#Valeria cod

[sky-is-the-limit]

Yall really had to add her to the game to remind me that I'm bisexual, didn't you?

[goatgoesmbe]

Angst idea

Established poly!141 where all of them are alpha and only got with Omega!reader for their needs.

Ruts could be a bitch, and another alpha can't really please them fully. The alpha in them needs soft omega touches and the sweet scent to really calm them down.

They act cold towards you, maybe not outwardly rude or mean, but it's also obvious that they see you as nothing more.

They don't like you that's obvious. But they also don't hate you.

They just feel nothing.

Which feels worse somehow.

As soon as their rut was done and their needs fulfilled, they'll be out of your sight.

All of those sweet nothings whispered to you when they were using your body means nothing.

No aftercare no nothing.

For some reason though, they don't seek other omega. And they don't force themselves on you or anything, if it's obvious you don't feel like doing anything they would just leave no questions asked. They don't care enough to ask anyway.

And they also made it hard for you to seek other alpha, since they did mark you with their scent which made the others leave you alone, or perhaps avoid you. You have no choice but to go to them for your needs also.

But it's also obvious they respond half-heartedly like it's a chore.

They make sure you're stocked with suppressants, so you won't be too needy and won't go into heat since that would be annoying.

You feel lonely, frustrated, desperate for affection. But what can you do?

It's hopeless.

...

At least that's what you thought until they caught a hostage, leader of a cartel, El Sin Nombre. An alpha.

They needed some important intel from her, but no matter what they did, she didn't budge.

She did caught a whiff of your scent, and demanded you in exchange for what they want.

And you were so sure they would just agree, after all, you were nothing to them right?

Right?

...

Yall it was supposed to be Makarov not Valeria but im gayer than usual today so-

[arrozcontomate]

Continuation of the profiles! We got four more buddies to complete the gang!

Mom Laswell, gay uncles Alerudy and the crazy jail aunt Valeria!

Here's everyone togheter (also I fixed Price Up becouse he was looking lowkey weird...)

Who's Next in line???

...bye 😳

[xaerainy]

🖤🖤🖤

[gothghostiie]

telling cod characters "use your words"

pt 2 of this (141)

characters: Alejandro, Rodolfo, Valeria, Graves, König, Nikto

cw: dom!reader, brat!reader, slapping, bondage/gagging, manhandling, edging/denial, switch!rudy, hints of loser!könig maybe, gn!reader

Alejandro straight up laughs at you when you tell him to use his words. stops his hand when you take a hold of him, stares at you for about 5 seconds before breaking into laughter, grabbing your face and squishing your cheeks together gently. "you think you can tell me what to do, mi amor? you're fucking adorable." before you can even think to answer you get pinned to the bed; he'll make sure you won't be saying any words when he's done with you later.

Rodolfo depends on his mood. if he's feeling more dominant he chuckles, kissing to your ear while his hand trails between your legs, whispering every detail of what he want to do to you. if hes feeling more subby tho, he looks up from where he was kissing, cheeks hot as he stammers a bit. "por favor.. solo déjame hacerte sentir bien.." he pleads softly, a soft whine escaping his lips when you pull him up by his hair, eyes lidded and pleading while his fingers dig into your soft skin,

valeria? dont even fucking try. she doesnt take kindly to brats (even though she loves breaking them). her fingers caress your thigh higher until you stop her, telling her to use her words. she stops in her tracks, that look in her eyes that you know too well. "say that again pequeño.." she hums lowly, if you actually do? before the last word even leaves your mouth you have her hand leave a burning sting on your cheek. "again?"

Graves is a bastard. he tries to get frisky with you, but you stop him and tell him to use his words. he stares before chuckling. "let me show you, yea?" soon enough you find yourself tied up, ball gag in your mouth and his hands and lips all over your sex. he's working relentlessly, abusing all of your good spots until you almost cum - then stopping. you buck and whine, he grins. "what, you want something? use your words, baby." you try to babble against the gag, but the cocky smile on his face tells you that you're in for a long night.

König gets absolutely flustered when you tell him to use his words. "what?" he fumbles and blinks, you chuckle at his embarrassment from being put on the spot like that. gets frustrated at his inability to do it, to talk dirty to you, your laughing making it worse even if it's without malice. eyes darken a bit when he decides to just take what he wants, pinning you down and bullying his cock into your poor hole until you apologise :[

Nikto doesn't make a move like that on you often, he usually outright asks if he wants something from you. but when he does, you decide to be a little bratty, grinning up at him as you tell him to use his words, putting a hand on his chest to push him off slight. he stares you down, expression unreadable before he finally reacts. grabs your jaw in a tight but gentle grip, leaning in close, all while keeping eye contact. "don't fuck around, pretty. you might hear things you don't want to."

