#danny ramirez x (y/n)

[swordgrace]

❝ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥. ❞

┊ 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: by anonymous — amidst the avengers feud, you and joaquin are going steady in your relationship. you decide to sneak him into the watchtower while the team is away on a mission.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: joaquin torres x fem!thunderbolts!reader.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.4K (long one!)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut (mdni), smut/fluff, established relationship, sam wilson cameo, inexperienced reader, making out, body worship, mild dry humping, oral sex (fem!rec), lots of praise, unprotected p in v sex, missionary position. aftercare + cute ending.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: my brain is filled with joaquin torres, I’m in love with him sm !! this was so, so much fun to write, I hope you all enjoy! 🫶

“You’re thinking about something.”

Sam’s inquiring statement sliced through Joaquín’s thoughts like a hot knife, tinged with an underlying jolt of humor.

Sitting sideways on the couch, the both of them were in his apartment — bunker, more like. He affectionately took to calling it the ‘Cap Cave’, which Sam always groaned at.

Swiveling around in his chair, Joaquín blinked owlishly, brows lifting in surprise. “I’m always thinking about something,” He counters, seemingly perplexed. “Are you saying I don’t think?”

On the coffee table, Sam’s got a stack of files, names of enhanced and non-enhanced individuals to recruit for the Avengers.

He’d gotten Jennifer and Shaun onboard with restarting the Avengers Initiative — he didn’t care about Fontaine’s new group running around. Sam pretended not to be bitter, but it still hurt anyway.

It stung knowing that people out there still didn’t think him worthy of the mantle, and worse, knowing that Bucky was there, too.

“Nah, I’m not saying that,” Sam mused, perusing through files. He was still waiting on a response from Shuri, who’d assumed the mantle of the Black Panther. “You look like a guy who’s thinking about a girl.”

Joaquín gawked, idly rolling the chair from side-to-side, palms getting sweaty. He was definitely thinking about a girl. “What if I am? You can’t police that, Sam.” He muses.

There’s a lapse of silence as Sam contemplates, brows pinching together. He knows it’s about you, and Joaquín’s face gives everything away.

He found out about the relationship unwittingly one morning, when Joaquín had come home at four o’clock, all cheery and stealthy like a teenage boy.

It wasn’t an intelligent move on his part — it was dangerously reckless, Joaquín knew this, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Joaquín, you gotta be smart about this,” He starts in with a fatherly tone and a certain sternness that makes Joaquín wither. “She’s in Fontaine’s pocket, and I know you’ve been sneaking over there to see her.”

“I’m being careful,” He vows, staring down at his lap to avoid the scrutiny of Sam’s stare. “I don’t think she’s in with Fontaine like that, man. She doesn’t seem that way.”

With a begrudging sigh, Sam doesn’t attempt to refute his claim or dissuade him. He can’t stop him from seeing you, even if he thinks it’s a bad idea.

Unconvinced, silence fills the momentary gap between the both of them, and Joaquín is swift to defend your honor; and you aren’t even here.

“She’s different, Sam. I want you to meet her sometime — she’s unlike anybody I’ve ever met.” He sighs, and Sam can practically hear the swooning in his tone.

“Whatever you do, don’t get involved in Fontaine’s business,” It was more of a precautionary measure than a threat. He didn’t want Joaquín to be taken hostage or something worse. “Got it?”

“I got it, Sam. I promise.” Swearing up and down, his phone vibrates in his pocket, catching both of their attention. His smile is light as he spins back around in the chair.

“If you’re gonna talk to her, take it to your room, Romeo.” Sam chuckles, and despite the circumstances, he’s being cordial about everything.

He didn’t want to heighten the tension if Joaquín couldn’t see you. Sam didn’t know you, but he knew how his partner talked about you — like you were the sun, the center of everything.

If you made him happy, he wasn’t going to interfere.

Flashing a smile, Joaquín clamors from the chair when he sees your name flash on his phone, and he waves in-passing. Sam scoffs and grins, but he doesn’t make any lasting remarks on the matter.

Admittedly, Joaquín hadn’t intended for all of this to happen in the way that it had; it just did.

He’d gone to the Watchtower about five months ago with the mission of trying to talk to Bucky, wanting to do right by Sam. He managed to get past the extensive security measures before it all came crashing down.

He met you.

Joaquín still remembered how you looked that day, wide-eyed and curious, wearing a shirt two sizes too big and floral-patterned shorts. You were eating from a bag of grapes, and you called him Falcon.

From then-on, you’d formed an unexpected friendship, and two months ago, he got the stones to ask you out.

Despite the newness of the relationship, he was loving every second of it, even if you couldn’t see one another as often as you wanted. It was all meetings in neutral places, at first — the park, going out to dinner, a museum.

Then, he started using his new suit to fly over to the roof of the Watchtower after you dismantled the surveillance system. He taught you how to do that, too.

The both of you started to get bold with how far you could test the limits of him “coming over”. The rooftop escapades merely scratched the surface.

It turned to midnight dates on the helipad, shooing him away when the others got back from a mission. It turned to him getting as far as the common room, giggling on the couch together at two in the morning.

Tonight, it was turning into your room.

Typically, Joaquín was the one pitching all of these ideas, and the both of you were all giddy, sneaking around like two teenagers. Now, it was really getting serious when you posed the idea of smuggling him into your bedroom.

The plan was all set, laid out to perfection, and the timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

Team’s gone on a mission, Bob included — no one else in the Watchtower except you and him. That got him excited; maybe a little too thrilled about the whole thing.

You planned on dismantling the surveillance systems beforehand, knowing that if Bucky went back and checked, he’d probably find evidence of your house-guest.

He scuttled into his room, kicking the door closed when your text popped up.

YOU (my girlfriend <3): hey joaq :) are you still wanting to come over tonight?

JOAQUIN: you’re really asking? I’m still coming over! coast still clear?

YOU (my girlfriend <3): yes, still clear! talked to lena today, said they won’t be back for two days! means we have tower to ourselves 😚

Joaquín huffed a laugh at the emoji you used, nose wrinkling with amusement. He had no idea what he did to get so lucky, other than break a few dozen rules and hijack the New Avengers headquarters.

In his eyes, no one could hold a candle to you; you were so beautiful, so kind, full of a liveliness that brightened everything around you.

The both of you were mutually understanding of the whole feud between two Avengers teams, and as long as that remained intact, everything would be perfectly fine.

JOAQUIN: do you think I could get away with spending the night?

Maybe a little brazen of him to say, or even assume, but if your teammates wouldn’t be back for a few days, he decided to take his chances. Sam wouldn’t be happy about it, but he’d apologize later.

YOU (my girlfriend <3): like a sleepover? lol! I think you can :) don’t want sam to be mad at you, tho!

JOAQUIN: if I text him and tell him what’s going on, he won’t be as mad 😇

On the other end of the phone, you were giggling at your screen, perched along the edge of your mattress. Your relationship with Joaquín was going splendidly, especially with it being a secret — from your teammates, anyway.

He’d blown his cover with Sam awhile back, and you were grateful that he was relatively amiable about the whole thing.

A hush had fallen through the Watchtower with the absence of the team, save for some folk ballad you had playing from the speakers in your room. It was late afternoon, closer to evening.

YOU: don’t think you can bat your eyelashes out of this one, joaq 😭 also gonna order carryout tonight! what do you want?

JOAQUIN: it only works on you ig 😏 the beef and broccoli with noodles :)) thanks babe!

YOU: very funny! come over around five? will disable cams on helipad for a sec

JOAQUIN: sounds good miel :) can’t wait to see you tonight, missed you a ton 🥺

A soft snort escaped you when you caught the emoji he’d tacked onto the end of his text, heat curling around your spine. He made you feel so special, beautiful — you weren’t used to having that constant in your life.

When you closed your eyes, you pictured him on the other end, grinning at his phone, black curls framing his temples, a hand pressed against his jaw. It filled your stomach with butterflies.

Hopping off of your bed, you made sure to send another quick text, springing towards the shower. It was a little reckless, having him over like this, but love had made you a little stupid, too.

YOU: missed you more! ❤️ text me when you’re near the helipad, falcon :)

Joaquín grins at his phone, shoving it into his pocket before rifling through his wardrobe. He wants to find something nice to wear, something to fit under his Falcon suit.

The cologne he haphazardly throws into his overnight bag is a scent you’ve complimented him on before. Anticipation twists into knots in his stomach, excited to see you.

He does get some thrill out of all of this — of sneaking off to see you, getting smuggled into the Watchtower. He figures that all of this good luck is bound to cause whiplash, eventually.

His phone buzzes in his pocket as he gets his stuff together, attempting to be quiet about packing.

CAPTAIN AMERICA: Do not wear the Falcon suit over there or I’ll lock it up for good.

Deadpanning at the screen, he lets out a sigh, figuring you’ll have to disable lobby cameras, instead. Joaquín groans theatrically into a bunched-up shirt, brows furrowing together.

JOAQUIN: You got it, boss.

It’s four-thirty when you get a text from Joaquín.

JOAQUIN: so no helipad, had to ditch the wings :( lobby safe to come through if cams are off?

YOU: let me disable on main system and come get you! give me ten ❤️

The clothes you wear are modestly comfortable, a pair of leggings with a baggy shirt thrown over, showered and smelling like a flower shop.

After you slide on your slippers, you make your way to the Tower’s mainframe system, disabling cameras in the main lobby and in the elevator, too. It’s simple to turn them off temporarily with the access code — you’d stolen it from Bucky.

Giddy, your ride down the elevator shaft is riddled with excitement and a constant bouncing of your leg. Outside, the New York cityscape begins to ignite with an eclectic nightlife, between the glow of skyscrapers and the hum of cars.

Downstairs, the lobby is polished, corporate — there’s banners of the New Avengers strewn over the walls, massive and theatrical.

Pale tile clashes with the dark furniture that had been set up to resemble something modern, business-like and suave. Valentina had a knack for making everything look very sterilized.

Joaquín is lingering just outside, waving at you with a pearly smile and a bouquet of flowers. Bursting at the seams, you jog over to let him inside, putting in your clearance code before the door slides open.

“Joaquín!” Overjoyed, you’re nearly leaping into his arms as soon as he crosses the threshold, feeling him wrap you up in a tight hug.

A laugh bubbles from his chest, warm and inviting, curling over your bones as he cradles you against his chest. He presses a kiss to your crown, catching a whiff of your perfume; you smell incredible.

“Hey, pretty girl,” He hums, peppering your face with a myriad of kisses, pulling a soft laugh from your mouth. “I missed you.” Joaquín’s got a lovestruck look in his eyes, akin to a puppy.

“I missed you too,” Draping your arms around him, the closeness is something you’ve craved, absorbing his warmth as if he’s his own sun. “No wings? Did Sam clip them or something?” You tease, nose wrinkled.

Embarrassed, he lets out a begrudging groan, features tinged with a scarlet hue as he shrugs. “He didn’t want me using them to come over, figured I’d respect his wishes.”

“He’s nice enough to let you come over here, given the circumstances,” You point out, gaze drifting toward the bouquet of brightly-colored flowers he’s carrying. “You brought flowers?”

“I know. I want you to meet him sometime, I think he’d like you.” Joaquín stands a little taller, resolute as he presents you with your gift. “It’s an apology for not seeing you in a while.”

“You’re sweet,” Flustered, you accept the bouquet with a beam on your face, feeling his lips press against your cheek. “Mm, move your mouth an inch or two to your right.”

“Yes ma’am.” A smirk spreads across his mouth before he kisses your lips instead. He’s enthusiastic yet disarmingly tender, kiss infused with an underlying passion.

Joaquín leans down, closer to you as he slings an arm around your hips, heartbeat stuttering beneath his sternum.

You make him nervous sometimes, in a good way — you make him want to be the best man he can be.

As the kiss slows to a crawl, he draws away with a contented hum, lips still quirked into a grin. “I want more of those, please.” He muses, hand lingering over the small of your back.

“There’ll be plenty more, I promise.” You laugh, tugging on his hand as you make for the elevator. The door bears the Avengers emblem — slightly modified, but the spirit is still there.

Once the both of you are inside, Joaquín peers around in awe, never having seen the whole interior of the Watchtower before. He’s been as far as the common room.

“You got your own superhero banner?” He remarks, brows lifting with amusement. He wished he got his own Falcon banner — maybe Sam could get the new team one, once he finished recruiting.

“Yeah. Valentina wanted it to be marketable and palatable for people who were reluctant about the whole thing,” You shrug. “I still use my old suit. The one she had made for me is uncomfortable.”

With a click of his tongue, he stifles a mischievous grin. “You look really good in it though, miel,” Joaquín lets out a low, playful whistle before you smack his bicep. “Seriously!”

Shooting him a sideways glance, he’s all smiling and chipper, attitude never dimming. It was something you really loved about him — he was good at his core, selfless and wickedly intelligent.

“Thanks,” Another laugh tumbles through your diaphragm. “Maybe I can get you one to hang up in your room back at the Cap Cave.”

He swallows the slight lump in his throat, biting back the urge to make a raunchy remark. Filtering himself, he plants a kiss against your cheek. “Yeah? Shit, I’d love that.” He murmurs, sly as ever.

“You’re bad,” You counter, and he holds one hand up in surrender. As you reach the main level, the elevator chimes open, and you’re greeted by the sprawling floor of the common area. “Here we are.”

The evening glow spreads through the windows, sunlight whispering over dark tile, bathing your features in downcast embers.

Joaquín refuses to look away, gaze reverently tracing across visage as you coax him into the Watchtower’s main room. He swallows, and the sudden coil of nerves settles in.

“I thought we could eat dinner here, or in my room,” You propose, but he’s thoroughly distracted, breath hitching when he absorbs your beauty. Time slows to a crawl the longer he lingers, lips parted. “Or we can eat on the helipad.”

Uncharacteristically hushed, he doesn’t answer you right away, dark lashes kissing the skin beneath his eyes as he blinks. It’s slow, and he’s too busy ogling you, mesmerized; he can’t believe that this is real.

When you catch him gawking, he awkwardly clears his throat and straightens up, mumbling a low apology. “Sorry. You’re so gorgeous, and I can’t stop looking at you.” He states, straightforward.

Surprised, you become smitten almost instantaneously, fingers toying with some of the plastic wrap curled around your bouquet. “You’re so sweet,” You mumble. “Thank you, Quín.”

