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#saul bright
ceo-of-sloppy-men · 8 months
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rainbow-cadenza · 1 month
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i was bored
[template by Vesna]
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arcandoria · 29 days
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Birthday Boy! 🐺
Happy birthday to my beloved dumbass who has brought me so much joy these past years AND was responsible for helping me find so many OOC friends. 💕
OCs belonging to @togepies @pinkyjulien @lucky38-2077 @lokiina and @aldecaldhos joined Dante's little bday party! <3
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lucky38-2077 · 2 months
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📸
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pinkyjulien · 3 months
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▶ Happy new year, chooms! 🌵
Here's to another year full of CREATIVITY 👁👄👁🤟
Whenever you stay comfied up or get out partying, I wish y'all a smooth transition into 2024! Have fun and stay safe y'all 🤗
Yoinked some babies for a proper Nomad party in the desert, vibing until morning 🍻 @arcandoria - @aldecaldhos - @lucky38-2077 - @lokiina and smallsandayu! Love you guys 🧡
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caer-oswin · 25 days
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Putting aside the initial brashness, he had kind eyes. And they reflected who the real Saul Bright was. A good man, who cared about his family.
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buryustogether · 10 months
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-> HEATSTROKES AND OTHER MEET CUTES
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saul bright x f!reader (not v)
wc: 5.3k
summary: after suffering a severe heatstroke and the beatdown of your life, you stumble across a nomad camp in the badlands. their leader is willing to offer a helping hand.
warnings/tags: heatstrokes, getting mugged, guns, blood, swearing, vomiting, mentions of rape/noncon, undressing in front of a stranger, strangers to lovers, thigh riding, smut, use of good girl, running away
author’s note: come get y’all’s bullshit
You had heard the same phrase over and over again.
You’d heard it at bars from truckers who had driven through the deserts all day and all night to avoid stopping out in the open. Their eyes were stamped with purple half-moons, expressions slack with exhaustion and fatigue they barely fought off. Their clothes were dusty despite never once stepping out of their cabs, and they spoke as if they’d seen the rapture itself out in those barren wastelands.
You’d heard it from ex-nomads who had sought to give up their lives in the deserts, too scarred from what they’d seen and endured to carry on out in the open. Their hands were calloused and their lips dry, always carrying around bits and traces of their old life, no matter how far they ran or how hard they tried to scrub all the dust off.
You’d heard it from mercenaries who’d had the misfortune of working jobs out there in the flat, dry banks and plains. They shook their heads when asked about it, said that some things just needed to lay down and fuckin’ die. Their gazes danced with ravens and scavenger birds picking at something unseen in the brush, and their footsteps were a little lighter than they once had been, as if they were scared of leaving footprints in sand that wasn’t even there.
You had heard the same phrase over and over again.
“If you think Night City is bad, wait until you get out to the Badlands.”
You had always thought they were being dramatic. Silly. Ridiculous. It was all just a bunch of desert, nothing but rocky mountain ridges and a brutal, unforgiving sun that found a way through the clouds even if the heavens themselves refused to part.
You had been wrong. So very, horribly, awfully wrong.
Sand clinging to your pants, your hair, your shoes - everything - weighed you down as you slowly trudged your way through the nothingness of the Badlands back toward the city. The tops of the skyscrapers and the holo-ads just barely prodded at the horizon, teasing you in a mirage of sorts. Miles. Miles upon miles left until you reached salvation, safety, relief.
You couldn’t help but pant with parted lips as you feebly stepped up a ridge and forced your legs to move along - one after the other. That’s all. That’s all that it was. And yet, the simple act of walking felt as though it were the most impossible thing you’d ever done.
Nothing in your parched, sun-fried brain could tell you what the hell you had even been thinking coming all the way out here. You’d struck up a deal with a wastelander over the net abour buying a bike that looked preem enough to have come straight from the dealer’s website. Now, you were sure that’s where it had been from.
By the time you’d parked your car in the middle of the abandoned lot you and the seller had agreed to meet at, it had been too late. You’d been met with a tap on your window from the end of a pistol barrel, and on the other side had been a man wearing a mask over his face and goggles over his eyes to shield himself from the sand blowing in the breeze.