[murmiss]

Neglected Beta!Y/N And the bad pack! 141

Part4

Warnings: alcohol, a bit obsessive, amorous mood, I don't know what else to add, except to warn about possible mistakes, repetitions of words, mistakes in grammar. Valeria was also added to the story, and I want to know if you are interested in seeing her too.

I checked the text several times, but if I missed something, don't be afraid to let me know, sometimes I don't notice obvious mistakes

in my head, I have the outlines of another branch of the Story, where, on the contrary, TF141 would be a Good Pack, or another one where they would realize themselves.

I'm also thinking of creating a bot on the topic of "Beta Reader" based on this story.

"So... you're just walking? Alone.. At night.. On the highway.." - Kruger's deep baritone sounded. He was a large man, with very developed hands, and it even seemed that his hands were bigger than Ghost or Soap's.

You involuntarily sighed, looking at them, and your gaze moved from one to the other. Maybe they are not such idiots, since they decided to really help you and take you away from the terrible road and disgusting rain.

"ahem-ahem" - Horangi coughs, and then his ringing laughter, when he, clearly enjoying the fact that you are looking at him, cheerfully said: "well, princess? Finally, you saw it..." - before he can finish, Konig sharply nudges him in the side with his elbow, forcing Horangi to choke from the sharp pain and giggle again, but still shut up after a few moments and continue the trip

It was dark outside, and the light on in the car didn't allow you to see anything out the back window, forcing you to stare stupidly at your own reflection.

Disgusting. Tousled, wet hair, wrinkled clothes and smudged mascara were something very contrasting with your usual perfect appearance. A broken image of a good girl, an exemplary housewife and a modest beta.

You grin, look with annoyance, make a face, trying to depict in your own facial expressions, in a grin, all your hatred. Towards yourself or towards your pack? You don't know.

You look up, and after a few moments you notice a pair of eyes. Kruger, the fucking bastard, was looking back at the reflection and smiling. Out of fear or embarrassment you let out a squeal and turn your face to this impudent bastard and... you can't say anything... he looks at you, smiles impudently and his cheeks turn crimson with shame. You mumble something unintelligible, but Kruger's laughter interrupts, and his cheerful voice says: "be careful, we have a little thing with fangs here."

It seems that your cheeks become even redder, and you lower your gaze to your knees, suddenly falling into your melancholic state.

They laugh at you again. Again and again.

Kruger's face changes from brave to panicked in a matter of seconds and he hesitates a little, his hand hovering over your back and hesitating, not understanding whether he can touch you.

Konig's growl came from the front seats, damn protective, leader and warning: "Kruger, damn you"

Kruger smiles awkwardly and scratches the back of his head and stares off to the side. A couple of minutes of driving in silence and then, having plucked up courage and calmed down, you say: "Ah.. Eh... Where are we going?"

Horangi breaks into a smile and says boldly: "To your new home", and Konig again sharply and painfully nudges his comrade in the side with his elbow. The big guy did not want to scare you at all, but in his thoughts everything was already determined.

“To our pack home.” - Kruger corrected the situation, again drawing attention to himself.

You just sigh. You don't really care who you're going to. More precisely, you know that you're safe, that they, even though they're a bunch of idiots, won't touch you.

Your thoughts involuntarily return to your pack, and your shoulders involuntarily sag. You peer into the darkness again, but this time, stuck, looking at one point, you already see alternating trees, shimmering in the light of the lanterns and smoothly growing into country houses.

They're probably all having fun. They're probably happy, they're well-fed and don't even think about where you are, and that makes your soul even heavier.

You're pulled out of the stream of depressive thoughts by a light pat on your knee. You look over and see Kruger's hand on your knee. He's not being rude, not flirting, but as if he's giving you that little bit of support you need.

You nod unconsciously, sigh again, and as soon as the car stalls near one of the dark houses, you jump out without thinking. It's chilly outside, and your skin is covered in goosebumps, and you shudder, hunching slightly, Trying to warm yourself, you hug yourself with your arms. However, literally a few moments later, a heavy leather jacket with some old-fashioned stripes falls on your shoulders. You turn around and meet the silent gaze of a man in a hood - Konig gave you his jacket, although it was several steps to the house.

Horangi whistles and, getting out of the car after the others, immediately goes to the trunk, starting to unload his own purchases.

"Wow," you sigh and carefully, with interest, examine the boxes. Even in your pack eat less, damn it. A few cases of beer, bags of groceries.