With a suave smile, he nods, a hum snaring within his throat when you rock up on your toes to kiss him. He doesn’t recoil, reciprocating your kiss with one of his own, passion overwhelmingly obvious.

The smile that spreads over your mouth is palpable when you kiss, and he drops his duffel bag, wrapping his arms around you fully.

Lips meld together seamlessly, fitting a perfect mold, bleeding with passion. He’s rather charming about it, endlessly confident; he knows he’s suave, and it has you hooked.

He kisses you again after you reciprocate, peppering his lips all over your face. The sound of your laughter makes it all worthwhile, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Are you hungry?” Giggling against him, he plants another kiss to your brow, smoothing his hands across your hips.

“Yeah,” Joaquín bats his eyelashes, dialing up the swagger as he draws you close, chest-to-chest. “Not for beef and broccoli, though.” He remarks, kissing your jaw with a smirk.

“Joaquín,” A sharp gasp punctures your lungs, and you’re burning with embarrassment. Gentle lips continue to string along your jaw, over your chin, around your neck. “Easy there, Falcon.”

He laughs, and it sounds like sunshine; like everything warm and comforting about the world. “Okay, okay,” There’s still a shimmer in his eyes, one of ardor. “I am legitimately hungry.” He concedes.

“It’s in the fridge,” You muse, lips gracing his jaw before you untangle yourself from him. He’s all grinning and happy, chest puffed out, retrieving his duffel bag from the floor. “I’ll reheat it and then we can go to my room.”

“Deal,” Joaquín follows you to the open kitchen, letting out a low whistle. He’s in awe of everything — the Cap Cave is cool, but the Watchtower is incredibly advanced. “This is impressive.”

He follows you closely, hovering beside the island, bag still slung over his shoulder. “She wanted it to be ‘top of the line’ for investors.” You shrug, removing white containers of Chinese takeout from the fridge.

Admittedly, you still felt like you didn’t really belong on the team, unworthy of the mantle — you were inducted at the wrong place, wrong time.

Like Bob, you had superpowers; not as powerful, but enough for people to take an interest, look at you like a curious object.

Joaquín never looked at you like that, but he looked at you with something else; in awe, as if you’d moved mountains and hung stars.

He tapped a hand against polished granite, a smile toying at the corner of his mouth. “Thanks for smuggling me in, by the way,” He murmured, tone warm. “I know this isn’t ideal.”

Scooping the contents of each container into large bowls, you reheated a bag of egg rolls too, lobbing a pair of colorful forks onto the island.

“It’s okay,” Smiling, you met his gaze, affectionate as you placed everything into the microwave. “You’re worth it, Joaquín — you’re worth everything.” Your cadence softens.

Typically, he’s the smooth one; flirtatious, coy, and always coming in with the suave remarks. It was his turn to blush, and he can tell that you’re genuine, sincerity bleeding from every syllable.

“Baby,” He mumbles, a touch flustered before he rubs at the back of his neck. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

Smitten, you quietly remove a steaming bowl of beef and broccoli, wincing when the ceramic burns your palm. “I don’t know,” Cheekily, your brows lift in amusement. “Remind me again.”

Joaquín laughs, the noise bright enough to light up a room, and you’re falling hard. When the bowl begins to cool, he picks it up, following right behind you with your food, too.

“So your room is on this level?” He asks through a mouthful of seasoned beef, making noise when he realizes it’s still too hot for him to eat.

“Mm-hm. I share a floor with Bob and Ava, the rest are on two. The training room is up there, too.” As the both of you make your way toward the sleek labyrinth of corridors, Joaquín clears his throat.

“You guys got a training room?” He wants to see it, but he also isn’t expecting a fully-fledged tour as part of your date night. “What else did Fontaine put in this thing?”

“I think Alexei is trying to vouch for a pool,” A huff of laughter escapes you. “But there’s a debriefing room, a lounge and a bar, extra rooms, a medical ward, and a laboratory.” You name it all off like an extensive list.

“I should ask Sam about getting a bar.” Joaquín grins, nipping at your heels as you turn a corner into a long, hushed stretch of hallway. Outside, it’s nearly twilight, concealed by tinted window-panes.

Stopping in front of your door, you enter in your code before it hisses open, revealing a rather expansive, lived-in bedroom.

It smells like you; floral scents intermingled with everything saccharine, strung with hanging lights, comforter wrinkled over a queen-size mattress, bathroom door ajar.

Everything is warm, blanketed in a low, orange glow that swallows the room whole, a fluffy chair draped over with a woven canopy. It was relatively tidy and organized, but comfortable — it all felt organic.

“Sorry if it’s messy, I tidied up before you got here.” As you settle down on the edge of your mattress, Joaquín nudges his duffel bag onto the fluffy rug below, bowl in-hand.

“Messy? Babe, this room is pretty spotless,” He snickers, watching you bat your eyelashes before eating a forkful of noodles. “Food’s delicious, by the way. Where’d you order from?”

“Takeout place down the street,” Your mouth is full when you answer, prompting you to clear your throat. “Eggroll?” Wax paper crinkles within your grasp as you offer it to him, still-warm egg rolls inside.

“Thanks,” Joaquín immediately placed it into his mouth, halfway wedged as the other half fell unceremoniously into his bowl. “Hm, s’good.” He mumbles, watching as you stifle laughter.

Silence trickles in between the both of you, eating within a comfortable silence, occasionally stealing glances at one another.

He smiles, countenance one of tenderness as he clears his throat, lodging another hefty bite of beef and broccoli into his mouth.

“Want to watch a movie afterwards?” You hum, legs tucked beneath you, squinting through the waning sunset that trickles in through the windows.

It isn’t anything exciting, but basking in his presence matters most to you. There’s something gentle and clean about your relationship — you know he’d do anything for you, be anything for you.

You don’t want him to change — he’s perfect the way he is, and that’s more than enough.

“Yeah,” Through a light cough, Joaquín swallows, fork scraping over empty ceramic. “What are we thinking? You know what I’m gonna say.” He muses, nose wrinkling.

“Fast and Furious?” Sharp, your mouth quirks into a grin before he lets out a theatrical groan.

“Second choice,” His smile never wavers; he’s so handsome, something warm and ebullient, incandescently bright. “Interstellar.”

“That’s a long movie,” Another laugh leaves you when he shakes his head, scraping the remnants of his food into his mouth. “We can watch it. I know you think it’s amazing.”

“One of the best movies of all time, right next to The Princess Bride,” Joaquín chuckles, his laugh light and effortless, teeth glinting through glimmering sunshine. “You’ll love it.”

“I’m trusting you.” Teasingly, you finish up with your food before motioning to take his bowl. You stack them right outside of your bedroom door, assuming you’ll circle back in the morning.

“You mind if I change?” He asks, grabbing his duffel bag from the ground. “I brought you some stuff, too.” Dragging the zipper down, he tugs out a few old t-shirts to give to you.

“You brought me your clothes?” Delighted, you’re visibly ecstatic when he hands you three shirts, two of them old Air Force tops, the other an oversized Nike hoodie.

“I know you like wearing them to bed,” Joaquín plants a kiss to your brow, fingertips tracing over the small of your back. “You’re so beautiful, you know.” He hums, tone lowering.

“You are too,” You mumble, and you catch him blushing, lips parting. He huffs a laugh, mouth carefully tracing across your face, buried against your soft skin. “Very cute.”

“Gonna change, babe.” Joaquín hums, planting another kiss against your cheek before grabbing a bundle of clothes, including something you can’t make out.

After he disappears into your bathroom, door clicking with a soft thud, you scramble into something else. Tugging off your leggings and shirt, you slide into his hoodie; it smells like his cologne, like sandalwood and whiskey.

You’re applying a spritz or two of perfume as if you hadn’t layered enough on already, switching on your flatscreen before fumbling with the remote.

On the other side of your bathroom door, Joaquín is furiously brushing his teeth; he’d already brushed them before he left, but it’s a precaution. A hand is roaming through his dark curls, trying to push them into place.

It’s boyish; it’s something extra, valiant attempts to impress you and not ward you away.

Scrolling through streaming services, you locate Interstellar, settling down into bed as you wait for Joaquín to come back out. You can hear water running, shuffling fabric; it piques your curiosity.

When he comes out, cool and collected, he’s wearing loungewear, glint of a silvery chain dangling around his neck. A rosy flush settles into his face, and he’s still smiling.

It wavers when he sees you — no more pants, just his sweatshirt, sitting cross-legged in your bed. His heart stutters, mouth dry as he attempts to form words, ogling you.

“Everything okay?”

The sound of your question nearly makes him jump, lashes fluttering as he hastily clears his throat. He looks a little dazed, jaw unhinged before he waves your concern aside.

“Yeah, yeah.” He coughs, too busy wrapped up in the sight of you, especially as you sprawl out. The hem of his sweatshirt kisses your thighs, and he’s hyper-focused, tongue darting over his teeth.

Joaquín joins you, mattress dipping slightly as he crawls over, feeling you curl up against him. He’s more than happy to hold you, propped up on a mound of pillows, arm draping over your side.

His biceps flex beneath the material of his spandex shirt, sun-kissed like warm caramel, and your mind derails entirely.

“I’m really glad that we could do this,” You hum, tracing your fingers over his chest. “I know I’m breaking a thousand rules, but I missed you a lot, Joaquín.” Those words alone break open a barrier inside of him.

Admittedly, he’s been clinging to restraint as soon as you were kissing in the kitchen; he wants you so terribly that it hurts, and your perfume doesn’t make anything easier.

“You’re my light,” He’s quick with a reply, voice honey-thick and a touch husked, fading into you. “You mean a lot to me, miel — you’re perfect, inside and out.” As he lays on the compliments, you find yourself enamored.

Interstellar suddenly seems so inconsequential when his mouth is ghosting over yours, hand drawing circles into your ribs.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers, hot breath fanning over your lips, unwilling to budge until you’ve given him consent. When you do, nodding fervently and unable to catch your breath, he doesn’t hesitate.

It’s sparks, tension brewing beneath the surface when you kiss him, palm splayed over his chest. The other rests comfortably near his neck, fingers toying with the necklace he wears.

For weeks, he’d been all wound-up over the thought of you — not being able to see you all the time had made him unbearably needy.

You can feel it rippling beneath his skin when he kisses you, coiled-up want knotted into something he wants to untether. You want it too, but part of you fears your own inexperience.

Joaquín kisses you as if you’re the only one he’s ever wanted, drawing a tremulous exhale from your lungs, making you shiver. His hand finally settles over your thigh, idly massaging your skin, fingers teasing the hem of your sweatshirt.

“Still want to watch the movie?”

It’s you who asks him, attempting to gauge his reaction, like a deer in the headlights. His kisses slow to a crawl, and he pulls away enough to catch your smile, obviously smitten.

“Would you be upset if I said no?” He murmurs, mouth quirking into a slight grin. His tells are so easy, but he owns up to it — he’s not ashamed to admit he wants you.

“Mm-mm,” Shaking your head, you curl closer, hand wandering until it steadies atop his bicep. He flexes for you, chuckling when you get all flustered; you’re easy to rile up. “You’re unbelievable.”

Joaquín smiles, planting a kiss against your jaw. “I know,” He murmurs, inhaling a gust of your scent, perfume sizzling through his senses, through his resolve. “But I’m yours.”

His hand continues to knead along your thigh, savoring the feeling; you’re too beautiful for him, and he knows it. You angle yourself enough to turn inward, face-to-face, lashes fluttering in rapid succession.

Mouths entangle with one another, each kiss deepening, blurring the line of desire. The more it progresses, the more you don’t want to stop — and he doesn’t want to, either.

Digits trail through his dark curls, stroking along the nape of his neck as you adjust yourself again, nearly slotted in his lap. An excitable noise bubbles from his throat, hands finding your hips.

A hush blankets your bedroom, save for the sounds of labored breathing and the subtle groan of the mattress beneath you.

Your palms climb higher, both hands gathering to perch atop his shoulders, feeling sinewy muscle tense beneath your fingers. Lips continue, unhindered, charged with a wave of passion.

“Hey,” Joaquín mumbles, his smile one of amazement as his kisses slow to a crawl, nose brushing against yours. “I don’t have any expectations for tonight.”

Stilling, you sit back for a moment, allowing yourself some composure. “Me neither,” You assure, gooseflesh crawling over your spine. “I want you, Joaquín — I do, I just … I’m not exactly experienced.”

With a tumultuous past and enhancements, your life was anything but normal. You didn’t get to live like everyone else until recently.

Intimacy was something you’d experienced in slices — never the whole thing, and never with someone who saw you in the way that Joaquín did.

When you tell him that you want him, he blushes; maybe he wasn’t expecting it, or it took him by surprise, but his need only continues to burn. It’s burning so hot that it’s scorching him, searing his bones.

“We’ll never do anything that you aren’t comfortable with, miel,” He assures, kissing at the inside of your wrist, lips akin to a warm brand. “I don’t want you to feel any pressure. We’re going at your speed.”

That makes you want him even more.

“I want to,” The cadence of your voice softens, pitched with something breathy, exhilarating. “There’s no one else that I’d ever want this with.” You murmur, and his heart stammers.

Joaquín nods, dazed and yearning, dark lashes kissing the skin beneath his eyes. “Me too,” He confesses, hands rubbing circles over your hips. “You’re it for me.”

A smile spreads over your face, dazzling as you ease yourself into his lap, slotted over one of his thighs. The closeness smolders, and his pupils dilate enough to warrant your attention.

Slowly, he cups your jaw, rough digits stroking over silky skin, bringing you in for another kiss. It’s agonizingly sluggish, intended to savor as your chest brushes against his.

Peach-ripe sunset pools into your bedroom, giving way to the first inklings of twilight. It strikes you at the perfect angle, leaving Joaquín stunned, absorbing your features, committing you to memory.

Each kiss is deep, passionate; you move in an idle dance, and you shiver when his hand slips beneath the hem of your sweatshirt. He finds your back, caressing along your spine.

You aren’t wearing a bra underneath, he realizes, and that makes him flustered. He doesn’t know why, but it does — he’s itching to see you.

The pressure of his muscled thigh wedged between your legs fills your body with a muted buzz, and when you shift, it makes it worse. Pinpricks of bliss shoot through your belly, however slight.

Lips tangle together, again and again, and he feels your body roll into him, flush against one another. He steadies you, hand skirting from your spine to your chest, lightly kneading at your breast.

It’s gentle, a feather-light touch that starts as experimental, testing the waters. You shiver from the contact, skin to skin, kissing him one more time until he untangles your lips.