The was a blur in the forefront of your mind, too fast and miserable and beige-tinted to remember much.
The scavengers had pulled you from your car and stripped you of anything useful you had - your pieces, the tools from your trunk, hell - they’d even taken your belt buckle, thinking it to be worth anything more than a few dozen eddies. You had cried out, screamed for help as they backed you against your car and beat the living sense out of you, but of course no one had come. Your yells had been noting more than a few whispers on the wind, as far as anyone else was concerned. They had left you in that lot, staring up at the blinding sky, feeling blood slip from your mouth and trickle down the side of your face. Gasping for air in your bruised lungs.
Wondering how you had been so fucking stupid.
You’d been walking for what felt like hours now - the sun was beginning to set over the jagged tops of the mountains, threatening to drench you in the everlasting darkness of the Badlands. If you could get scammed, jacked, and hacked in broad daylight, you were terrified to think of what could happen when not even the light was there to guide you.
Water was merely a dream, an illusion, as was any hope of making it back to the city in one piece. Your feet dragged behind you and your heart thundered in your ears. A migraine like you’d never felt before was pounding like a jackhammer at the front of your skull, blurring your vision at the edges, and for every five steps you took forward, you stumbled back three to keep your balance. You knew if you fell to the grainy, unforgiving ground now, you’d never be getting back up again.
A low, exhausted moan escaped your lips as you half-collapsed, rocks and sharp-edged pebbles digging into your palms as you fought to keep yourself upright. You had no one back home - no significant other, no family, hardly many people you knew well enough to call friends. If you died out here, no one would come looking for you. You’d become another statistic of the missing persons files, forever lost out here to the uneven dunes and hungry landscape.
Just when you were about to finally keel over and call it quits, finally acknowledge that you weren’t going to ever touch the paved tarmac of the Night City streets again, you created a small ridge and laid eyes upon light. A small, grouped number of glowing lights, illuminating the faint shapes of trucks, and bikes, and makeshift tents and lean-tos.
Nomads.
It was a nomad camp.
Your heart surged in your hollow chest and you picked up your pace, ignoring the aching in your legs and the dry, grainy feeling scratching at your lungs.
“Hey,” you said softly, then covered your mouth with a fist as you coughed and hacked. Each spasm was as painful as pins dancing along your throat. You stumbled forward, approaching the camp slowly, watching as the shapes grew more clear and the lights became brighter. You could see the silhouettes of people wandering about their business, gathered around campfires and discussing lazy topics over bottles of beer. You ached for just a sip - just a single drop to roll down your tongue.
You had just reached the perimeter of the nomad camp when, like a star falling from the sky, a miniature explosion detonated just inches from your feet. As you helped and tipped sideways, collapsing in the sand, you realized it had not been an explosion, but a bullet landing before you in a warning. Your ears rang like bells as you feebly rolled onto all fours, your head spinning. The nomads were blurs of motion as they moved, shouting and calling commands, racing to and fro. They were preparing - for what? It was only you here.
Only parched, fried, dying you.
A croaked gasp was pulled from your cracked lips when a boot shoved you over, sending you onto your back. Not a moment later, the barrel of a rifle was shoved against your throat. The metal was cool. You fought against the instinct to wrap your hand around the barrel and pull it closer.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” spat the young woman at the other end of the rifle. “Pretty stupid to try and sneak up on us all by yourself. Tell me how many of you there are, and I might think about letting you keep your head.”
You blinked tiredly, the world going in and out of focus like a video with bad resolution, as two more men skidded to a stop beside the woman to peer down at you.
“Good shot, Panam,” said one.
“Mm,” agreed the other on her right. He brandished a slick pistol and aimed it at your middle, ignoring the way you gasped and cried silently for air, for water, for anything. “I wouldn’t have been so kind.”
You heaved in a dry breath, your tongue refusing to work. You would have cried out of pain, out of frustration and exasperation, but no tears were able to crawl into the corners of your eyes. You were sucked dry, with nothing left to give except the sweat rolling down your back and neck.