Konig looks at your curious face for a long moment and can’t help but smile. Suddenly, he takes a pack of strawberry marshmallows out of his bag and hands them to you. You think for a few seconds, then carefully take them and say warningly, “I don’t have any money with me.” To which Konig grunts, grinning and says with obvious amusement in his voice, “No need for money, these are for you, baby.” You step in his way again and, not quite understanding their behavior, simply nod, deciding not to ask questions. Horangi, peeking out from behind the slightly open front door, curses again in pure Korean and immediately dilutes it with English: “이리 오세요! 그 여자를 얼어붙게 하지 마!(Damn it! Don’t freeze birdie!)! Konig, bring her here!”.

And as if by a snap of his fingers, Konig came to his senses and immediately led you to the house, finally allowing you to look at the interior of his pack's cottage. It was interesting to you, it had once seemed larger than your pack's house, but it was still unusual.

Hearing a clear female voice, growling harshly with a strong accent, you immediately became nervous, standing at the threshold, unable to take a step further into the house. Omega. Of course, they were not trying to hit on you, and their compliments were nothing more than just a kind gesture. Of course, they would choose an omega. Unconsciously, images of a girl, an omega with character, whom Konig was hugging, popped into your thoughts, and the mental comparison led to the realization of your own inferiority. Their cute nicknames and phrases were nothing more than a kind gesture. You involuntarily winced, and then came to your senses. Do you even care? This is not your pack. What do you care about their damn omega? But honestly, somewhere deep down you still hoped that all these weird compliments were real.

You were immediately brought to your senses by a voice and, looking up from the floor, you met bright, black eyes. It was a woman of a strong, athletic build, taller, with dark short hair and a clearly dominant nature. You had never seen such an omega before.

Woman spoke: "¿Quién demonios es ese? ¿Es la chica?" (Who the hell is that? Who's the girl?).

You immediately felt goosebumps crawling down your back and opened your mouth, wanting to say something, but before you could even figure it out, the suffocating aroma of rum and cinnamon hit your nose. You involuntarily squirmed and slowly, from nerves, but surely realized that in front of you was not an omega but an alpha. Why would she release so many pheromones if they had no effect on you? You're a beta, not an omega, and the last thing you care about is what they smell like or what cologne they wear.

The woman grins and clicks her tongue, comes closer and grabs your chin with her fingers rather roughly, turning your head from side to side, saying something in another language: "hermosa" (beautiful)." You frown again, hugging yourself protectively, you are still shaking from the alcohol you drank earlier, and the distinct weakness and approaching fatigue make everything much worse. You do not answer, and behind your back you hear another growl of the leader. It was worth Konig to be distracted for a couple of seconds, as someone is already laying claim to his bird?.. That is, of course, his flock can pay attention.. But until he leaves HIS mark, he will subconsciously perceive this as rivalry. Valeria is a woman, as many say, "with balls", she is cunning, strong in character and will, drives many betas and omegas crazy.

Konig's growl was uncontrollable, just seeing his birdie being touched sent him into protective mode.

Protecting and guarding, loving, building a nest, marking - everything that was spinning in his head, making him choke at the thought of puppies, or at the slightest touch to you, everything that was deep in his obsessive brain. He was not ashamed, but in his soul he, like his pack, felt relief at the thought that everything turned out this way. Finally, finally you were alone, without the control of your shitty pack, finally you were no longer looking through rose-colored glasses at a gang of people who did not appreciate you.

And finally you saw him. Your beautiful eyes, the curve of your lips, the smile, even if sarcastic - all this was like a curse, making him, the old colonel, feel trembling in his legs. And he damn well shouldn't have given his heart to some girl. But he did, and he doesn't regret it one bit.

"Calm down, big guy, I'm just curious," Valeria replied with a smirk, her eyes sparkling with mischief, her brown gaze never leaving the leader. She knew how weak he was towards you.

You look at one of them and then the other with confusion, and you can't help but clear your throat, seeing their obvious resistance. "Can I go in further or should I call a taxi?".

"No!" - a growling voice interrupted you almost immediately, and you frowned even more: "No, I mean..."

"In that very one, birdie, you're coming here" - Horangi diluted the atmosphere, leaning out into the corridor with his signature smile. In response, you sigh, follow the Korean, leaving a couple of Alphas to sort things out with each other.

You walk into the living room, it is a large, rather spacious space. The sofa is long, made up of several blocks, or, to be more precise, several sofas pushed together into one long structure. There are several armchairs along the edges and a small, but long, low table in the middle, on which snacks and drinks were already laid out. At the sight of multi-colored bottles with bright labels, you feel nausea creeping up on you, remembering that same shitty tincture that you bought for pennies an hour earlier.

You want to go to the couch, but decide to look in the mirror for a few seconds, and then, without paying attention, take a step towards the couch. But immediately suspecting something is wrong, you turn around and meet your reflection in the eyes. This is fucked up.

Mascara is smeared across your cheeks, and your wet hair is fluffed up and disheveled. The sundress is not bad, but wrinkled.