Instead, his mouth finds your jaw, kissing a trail from the delicate bone to your throat, the pad of his thumb brushing over your nipple.

“Joaquín,” A soft, throaty moan slips past your mouth, hips rolling forward, gathering friction against his thigh. He handles you so tenderly, as if you’re some precious gemstone or artifact.

“You’re so pretty, cariño,” He mumbles into your throat, lavishing kiss after kiss there, occasionally suckling at patches of skin. “Can’t believe you’re mine.” It’s partially disbelief; like he’s still realizing how lucky he is.

It’s more than just sex; it’s intimacy, the closeness, the delight of euphoria you find in one another, hearts twining together.

He wants you in ways that transcend physicality — he wants your future, wants to be the person you wake up to in the morning. Joaquín doesn’t know how badly he wants it all until he’s looking at you.

When his sweatshirt rides up to pool around your hips, his gaze catches on your thighs, over the soft plane of your body. His hand still kneads into your breast, drawing out another moan from your lips.

Sheets ruffle beneath your bodies, and he’s shifting enough to peel his shirt off, leaving you visibly flustered.

He’s beautiful; a chiseled adonis whose muscle is raw and well-earned, something he’s worked tirelessly for. His skin turns warm, like melted caramel dusted with freckles, silver chain glinting around his neck.

He’s got a tangle of scars on the right side of his throat, a few peppered across his abdomen. You want to kiss every single one, tell him how perfect he is.

“You’re gorgeous,” You murmur, listening to the subtle hitch in his throat. Delicate digits trace the lines of his musculature, drinking him in, lashes fluttering in rapid succession. “Just perfect.”

Preening beneath your compliments, Joaquín doesn’t shy away from the scarlet flush that slithers around his face. Instead, he kisses your neck fervently in response.

His other hand drops to skirt beneath your sweatshirt, holding onto your hip, palm still kneading at your breast. “You look so good in my clothes,” He murmurs. “Mind if I take this off?”

“Mm-hm.” With a soft hum, you adjust your arms, letting him peel off your sweatshirt with ease, draping it toward the foot of your bed. His tongue flicks over his teeth when he sees you.

God, you’re perfect; everything about you is beautiful and he can’t help but drown in you.

Pastel-hued cotton clings to your hips, the last article of clothing that covers you. A slight draft slithers over your hot flesh, goosebumps following suit as your mouth returns to his.

A husky groan stirs in Joaquín’s chest when you shift against him, friction producing a heat that settles within his stomach. He kisses you back, passionate and needy, hands touching you everywhere.

He caresses you with rapture, reverence; it’s a reminder of how he sees you, how much he loves you. Mouths entangle, and he slyly lets his tongue trace over your bottom lip.

There’s another shift when he begins to ease you back onto your mattress, over soft sheets and pillows. Your legs part for him without a second thought, letting him stay there.

“Damn, you’re so beautiful,” Joaquín murmurs against your mouth, nestled between your thighs. He props himself up on one forearm, the other stroking across your ribs. “Can’t get enough.”

He catches a whiff of the perfume clings to your flesh, an amalgamation of something saccharine and fresh; he loves it; drinks it in.

His mouth wanders over your jaw, layering endless kisses over your skin as he climbs toward your throat. A low moan fizzles past your lips, leaving you wanton, desperate for more.

The cold metal of his necklace grazes your collar, a bite of ice, knees squeezing at his hips. Your line of sight drifts toward the soft tent in his sweatpants, causing you to lick your bottom lip.

Joaquín is relentless, wanting to map every inch of your skin with his mouth, tongue; he kisses fervently toward your collarbone. Fingers tease the waistband of your panties, feather-light and gentle.

Warm lips graze your sternum, dipping toward your right breast, kissing your chest with a thinly-veiled passion. “You okay? Can I keep going?” He asks, tone husked and pitched with affection.

“More than okay,” You huff, squirming slightly underneath him, hands drifting to rake through his dark tresses. “Please keep going.” After vocalizing your enthusiasm, he’s more than happy to continue.

With a nod, he starts to take your nipple into his mouth, kissing at the sensitive bud, hand skirting to grope at the other. A moan escapes you, jaw slack and mouth agape.

He’s so gentle; there isn’t a single rough or harsh movement, everything concentrated with an oozing affection. Ardor is laced into every kiss, every caress of his hand, every stolen glance.

Arousal pools between your thighs, hot and honey-thick, slick cooling along your core. Hips grind together, and the friction is enough to elicit pleasured sounds from the both of you.

Exploratory, Joaquín commits all of you to memory, letting you sink your talons into the deepest parts of his mind. Your perfume gets on his skin, and he doesn’t want it to come off, either.

He briefly teases your nipple with pearly teeth, planting wet, open-mouthed kisses around your breasts before he descends.

“Joaquín,” You moan, hips jolting forward, absently grinding against the swell of his erection. He lets out a low groan in-turn, lips carving a path along your body. “Feels so good.”

When he peppers kisses across your stomach, you suck in a sharp breath, knowing exactly where he’s going.

He mumbles something in Spanish, and it scratches something raw inside of you, belly twisting into a coil of excitable knots. Reaching the waistline of your panties, he looks at you again.

You’re already nodding several times over to tell him it’s okay, and you catch the little stutter in his exhale, pupils dilating.

“Yeah?” He whispers, breathless when you nod again, shivering when his fingers curl into the thin elastic. Easing your panties down, he looks like a man starved, razed by affection and desire.

Joaquín crawls down, head settling between your thighs as he guides your legs onto his broad shoulders, palms kneading their way toward your haunches.

As your panties leave your legs, he kisses hot brands to your calves, stringing them along your knees, cresting over your thighs. The exhilarated wobble in your exhale makes him excited.

“Been thinking about this,” He confesses, and it floods your insides with molten heat. There’s something effortless about the way he says it — you know he means it. “Wanna taste you, miel.”

His gaze is incendiary, staring at you as if you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, tongue absentmindedly swiping over his bottom lip.

“Please,” It’s all you can manage to squeak out, legs flexing beside his face, fingers fisting at the sheets. “Please, Joaquín.”

Steady hands hitch beneath your thighs, holding steadfastly to your hips, haunches braced on top of his shoulders. He caresses near your waist, fingers stroking in repetitive motions.

“Look at me, pretty girl,” Joaquín murmurs, and it’s merely a suggestion, not a demand. When you do, it’s him who blushes, lips kissing a trail to the slick coalescing over your pussy. “Gorgeous.”

The sweetly-spoken praise rips through you, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body as his tongue laps at your slit.

Pleasure sizzles through you suddenly, hot and wanton as his mouth explores your cunt. He’s tender, painstakingly passionate when he strings kisses over your core.

Maintaining eye contact is something that has you squirming, lips parted, heat curling over your bones like wildfire. Joaquín’s stare doesn’t waver, mouth buried deep into your pussy.

His tongue is vigorous, flicking from your entrance to your clit, causing you to quiver. Wordlessly, he reaches for one of your hands, keeping them interlocked atop your hip.

He eats you out like he’s deprived, hungry for you; for all of you, body, heart, everything.

Your thighs twitch, curling around his head, stomach twisting into knots. Arousal coalesces heavily between your thighs, oozing onto his tongue.

Mouthing at your pussy, he slows to a crawl, taking his time to savor every inch of you, feeling your legs quiver. He groans, musculature shaking, gaze eclipsed with desire.

You say his name as if it’s a prayer, the only words worth memorizing. A shiver traces through his spine, joined hands squeezing tighter, and you feel your pussy clench around nothing at all.

With a broad stroke of his tongue, he raked hot embers over your core, hands steadying you, eager to please without an ounce of hesitation.

The bridge of his nose ghosts over your slick folds, causing you to tremble. There’s a fire in your belly that demands to be extinguished, nerves set ablaze, a fervent buzz humming in your skin.

“I’ve got you, baby.” Joaquín sighs, hot breath pluming over your cunt. His tongue is a thing of beauty, working through you in the way that you deserve.

Eager lips kiss their way along your pussy, from your aching entrance to your clit. Your thighs tense, twitching when he stimulates that clutch of nerves, listening to you moan.

He tries again, using his tongue this time, slowly working it over your clit in languid patterns, intended to savor.

You want to melt, back arching, hips jolting forward as you grind into his face. Joaquín welcomes it without recoil, groaning as he eagerly laps over the clutch of nerves.

The sight of you razed, jaw slack and visage one of bliss, body on-fire for him; it’s picturesque, an image that’s emblazoned in his mind for the rest of his life. He can’t imagine anyone else like this.

Through the low glow of your bedroom, he strings kisses around your clit, tongue circling afterwards, one hand caressing your thigh. You let your free hand drift to run over his scalp, and he hums.

When he focuses on teasing your clit, your hips jerk again, prompting you to whine out a breathy apology, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“That feel good? Want more?” Gruffing from between your thighs, your boyfriend ensures that you’re getting everything you want and more.

“Y—Yes, Joaq, please,” You moan, and the use of his little nickname makes him preen. He shuffles closer, tongue deep in your pussy as he begins to lightly suck at your clit. “Right, mm — Right there!”

He provides without question.

His lack of hesitation makes you all hot and bothered as that coil in your stomach begins to unfurl, dragging you toward the edge.

Each pulse of his mouth sends shockwaves of ecstasy hurling through your bones, hot and blissful, like static surging in your brain. You begin to see stars when he keeps the pace, throat ragged with another moan.

To relieve his own arousal, his hips rut helplessly into your mattress, finding some reprieve, but it’s slight. He’s too busy wrapping himself up in your own pleasure, and it outweighs his own.

It’s how he wants things to be, focusing on you, ensuring that you’re taken care of before it ever comes down to him. His cock twitches when you squeeze his hand again.

White-hot spots float through your vision as he brings you to your peak, lips lightly stimulating your clit even when your legs rattle.

His tongue eagerly laps across your throbbing cunt, cleaning you up, the taste of you ambrosial, intoxicating. Joaquín’s brain is filled with static as you grind your hips into his mouth a time or two.

“Joaquín!” A pleasured whine rips through your diaphragm, lungs stinging as you catch your breath, euphoric high still rippling through your body.

He works you through it, stringing kisses over your pelvis, flush against the inside of your thighs, over the crook of your knee. A rosy pallor clings to his features, chest tight with excitement.

“So pretty when you cum, cariño,” Joaquín hums, kissing up along your body as he slots himself between your legs, his erection firm against your aching core. “Did so well.”

The praise makes you preen, a lackadaisical smile floating across your face as you arch forward, shyly wiping your slick from his chin.

“You’re so handsome,” You sigh, and he’s kissing your jaw, letting you feel what you do to him. He’s painfully hard and ready to feel you, hand shifting to tug at his sweatpants. “Need you, Joaquín.”

“You’ve got me,” He murmurs, his suave cadence dripping with adoration, and the look in his eyes rips the air from your lungs. It’s clean, gentle love — loves you so much. “Always.”

When he discards his sweatpants, the spandex of his boxers leaves little to the imagination, and it makes you swallow.

Lips find one another, and you taste yourself on his tongue, drawing a moan from his chest when you’re eager to savor it for yourself. Your hands trace over his biceps, perching around the nape of his neck.

“Still want to keep going? We don’t have to.” Joaquín is incredibly reassuring about everything, and it makes you want it all the more.

“I do,” You swear, fingertips tracing patterns over his hot skin, over freckles and now-faded scars, over the plane of his muscles. “I want you more than anything.” His breath hitches when you say it.

He nods, planting several kisses along your throat, feeling your legs constrict near his hips. There’s another light scuffle of fabric, and he adjusts himself enough to kick his boxers off.

They join his sweatpants, scattered somewhere along the foot of your bed. Joaquín stares down at you with wide eyes and a slightly nervous smile, as if you’re the center of his universe.

A shiver passes through the both of you when the flushed head of his cock nudges against your slick folds. He swallows, beautiful through the sienna glow, lashes fluttering a time or two.

You’re perfect — beautiful beneath him, breathtaking in every way imaginable. The lapse of silence lasts for a moment, with him adjusting himself between your legs.

A shiver grips his spine when his hips fall flush against yours, cockhead splitting past your folds, still oozing with precum.

“Ready?” His voice is low, pitched with want as he attempts to keep composure. Splintering at the seams, Joaquín stifled a groan when you moved against him, wanton.

With a nod, you give him your consent, trembling from exhilaration as his hips push forward. There is mild resistance at first, tip of his cock prodding against your entrance.

He’s sluggish, making sure that you’re comfortable first before progressing. “I’m okay.” You assure him, the sensation stinging yet blissful.

Shifting closer, you suck in a sharp inhale as his hips urge forward, cock sinking into you. It takes a moment of adjustment, cunt clenching around him with ripples of ecstasy.

Halfway inside of you, he stops to let you feel it all, every twitch, every muscle-deep quiver. Joaquín swallows a groan, forehead pressing against yours as he kisses your lips.

“Good, s’good.” Reassuring, you want him to continue, nearly clawing out of your flesh to have him in you completely. His cock is perfect — it’s pretty, as if it were molded for you.

“Yeah?” He huffs, mouth messily tangling with yours. Again, you’re nodding, spurring him on as his hips sink forward completely, cock fully buried inside of your pussy.

You’re tight, and it’s driving him crazy in the best way possible. He’s head over heels, so desperate for you that he might’ve been a beggar.

There’s a moment of hesitation from his end, and before you can comment on it, he begins to pull his hips back, and push forward. He’s disarmingly tender, making love instead of fucking you.

Sighs of passion tangled together, hot and fervent, breathing in the sweet air of one another. His cock kisses your pussy with each drawn-out thrust, dragging over your walls.

His chest burns with a string of needy grunts, holding you tightly, feeling your skin flush against his. Braced on one forearm, the other hand moves to hold yours, pinning them into the pillow.

Muscles flex, taut and sinewy, and you’re momentarily distracted by him; all of him.

Pupils dilate with desire, amber hues turned molten by the low light, jaw loosened, features flushed. He’s gorgeous like this, when he’s all over your mouth and needy.

Each rock of his hips is meaningful, cock buried into your tight heat. He’s good at it — makes you feel wanted in every way imaginable, like you’re something worth worshipping.

“Joaquín,” You pant, and the sound of your voice makes him buckle, trembling above you. Delicate fingers stroke over the nape of his neck, reaching into his tresses.