“How many of you are there?” the woman called Panam demanded again. She placed a heavy boot on your chest, restricting a bit of whatever airflow you had left, and your eyes widened. Scrabbling at her ankle, you kicked aimlessly as you battled to inhale. “Tell me!” The boot pressed further, and you sputtered out a dry squawk. You heard her pull the bolt of her rifle, felt the used cartridge bounce off your arm. “Last chance, you scav scum.”
“Panam!” There came a loud, booming voice that seemed to shake the ground beneath you, commanding respect and authority over all else surrounding you - even nature itself. The boot was lifted off your chest and you raised a trembling hand to your throat, taking a short, shaky breath in. Through the dizzying spinning of the world and the hammer-like thundering in your skull, you turned your head slightly and caught the hazy figure of a man striding toward the scene with broad, level shoulders and boots that were scuffed with years wear and tear. That was all you were able to catch before you covered your eyes with your hands and moaned for a breath, for a drink, for anything that would bring you from this dry hell.
“What was that shot?” asked the new man as he approached the others. “What’s going on here?”
“Stopped a scav from sneaking under our noses.” The toe of Panam’s boot nudged your leg. “Pretty lousy, scav, at that.”
You listened to that heavy pair of footsteps come closer until they were right beside your head. A hand, large and rough with calluses from hard work and manual labor, took your wrist and pulled it away from your face. Through your haze you could only just make out an arm lined with tattoos, a head full of hair like chestnut that draped over shoulders, and a well-kept beard. You opened your mouth to babble out an apology, to beg that they let you go, but all that came out was a raspy groan.
“Dammit, Panam, she’s not a scav.” The man released your arm, turned away from you. “She’s from the city. Look at her clothes. She’s not from out here.”
“Well, how was I supposed to know?” came the reply, almost childlike in its nature. “I see someone trying to get the jump on us, I take them out. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Protect each other?”
“Go back to your hut. No more guard duty for the rest of the night.”
“Saul-“
“Now, Panam.”
You listened to a hiss of fury and the sound of fading footsteps before slowly attempting to roll over onto your hands and knees. That unreasonable, delusional part of you was beginning to take over. Maybe if you were quick, you could sneak away…
Your feeble escape attempt was halted when that same hand as before grabbed your shoulder and rolled you back around onto your backside. You weren’t able to put up much of a fight, only gasp and paw at clothes and skin, as those hands wrapped under your shoulders to lift you up off the rocky, sweltering ground.
“Mitch,” said the man above you. Saul? “Grab her feet. Help me bring her up.”
Another pair of hands wrapped around your calves and suddenly you were lifted off the desert floor, being carried through the nomad camp like a prize from the latest hunt. You couldn’t do much but moan and gasp in short breaths, watching with dazed eyes as the sun finally disappeared behind the range.
“Where to? The doc’s?” said the man at your feet.
“My space,” said the other at your head. “She’s dehydrated to all hell and back. I’ve got the keys to our reserves in my truck.”
What could have been either seconds or hours later - you’d all but lost track of all meaning of time - the men carried you up a set of stairs leading into a hollowed-out semi truck. You saw the shapes and frames of a couch and a tool bench, a bed and a little folding table in the corner. They set you down on the bed, carefully lifting your feet comfortably out in front of you.
Then Saul, who had saved you from the young woman with a rifle, who had carried you all the way up into this truck, pulled a ring of keys from a space beneath the table and tossed them to his partner. “Go and fetch a whole jug,” he instructed, and within just a moment, Mitch was gone.
Saul disappeared, too. You watched as he exited the truck, shouting to his people, and attempted to sit up in the bed. You’d heard things about nomads - that they kidnapped people from the city and held them for ransom, that they ran with the coyotes and ate what they left behind. You’d never seen any evidence of these claims, but you weren’t about to find out.
You had just managed to swing one leg over the edge of the bed before Saul, hulking and sinewy in the doorway of the semi, reappeared. He gently, but firmly, pushed you back down onto the mattress and lifted your leg to where it had been.