"This is shit" - you whisper, sighing, demonstrating all your disgust. Although what did you expect? As if something colossal would happen in half an hour's drive, but, unfortunately, you are not in a fairy tale.

"I completely disagree" - a rough voice is heard from behind, forcing you to reflexively turn around with a squeal and meet the gaze of blue eyes. That idiot Kruger again? or... wait... no.

The man is wearing a mask, big black sweatpants and a T-shirt with blue and white stripes. You frown again, but you don't take your hand off your chest, you can still feel your heart beating. Who the hell is this?

"И все же ты такая милая (You're such a cutie,)" the Russian words are clear. You frown again, to which the man chuckles. He stands with his hands in his pockets, but slowly and deliberately he pulls one hand out, reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, saying with tenderness in his voice, "Don't frown, smiling suits you better."

Why do they even care about your appearance? What the hell do they even want, you have absolutely no idea. And there is only one thing on your mind, the desire to drink and fall face down into soft pillows, in your warm room and soft fluffy blanket.

"Have you met Nikto? This big guy is the most secretive, you know" - once again the atmosphere is saved by Horangi, who nodded towards the table with a smile - "come here, birdie".

"Why birdie?" - you ask, moving closer to the middle, hoping that you will not disturb anyone.

"Why birdie? You know, they are so tiny, they need a nest, protection and all the love" - ​​the Korean laughs easily.

What does he even mean?

You nod again, this time you are silent. Konig, Valeria, Kruger enter the living room. Kruger was shirtless, in only shorts, and, finally, without a mask.

So interesting.. For the first time you see some without their signature masks, and out of curiosity you look at his features, absorbing every scar that adorns his face, not even noticing how this idiot plays with his muscles. Curiosity about his face completely distracted you from his chiseled muscles.

Horangi pours a bottle into glasses and, distracted, you take it, boldly taking sips, not looking away from Kruger. Surprisingly, his wide black eyebrows suited him, adding unreal brutality.

A sudden rustle on the left brought you to your senses and, turning your gaze, you immediately meet the face of the bare chest of the Konig. Even sitting, he remained big guy.

The alcohol you drank, mixed with a new portion loosened your tongue and you, smiling, asked in a perky voice: "What kind of wet T-shirt contest is this?"

Konig just smiles under his mask, watching your reaction carefully, sitting down more comfortably and stretching out his legs. He was still a big man fellow, with strong muscles.

One glass follows another, and you feel how the previous misunderstanding and fear evaporate damn fast, leaving behind a feeling of freedom. You don’t want to remember the existence of packs, betas, omegas or Alphas. There is only you, a bunch of cool guys, and all this alcohol on the table.

“Oh, I didn’t say that!” you laugh, smiling from ear to ear and not taking your eyes off the Konig’s face. He was sitting without a mask, like everyone else in this living room. Valeria’s laughter attracts you again and you turn your gaze to the woman, swallowing nervously when she shoots her eyes, winks, whispering hotly: “Oh, no, cariño.” In response, you giggle and turn your gaze with interest to Nikto, who was sitting in the chair to the right of you, only smiles, and, having finished peeling the tangerine, stretches it out, calling out “Детка (Baby).”

For the first time in these few hours, you felt like a person, a personality. And what is there to say? Honestly, you yourself didn’t know that you could talk for so long and, most importantly, be listened to.

Oh my God, you’re drunk as hell, and you’re happy, without a single thought.

“Stay with us,” a quiet voice asks in complete silence. You frown, sleepily open your eyes and answer just as quietly: “Why?”

Who are you with anyway? Where are you anyway? There was too much alcohol for you to remember every conversation.

A soft kiss touched your forehead, and you also frowned sleepily, fidgeting in bed and squinting at the man in front of you. The big guy looked with tenderness, with love, and with which he tried to express himself: “You got into my soul, under my skin, under my ribs. I need you, my pack needs you.”

Just the words alone make your soul feel warm... And you just smile silly before your eyes close and sleep takes you somewhere far away.

Your opinion is very important to me. You can ask me to tag you in the next chapter in the comments. Also, please tell me if you are interested in seeing Valeria in the story

___________________

@sheepispink

[diejager]

Kinktober 2024 masterlist

Welcome to my first Kinktober! I'll try posting something everyday for this event, but I can't promise anything.