“You’re perfect,” He groans, inhaling a gust of your scent, hips stuttering slightly before regaining their confidence. He’s exceptionally passionate; not rough, not harsh, just desirous. “So pretty.”

His cock kisses your walls with each thrust, well-timed and intentional, driving himself into you. Your arousal makes it all easier, hips rolling over one another, friction simmering.

The silvery glint of his necklace dangles from his throat, mouth ajar, inhabiting a host of low, throaty groans. He’s vocal about how much he’s enjoying this, savoring every second of it with glee.

He smooths a hand over your thigh, gripping at your haunch to angle himself, joined hands squeezing beside your head.

The slow, drawn-out thrusts make your body melt, succumbing to heat. Sometimes he can’t believe that you’re real, that this is real; you’re a vision, a fantasy made flesh.

Joaquín doesn’t change course — he’s steady, passionate as he continues to rock into you, letting you feel everything properly.

Digits wander from the nape of his neck toward the silvery chain that dangles from his throat, hitching a finger in to drag him down.

A tremulous moan splits your diaphragm, shuddering as your cunt pulses, clenching around his cock. Lips collide, and you’re moaning into his mouth.

Each kiss makes your head dizzy; it’s all passion, bleeding heat that coagulates in the pit of your stomach, coil wanting to unfurl. His cock continues to slip inside, and then back; a push and pull.

Hitching your leg around his hips, it gives him leverage, a new angle to thrust into. He never gets rough or invigorated, letting passion override everything else.

Foreheads press firmly together, noses ghosting the other, mouths still joining in slow, needy kisses. “Mi amor,” He sighs, causing your cunt to clench around him. “Gettin’ close.”

There’s a slurred pitch in his voice, drunk on desire, drunk on the feeling of your body flush against his, on the sensation of you.

Pleasure floods your insides, the coil within your stomach having unfurled, treated to the loving thrusts of his hips. His cock moves deeper, kissing your walls, pulling another moan from your mouth.

Something tightens in his abdomen, pulled as taut as a bowstring, threatening to snap into two. Joaquín’s thrusts tick up in speed, just enough to make his head go static with desire.

Hot, breathy pants escape him, feathering over your mouth, and your noises spur him further. He keeps pushing, motions languid and loving, dragging out each thrust so that the both of you shiver.

“Joaquín!” A low, shaky whine tumbles from your lips, mouth pressing against his jaw as you lavish him in kisses. He shudders, teeth clenched as he gently fucks into you, again and again.

He’s there, and it’s euphoria — he groans, countenance contorted into bliss, chest shaking with low, pleasured sounds.

Hot ropes of cum flood your pussy, the aching sensation crawling through your skin. His movements begin to stutter and slow, hands twined together, his knuckles turning white.

Your name rolls from his tongue a time or two, dark curls tousled, wisping over his temples as he loses his composure.

For a moment, his thoughts are blank; the only thing he wants to think about is you.

With a drawn-out exhale, his hips shift, cock beginning to soften inside of you. He looks thoroughly pleased, razed and delighted, flashing a pearly smile at you.

“You okay?” Joaquín mumbles, leaning in to plant a kiss against your brow. Perspiration glitters over his skin, bitten by scarlet, muscles beginning to unravel the tension.

“Yeah,” A smile spreads over your face, and it makes his heart buzz with something warm. “That was amazing.” You don’t have much to judge it off of, either.

“Amazing, huh?” A twinge of playful cockiness creeps into his tone, characteristically upbeat. “That’s gonna go straight to my head.” He muses, kissing at your shoulder.

“I’ll revoke my compliment,” The faux threat makes him laugh, followed by your fit of giggles. It’s that sound he clings to — it’s everything. “You’re so perfect, Quín.”

There’s a sparkle in his gaze when he meets yours, swimming with affection. He’s always strived to prove himself, be better; to you, he’s flawless, sunshine in living flesh.

“Mm-mm,” He kisses your jaw. “That title belongs to you, miel. You’re everything I want,” There’s a sudden sincerity that saturates his tone. “Got my heart in your hand.”

A hitch forms within your throat when you realize how serious he really is about you. You aren’t used to it, accustomed to only pain and misery, of being isolated.

You lose that fear with him in ways that you never thought possible. Unable to keep from smiling, you kiss him again, hands squeezing at his biceps.

“Maybe we can make breakfast in the morning,” You suggest, and he’s already over the moon about the idea. “Lena said something about tomorrow night, so we’ve got time.”

“I’ll make you breakfast,” Joaquín insists, all doe-eyed and dazzled, showering you in another playful barrage of kisses. He moves off of you not long after, wanting to help you get comfortable. “You a pancake type of girl?”

Laying on his back, he gently grabs your hips, pulling you into his chest, propped up against your heap of pillows. He’s smiling still, painfully handsome as continue to stare.

“French toast, actually,” You muse, and that stumps him. His nose wrinkles slightly, arms still cradling you close. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing,” He chuckles, warm and tender, fingers drifting to cup the nape of your neck, thumb tracing along your jaw. “I’ll learn how to make french toast tomorrow.” Joaquín won’t back down, either.

“You don’t have t—” Before you can finish your sentence, he’s kissing you, affectionately squeezing at your hip. “Joaquín.” You mumble, visibly flustered.

“Making you breakfast,” He insists, kissing your mouth again, a second time, and then a third. “My beautiful girlfriend deserves it.” You know there’s no protesting him.

“Your girlfriend wants to take a shower,” Giggling, you’re moving off of him, body sticky with perspiration and the aftermath of your escapades. “And you’re coming, too.”

Visibly excited, he huffs a laugh, swift to scramble after you, hastily grabbing a bundle of clothes in the process. As you move off of the bed, you give your phone a quick glance.

There’s a new text that’s popped up, one you didn’t notice while you were with Quín.

YELENA: Nice of you to ask if we wanted any takeout. Tell little Falcon we said hello :)

[sillygoose067]

Couch Cuddles

Lewis Pullman x Reader

Lewis had always been a creature of comfort. Sunday afternoons were sacred—feet up on the coffee table, the soft hum of a sports announcer in the background, a half-finished mug of tea going cold beside him. He had a habit of mumbling commentary at the game under his breath, like the players could hear him and would immediately make better choices.

You were used to it by now—his grumbles, his sighs, the dramatic little “Oh, come on”s he tossed at the TV like it personally offended him. You’d grown kind of fond of it, actually.

A couple of years into your relationship, and the two of you had fallen into an easy rhythm. The kind that made words optional. You knew what snack to bring him when he got that mid-afternoon slump look, and he knew how to wordlessly pass you the charger before you even realized your phone was dying. It was simple. Familiar. Soft in all the right ways.

Still… sometimes you wanted to stir the pot just a little.

You’d been in the bedroom for a while, doing absolutely nothing productive, when the low hum of Lewis’s voice floated in—something about a penalty, followed by a long, dramatic sigh. You smiled to yourself, climbed off the bed, and padded into the living room.

Lewis was sprawled across the couch in full weekend mode: hair slightly messy, wearing that faded black shirt you loved—soft as anything, stretched just right across his shoulders and chest. The remote rested on his stomach, forgotten, and his legs were long and inviting and obviously not expecting company.

Perfect.

You approached silently and knelt beside the couch. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, relaxed and curious.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“Hi,” you chirped, grinning just a little too much.

Then, with zero warning, you hooked your fingers under the hem of his shirt and started crawling underneath.

Lewis flinched, caught off guard. “Wait—what? What are you—?”

You shushed him like he was the one being ridiculous.

“Shh. Accept your fate.”

You wriggled up between his legs, pushing his shirt up with you until your head popped through the collar like a very determined kitten. Face now directly in front of his, nearly nose to nose, you blinked at him innocently.

“Hi again.”

He stared at you, deadpan. “You are inside my shirt.”

“I sure am,” you said brightly.

Lewis made a face somewhere between amused and exhausted. “You know there are other, less invasive ways to cuddle, right?”

“I’m maximizing surface area,” you argued, snuggling in deeper. “It’s scientifically optimal.”

He huffed a soft laugh, his arms hovering awkwardly before settling around your waist, like he couldn't not hold you even if he wanted to pretend this was entirely your problem.

“You’re lucky I like you,” he muttered.

“You love me,” you corrected with a dramatic little pout.

He tilted his head, pretending to consider. “Tolerate.”

You gasped. “Lewis!”

He grinned then, quietly pleased with himself. His fingers squeezed gently at your hips. The teasing melted into something warmer as you relaxed fully into his chest—pressed close, tucked under the fabric like you’d always belonged there.

He was solid and warm beneath you, skin meeting skin in a lazy sprawl of limbs and softness.

“You good?” he asked, voice quieter now.

You nodded against his neck, cheeks smooshed affectionately into him. “Mhm. You’re cozy.”

Lewis chuckled, the sound low in his chest. “You’re such a weirdo.”

“Your weirdo.”

“Unfortunately.”

You giggled and gave him a gentle kiss just below his jaw. He flushed a little at that—subtle but there, his arms tightening around you in a way that made it clear he was never going to complain about this level of ridiculous affection, not really.

The game continued to drone in the background, completely ignored now. You nestled closer, his hand absentmindedly tracing shapes along your back, both of you melted into one lazy tangle.

After a few minutes of peaceful silence, Lewis shifted just enough to murmur near your ear.

“You’re stretching the hell out of this shirt, by the way.”

You pulled back, mock-offended. “Wow. Body heat and judgment?”

He smiled, kissed your temple, and said softly:

“Still worth it.”

[joequiinn]

The Ache Inside the Hate | m.a. x reader

Summary | When a blizzard hits and the group gets separated, you and Manny are stuck waiting out the storm together.

Warnings, Tropes | 18+, fem firefly!reader, possibly ooc manny (idk dude has like 5 mins of screen time), smut, forced proximity, acquaintances-to-lovers, requited-unrequited, oral (f receiving), dry humping, some dirty talk, unprotected p in v

Author's Note | Danny Ramirez is haunting me so now I have to write fanfics for all his characters 🤷‍♀️

WC | 12.6k

!!! MINORS DNI !!!

Harsh, howling winds rattled the windows of the resort, glacial air seeping in through cracked glass and walls eaten away by time. You could hear the building creaking with the severity of the storm, shingles flapping on the roof over your head, wayward doors swaying opened and closed somewhere on the floors below. As you sat bundled up in moth-eaten blankets, a stained and ripped paperback folded in your hands, Manny stood at the window facing the road, his shoulders rigid and foot tapping with impatience.

You had known a storm was coming as the team trekked through the Payette Forest - the temperatures were frigid, even by mountain standards, winds blowing crisp through the pines and woodland. For days, you encouraged Abby and the rest of the group to make camp in any of the nearby towns, as this had been a harsh winter already, but she kept putting it off, determined to make it to Jackson as quickly as possible.

It wasn’t until snow began to first fall delicately that you raised the matter again - after all, you were the pseudo-meteorologist of the group, for lack of a better title, so you knew how to predict the calm before the storm. And finally, they relented, hiking out of the forest and into the nearby cookie-cutter town of McCall.

The resort made the most sense for you to set up a base. Along the north side was a lake that had filled more and more through the years, flooding parts of the lower floor in a couple inches of icy water; the building was set back from the main roadway, allowing some isolation, and you could see for miles from the suite on the top floor, making it the ideal high ground.

Once the building was checked and secured, you all set out for a supply run, hoping to make it back before the storm hit. Knowing that time was limited, you decided to split up to cover more ground - you and Manny went south, Abby and Nora west, Owen and Mel south.

You’d gotten used to being paired off with Manny, as that had always been the case over the course of the past five years. For lack of a better word, you two were more akin to acquaintances than friends despite all your time together, the both of you not terribly interested in getting too close to anyone on the Firefly crew.

That shared attitude of detachment made you and Manny a good team - you could read one another and predict the next move, you could communicate easily through glances or gestures. Ironically, that also meant that you knew more about each other than anyone else, which wasn’t saying much in the grand scheme of things, but it bonded you nonetheless. Sure, he could annoy the hell out of you half the time, but if you had to pick someone to trust, at the end of the day it could only be Manny.

So, your partnership made the McCall supply run easy - the two of you rummaged through abandoned homes and a local game store, trying to find any possible provisions that you may need for the last leg on your trip to Jackson. Despite not finding much, you held out hope that perhaps the rest of the group may find things of more use.

But, as you’d come to learn, nothing was ever as easy as you expected. Considering your limited resources, your weather predictions weren’t an exact science - one moment, the snow was slow and beautiful, and then the next you couldn’t see more than five feet in front of you. You and Manny managed to make it back to the lodge, but now - some six or seven hours later - the rest of your group had yet to show up, and he was getting antsy, worrying over the lowering sun and the promise of nightfall.

“We should go looking for them.” Manny finally spoke for the first time in well over an hour. You took a deep breath through your nose, mouth tightening with agitation, though he couldn’t see the look with his back turned.

“We’re waiting.” You answered plainly without looking up from your book.

Manny turned to stare you down; you didn’t have to see his face to know that he was glowering at your seemingly nonchalant answer, “Something bad could’ve happened, and you sound bored?”

Here we go. Sometimes, you absolutely hated being left alone with him for more than an hour because it always ended up in some bullshit squabble over your attitude or Manny’s temper or something else completely irrelevant. Effective teamwork be damned, the two of you were nonetheless very different types of people.

Sighing, you dog-eared your page and dropped the book into your lap, matching Manny’s sour look with one of your own, “I’m not bored, asshole. I’m just following the rules that we made as a group. Or did you forget those already?”

The golden rules amidst the last remaining faction of Fireflies was simple: have a base to return to, wait there for each other when separated, and don’t go searching for anyone until twelve hours have passed. It stemmed from some kind of scout or camp guidebook, with a few tweaks, and it suited you all thus far. Everyone was more than capable of fending for themselves if need be, so it was better to avoid putting the whole group in danger whenever possible.

Manny’s eyes darkened a little as you stared at one another, neither wanting to be the first to look away, “By that time there’ll be no light left.”

“They know how to take care of themselves.” You countered, crossing your arms to retain a bit of warmth, “Abby said--”

“Doesn’t matter what Abby said.” He cut you off quickly, “None of us considered a goddamn blizzard when we set those rules up. Anything could happen to them out there - you just don’t care.”

An unamused laugh escaped you, rolling your eyes as sarcasm laced each of your words, “Wow, Manny, you’re so right, I never would’ve figured it out; I don’t care at all, that’s why I’m here and have been here all these years.”

