization. Harley-Davidson offers a wide range of accessories and parts that allow riders to personalize their bikes to match their style. Whether you're looking to enhance the performance with aftermarket exhausts, add some flair with custom paint, or improve comfort with a new seat, the Iron 883 serves as the perfect canvas for your creativity.

The aftermarket scene for the Iron 883 is vast, with countless options available from both Harley-Davidson and third-party manufacturers. This makes it easy for riders to build a bike that is truly unique, reflecting their personality and riding preferences.

The Culture: A Lifestyle of Freedom and Rebellion

Owning a Harley-Davidson Iron 883 is about more than just riding a motorcycle; it's about embracing a lifestyle. The Iron 883 is a bike for those who value freedom, independence, and the thrill of the open road. It's a bike that resonates with riders who want to break away from the norm and carve their own path.

The Iron 883 has a strong following within the Harley community, with owners often forming tight-knit groups that share a common passion for riding and customization. Whether you're riding solo or with a group, the Iron 883 embodies the spirit of camaraderie and the shared experience of the open road.

Conclusion

The Harley-Davidson Sportster Iron 883 is a motorcycle that transcends trends and fads. Its classic design, dependable performance, and endless customization options make it a bike that appeals to both new riders and seasoned veterans.

The Iron 883 is more than just a machine; it's a symbol of the freedom and adventure that come with riding a Harley-Davidson.

[motorcity2up]

EPIC MC2UP TRAILER!

EPIC MC2UP TRAILER! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZOY_ZqLiVN8 @MOTORCITY2UP 🔔 Join the Ride of a Lifetime with Motor City 2up: From Harleys to BMWs, Experience Epic Road Trips, Vlogs, and Bike Events. Subscribe Now for Non-Stop Adventure! https://www.youtube.com/@MotorCity2up/?sub_confirmation=1 🔗 Stay Connected With Us. 👉Instagram: https://ift.tt/dNs2qyE 👉Tiktok: https://ift.tt/b4CwSD8 ✅ For Business Inquiries: motorcity2up@gmail.com ============================= ✅ Recommended Playlists 👉 Harley https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eaneuBdcUxA&list=PL44KSiKeWbiqnMFAMfI-bCMfSLPDup-xs&pp=iAQB 👉 live https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s-WJIWRsKuE&list=PL44KSiKeWbip3PRK_p3bLbGR6axxLgS_7&pp=iAQB ✅ Other Videos You Might Be Interested In Watching: 👉 Motorcycle content coming soon Harleydavidson Bagger https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OEN8uUVQ32w 👉 Can you last 7 seconds??? building Harley-Davidson Texas Houston https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rlLXuTqAWzk 👉 Houston, Texas, Livestock and Rodeo. Bull Riding https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LJUPWCGTSyU 👉 It's a beautiful ride! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bjXzPVgxSo4 👉 Have a ride, live your dreams! motor be happy to journey joyride road trip life fyp https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Usi_3b0rf7Q ============================= ✅ About Motor City 2up. Welcome to Motor City 2up, your ultimate stop for everything motorcycles! Whether you're into Harleys, Hondas, BMWs, sports bikes, or any two-wheeler, we've got you covered. From thrilling rides vlogs to in-depth bike reviews and everything in between, we capture the essence of the riding lifestyle. Get into our adventures on the road, get exclusive looks at bike events, and soak up all the Moto content you could wish for. Stick around for the ride of your life with road trips that tell stories and showcase the beauty of the 2-up world. For Collaboration and Business inquiries, please use the contact information below: 📩 Email: motorcity2up@gmail.com 🔔 Join the Ride of a Lifetime with Motor City 2up: From Harleys to BMWs, Experience Epic Road Trips, Vlogs, and Bike Events. Subscribe Now for Non-Stop Adventure! https://www.youtube.com/@MotorCity2up/?sub_confirmation=1 ================================= ADD HASHTAG HERE ⚠️DISCLAIMER: We do not accept any liability for any loss or damage incurred from you acting or not acting as a result of watching any of our publications. You acknowledge that you use the information we provide at your own risk. Do your research. Copyright Notice: This video and our YouTube channel contain dialogue, music, and images that are the property of Motor City 2up. You are authorized to share the video link and channel and embed this video in your website or others as long as a link back to our YouTube channel is provided. © Motor City 2up via Motor City 2up https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCA9zbCU19jApjukDk0-st7Q July 21, 2024 at 10:22PM

[cohenskicksposts]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Build A Bear Workshop BABW Elephant Plush Toy Harley Davidson Jacket Gray 16".