REMINDER: A few of these drabbles will be DARK [contains: DUB-CON/NON-CON & RAPE], but there will be drabble-specific warnings. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT - MDNI.

d - dark

Navigation

Day 1 - Pegging (König x fem!reader)

Day 2 - Anal beads (Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x gn!reader)

Day 3 - Public sex + orgasm control (Nightwing x fem!reader)

Day 4 - Cockwarming + hickeys (John Price x fem!reader) | d

Day 5 - Double Penetration + Praise/Degredation (Kyle "Gaz" Garrick)

Day 6 - Face sitting + 69 (Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader)

Day 7 - Knife play + gags (Ghostface x fem!reader) | d

Day 8 - Bondage + blindfold (Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader) | d

Day 9 - A/B/O (Alpha!Valeria Garza x omega!reader)

Day 10 - Oral fixation (Rudolfo Parra x gn!reader)

Day 11 - Somnophilia + breath play (Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader)

Day 12 - Hunter/prey + uniform (Red Hood x fem!reader) | d

Day 13 - Sex pollen (Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader) | d

Day 14 - Monsterfucking (The Unknown x fem!reader) | d

Day 15 - glory hole + free use (Cod x fem!reader)

Day 16 - Phone sex + orgasm denial (Ghostface x fem!reader)

Day 17 - Period sex + fluff (Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x fem!reader)

Day 18 - Cock ring + dacryphilia (Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x fem!reader)

Day 19 - Cock worship + prince albert piercing (Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader)

Day 20 - Threesome + chocolate aphrodisiac (Nikto + Krueger x fem!reader) | d

Day 21 - Glove kink + hair pulling (Nightwing x fem!reader)

Day 22 - Food play + mating press (Konig x fem!reader)

Day 23 - Frottage + stockings (Red Hood x fem!reader)

Day 24 - Mirror sex + dumbification (Alejandro Vargas x fem!reader)

Day 25 - Interrogation role play + aftercare (Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader)

Day 26 - Anonymous sex + formal wear (Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x fem!reader)

Day 27 - Tit/thigh fucking (Micheal Myers x fem!reader) | d

Day 28 - Voyeurism + cuckhold (Ghostface x fem!reader) | d

Day 29 - Shower sex + sloppy kisses (Red Hood x fem!reader)

Day 30 - Edging + brat taming (John Price x fem!reader)

Day 31 - Mommy kink (Valeria Garza x fem!reader)

🎃👻HAPPY HALLOWEEN 👻🎃

[doisnuois]

ohhh my faves

[sweetiecutie]

Part five: strap on 🩷 Kinktober Masterlist 🩷

Pairing: Valeria Garza x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, strap on, overstimulation, mommy kink, lesbians in love

- Aw, what’s the matter hermosa? Is it too much for you to take? - Valeria tutted at your squealing, her fingers gripping your thighs even harder, blunt nails leaving bright semi-circles on your skin. Her hips snapped hard against yours, 7 inch strap burying deep inside your raw pussy, silicone tip of was nudging your poor cervix, causing a small bulge to appear on your tummy.

- Can’t… Can’t take more mommy, - you whined, writhing in her tight grip. She’s been at it for hours, holding your legs opened wide, fucking you into a babbling senseless mess, wringing one orgasm out of you after another. Your whole body shook with intensity of pleasure, toes curling every time Valeria shoved all of her length in your sopping cunt, your juices covering her lower stomach, causing bronze skin glisten wetly.

- It’s up to me wether you can take more or not, - her stern voice boomed, dominant tone she uttered these words with made your cunny clench desperately around thick shaft, eyes rolling back into your skull as it grazed all the sweetest spots inside of you repeatedly. - Look at you, so pretty on mommy’s strap. You’ve been thinking about this whole day, haven’t you? Sending me those photos like a needy little bitch, just wanting me to destroy you completely.

You only managed to nod your head, too cockdrunk to form a coherent sentence. You did feel needy, thinking that sending Valeria a few nudes in that sexy new set you got recently was a good idea. Well, it worked all too well - her bending you over first flat surface in your house seconds after finally getting back home, nimble fingers scissoring your drooling pussy open before fucking her biggest strap inside of your greedy warmth, making you purr and squeal under your wife’s rough touch.

Valeria reached for your tits, grabbing a handful of soft pudge, cruel fingers twisting your nipple out, mixing slight pain into concoction of pleasure, turning your brain into thoughtless mush. Her other had was busy bullying your swollen clit, each swipe of calloused fingertip against exposed tip sent electric shocks running up and down your spine, setting your nerves alight. Your back arched off soft mattress, hands gripping onto now messy sheets, needing something to hold onto.

- Fuck, mami, gonna cum! Can I please cum? Please… - you wailed, a heavy feeling setting in the pit of your stomach, thick strap ramming in and out of you along with Valeria’s relentless abuse on your clit drew you closer to your orgasm. Your eyes watered with tears of pleasure as you gazed up at Garza, a smug smirk curled her lips as black eyes studied your every smallest feature intently.

- Yes, you can cum, - she said finally, her voice a bit breathy from exertion with which she was fucking you. And with that a dam broke - thick pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave, subduing all the colors and sounds around, only leaving place for pure euphoria to ripple through your veins.