“Stop with the attitude.” His jaw clenched as he took a step toward you, though he seemed hesitant to move too far from the window; he’d been practically glued to it since you got back, waiting for any sign of the rest of your team, “If you cared we’d be out there looking for them right now.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to continue mocking him the way you desperately wanted to right now. Eyes blazing, you stood, dropping your blankets and paperback carelessly while marching across the room towards Manny. You jabbed him firmly in the chest, but refrained from matching his temper; you were never one for arguments and confrontation, and nothing was ever resolved from your spats with Manny in the past.

“You really think I’m not worried out of my mind right now?” You asked through your teeth, “I’ve been stressed this entire trip just waiting for something bad to happen. Sure, I don’t feel good about sitting here reading a goddamn harlequin novel to pass the time, but it’s safer that we stay put, got it?”

Manny shook his head judgmentally, stepping back from you with a faint scoff, “You’re unbelievable. Why you’re still here is beyond me.”

Your brows shot up in stunned vexation at his hostility, “I’m still here because I give a shit, contrary to what you think.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Fucking asshole.” You hissed under your breath while turning away from him, “We’re on the same side, so why do you keep fighting with me?”

“Because you’re willing to let them die out there!”

“That’s not what I’m doing!”

“Isn’t it!?” Manny grabbed your elbow, spinning you around to face him again, “I know we have rules, and I know why. But the storm isn’t letting up, and they could be in serious trouble out there. And we’re doing nothing.”

“And what about us?” You hadn’t intended to raise your voice, yet your words came out in a strained yell nonetheless, “What happens if we go out there looking for them? Stop trying to be a hero and think about all the variables involved. What if we get lost out there, or we get attacked, or our own friends accidentally shoot us because they can’t see through all this fucking snow? Have you thought about any of that?”

You shook off Manny’s hand, continuing before he got the chance to intervene, “If we go out there, we could be putting ourselves at greater risk than any of them are in. We’re smart, that’s why this group works. Owen will do literally anything to keep Mel safe, Nora and Abby are the best survivalists I’ve ever seen. And we should stay put because we’re supposed to have enough confidence in their ability to stay alive.”

Manny looked between your eyes with a harsh glare, working his jaw as your words sank in. After a long beat, a scornful grin spread across his lips as he leaned towards you, voice low, “I guess you do care.”

You scowled up at Manny through your lashes, turning away again to go scoop up your book and blankets, intentionally keeping your back to him, “You’re not going out there, got it? We need to stick together. So, why don’t you cool off a little.”

Heading for the door, you had to resist the urge to turn and look at him; considering you were trying to make a point, you had to be more stubborn than usual.

“Where are you going?” You paused, hand resting on the doorknob.

“Anywhere to get away from you.” You answered harshly before throwing open the door and walking out into the hall.

It was pushing nine hours since the blizzard started. And no one was back yet.

You holed yourself up in what was once a game room, arcade cabinets with cracked screens and broken buttons lining one wall, billiards and foosball tables covered in dust and cobwebs lining the floor-to-ceiling windows. Miraculously, this half of the building wasn’t puddling with water, which couldn’t be said for some of the other rooms you wandered through.

All things considered, the furniture was in half-decent shape; you’d been curled in the corner of a couch since you found your way down here, trying and failing to focus on your contrived, though somehow charming, paperback’s narrative. Once night fell, you pulled out your flashlight in a half-assed attempt to try to read, but eventually you gave up, staring blankly at the pages for god knows how long.

Manny always assumed you didn’t care; he always assumed nothing mattered to you. Since the massacre at the hospital five years ago, when you all came together, the two of you were always pushing each other’s buttons in such little, inane ways.

You, who liked to have a plan and to keep a level-head, were so opposite to Manny’s action and emotion-driven attitude, that you were bound to have your disagreements. He was a soldier, ready to throw himself at anything he had to, willing to get his hands dirty; you were made for the backlines, planning and mapping and researching before you’d ever think to pick up a weapon. With the group all together, it was easy to balance out your personalities, easy to maintain order. The two of you had never been left alone together for this long, though.

Despite what Manny might think, you didn’t hate him. You never did. He was irksome and frustrating, but at the end of the day you respected him - his skills, his loyalty, his drive. Perhaps in another life - one in which you all weren’t forced to grow up in a dying world - things could have been different, you two could have been… well, something.

You thought about it from time-to-time, what life would be like if the last of the Fireflies could live those ‘normal’ lives you’d read about in books or seen in movies. You figured that your personalities clashed enough that maybe none of you would have befriended each other, considering that you came together as a means of survival rather than out of kinship.

But then you’d think about the good moments you shared. When you would stumble across something strange in an old magazine and immediately show Nora. When Mel would bring back little odds-and-ends that she thought were interesting. When you and Manny would actually laugh together at a joke one of you said that the others didn’t find quite so funny.

Maybe normal wouldn’t have been so bad.

Somewhere nearby, a door creaked on its hinges, startling you out of your reverie. You shot up in your seat, eyes wide as you looked left and right and behind; forgetting about your book, you clicked off your flashlight and reached for the knife strapped to your thigh, just in case the noise wasn’t friendly.

Heart beating rapidly, you prayed that it was everyone else managing to make their way back despite the dark of night. You carefully stood, taking light steps towards the door, ducking behind furniture and posts as you went.

And then you heard Manny’s voice calling your name, his tone frustrated; your chest deflated with ease as you sheathed your knife. You flicked your light back on and wrenched open the heavy door, drawing his attention from across the expansive lobby; you weren’t sure if you were imagining it, but it looked as if he let out a sigh of relief.

He lifted his arms, indicating the building around him, the beam from his own flashlight dancing aimlessly across the wall, “Had me searching this whole damn place for you.”

Manny’s mood seemed to have calmed, if his easy tone was anything to go on; maybe you wouldn’t have to take anymore attitude with him. One of the nearby windows, though still mostly intact, was missing a corner of glass, the bleak night air making you tug your collar up as if that could protect you from the cold.

You shrugged ruefully, “That was kinda the intention.”

Manny studied you, eyes searching your face and looking you up and down; it made you wonder what the hell was going on in his head. His jaw flexed as he nodded, accepting your reasoning, while looking about the lobby - toppled over furniture, icy floors from where water flooded in, shelves layered in cobwebs and dust.

“We stick together,” he said simply, echoing what you’d said to him a couple of hours ago, “you’re right about that. So long as it’s just the two of us here, we aren’t splitting up again.”

You nodded in agreement, chewing at the inside of your lip thoughtfully as your gaze dropped to the floor. There was a part of you that wanted to discuss your earlier argument, but neither you nor Manny were the type of people to apologize, so you refrained.

“Any sight of them yet?” You asked as your eyes trailed to the wall of windows facing the lake - endless darkness, no lights for miles and miles. Not even the shine of the stars and reflection of the moon was visible through the heavy snowfall, which caused a wave of stress to roll up your spine; the weather hadn’t let up in the slightest.

“No.” You looked back at Manny, studying his face as best you could with the harsh light and shadows obscuring it. A sigh left you as he slowly crossed the room, “They’ll be okay.”

His tone wasn’t terribly convincing, but you were under the impression that he was saying it in an attempt to reassure the both of you. As he drew closer, you held his gaze, realizing that - despite everything - his deep brown eyes were a comforting sight right now. So, you straightened your shoulders, bolstering yourself to the best of your ability.

“They’ll be okay.” You repeated with far more conviction than Manny had, though you were still trying to make yourself believe it. For a long, tense moment, the two of you stood there in silence until Manny dropped his gaze in consideration.

“Let’s go back upstairs,” he instructed simply. You knew without him saying so that the high ground made him feel safer - from there he could see anyone coming, friend or foe. So, you nodded in agreement, following after him until the two of you were back in the top floor suite that was your temporary camp.

The two small flashlights you had were barely useful with how heavy the blizzard had gotten outside, beams illuminating your respective supply bags, shifted furniture, a small stack of shockingly pristine blankets sat atop a chair. You raised a brow at Manny, but he didn’t notice the look.

“Where the hell did you find those?” You questioned, because they definitely weren’t here earlier.

Manny knelt over his bag, steadying his flashlight between his shoulder and cheek as he dug through his belongings, “Searched some of the other rooms. Guess hotels used to keep them in plastic, so they were covered all this time.”

“Plastic?” You muttered to yourself, before determining that maybe it was a cleanliness thing and moving on; you had been far too young to remember what the world was like before it collapsed. Walking up behind Manny, you peered over his shoulder; he was digging out what food you two managed to find before the storm hit, which wasn’t much - mixed nuts, some kind of canned meat that you didn’t quite trust.

He held the bag of nuts up to you, “Hungry?”

Honestly, you weren’t. You probably should have been, but considering the stress that had been gnawing at you for hours, it didn’t seem possible for you to have an appetite right now. Glancing at your face, Manny must have read as much, shrugging as he closed his bag and situated himself in one of the chairs that he’d moved to face the window. Ripping open the bag, he scooped a handful into his mouth while gazing out into the haze of snow.

You stared at the back of Manny’s head, mindlessly studying his silhouette; there was strain in his shoulders, a slump to his posture. Was it because of his worrying over the rest of the crew, was it your fight earlier, was it something else entirely? You ruled it was most likely a combination of all the above.

Glancing towards your own bag, you began to make a mental list of all the stock you had between the two of you - the food, batteries, some scarce hygienic supplies, knives and guns and bullets. Did you still have fresh water? Would you run out of food while waiting out the weather? A surge of panic shot through you at all the variables that you simply couldn’t predict.

As if it would help anything, you clicked off your flashlight - at the very least, you could control how many batteries you blew through. So, you might be stumbling around in the dark for a while? There were far worse things than that. Manny either didn’t notice or care about the absence of an additional light, his own resting upon a table and shining into the room, casting harsh shadows across walls and furniture. You were nearly surprised that he wasn’t using it as a beacon for the others, but then again, it could just as easily be a beacon for less than desirable guests.

Swallowing down the anxious lump in your throat, you approached Manny, dragging over another heavy chair to sit beside him. Plopping down into it, you glanced over, but his gaze remained forward. You took the opportunity to study his profile - brow furrowed like it always seemed to be, jaw clenched, eyes intently staring into the dark night. Since you met him, Manny always seemed to have a wealth of tension in his body, like an animal ready to pounce if he ever had to.

Your gaze trailed down the length of his body studiously, his elbows rusting atop his knees, fingers knotted tightly together, heel tapping with that usual impatience you’d come to associate with him. Sympathetically, your brow turned down, as if you could suddenly see all his years of agitation and restlessness and irritation.

“Stop doing that.” Manny’s low voice surprised you; he still had yet to pull his eyes away from the flurry of snow.

Your expression knotted slightly, “Doing what?”

Did the corner of his mouth upturn ever so slightly? Maybe you were just seeing things. He sighed faintly through his nose, “Doing that thing you do.”

The confused furrow of your brow deepened. Sensing your confusion, a small huff left Manny as he finally swiveled his gaze towards you, straightening in his seat just a little.

“The way you watch people.” He said as if it were obvious, “It’s like you’re… seeing right through them, digging around in their heads until you figure them out.”

You could see, now that you were staring at each other, something akin to amusement in Manny’s eyes as he continued, “I’ve watched you do it dozens of times, but it’s different knowing that you’re doing it to me. I don’t like the idea of you seeing something that others aren’t supposed to.”

Suddenly self-conscious, you dropped your gaze, biting your lip, “I didn’t realize it was that… intense.”

“It’s why you’re good at what you do; you're observant. We wouldn’t be here without it.” He said almost dismissively, as if it pained him to give you anything even resembling a compliment. Despite your nerves, you smiled faintly to yourself, glancing back up at Manny through your lashes.

“I didn’t think anyone noticed. That I watch people, I mean.”

Manny worked his jaw in consideration, as if he had a response on his tongue but was hesitant to share it. Though, a moment later, he caved to his thoughts, “Not sure if anyone else has. Just me, far as we both know.”

That smile of yours grew just a little bigger, eyes narrowing slightly. Really, you wanted to ask him why and when he ever noticed it in the first place. Considering just how much he disliked you, you’d figured through the years that he’d want as little to do with you as possible.

As if reading your mind, Manny turned his gaze back out towards the sky; you could see the tightness in his expression even better now that he was looking away.

“So, what are we gonna do?” He asked firmly; he almost turned his eyes back towards you - you could see it in the faint twitch of his head - but he refrained.

You took a deep breath as you mulled it over. It’s probably been ten hours now without any sign of the crew, and the both of you were well beyond concerned about it. Per the rules, if they weren’t back in another two hours, then you and Manny should technically go looking for them. But considering the weather was only growing meaner and uglier, that seemed like the worst thing you could do right now.

You followed Manny’s lead, staring out at the heavy snow, listening to the harsh wind blasting against the building, rattling windows and paneling. You always seemed to run cold, but just the sound of the storm’s severity made you shiver.

“We wait out the night.” You finally said. You only briefly considered how strange it was that Manny was allowing you to make the calls, but then you figured it was his soldier mentality - he wasn’t the decision maker, though he was a devoted follower, “There’s nothing we can do with the weather like this. We rest, we prep, we head out once the sun’s up, and we find them. Storm can’t last forever.”

For a long stretch, the two of you sat in agreeable silence, watching the snow fall for lack of anything better to do. Briefly, you wished you hadn’t forgotten that paperback downstairs - didn’t matter how bad it was, it would have at least given you something to do.

You tried not to let your gaze drift back towards Manny, wary of making him feel uneasy under your eyes again, but you couldn’t help stealing glances. From his hard set brow to his lips, down to his tense hands and bouncing knee; if anything, he could use something to keep him preoccupied even more than you could.

“When you searched the rooms,” you started simply for the sake of creating conversation again, “did you find anything else? Anything we can use?”

Manny shrugged as if none of it mattered, “Couple bars of soap, bottle of water, half a dozen bibles.”

The both of you huffed out a faint laugh, “Well, if I’m feeling really desperate for something to read, I guess I know where to look.”

Manny glanced back towards you, looking you up and down once, “What, already finish that stupid book you’ve been carrying around?”

You gave him a teasing glare, “Forgot it downstairs.”

He hummed quietly, “Must not have been that good… If you want, we can go back and get it.”

A surprised smile graced your lips at Manny’s offer; you weren’t expecting such a simple kindness from him. Though you considered it for a moment, you shook your head, “We should stay put.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugged, making a measly attempt at relaxing in his seat. Another beat of silence passed between you, “What was it about?”