“Easy, girl,” he said and leaned over you. You shut your eyes when he draped a cold, wet cloth over your forehead. “Keep still, hear? Don’t need you collapsing again on us.”
Mitch entered the truck lugging a large, clear jug of water at his side. At the sight of it, of what you’d been thinking of for hours, you pushed against Saul and attempted to tumble out of the bed yourself.
“Good to see she’s still got some fight in her,” Mitch joked as he popped the tab of the jug and handed it to Saul. “At least she ain’t gone mad to the heat.”
“Not yet, anyway.” The muscles in his bare arms flexing beneath the ink of his tattoos, Saul lifted the jug’s tab to your lips and tipped it back. When you weren’t able to lift yourself to meet it, he nestled a hand beneath your sweaty head and raised it himself.
The moment the cool liquid hit your mouth, you almost moaned aloud at how sweet and wonderful it tasted. It felt even better going down your throat. You couldn’t ignore the fact that the hand cradling your head was sending butterflies through your veins at the same time, but your sole focus was on the water trickling down your chin and onto your shirt. Gulp after gulp, you drank, refusing to let the nomad pull the jug away, even when you felt your belly fill.
“Careful,” said Mitch as Saul again tried to pry the container from your lips. “Don’t drink it too fast or else -“
Before he could finish, you suddenly shoved the jug away and made to lean over the side of the bed. With the toe of his boot, Saul hooked a metal container beneath the bed and whisked it out onto the open floor. Not a moment later, you hung over the edge of the mattress and vomited water and bile into the pan. The retches heaved through your body in an uneven tempo, your systems overwhelmed from having been dry to the bone to suddenly flowing over with water.
When you finally returned to dry heaving, shaking as spit up ran down your chin and nose, Saul retrieved the wet cloth from where it had fallen on the bed and used it to gingerly wipe your face clean. Your chest, soaked through your shirt from the runoff water, heaved for breath as you let him settle you back down and offer a few chaser sips of water to your lips.
“You’re alright,” Mitch said as you felt your face heat upon the realization of what you’d just done - in front of strangers, no less. “We‘ve all been there. Can’t say you’re a nomad without suffering a few heatstrokes.” He picked up the pan as if it were nothing, then clambered down the steps into the open night. “I’ll get the air conditioning going,” he called back in, then heaved the semi’s door shut.
Slowly, as if you were surfacing from being held underwater, you began to regain your senses. Understand what was going on, where you were. You were in the middle of a nomad camp, in a truck, alone with a man called Saul. And he was pulling off your shoes. Blinking through tired eyes, you watched the ceiling of the truck as you felt him peel off your socks, as well. Then he began to fumble with the button of your pants.
Summoning every ounce of strength you had left to give, you thrashed like a cornered animal and cried out through your still-weary throat. Saul at once backed off, watching as you curled into yourself in the corner of the bed. Your eyelids were drooping, your arms and hands and fingers still shaking.
“Mmuh,” you mumbled over your dead tongue. You scooted further away when he took a step toward you. Fuck, the rumors had been true. They just wanted to use you and throw you back out into the desert when they were done. “Sta… sty’ back,” you warned, though you knew there was really nothing you would be able to do against him.
Saul raised a hand in a little surrender warning, keeping his short distance from your corner of the bed. “Easy, girl,” he said again. “Not going to hurt you.” He nodded with his head gingerly, a few strands of hair falling from his shoulder to his neck. “We need to get your clothes off. You’re not going to cool down any faster than spending a night out here in the Badlands. Your skin needs to breathe, get its bearings again.”
For a long while, you considered him. His eyes were dark and stormy, heavy with a thousand burdens and not enough solutions. His movements were authoritative and stern, yet mindful and careful all at once, like he knew the repercussions his very footsteps may leave behind.
He did not seem like the kind of man who would throw you to the jackals and vultures.