[rentnhop]

Solo Traveler's Guide: Bike Rentals for Exploring Mumbai Alone

Hey there solo travelers. Let me tell you something you already know. If you're looking to explore the chaotic yet captivating city of Mumbai on your own terms, getting a bike on rent in Mumbai is a fantastic option. As one of the most visited cities in India, Mumbai can be overwhelming to navigate in the starting or when you don’t have any experience in this city. 

But grabbing the handlebars and taking off on two wheels gives you the freedom to chart your own course at your own pace. And if you get guidance from someone who knows every small thing about this city, you’ll be ready to get on this journey. 

In this Solo Traveler's Guide, we'll cover everything you need to know about bike rentals for exploring Mumbai alone. From where to find bike on rent in Mumbai, to safety tips, route ideas, and more. Let's hit the road. 

Where to Find Bike Rentals in Mumbai

The first step is finding a rental shop or agency to get your set of wheels. Luckily, bike rental in Mumbai are easy to come by across Mumbai. Here are some top spots to pick up a rental bike:

Bike Rentals Near Mumbai Airport - Agencies like Rentnhop offer rentals right near the Airport. Perfect if you're just arriving in the city and want to hop on a bike straight from the airport.

Bike Rentals in Bandra - Bandra is a lively neighborhood popular with tourists. Rentnhop dot the area around Linking Road where you can rent Royal Enfields, Harley-Davidson, and other bikes by the hour or multiple days.

Rentals in Colaba Causeway - In South Mumbai, Colaba Causeway is another busy tourist hub with many options. Rentnhop is the best choice as they offer discounts at very budget-friendly rates. 

How to Rent a Bike as a Solo Traveller

Getting a bike on rent in Mumbai as a solo traveler is a quick and easy process if you come prepared. Here are some tips:

International Driving Permit - Some rental companies may require an IDP to rent a bike as a foreigner. An IDP is easy to get before your trip by applying through your local automobile association.

Valid Driver's License - Ensure your driver's license from your home country is valid. Some shops may accept your passport instead.

Cash Deposit - The rental shop will require a cash deposit as security, usually around ₹5000. Be sure to have this in cash when you pick up the bike.

Petrol - Ask the rental company if the bike comes full of petrol or if you need to fill it up first. Filling up yourself can actually save money over time.

Safety Tips for Solo Bike Travel

Mumbai's streets can be intense with continuous traffic. Follow these tips to stay safe and smart while riding solo:

Wear a Helmet - Seriously, don't ride in Mumbai without a helmet. The rental agency should provide one. This is crucial for safety on busy roads.

Avoid Rush Hour - Try to avoid main roads during peak traffic times as the congestion can be stressful on a bike. Plan sightseeing during less busy hours.

Use Offline Maps - Navigate with offline maps like Maps.me to avoid getting lost in areas with spotty cell service or data. Download maps ahead of time.

Park in Designated Areas - Only park in approved parking areas to avoid fines. Ask locals for tips on where to park safely.

Keep Valuables Safe - Use a bag with a lock while riding so any valuables are secure and can't fall out.

Best Routes for Exploring Mumbai

Now for the fun part - where to ride! Mumbai has hidden gems beyond the usual tourist sights. Here are some routes perfect for solo cruising:

South Mumbai Architecture Route - Start at the iconic Gateway of India, then cruise past Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus and other stunning Gothic Revival buildings.

Coastal Road to Worli Seaface - The breezy sea views along Mumbai's western coast make for an excellent ride. Stop at Worli Seaface to take in views of the Bandra-Worli Sea Link bridge.

Ride to Elephanta Island - Take a ferry with your bike out to this ancient cave temple site situated on an island in Mumbai Harbour.

Sanjay Gandhi National Park - Escape the city on a ride north to Sanjay Gandhi National Park. Spot wildlife along scenic lakes and hills.

Celebrity Homes - Pedal through neighborhoods like Juhu to catch a glimpse of stars' homes, like Shahrukh Khan's sea-facing villa.

Conclusion

So don't be afraid to venture out solo on a bike on rent in Mumbai. Follow these tips and coast along scenic coastal roads, weave through old bazaars, and let the magic of the city wash over you. Just ride safe and keep your eyes on the road. And be sure to stop for hot street food snacks along the way, you’ll love it.  Let us know if you have any other questions about bike rental in Mumbai to explore Mumbai alone! Ride on.