Your brow furrowed, another half-assed laugh leaving you, “Oh, you must be bored if you’re asking about some romance novel.”

Manny laughed as well, “What else are we gonna talk about? The weather?”

You gave him a faux affronted look, though you appreciated his ability to joke about the one thing causing you both intense stress. There was something in his expression that you couldn’t quite place, almost companionship or admiration or something else you couldn't name. Grinning, you, too, settled into your seat, curling up to keep your body heat in; if it got any colder, you’d be bundling up in every single blanket the two of you had.

“It was some old-timey story,” You started, trying to find the right word, “not, uh, Victorian, but something else like it. The guy’s a lord or a duke, butting heads with his love interest the entire book. The tension was pretty good, all things considered.”

You looked back towards Manny, chewing at your lower lip as you recalled the plot. Remembering what was next, you diverted your gaze bashfully, “I got distracted somewhere after the wedding - hard to focus on it while being worried outta my mind over everyone else. Things were just about to get sexy, too.”

Manny snorted slightly, “I thought those books were all sex.”

You shrugged with an amused grin, “Guess not this one. Maybe that’s what the second half is gonna be. Might have to grab it before we leave tomorrow, and let you know how filthy things get.”

“Looking forward to it.” He joked, laughing smally in his chest, “Might just have to borrow it once you’re done.”

“Oh, you’ll love it.” You continued to jest, finding ease in the calm between you two, your anxieties briefly lifted as you laughed together.

A huge gust of wind blew against the building, causing the windows to rattle again; from another room, you heard glass break, shards tinkling to the floor, and with it the suite was suddenly colder. You and Manny both straightened in your seats as a door creaked, swaying back and forth with the draft.

Cursing under your breath, you rose to your feet, feeling Manny a step behind you, following the sound of groaning hinges till you found the culprit. One of the bedroom windows had already been cracked, and it finally gave in under the strain of the storm.

You peered into the room, eyes having adjusted to the dark just enough to make out the shine of snowfall and glass littering the floor. Backing up, you bumped into Manny’s chest, not realizing how close he’d been behind you; muttering a quick apology, you yanked the door closed, hoping that the latch was still intact enough that you wouldn’t have to worry. Again, you shivered - were you actually cold, or was it simply because you knew the harsh weather had gained one more small way to seep into the building?

You and Manny were still practically standing on top of each other, so he must have noticed the tremble of your shoulders or the clatter of your teeth. He tugged up the collar of your jacket again, checking that it was zipped up all the way; you would have thought it intimate if it weren’t for the harsh, instinctive way that he did it.

“You can’t be that cold all the time; been shivering like a wet cat since we left Seattle.” His tone seemed mildly jesting, yet there still seemed to be something mean about it.

“Shut up, I’m fine.” You bit back, brushing past him, “We should check the other bedrooms; probably best to just close everything up in case any more windows decide to give up on us.”

You didn’t know what hotels or resorts were supposed to be like, but you knew this suite was big, considering it’s four bedrooms and full kitchen; you’d read somewhere about deluxe rooms, or something like that, so now you knew what the hell that was describing.

Splitting up, you both checked the rooms, closing each of the doors as you went. This place seemed sturdy, but it was still nonetheless worn away by time. Returning to the front hall, you checked the front door seal on the off chance that maybe the lock still somehow worked, though you were soon let down, as it was jammed and unable to be secured. You made a mental note that you two needed to be extra mindful before you turned your attention back towards Manny.

He’d left his flashlight atop a table, so you could only make out his silhouette; you had the feeling he was staring back at you, too. With a faint sigh, you tried to find the pile of blankets he’d set aside earlier.

“We should try to get some sleep.” You instructed, despite the fact that you were wide awake. Though, curling up in all those blankets sounded nice, and maybe you’d finally be warm. 

“You rest.” Manny answered with a small shake of his head, “I’ll take first watch just in case; wake you up in a few hours.”

He had a point - considering there were only two of you, it wouldn’t be wise for you both to drop your guard. But you nonetheless protested, “I can take watch, I’m wide fucking awake as it is.”

You heard him sigh, probably irritated with you yet again, “Then I guess we’re not sleeping at all tonight.”

“Manny--”

“I’ll sleep when I’m tired.” He interrupted, returning back to that damn chair of his, “Do whatever you want.”

You stared as he settled back into his seat, squaring his shoulders; you couldn’t help but roll your eyes while crossing your arms at him. For a long stretch, the both of you were silent, though you were unable to hold back the question that you’d been wanting to ask since the two of you made it to the resort, “What’s your problem with me, honestly?”

You heard Manny laugh without humor. Turning his head, you could vaguely make out his profile, that familiar sharp nose and strong jaw. Suddenly, you didn’t like that you’d asked the question, feeling a wave of anxiety wash over you. Silence stretched out between you, longer than you would have liked - Manny wasn’t the type to hold his tongue.

Finally, he took a breath, his voice less assertive than you were expecting, “I don’t have a problem with you…”

Now, it was your turn to give a deriding laugh, “You sure?”

Manny shook his head and sighed, returning his attention back to the storm outside, much to your annoyance. You continued to stare at the back of his head for a few long moments, before giving up; guess you’d let him take the first watch after all. Considering that your two options right now were to either sleep or sit around stressing out, you may as well sleep.

So, you began to arrange some kind of make-shift bed out of the blankets and a couple pillows that weren’t completely moth-eaten. You pushed the tattered couch, using it as a barrier between you and the door, with Manny and the window opposite of it.

You worked quietly, settling into the blankets, trying to ignore how uncomfortable it was to be wrapped up while fully clothed and on the hard floor. By now, you should have been used to this kind of sleeping arrangement, but maybe the stress and tension were just causing every little thing to bother you.

“Hey,” Manny urged in a hushed whisper. You knew for a fact you hadn’t been sleeping long because you could feel the groggy discomfort in your head. Groaning, you stirred, realizing that you could feel the weight of his hand on your shoulder, “You good?”

Your expression knotted as you came back to consciousness. The darkness was the same now as it had been when you lied down, though at some point Manny had clicked off his flashlight. As your eyes adjusted to the dark, you tried to find him in the shadows, tugging at the blankets as the cold somehow seemed to penetrate right to your core. Your voice came out hoarse and whiny, “What?”

“You were moaning in your sleep.” He explained, fingers squeezing your shoulder faintly as you shuddered from the cold, “Jesus, you still cold under all that?”

“Shut up…” You groaned, already wide awake again. That was the nature of living like this, always moving and on high alert - rest and relaxation were an impossibility, “I’m fine.”

Manny sighed before clicking his tongue decisively. He took his hand back, and you could make out the way he brushed it across his forehead and eyes as if he was already feeling peeved at you all over again.

“Scooch.” He instructed.

“Huh?”

Another irked sigh left him, “Make room. You’ll do better with some body heat.”

You scoffed, “Don’t, it’s fine--”

“Just do it.”

With an exasperated huff, you shuffled over, tugging and shifting the blankets around yourself as Manny sat beside you. Under your breath, you grumbled incoherently, growing tense at the feel of his body settling in right there next to yours, shoulder bumping against yours. He rested his back upon the uncomfortable floor, laying like a board as you continued fussing with the blankets as some measly form of distraction.

But you knew you couldn’t be avoidant forever, so you eventually forced yourself to lie back, body just as rigid as Manny’s beside you. Your arm brushed his, and you attempted to shuffle away.

“Will you stop moving?” He urged, pushing closer to you intentionally, “Defeats the purpose, I’m trying to help regulate your temperature.”

“I told you I was fine.”

“You’ve been chattering all damn night,” Manny pressed his arm against yours, knee nudging you as he grumbled in irritation, “Be thankful I didn’t suggest skin-to-skin…”

Much to your chagrin, you felt a small jolt through you at the idea, your imagination too vivid for your own good sometimes. Picturing - even if just for a brief moment - the feel of Manny’s bare skin on top of yours, warm hands and tangled legs, mouth exploring every inch…

“Gross.” You spat out despite that obnoxious little sensation that stirred in your stomach. No, you were not about to picture Manny, of all people, in a compromising position like that. Maybe that stupid paperback had gotten to your head - after all, you didn’t read quite far enough to get to the good stuff, leaving you hungry to know what happened next.

It was like you could feel the way Manny’s eyes rolled at you as he scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly. You did the same, glowering up at the ceiling as if it had personally offended you.

For a long couple of minutes, the two of you stayed put, like two stubborn children unwilling to come to an agreement. Not that you would admit it, but having him there next to you did help warm you up, though you may also have your own dirty mind to blame for the flesh of heat through your body.

As the wind picked up even more aggressively outside, the creaking and rattling of the building around you sent another shudder through your body. Dutifully and without hesitation, Manny inched closer to you in response; you hoped the way you leaned towards his touch was subtle enough for him not to notice.

“We cool?” Manny asked in a low tone, causing your brows to raise.

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Because it sorta seems like we never are.” He countered instantly, as if he had guessed exactly how you would respond. In your periphery, you could feel the way he turned his head to gaze at your profile, which caused you to tense up even more. An unamused laugh passed through his lips, faintly fluttering against your cheek; you had to refrain from sighing at its warmth, “You never really liked me. Sometimes it seems like you can barely tolerate me.”

Surprised, you turned your head as well, trying to make out his expression in the dark, “Says the guy who hates me.”

This time, you shivered with nerves, though Manny couldn’t have known the difference, as he tried to press closer to you again. He didn’t answer for a brief moment, mulling over his response before muttering dismissively, “Hate you? No mames…”

“Oh, come on,” feeling wide awake now, you rolled onto your side, propping your head in the palm of your head, “for five years we’ve argued over stupid shit, poking at each other all the time. What else am I supposed to think?”

You could vaguely see Manny’s lips turn down in consideration before he teased, “Maybe I just like arguing with you? Keeps things interesting.”

“Yeah right,” you laughed while shaking your head, “Why you so worried about it all of a sudden?”

This time, the pause between you was different, hesitant and strained. Though you couldn’t quite discern Manny’s expression in the dark, his head turned down slightly, jaw flexing. Something about it made you uneasy.

His voice was just above a whisper, serious and contemplative, “Well, on the off chance that something bad happened out there…”

He briefly stalled, as if he didn’t want to finish the sentence. It gave you just enough time to let the words sink in, the weight of them heavy upon you. Yes, for all you knew, all of your companions could be dead or sick or buried in snow out there. For all you knew--

“--you might be all I have left.” Manny’s confession had a somber quality to it, causing a pressure in your chest that was a confused mess of dismay and want and unease. You sucked in a breath, trying to maintain your calm.

Because Manny was right. You might be all he has left, just as much as he might be all you have left. The past few years aside, what would you two do if it were only you? Despite being able to keep a level-head, despite being rational, you couldn’t help but entertain those fears; in order to stay sane, you also had to be able to look into the mouth of the beast, so to speak.

In all this time, your group had never been separated this long unless it had been planned - for five long years, the last of the Fireflies had become the closest thing you had to family.

“Manny,” you whispered reassuringly, leaning towards him to make your point, chest lightly pressing against his shoulder and arm, “everyone’s okay. You and me, we’re good together; if they can’t find us, we’ll find them. And if for some fucking reason it is just you and me now, we’ll take care of each other.”

He faintly laughed, the sound uncertain, his warm breath tickling your cheeks again, “Like we always do…”

“I haven’t let you die yet,” you teased, hoping a bit of levity might put him at ease.

“I’m sure you thought about it at least once.” He quipped.

“Well, only when you were being really annoying.” You smiled contently, appreciating the sincerity between you two. With Manny, you’d always put up fronts or used jokes against one another - really, you’d never had much of a serious one-on-one conversation, even after all this time. There was another charged pause between you.

“I never hated you, you know.” Manny’s tone was so frank and warm and… perhaps affectionate, strange as that seemed.

You startled as his hand brushed your shoulder - you were so focused on his face that you hadn’t realized he moved. His fingers slid carefully along your collarbone, hesitating at the base of your neck; your body became tense, taken aback by the knot in your chest, by the tenderness of his touch. What the hell was this about?

With a sharp, sad breath, you leaned back, hoping Manny would allow his hand to fall away from you. Instead, he gently pressed his palm to the side of your neck, keeping you close, “Don’t.”

You could feel the intensity of his eyes staring at you, fingers lightly flexing against your skin, “Don’t what?”

Shaking your head, you tried to calm the skip of your heart, the spike of nerves that swelled in your body. It was like a surge of heat from head to toe, a part of you aching for it while another part wishing to get away from it.

“We’re not doing the ‘all hope is lost’ thing. Don’t project feelings onto me that aren’t there, it isn’t fair to either of us.” You managed to sound more assured than you felt, your resolve already wavering.

You never ever hated Manny, either. Of course you never hated him; you wouldn’t have tolerated his bullshit otherwise. Yes, the two of you bickered and poked fun at each other, threatening to trade foraging partners when one of you was particularly irksome to the other. But neither of you ever followed through with it, because at the end of the day, neither of you would ever want to work with anyone else.

You and Manny fit together. He was resourceful, you were knowledgeable; he knew when to act first, and you knew when to plan ahead. You’d learned to read each other without speaking a single word; how to fight together seamlessly when shit went south. So what, you’d never had a serious, heartfelt conversation, even after years working side-by-side? Didn’t the knowing glances and elbow jabs and shared laughs make up for that? Hell, you knew for a fact that no one understood you like Manny did, and vice versa.

And, fuck, that was the problem, wasn’t it?

“I’m not doing that.” Manny insisted in that tone you knew so well - earnest and cross, adamant because he didn’t want to be brushed off. Allowing his hand to fall, he propped himself up, resting his elbows on the floor to be eye level with you.

“Aren’t you, though?” You argued, though your tone had no conviction to it, “All this time and you wait till now to, what, make a move?”

Manny scoffed and shook his head, but it seemed a measly attempt to protect himself rather than a reflection of any upset he felt. He took a deep breath, his attentive eyes searching your face candidly, “You ever think that maybe I’ve liked you this whole time, nena?”

The question caused you to inhale sharply, an anxious jolt shooting through your chest. Your mouth hung slightly ajar as you tried to believe him before you swallowed your nerves, asking quietly, “This whole time?”

Manny shifted before reaching towards you again, thumb brushing along your jaw before his hand tentatively returned to the back of your neck; a very faint, unamused laugh escaped him, “Think about it?”