Valeria fucked you through your high, prolonging it as much as she could, trying to burn your precious expression in her brain, sexy sounds of your release made her heart beat faster with excitement. As you slowly came back to your senses a satisfied grin made its way onto your flushed face; you puckered out your lips indicating that you wanted a kiss, in which Valeria gladly indulged.

There really wasn’t anything else Valeria needed - all she has ever longed for was here, laying underneath her and giggling at her in post-coital giddiness, causing Garza’s cold soldier heart to skip a beat at intensity of her adoration for you.

But well, maybe pulling one more orgasm out of you would make Valeria even happier?

[maicandy]

Instagram / kofi / commissions

Valeria Garza ✨

Mami soy tu vaquero

[hatsbuckets]

Sunday Softies: CoD MW Characters and Hands

My little take. Cod Head Canons

Price: His hands are big—strong, steady. The kind of hands that settle on your shoulder and make the world feel a little more manageable. Rough, calloused, worn, but clean, always clean. His nails are short, neatly kept, a small indulgence. When the air turns cold, his knuckles crack, and he rubs in lotion with a quiet sigh. There's an old scar across the top of his right hand, a silly accident from long ago. They carry weight, and when they land on a shoulder—solid, grounding—it feels like safety.

Ghost: His hands are huge, warm in a way you wouldn’t expect. Scarred, yes—rough and brutal in places, fingertips ruined by a life spent gripping weapons—but there’s a care to them, a quiet consideration. His nails are kept short, trimmed neatly, because anything else is a liability. His hands don’t fidget, don’t wander. When he moves, there’s always purpose, even when his fingers card through a certain mohawk, absent but intentional. He doesn’t like people staring at them, doesn’t like people noticing him, but if someone's lucky enough, if he lets you 'em close, they'll find that his hands are softer than they should be. Capable of violence, but warm against the back of a neck, against a wrist, against the small of a back in the dark.

Gaz: His hands know work, but they also know grace. Strong, lean, capable—the kind of hands that belong to someone who moves, who acts. Always steady, always precise. He keeps them clean, nails trimmed just so, but not out of vanity. Just habit. Just necessity. There’s a scar along his trigger finger, a strange, scattered thing that throws off the swirl of his fingerprint. His hands know where to be, when to touch, when to hold on tight and not let go. They tremble, sometimes, after a close call, after the rush has faded and the weight of survival settles deep. When that happens, he clenches them tight—around his gear, around a railing, around a hand offered without question—and waits for the shaking to stop.

Soap: Smaller hands than some of the others, but God, they are strong. Rough palms, thick callouses, a collection of burn scars dusting his fingers—each one with a story he’d happily tell if you asked. His favorite stretches up his left middle finger, jagged, sharp, like a bolt of lightning frozen in his skin. His nails are short, neat, but his cuticles? A disaster. Picked raw when he’s not paying attention, worrying at them until they bleed. His hands never stop moving—tapping, fiddling, reaching. They’re good for steadying himself against someone’s shoulder, for nudging into a certain Lieutenant's ribs with a teasing poke, for gripping tight in the quiet when he thinks no one’s looking.

Farah: Her hands are small, but every inch of them is earned. Scars, old and new, weave across her knuckles, her palms, the delicate bones of her fingers. Her grip is firm, her movements efficient—nothing wasted, nothing unnecessary. There was softness there once, long ago, but duty demanded more. She keeps them clean, but not obsessively so; there’s always a little dust beneath her nails, a reminder. When her hands touch, they touch deliberately. When they hold, they mean it.

Alex: Pretty hands. That’s the first thought, always. Long fingers, well-proportioned, calloused where they need to be but never rough. He takes care of them, rubs in lotion whenever he has the chance, lets himself enjoy the softness while he can. Not many scars—he’s lucky that way—but there’s a strength in them, a quiet steadiness. His hands know how to touch, how to soothe, how to hold without taking, how to grip without clutching. Warm hands, warm in the way that makes someone want to reach for them in the cold, just to see if they’d allow it.

Laswell: Hands that don’t shake, no matter how much pressure she’s under. Trimmed nails, always clean, always practical, no room for indulgence. There’s a small scar on her thumb, almost invisible, but it’s there—an old kitchen accident from back when she had time for hobbies like cooking. Her fingertips are calloused from years of pressing against desks, tapping against phones, gripping the edge of a chair as she listens to intel roll in. When she reaches out, she does it with intention—a brief press to an arm, a squeeze to the shoulder, an anchor.

Alejandro: Warm hands, hands that hold. Big, strong, sun-browned, worn from years of hard work but gentle in the ways that matter. He clasps a shoulder like he means it, grips tight when he pulls someone in close, runs a thumb over the back of a hand without thinking. There’s an old scar running across his palm, a memory from a blade fight long ago. When he touches, he touches with everything.