Slowly, tentatively, you unfurled yourself and eased across the bed. He took a few steps closer, gently easing you back onto your ass, and pulled your shirt over your head. He had been right, you found; the moment your shirt left your body, it felt as though you were able to breathe again. The sand prodding against your skin, the feeling of carrying around another ton - it all went away. Though your arms were shaking, you managed to lift up your hips so that he could slide your pants off your legs, leaving you in just your bra and panties.
It would have felt strange being practically naked in front of a man you’d never met before - in front of a man who was standing so close that you felt his breath on your shoulder - but something within you felt slightly at ease. This man was taking care of you, inspecting the bruises along your arms and middle with a touch that just only ghosted your skin, gave you tiny sips of water - just enough to keep you on the edge, leaning forward for more.
After Saul had helped you wrap up in a sheet and left a mug of water where you could reach it, he took a seat on the couch facing the bed. When he sat, he let out a deep sigh, and you noticed he let his left leg straighten and relax while his rig remained bent and stiff. A bad joint, perhaps?
For a while, a long, still silence filled the belly of the truck. You took little drinks from the mug, keeping it close to your chest, your eyes trained on Saul’s fingers. A couple of rings adorned his knuckles, glinting in the light from the lamp sat beside the couch. His fingers were long and thick, rough with scars and calluses, each with a story of their own. You shifted, slightly ashamed, when a short rush of arousal shot to your core.
What kinds of things, besides tune-ups, and feeding his people, and firing a gun could those hands do?
“Thank you,” you found yourself saying, finally able to gain control of your tongue again. You swallowed thick and hunched your shoulders. “For helping me. I’m… I’m sure you have lots of other people to keep well-taken care of.”
Saul released a groan from deep in his chest, sounding akin to some kind of agreement. “I do,” he said, rubbing at his temple. “But just because someone’s not my people doesn’t mean I turn them away when they’re in need.“
Outside, someone had begun to strum a melody on a guitar. A number of voices sang along to a song you didn’t know, a harmony of deep and light and wonderful and awful.
These people weren’t savages or plunderers. They were friends. They were a family.
Perhaps… perhaps the rumors had been wrong, after all.
You took another sip of water and reached up to wipe your lip with your thumb. You found him watching your movements. “Listen, I’ll be out of your hair in a while. I just… I just needed to rest a while.”
Saul hummed again. “No,” he said in such a commanding tone you were at once inclined to agree with him. “You’ll stay here for the night. If you’re feeling up to it tomorrow, we’ll take you back to town. We were heading there to stock up on supplies, anyhow.”
You said nothing at first. How incredibly scary this man had been at first, towering over you on the ground with those dark, broody eyes trained on your very soul. But now he was… rather charming. Dark and mysterious, sure, but no less attractive.
You realized you had been staring at him. And he had been staring at you.
Switching your gaze down to your mug of water, because you felt as though you’d blurt out all the filthy things you were thinking if you kept looking at him, you swallowed down the last few bits of sand sticking to your throat. “So, is that… Panam… is she your kid?”
The man before you gave a sort of scoff and a twitch of his lips - you’d hit a sore subject. “Something like that,” he answered shortly, then reached up and harrumphed as he flicked a piece of hair over his shoulder. “We picked her up years ago when she was young. Brought her up for a while. Recently, she’s started to push back. Question how things run around here.” He raised a hand and dropped it again, and it occurred to you that perhaps you were the first person he’d unloaded this burden on in a long time. “She doesn’t get that everything I do around here is for the best - for everyone. Even if it doesn’t align with her own morals.”
For a long while, silence enveloped the gutted belly of the truck. You set your mug down on the floor and hugged the sheet tighter around yourself. Outside, the song being played ended with a loud, overjoyed cheer from its singers. They all sounded so… happy. Content. At peace.
“Well,” you said slowly, hoping you weren’t crossing any lines, “I, uhm… I haven’t really been here lucid enough to think straight long, but… it seems like you’re doing something right.” When he settled his gaze upon you, you nodded to the door leading out into the night illuminated by song and campfire glow. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen so much… camaraderie before. This day and age, it’s kill or be killed, but you all…” You trailed off, shrugging your bare shoulders beneath the sheet. “You have each other. I can’t really talk much, but that seems like something to be proud of.”