And you were. You tried to recall all the times you two argued, only for you to realize he had a charmed glint in his eyes; all the times he was the first person you looked to whenever things went bad. When being in each other’s space went from being a necessity to being a comforting familiarity; when Nora started mocking the two of you for acting like an old married couple.

Those times you’d catch Manny staring at you, only for him to look away. How he’d whisper a stupid joke in your ear that he didn’t want anyone else to hear. Those little unnecessary touches - a hand at the small of your back, knees brushing when you sat side-by-side despite there being more than enough room for you both. You’d wake up sometimes in the middle of the night with an extra blanket draped over you. Or on foraging hunts when Manny would bring you a little something just because he thought you might like it.

Fuck, you were an idiot. How was it all so painfully obvious, yet managed to go completely over your head all this time?

A laugh of realization and disbelief escaped you, yet it was also a laugh of relief - like some weight you weren’t even aware of had finally been lifted from your shoulders.

“I’m so stupid…” You muttered, shaking your head at yourself.

Sensing your shift in attitude, your walls coming down, Manny jested quietly, drawing just that little bit closer to you, “Well, I didn’t want to be the one to say it, but…”

You giggled again nervously, rolling your eyes and biting your lip. Your nerves were like an electric current, static through your limbs, heart pounding in your chest. Hesitantly, you reached towards Manny, gently resting your hand to his chest, fingers splaying over his collarbone. To your relief, he leaned into the touch, resting his forehead carefully against yours while taking in a deep breath.

“For the record, I never hated you, either.” You murmured. Manny’s grip tightened ever so slightly on the back of your neck.

“I know.”

His mouth found yours urgently, a surprised hum rising in your throat; he tasted bitter and sharp, utterly intoxicating as you savored him. You could feel Manny’s smile against your lips, charmed by your reaction as his fingers flexed eagerly on your skin. Pressing closer, you wound your arms around his neck, kissing him as if you’d been starved and he was the only thing that could satiate you.

The two of you were in-sync just as you always were, hands groping, mouths insistent, bodies slotting together as Manny laid you back on the pile of blankets, his weight atop you warm and comforting like he belonged there. Just like all your silent glances, it was as if you knew what the other was thinking, moving together as his tongue slid across your lower lip, your hands tugging desirously at his curls.

Shamelessly, you opened your mouth to him, tongues swirling together as you moaned; Manny’s grip on you grew tighter, incited by the sound. He blindly groped around, fingers brushing over your breast and collarbone till he found the zipper of your coat, yanking it down in one fluid motion before sliding both hands inside it. You arched into the touch, tugging faintly at his hair as a searing coil knotted in your stomach.

Manny groaned salaciously, pushing up the hem of your layered shirts, his touch a scorching fire on your skin. Your hips bucked, heart thumping wildly in your chest. Gliding your hands down his neck and chest, you fumbled with his coat as well, causing him to laugh into your mouth as you struggled with it. His breath hot against your face as he pulled back, sitting up on his heels to rip the layer away, your chest heaving as you watched. Manny’s hands were on you again in a flash, swooping in to capture your lips again.

Propping up on your elbows, you hastily pulled off your own winter coat, not willing to break away from the kiss again so soon. Once your hands were free, you slid them over Manny’s firm torso, humming contently at the feel of him.Sliding your hands beneath his shirts, your body tightened at the guttural sound in his throat, your fingernails grazing over his abs and sides amorously. His hips twitched against yours, causing you to sigh with want.

Manny’s hands traveled down your neck and chest and waist, grabbing as if desperate to feel every part of you all at once. He kissed you ardently before withdrawing his lips, blazing a hot trail along your jaw and neck, sucking at the sweet spot just above your collarbone; the mewl that left you was downright sinful, causing Manny’s faint laugh to vibrate against your skin.

“Oh, that’s the spot, huh?” He teased in a growl that made your body clench wantonly, back arching into his touch, “Should’ve done this years ago…”

Fuck yes he should have. You should have, instead of letting all this want and desire pent up inside you. You were ravenous for Manny’s touch, finally having tasted the forbidden fruit, nails digging into his sides just enough to draw a sigh from him, mouth continuing to nip along the expanse of your neck. You pushed his shirts up higher, desperate to feel every inch of his soft skin, to memorize each curve and blemish with your fingertips.

As Manny rolled his hips far too alluringly against yours, you keened and scratched your nails along his sides, spreading your legs so he could slot between them more easily. The press of him against your center was maddening, making you realize just how long it had been since anyone aside from yourself had touched you. Your pussy clenched with anticipation, Manny’s body making your head spin as you imagined all the things he could do to you.

You groaned incoherently as his teeth gently bit your skin; Manny went rigid for just a moment, enthralled by the sound before he continued ravishing your neck.

You insistently began to tug at his clothes, deciding there were far too many layers between you. It should not have been this erotic to help someone strip, yet his hot breath on your skin and the feel of his body flexing beneath your fingers was dizzying. When finally his chest was bare, Manny leaned back, allowing your hands to explore, although you quickly knotted your fingers in his hair again and drew his mouth back to yours. He smiled against your lips, hips grinding longingly in response.

Manny pulled back after one more sweet kiss, mouth dragging down your neck and chest, hands sliding your shirt up to your breasts to expose your abs to his frenzied lips. His teeth grazed over your stomach, kissing along the curves of your body as your hands tangled in his hair.

Reaching between you, Manny undid your pants swiftly, hooking his fingers into the waistband as his lips hungrily nipped at your skin, biting and sucking feverishly. Your eyes crossed, feeling just how bad that hickey would be later.

Manny gave your pants a quick tug down to your knees, finally breaking his lips away from your skin with an audible pop. Breathing deeply, he shuffled lower, nose grazing over your panties as he pulled at your pants again, helping you out of them before they were tossed carelessly aside. You inhaled sharply at his warm breath so very close to your center, wet and needy and waiting for him.

“Shit…” He muttered, lips brushing over the thin fabric of your panties, your hips rolling instinctively, “Not fair that you smell that good.”

The compliment made you whine hungrily, nails scratching through his hair. He pressed a kiss to the fabric between you, causing you to buck again with a gasp. Resting his hands firmly on your thighs, he trailed down that little bit further, breath hot and moist along your slit, causing your eyes to roll back. His fingers dug faintly into your flesh as he took in the smell of your desire, making you squirm with anticipation.

And then he pressed his tongue flat to your pussy, spit soaking through your already damp panties as you moaned unabashedly, causing Manny’s own hum to rock against you. Your grip on his hair tightened as he began to lap at you slowly, tip of his tongue flicking over your clit over and over, making your toes curl.

“Oh, fuck…” You muttered, grinding your hips against Manny’s mouth in time with the strokes of his tongue. Another growl sounded in his throat as he held your thighs firmly as if to keep the both of you at a slow, steady pace. Your body jolted when he teased at your entrance, the measly layer of fabric the only thing keeping you two apart and causing you frustration.

As if he could read your mind, Manny slid a hand up your leg, hooking a finger around the fabric of your panties and pulling them out of the way, his mouth pulling back a mere inch. His hot breath teased along your slit, making you ache for him.

A desirous sound of approval rumbled in his chest before Manny pressed his mouth to your pussy, causing you to yelp at the feel of his wet tongue bare against you. The hand on your thigh tightened its grip as he hungrily ate you out, mouth ravenously sucking on your clit, tongue diving between your folds insatiably. You threw your head back with a vulgar cry, already seeing stars as you rolled your hips greedily, causing Manny to splay his hand across your pelvis in an effort to hold you in place.

“Slow down, baby…” He groaned into your pussy, the roughness of his tone doing nothing to make you any less wet and desperate, especially when he went back to devouring you in the same breath. Your legs were already shaking on either side of his head, five long years making it damn near impossible to keep yourself from coming undone.

It was like an electric spark each time his tongue teased at your clit, your whimpers growing only more desperate and carnal. Your legs began to clench around him, forcing Manny to firmly grip both your thighs, fingers digging into your skin to keep you from tightening around his head. You trembled in his strong hold, rutting desperately against his mouth, the both of you moaning with a drunken pleasure.

“Oh god--!” You stuttered with a gasp, Manny’s mouth unrelenting on your clit, eating you out like you were his goddamn last meal, “Manny--!”

You felt him tense before his mouth grew even more frenzied, the sound of his name on your tongue sinful and encouraging. Your breath came out short and gasping and desperate, head swirling with bliss, body trembling as you rode his tongue closer and closer to your release.

And then you spiralled abruptly, cumming hard and intense as your body tightened, moans spilling from your lips like prayer. Manny lapped at your desire, taking another deep breath of you as his hands held so tight to your trembling thighs that you knew it would bruise. You shook in his hands, body melting as he continued to cruelly tease at your clit with his tongue, incoherent words of pleasure falling from your mouth.

When your hands finally untangled from his hair, Manny relented, pulling back to catch his breath as you rode the high of your orgasm, eyes crossed and head fuzzy. His nose brushed along your inner thigh, causing you to twitch; an airy laugh tickled against your skin in response.

“God…” He grumbled, resting his forehead against your leg for a moment. The distinct smell of sex reached you, sweaty and sweet and musky, as your chest heaved with steady breaths. Though your limbs felt weak, you gently brushed your hand over Manny’s curls, staring up at the ceiling as you composed yourself.

Manny began a slow crawl up your body, lips grazing over your skin wantonly until you were nose-to-nose, tasting your own sex in the air between you two. He firmly pressed his groin against your sensitive core, drawing a faint whimper from your lips, which he captured in a deep, impassioned kiss.

Your hands explored his body, delighting in the flex of his muscles, the heat of his skin. His tongue slid into your mouth zealously, tasting you with a deep moan. For the first time in days, you finally felt warm, sweat dampening the small of your back. Without breaking away from Manny’s lips, you began to tug your shirts up, only splitting for half a second so you could yank them over your head.

Manny cupped your breasts, squeezing eagerly and groaning as your nipples hardened under his touch. He drew his lips away, kissing down your neck until he could tenderly bite the soft flesh of your chest; your toes curled as he sucked another hickey to your skin, hooking your heels on the backside of his legs while rutting your hips again.

Satisfied with the bruise he left, Manny captured your lips fiercely, rolling his hips, his erection strained and beguiling within his pants. Your legs tightened either side of him, using the leverage to move with him, grinding against his cock slowly, drawing an illicit groan from his lips.

Manny grabbed firm hold of you, flipping your bodies around in one fluid motion to put you on top. Sitting up, he practically devoured your lips, the kiss sloppy and salacious. In his lap, you continued grinding your hips, arching your back as the friction caused you to whine, your sex dampening through your panties to his jeans.

God, the feel of him swollen and hard against your clit was mouthwatering, your pace growing more urgent and needy as Manny groped at you with feverish hands, squeezing and rubbing and scratching like he was afraid someone might steal you away from him. He reached around your back, unclipping your bra and tossing it away; prying his lips from yours, he took one of your peaked nipples into his hot mouth, tongue swirling and teeth grazing. You cried out, head falling back as you leaned into his touch, your pussy slick with want as your hips stuttered.

You muttered achingly as Manny fondled your breasts, his hips bucking needily beneath you as he growled with impatience. Your fingers knotted in his hair again, tugging just hard enough to make him hiss as you rut against him.

Feeling like a tightly wound coil again, you pried yourself off Manny, much to his protest, shuffling down his legs just enough to undo his jeans, pulling them away before crawling back to him. You cupped his erection through his boxers, sighing sharply at his size and girth; you gave him a gentle squeeze, causing him to groan while grinding himself into your hand. You began to stroke him through the underwear, hand slow and firm as it teased along his length, thumb running over his tip, hitting a spot he must have loved given the way he twitched and groaned.

You grabbed the waistband of the boxers and drew them down, the head of Manny’s cock bouncing against his stomach with a dull thump. You stroked him again, lightly squeezing as you went from head to hilt at a cruel pace, teasing along the vein on the underside of his length. As your hand began to bounce at a steady rhythm, Manny lied back, mouth ajar and eyes closed.

“Baby…” He grumbled, hips bucking up to meet your hand, causing his thigh muscle to tighten beneath your pussy, making you moan right along with him.

Giving into your impatience, you yanked off your panties, crawling over Manny so you could press a fierce kiss to his lips. As you tried to pull away, he cupped the back of your neck, tongue sliding into your mouth as he kissed you like you were the air he breathed, moaning desperately in his throat. His opposite hand slid between you, fingertips swirling your swollen clit and causing you to shiver.

When finally your lips broke apart, you were gasping for air, Manny’s cock twitching against your inner thighs, your knees slightly trembling thanks to the lazy winding of his fingers on your sex. The glint in his hooded eyes caused you to smile affectionately, repositioning yourself till you were centered over his erection, his hands gliding along your thighs and hips and waist like you were something coveted.

Manny dug his fingers into your hip, grinding your wet pussy along the length of his cock, whispering endearments so low that you could barely make them out. Steadying your hands upon his firm chest, the friction between you nearly made you whine. Manny took a deep breath as he shifted you so that he was lined up with your entrance, the two of you lingering for a moment as you stared into each other’s faces.

And then you slowly lowered yourself onto him, groaning in unison as you stretched around his girth. You were so wet already, taking him hilt deep with a shudder at the feel of him inside you. Manny held still, composing himself as you adjusted to his size - five years without dick make you feel like a damn virgin all over again, the twitch inside you causing a yelp of pleasure to jump from your lips.

You stayed like this a moment longer before you unhurriedly rut against Manny’s hips, another raptured cry escaping you at the pressure against your clit. Manny’s grip became even more firm against your skin, deep breaths inflating his chest as he ground up into you, finding that sweet spot deep inside you far, far too easily. Your hips moved together, jerky and uncoordinated, desperately chasing the delectable sensation coursing between your bodies.

Manny’s hands drift around to your ass, squeezing encouragingly as he rolled his hips, your name hot on his tongue. He lifted you just a couple inches off of him, cupping your rear so he could thrust up into you, skin clapping together while your nails dug into his pecs. He hit you nice and deep over and over again, the thrust of his hips growing more unyielding with each mewl and cry that slurred from your mouth. Fuck, his dick was intoxicating, the way it stretched you out and filled you up, making your eyes cross and your limbs trembled.

Hungry for more, you began to bounce on your knees, stuttering until you matched Manny’s rhythm, bracing your hands either side of his head to get a deeper angle. You exhaled sharply as he buried himself inside you, thrusts growing feverish, skin slick with sweat. A growl rose deep in his chest, craning his neck to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss, teeth clashing and tongues swirling. You moaned into his mouth, rolling your hips erratically.