Rudy: Steady, quiet hands. The kind you’d trust, no questions asked. Rough in places, smoothed in others, as if time itself can’t decide what to do with them. His knuckles are scarred, his fingertips burned in small patches. His hands aren’t fast, aren’t impatient—they wait, they assess, they understand. Alejandro’s hands pull—Rudy’s keep safe.

Nikolai: Broad hands, hands that know both work and finesse. Rough palms, thick fingers, nails that are never quite clean of grease no matter how much he scrubs. His knuckles are scarred, his grip firm, but when he touches, it’s with a careful kind of certainty. He holds a gun, a wrench, a bottle of vodka with the same natural ease, but there’s something different in the way his hands linger when they settle on a friend’s shoulder, when they grip tight in the quiet moments between battles.

Graves: Strong hands, confident hands, hands that never hesitate. Always clean, always controlled, nails trimmed just enough to show he cares. A scar crosses his index finger, an old story he rarely tells. His hands move when he talks, expressive, animated. He’s the type to clap friends and foes on the back a little too hard, to grip too tight when the stakes are high.

Valeria: Elegant hands, but make no mistake—they’re dangerous. Rings glint on her fingers, hiding the scars beneath, a distraction, a deception. Her nails are painted, sharp, perfectly maintained. They are capable. Deadly. She touches lightly, absentmindedly—her pistol, the rim of a glass, the hollow of a throat. She doesn’t hold—she possesses.

Roach: (yes, he's here too) Quick hands, clever hands. Hands that talk for him when words won’t do. Compact, efficient, built for movement. His fingertips are rough, his nails bitten a little too short, like he’s always thinking, always processing. His hands know things—how to grip, how to steady, how to hold on. They linger when they touch, like they’re memorizing. Like they want to remember.

Makarov: (oops he made it too.) Cold hands, but not in the way that means poor circulation—cold in the way that means absence. His fingers are long, precise, his grip calculated rather than careless. Scars scatter across his knuckles, faint but deep. His nails are well-kept, but not out of vanity—just another detail controlled, another thing made to look effortless. His hands move like they were made for command, for taking. He touches lightly, almost delicately, as if savoring the sensation, as if indulging in the quiet power of it. And when his fingers close around something—someone—they do not tremble.

Sunday Softies first edition. I'm doing this because this is how I wanna start my week from now on. Soft, thoughtful, etc. etc.

[sky-is-the-limit]

I'm not breathing okay.

[call-of-duty-incorrect-quotes]

Graves: Started realising women appreciate the fact that you made plans sometimes even more than the plan itself. It’s the pre-thought part that has them.

Valeria, unimpressed: Gringo discovers effort.

[lunarw0rks]

Hello I wanna request some Valeria SMOOT cuz I'm down bad for cartel mommy. A short fic abt Valeria fucking the absolute brains out of you to the point of being dumb and squirting everywhere

warning(s): nsfw (18+), exhibitionism, overstim., dom/sub, degradation/praise, val's purple strap strikes again, humiliation, squirting, fem!reader

MAKING MESSES | VALERIA GARZA

overbearing bass, candlelit lighting, constant chatter; surrounding the two of you. the noise of nightlife is muffled by the oversized doors, still original to way before your time — almost an irony compared to the modernized club they’re housing.

it wouldn’t matter either way. your ears were ringing. every gasp, every whimper, every mutter into your ear echoed and fizzled into the noise.

her pink nails dug like needles into your hips, guiding every rut onto her strap. valeria lolled in the leather armchair, leaning back and enjoying the show you were giving her. she paid no mind to the risk, how patrons could be a hair away from hearing or seeing you two.

it was her club; her place. and you were fucking hers. anyone who had a qualm about that? they never stuck around long.

she controlled everything, every single body roll. your cunt clenched tight around the violet silicone, swallowing its entirety. “sigue adelante, nena. so fucking desperate.” she spits out her words, relishing in your whimpers. they echo off the stucco walls, likely carrying all throughout the hall. “desperate whores should get nothing. but not you. riding me out in the open like this.”

your bottom lip seeps a bit of blood from how harshly you had been biting it, pathetically failing at silencing yourself. it wasn’t any use when you’d already finished twice, leaving a milky ring around the base of the strap. your wetness dribbled down the slick shaft, soaking onto her cargo pants.

the night dress you wore, pulled down at the top to expose your nipple. it might as well be her own personal stress toy — to lap, squeeze, pinch, and slap as she sees fit.

it was pure luck that none of the clubbers had rounded the corner. if it were up to valeria, she wouldn’t skip a beat. the buzzed onlooker getting a surge of jealousy when they ogle your bouncing body; hem pulled up to expose your bare ass as it jiggles. or the drip of your pussy, messily and audibly being stretched out.