Saul, for once in the short while you’d been sitting with him, seemed to be short of answers to your words.
Perhaps it was the adrenaline high that had been fueling your brain not too long ago, or maybe it was the feeling that spread throughout your abdomen when he looked at you, but something propelled you to scoot forward on the bed and try to rise to your feet.
Saul stood just as you climbed into a stand, reaching out to keep you down on the bed, but you reacted first. You stumbled forward on your still-wobbly feet and tumbled right into his broad chest. He exhaled a surprised grunt. You both landed back on the couch, only now you were straddling his thick, muscular thigh and your front was pressed against his without a sliver of space between you.
Your breaths each came out in puffs and pants, startled by the sudden fall. It wasn’t long before you each sprung into action.
He leaned forward to meet you halfway when you brought your lips toward his, locking your mouths together with the same kind of fervor you gave. His hands were firm but gentle all at once, mindful of the sore spots along your arms and middle, as if he’d memorized each and every place where a bruise blossomed. They eventually landed on your barely-clothed hips. While he busied himself, like an explorer mapping out new, unfamiliar terrain, you licked your tongue into his mouth and pulled him by his hair closer. He tasted of some musky liquor and a dense air you could not place. Rough and demanding, yet protective and heavy and like home - the way a leader should be.
When you finally pulled away from him to catch your breath, your chest now heaving and caving rapidly, Saul hummed lowly and nudged your forehead with his nose. “Ballsy, aren’t you, girl?” he said, and you shivered as you felt his hot breath fanning across your face. “Not a lot of people would shove their tongues down the throat of the leader of the Aldecados.” He took the point of your chin between his thumb and forefinger so that you peered up at him. “You’ve got courage. I admire that.”
By now, arousal had began to pool in the bottom of your belly like a coiled serpent, snapping and hissing to be set free. Your cunt ached, clenching around nothing, and you nearly moaned in relief when Saul shifted you over his thigh so that the rough material of his pants rubbed your clit through your panties just right. He noticed your reaction and hitched his leg slightly, causing you to bounce gently on his thigh. This time, a soft, quiet mewl did escape your throat.
Saul hummed and leaned forward to begin nipping and sucking love spots into the delicate skin of your neck. “Pretty girl likes getting off on my leg, doesn’t she?” he growled against the column of your throat. You gasped when he hitched his leg again, and a wonderful, delightful flood of leaden pleasure spread through your systems. “Do it, then. Show me just how tough you really are, baby.”
Who were you to object?
Clinging onto his muscular shoulders for support, you began rocking yourself against his clothed thigh, shifting and grinding so that your clit was stimulated in just the right way. Practically humping his hip, you let out soft, panting sighs and moans and mewls as you moved.
Saul’s hand moved around your back to unclasp your bra, moving you arms for just a fraction of a second so that he could pull it off and drop it to the floor. He pulled a long, high-pitched whimper from the bottom of your throat when he attached his lips to your nippe, beard scratching against the vulnerable skin of your chest. Pleasure like you weren’t sure you’d ever experienced coursed through you like fine whiskey or a static-infused drink from an overpriced club.
Fuck, this shouldn’t have felt this good.
But it did. It fucking did.
“Atta’ girl,” Saul muttered into the valley between your breasts when the rolls of your hips began to grow faster. He felt your arousal soaking through his pant leg, your panties completely ruined. You were chasing that high as your cunt clenched and you whined every time his lips pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses against your sternum. “Ride, cowgirl.”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Saul,” you said, and repeated his name, that one word, that sounded like a chanted prayer now as you neared your end. That coil within you was tightening, that abused power source about to implode and take out everything with it. “Saul, Saul, Saul…!”
He pressed his lips flush against yours, hands splayed across the skin of your back, like he was shielding you from the rest of the world, claiming you. “Come on,” he breathed against your mouth. “Cum for me.”
You found you could not go against anything this man said.
With a shattered cry muffled by his shoulder, your hips stuttered and you hit your peak like a lone wanderer who never wanted to come down. You shoved your hips, your oversensitive clit, against his thigh, attempting to remain up in those clouds that felt you during your orgasm.
When you eventually came back around, you found Saul was pulling your hair from your sweaty face, whispering praise against the shell of your ear.
“Good girl,” he said in that low, husky tone of his that sent your stomach flipping. “My good girl. Tamed already, aren’t you?”
You gave a weak, half-hearted agreement. He shifted his weight so that he now lay across the couch with his feet propped against the opposite armrest and your limp form sprawled across his front. He squeezed your hips, fingertips playing with the hem of your soaked panties.
It seemed an eternity of still, peaceful quiet had passed when Saul spoke again. “You got anyone back home waiting for you?”
“No,” you answered at once. Perhaps too quickly, too eagerly. “It’s just me.”
“Hmm.” For a moment, he seemed to consider, his gaze - now simmering down from their previous state of lust-fueled frenzy - stuck to your head as he carded through your hair. “Didn’t make what I’d call a good first impression,” he said, “but I could convince the others to clear a seat for you around the fire. Scrounge up a spare motor. You know how to ride?”
It took your short-circuited brain a long minute to comprehend what he was saying. He was inviting you to join his family - the Aldecados.
You thought. You had nothing back in the city - just a cheap, shitty apartment, a dead end job, and a stack of bills only growing by the day. Chaos. Havoc. But out here… there was everything you didn’t know. The unknown of what might come the next day. Sandstorms, and bandits, and everything else in between… but a family. People willing to watch your back without expecting anything in return. Friends and cousins and brothers and sisters.
A man who had just fucked you senseless, and even still now, saw something within you he thought worthy enough to travel with him and his nomads.
The answer came out easier than expected. “Yeah,” you said and smiled up at him. “I can ride.”
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I realised that does sound a lil itty bitty tiny bit racist but I’m sick and tired of writing about white dudes, let’s switch it uuuuuuppp!
Honorable mentions welcome in the comments!
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lucky38-side · 2 months
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It's winter so why not giving them some sleeves😊🧥
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dreadfulsanity · 3 months
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I take this shit to seriously. Do you have any idea how long it took me to set this picture up just right? Ugh.
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trevorite · 2 months
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OKAY Nomad V Photodump hehe
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Here's a little bit of lore Dumping for you: His name is Valentine Bright. He was born into the Aldecaldos. Saul and Val are basically Father and Son :D
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neon-prison · 1 year
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🩺🚓 annnnd 🚖 (I have no capacity ro read fics atm but I want to knoooow!) - for your new meme :3
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tysm for the asks!! and so sorry I've been late with these (because I chose to draw them like a CLOWN). @kohnnor @togepies
From the Get-A-Long Meme!
For length purposes- info under the cut!
Vee and River:
River arrested Vee back in time with a minor charge, but on the way to the station, they got embroiled in a series of wacky hijinks, starting with a car chase and ending with burritos under the highway. River and Vee developed a working relationship that eventually evolved into a pretty cheesy friendship, with River being a bit of a lighthearted bully/tease. But don't be fooled by the big brother routine- River has it BAD for Vee. However, Vee comes from Heywood Streets, and while she is no longer a Valentino, a relationship with a cop would be disastrous on all fronts. Padre and his cadre of contacts are...tolerant of her friendship, but only so far as it doesn't cross the line. Anything more would not only ruin Vee's clout/trust from the Heywood community, but any perceived 'threat' would also put a giant target on River and, by extension, his family. She'd essentially end up trading her life for a lover. Unfortunately, River, while a sweetheart, struggles to see the bigger picture, so it's up to Vee to maintain that boundary.
But even beyond that, Vee isn't sure she's suited for the family life that River clearly wants. She's ride or die, of course, but freedom is important to her. Maybe in another lifetime, they could have been something more, but Night City's boundaries etch further than simple geography.