your head dips down, getting a rush of fatigue from the physical strain. if it weren’t for her harsh hands, you were sure your grinds would be nonexistent. with precision, she outstretches a hand and grips your jaw, forcing eye contact. “eyes up. you don’t get to tap out after teasing me, cariño.” valeria patronizes.

if you were of sound mind, perhaps you would’ve agreed. not wearing panties was a risky move; as risky as riding her in the dim hallway. but she always packed — that violet temptation just a zipper away.

you felt yourself plunged into another high, mewling against her palm as you climaxed. she locked in, both hands returning to your hips as she drove you down faster. this was your most intense orgasm yet; eyes rolling and body shivering.

pleasure pumped through you as violently as the strap, a warm gush messing all over her lap. you had squirted, proving that the sticky mess before was nothing. “mierda… mi putita, so messy.” valeria groaned lowly with amusement, as if she had climaxed herself.

“we aren’t done.” she leaned in close, showing the forced grinds to a stop. you had no choice but to believe her — and valeria always stuck to her word.

a toy being used on a toy <3

a/n: this is so bad... | ⊹。°˖➴ divider cred. - cafekitsune

[drenix004]

𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚

Veleria Garza Headcanons

Headcanons of Valeria being your alpha, sorry but i had to do it. i had the idea in my head for days and i think there are no headcanons of Valeria being alpha of omega reader. enjoy this little headcanon with the owner of our uterus :)

━━━━━━━━》❈《 ━━━━━━━

Valeria has a closely guarded secret, something she hides very well from her enemies. It was even more protected than she was herself.

That something was you, you were the most valuable thing to the alpha of the most dangerous cartel in Latin America. You were her precious Omega, her partner and wife, something she protected with her life.

As something valuable, you could not go out on the street as if nothing, Valeria had you in a cage.

A golden cage with all the existing and future comforts.

Do you want more blankets for your nest? You don't have to say it twice, Valeria buys all the omegas blanket stores in Las Almas just for you.

Do your clothes itch? She'll burn it and buy you a new brand name, cotton-only clothing keeper for your sensitive skin.

Valeria was aware that she had you locked up, that's why she gave you the best of the best, even though sometimes you didn't ask for it because you thought it was an unnecessary expense.

Ridiculous, Valeria was filthy rich. She wouldn't stay poor for buying you clothes, blankets or whatever you wanted.

Valeria is the kind of alpha who loves to perfume you every night without fail, was she too late? No matter, she'll climb into the nest and kiss the mark she left on your neck while releasing her pheromones. She loves to drown you in her scent, it relaxes her inner alpha.

You love having Valeria's scent on you, it makes your inner omega very happy.

Valeria loves to see you in your animal form, she loves to run her hands through your brown fur.

"come here mi chula" she calls you with a brush in her hand, she loves to comb and groom you when you are turned into a wolf. You let her comb your hair, you love the feel of her hands on you.

When you are both turned, Valeria loves to bite your tail and ears just to tease you.

Her wolf by law bigger so it takes you more than two hours to brush all her fur.

Her fur was as dark as her hair, even her eyes were dark.

Valeria's protective instincts in her animal form are tripled, so she wraps her body around you like a donut while you groom.

There are days when she likes to be on top of you, she is mindful of her weight so she doesn't reload her whole body on you.

As an alpha, her instincts to protect and provide are stronger since she mated with you years ago, this leads her to hunt at least twice a month to calm her instinct to provide for you.

She makes sure to always get the biggest and healthiest prey for her omega. Her alpha ego was enlarged when you greeted her with happy squeals as you wagged your tail.

Valeria had learned to make nests just for and because of you, the day she asked her omega to teach her they had a little blush.

Valeria sometimes has internal debates with her alpha, her she-wolf wants to be with you all the time, especially when she is in the middle of important meetings. This makes her frown, making her partners worry thinking she didn't like what they were saying.

Valeria never courted her omega in the traditional way; flowers, outings and gifts of clothing did not. Her nature always was, is and always will be direct. She went straight to hunting prey (this was the last part of the courtship, when the couple was planning to unite forever) she always had a proud smile with a look full of confidence, her message was more than clear; she wanted to unite with you, she had no doubts. He knew what he wanted, and that was you.

part2?

[vxmpyree]

[right here in my arms - him]

hmm thinking of visiting valeria in prison. they don't let you visit her without restrictions-- they're afraid you're one of her men. such a dangerous woman can't have finer things in life, like seeing her pretty lady without guards at the door and a pat-down search.

when you do see her, you press a kiss on the glass in tandem with her. you pull away after leaving a dark red lipstick mark, just for her.

she doesn't tell you a thing about her plans, and for a little, you worry that she plans on rotting in prison forever. but when she utters that she won't keep you waiting too long, you know that she'll be coming home soon.