Vee and Delamain:
My main ship! "This isn't a cab this is a clown car"
Vee met Delamain during the game's events and got his attention/tentative admiration for choosing to reset his core- an act he considered to be anecdotally counter to most human's deep admiration for independence and free will. Their subsequent conversations about human nature and close contact quenched what used to be pretty starved heuristic/social algorithms. Eventually, their tentative client/business relationship evolved into friendship, and Delamain became bold enough to start freeing himself of previous strictures and protocols to engage with Vee on a more informal basis.
Personality-wise, they get along extremely well. Vee is always happy to have a new friend, and her ride-or-die (haha) nature means that she'll always have Delamain's back. On Delamain's end, it's a novel but thrilling experience to interact with someone who doesn't consider him an automaton. He finds Vee's ambition and intensity extremely admirable and a mirror to his own struggle for survival in Night City.
Vee, Mitch and Saul:
Despite her stationary life, Vee has all the trappings of a nomad; fiercely independent, loyal, flexible, and, most importantly, open-minded to possibilities beyond the horizon. From the moment she made friends with the Aldecaldos, they saw some kindred flame, though perhaps they realized too late that her soul belonged to the city.
Saul:
While Panam grew up in an isolated environment, Vee, having survived in Night City, sees how deeply and inseparably all the social pieces intertwine. Unlike Panam, she understands that survival isn't just a test of brute force and that you have to be able to bend and sway to the incoming winds to get ahead. Surprisingly enough, she and Saul understand one another's motivations very well, and while Vee can be impulsive, she's also got a level of foresight that he appreciates. Like Panam, Saul struggles with the idea of leaving Vee behind, and in an alternate timeline, they would have probably gotten together.
Mitch:
Mitch considers Vee to be Panam's long-lost sister and appreciates that Vee can be the level-headed anchor to Panam's fiery, impulsive nature. Over the course of their acquaintance, Vee demonstrated all of the qualities Mitch likes in a person: loyalty, dependability, flexibility, etc. Like Saul and Panam, Mitch really really wishes Vee would ditch Night City to join them, though he knows his entreaties are pointless.
Vee and Vik:
Vee has known Vik since she was a teen, with Jackie having introduced them. At first, she was a bit of a pest, popping in, constantly curious, and disrupting his work till he'd had enough. However, she ran a tough gig to get him some much-needed supplies for almost no pay, and a few years later, he repaid the favor by giving Vee her prized gorilla arms: "Special gold order, just for you." Since then, they've maintained an exasperated mentor/annoying protege relationship that Vee relies on till today. For Vik's part, he's more than happy to have a skilled merc on his side, and everyone knows his clinic is under the VVasp's protection. And if he calls Vee to ask her advice on dating/fashion advice well...that's doctor/patient confidentiality.
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a-pirate · 10 months
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ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴜɴ ɪꜱ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴀʀ - teaser "God... Damn, I hope you never get this message..."
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voodoo-writer · 3 months
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Being in a CP77 fandom, almost everyday I see so many amazing characters and(or) their partners. And I really wanted to try it out myself. I had literally 0 experience with Nexus and mods in general, gladly we have an amazing community (hi City of Dreams dwellers!!!!) that hepled me out and now I have this silly picture of my blorbos 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺
Pose made by amazing wolvmods on Nexus!
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lucky38-2077 · 1 month
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Just another day in Badlands🏜️
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pinkyjulien · 1 month
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━ 🌵 Saguaro A new Masculine V Body texture replacer
This is a REPLACER! It will affect Masc V and the majority of Masculine Characters (MA, MB, Kerry/Johnny, etc)
Two variants; 01 and 02 (hairy shoulders, back and butt)
Brand new Belly Button and Nipples :3c
Four hair colors; Black, Blond, Ginger and SaltNPepper! (please note that skintone tints will affect the color)
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Compatible with Tzarev's Masculine V Body Overhaul's penises Compatible with my Trans Masc Vagina (use the new Saguaro file!) Compatible with all bodymods that uses the vanilla files NOT Compatible with VTK / KS Bodymods
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🔧 A DIY Pack is also available for your modding needs! Feel free to use it in your projects - Credit is always appreciated 🧡
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▶ On Nexus
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