Manny’s greedy hands trailed back up your body, fondling your tits, tweaking your nipples between his fingers. A fierce little “come here” rumbled in his throat, drawing your chest towards him so he could bite at your flesh again. The new angle of your hips caused pressure on your clit that made you cry out, body shuddering with pleasure as Manny drove his cock deep inside you over and over again.

“Fu-uck--!” You whined loudly, grinding your hips as Manny became more frantic, thrusts hard and lecherous and like a drug. His breath was hot against your breasts, your back arching as his hands explored your body, gripping firmly at your waist as he pushed just that little bit deeper.

Manny drew his knees up to press against your back, using the angle to bury himself in you, hand trailing down to massage your clit with the pad of his thumb. Your hips faltered with a yelp as you groped at his arms to keep yourself steady.

He rut his hips hard into you, the slick sound of your skin slapping together causing your pussy to clench tight around him, drawing another hiss from between his teeth. Your body became frenzied, hips rolling and toes curling, a string of gasps spilling from your mouth as his thumb returned to swirling your clit, sending jolts of desire through your body.

“Fuck, you’re falling apart, huh?” Manny growled with a dazzling grin, enthralled by the sight of you as he fought not to come undone himself, “Taking me so good…”

God, his voice made you squirm and moan, riding his cock with a hungry zeal, bouncing on shaky legs as your pussy tightened around him. Drool began to pool under your tongue, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your pace grew sloppy and graceless.

“That’s right, baby…” Manny breathed out, applying more pressure to your clit, stilling the upward thrusts of his hips so you could ride him until you fell apart. You bounced and rutted, chasing the cusp of another orgasm, nails racking harshly along his body before digging into his thighs, which still pressed firmly into your back, using him as leverage for your rapacious grinding.

You managed to find Manny’s intense gaze in the dark, the two of you staring intensely at one another, eyes hooded and mouths hanging open. Under his breath, he murmured a string of “come on, come on” like a mantra, thumb continuing its unrelenting pattern on your clit as your legs began to shake, nails scratching at his skin forcefully enough that you dared to draw blood.

And then it was like a white hot flash of lightning, an obscene cry leaping from your mouth as you clenched tight around Manny’s cock, throwing your head back as everything within you trembled, your release frenzied and wild.

You shook while bracing yourself, orgasm rocking your body, stars behind your eyes as a weak string of moans fell from your tongue. Manny held you tight, squeezing your skin in his hands, watching you with utter awe and ecstasy, the clench of your soaked pussy drawing guttural moans from his chest. His cock twitched inside you, desperate for release, but he resisted the urge so he could focus on how goddamn incredible you looked cumming all over his dick.

When you finally floated down from cloud nine, your body racked with pleasure. Manny’s cock was still buried inside you, rock hard and twitching, sending shocks of euphoria through your body. The tension accompanying your orgasm melted away, legs like pudding as you balanced your hands atop his chest again.

“Fucking hell…” Manny murmured, enthralled by you. A goofy smile graced your lips as you slowly lowered your lips back towards his, moaning into his mouth at the way his full cock shifted inside you. The kiss was deep and sloppy, breathing each other in with such ardent want, molding together as if you were made for it.

Manny gave a slow roll of his hips, hands exploring your hot skin as you continued to whimper against his lips. Slowly, he pushed up inside you, delighting in your gasps and spasms, his tongue delving into your mouth again with desperate desire. You held his jaw tenderly, pulsing around his thrusts; eventually, he pulled back, lips brushing against yours as he spoke.

“Got one more in you, cariño?” He whispered wickedly, smiling triumphantly as you moaned, walls clenching around him again. He was so close, feeling how desperately his body wanted release. When you nodded, nose bumping gently with his, Manny’s arms encircled you, flipping you onto your back faster than you could blink, the motion and accompanying friction making you gasp sinfully.

Manny sat back on his heels, hands stroking down your legs, cock still buried inside you as he positioned your bodies. He spread your legs, pushing them up either side of you, hands holding your knees as he bottomed out, moaning huskily at the feel of you. He rolled his hips steadily, hitting deep inside your wet pussy, fingers digging into your skin. You grasped at the mess of blankets beneath you, body curving up to meet Manny’s thrusts as skin slapped skin, hair sticking to your sweaty neck and forehead.

Manny grunted praises through his teeth, slamming deep into you with rapid strikes. Already so sensitive after your orgasms, you moaned wildly at the way he slid in and out of you, body starting to tremble again. Manny pushed your legs even higher and wider, eyes closed and brow furrowed as he used your body, burying into you with a hungry fervor.

You threw your head back as your thighs tried to clench either side of Manny’s torso, but his grip was firm and strong, holding you in place as your entire body shook with intense pleasure. His thrusts grew even more insistent, fast and deep and mouthwatering.

“That’s right, baby--” He hissed as he slammed into you, “so fucking good--”

His words made you whine delectably, pussy clenching around him, rhythm unrelenting. His breath began to come out in deep shudder, hips stuttering on the edge of release as he stole a few more deep thrusts before abruptly pulling out of you.

It was a shock to be so empty all of a sudden, a loud cry leaving you; in the next moment, Manny was spilling warm seed onto your stomach, his groans overlapping with yours. His hands shook as he clung tight to your legs, his head lulling forward as the last of him pooled on your hot skin, sweat gliding down his taunt muscles.

For a long beat, neither of you moved as you caught your breath. Eventually, you lowered your legs either side of him, reaching trembling hands up to cup Manny’s jaw as he balanced above you, swooping in to steal a needy kiss. The both of you moaned at the taste of each other, your body still yearning for him despite the three orgasms he already gave you. Pulling back, he pressed his sweaty forehead to yours, breathing you in deeply for a minute.

“Be right back.” Manny whispered roughly, grunting as he pushed back on his heels before rising to his feet, legs still shaky. You hummed in acknowledgement, watching his silhouette move through the dark, listening as he rummaged in his bag and opened a canteen. He returned moments later, kneeling beside you and pressing a damp cloth to your stomach, causing you to faintly gasp at the chill of it cleaning your skin of his mess.

“Thanks,” You giggled, cock-drunk and giddy, once Manny was done. He sat down beside you again, huddling himself in the blankets as a sweet laugh met your ears.

“For what - the mindblowing sex?” He teased, to which you gave him a half-assed punch in the arm, which only made him laugh again.

“Shut up, asshole.” You smiled fondly, eyes fluttering shut contently.

Your body had finally relaxed, a thin layer of sweat glistening over your skin, which finally allowed for the blizzard outside to chill you to the bone again, your teeth chattering. Looking about in the dark, it was hard to tell where exactly any of your clothes had ended up, but before you could even crawl away from the comfort of your blankets, Manny gently grabbed your arm.

He tugged you into him, muttering against your hair, “Worry about it in the morning.”

“And freeze in the middle of the night?” You countered, though being curled in his side and huddled together was doing wonders for your temperature. It reminded you of what he said earlier, which already felt lifetimes away, causing you to huff out a small laugh, “Guess we’re doing the skin-to-skin thing after all, huh?”

Manny laughed, too, arms tightening around you as he grumbled again, echoing your words back at you, “Shut up, asshole.”

“Sheesh, look at these two.”

A voice and accompanying snickers pierced through your unconscious, causing you to start abruptly, instinctively reaching for your knife that was nowhere to be found. The warm body beside you shot up with a gasp, seemingly fumbling around for something as well, which caused even more raucous laughter.

And then, of course, your mind caught up with you as you recalled last night, eyes straining to open against the harsh sunlight reflecting off the snow outside.

“So, this is what you were doing instead of searching for us?” Nora’s familiar voice taunted, your vision still heavy with sleep. Mortification shot through you like a bullet, feeling your neck and ears grow hot as you slumped under the blankets as if to hide your shame.

Manny’s body was warm beside you, his morning voice gravelly; despite yourself, it caused a faint stirring in your stomach, “Fuck off.”

The sheet over your head was tugged away, Owen’s teasing face there to greet you as you shivered at the cold, “Aw, don’t tell me you’re embarrassed.”

“Stop…” You whined sleepily, crossing your arms over your chest on the off-chance that you may end up more exposed than you would like.

Eyes adjusted to the light, you looked from one face to the next - everyone seemed to be amused, even Abby, who tried to hide that behind a glare. Fuck, this is just what you needed first thing in the morning.

Manny clicked his tongue, pulling a blanket around his bare shoulders and torso, “We were gonna look for you today.”

“Just had to get some first?” Mel asked with a laugh, rolling her eyes before shooting you a wink.

“Get dressed.” Abby chimed in before either of you could rise to the bait. Curling into yourself, you pressed closer to Manny to steal some of his body heat, “We gotta make some progress before another storm hits. Right?”

She looked at you with raised brows, as if you could simply predict the weather like some kind of magician. You sighed while weakly nodding, attempting to stifle a yawn.

“Yeah, yup, before another storm.” You answered roughly, raising your hand to wave it in the direction of the door, “Will you all go please?”

“Oh, she wants some privacy.” Nora continued to tease, even as she began to slowly back up towards the door, the others following suit.

“Five minutes.” Abby instructed, still fighting to hold in her own mirth at your predicament, “Any longer and we’ll drag you out.”

You and Manny watched as they trickled out of the room. Nora stopped to shoot you a big thumbs up, causing another wave of laughter through the group as they closed the door behind them.

Alone again, Manny looked down at you, dark stare taking in your disheveled appearance with a faint smirk. Sighing heavily, you sat up, shivering as the cold air hit your bare back, shoulders shrugging up to your ears.

“Fuck!” You chattered, catching the mischievous glint in Manny’s eyes, your brow knotting, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I mean,” he leaned towards you as if to whisper a secret, “we can do a lot in five minutes…”

You laughed abruptly at his insinuation, rolling your eyes as you leaned in as well, lips lingering just out of reach, “Shut up and put your clothes on.”

. .

Taglist | @flaneurpastel

[lives-in-midgard]

Pov: Joaquin is facetiming you after a mission

[itwillbethescarletwitch]

Greedy

Joaquin Torres x Fem!Reader x Bob Reynolds

SMUTTYSMUTTYSMUTTYSMUTTY

THIS IS A MARVEL FIC BUT I NEEDED A GIF OF THEM TOGETHER SO IM USING THIS TOP GUN MAVERICK GIF

The music pulsed through the bar like a heartbeat—fast, heavy, low. The kind of bass that lived in your chest. You were already two drinks in, swaying like temptation in heels too high and a dress too tight. Perfect. You wanted attention. Needed it.

And you knew exactly how to get it.

You found Joaquin by the bar, leaning back, beer bottle loose in one hand, black shirt rolled to the elbows. His jaw ticked when he saw you coming.

“Dance with me,” you purred, sliding between his legs like you belonged there—which you did.

He didn’t move.

“I’m enjoying the party,” he said flatly, taking a sip of his drink. His tone was smooth, but you knew that edge—that Joaquin.

You pouted up at him, running a hand up his chest. “We can have our own party.”

He arched a brow. “You being needy already, princesa?”

“Only a little.”

His hand slid down your thigh, firm grip bruising. But that was all. No pull. No follow-through. Just that unreadable smirk as he said, “I don’t reward needy little brats. You want attention? Be good for it.”

You blinked at him. Stunned. Denied.

“Fine,” you snapped, jerking back. “I’ll go to my favorite boyfriend. At least he cares about me and my needs.”

You didn’t wait for his response. You stormed off—barely hiding the grin on your lips.

⸻

You found Bob leaning against a wall by the patio, nursing a whiskey, all golden warmth and soft eyes. Just what you needed.

“Bobbyyy,” you sighed, curling into him like a cat in heat. “Joaquin’s being mean to me again.”

Bob looked down immediately, brows furrowed in concern. “What happened?”

“He said I was being a brat,” you sniffed. “Just because I wanted a little attention. Just because I wanted him to touch me…”

His eyes dropped to your lips. Your neck. Your cleavage.

“…But you care about me, don’t you?” you whispered, pressing your body against his. “You want me.”

Bob swallowed hard. “Of course I do, sweetheart. I always want you.”

“Then let me take care of you.” Your hand slid down, slow and soft, fingers teasing the front of his pants. “Let me suck your cock, Bobby. Please? Just for a minute. Just until you tell me to stop. I’ll be so gentle. You deserve it after the mission…”

Bob was already hard. You felt him throb under your palm.

“I—I hate seeing you like this,” he murmured, brushing your hair back. “You’re so needy, baby…”

“Take me somewhere,” you breathed, kissing the underside of his jaw. “Let me be good for you.”

⸻

You found an empty storage closet, dimly lit and too small, but perfect. The door clicked shut behind you, and you immediately sank to your knees, yanking at his belt with shaky fingers.

“You’re gonna feel so good,” you promised, pupils blown wide. ���I missed the way you taste.”

Bob moaned when your fingers brushed his cock. “Sweetheart—fuck—okay, okay…”

You had just unzipped his pants, tugged them halfway down his hips, tongue darting out to tease when—

SLAM.

The door burst open.

Joaquin.

Still calm. Still dressed. Still in control.

You didn’t even get a chance to react before he crossed the room and fisted your hair, yanking you up with a jerk that made you gasp.

“Oh, so this is what we’re doing now?” he growled, dragging your back against his chest. “Getting on your knees for him like a cheap little slut?”

Bob stepped back, wide-eyed, pants half open. “Joaquín—”

“Shut it.” He didn’t even look at him. His eyes were all on you. “And you.”

You glared at him, chest heaving. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you did your fucking job.”

That smile. That fucking cocky, cruel smirk.

He shoved you against the wall with one hand on your throat, the other gripping your hip so tight you’d feel it for days.

“You don’t come unless I say you come,” he whispered, lips grazing your ear. “You don’t even breathe unless I say you can, princesa.”

Bob tried again, “She just—she looks like she needs—”

Joaquin turned his head, slow and deliberate.

“She gets nothing,” he snapped. “Not until she learns.”

You twisted against him, thighs rubbing together.

“Touch your cunt again,” Joaquin growled, “and I’ll leave you dripping and empty all fucking night.”

———

You barely had time to pull your dress down over your thighs before Joaquin yanked the door open again, hand still tangled in your hair. Bob trailed behind, pants zipped but still tented, flushed and silent.

Not a word was exchanged on the ride back to your place. The silence wasn’t peaceful—it was coiled, tight, full of unspoken punishment and desperate heat.

You knew you were in for it.

You wanted to be in for it.

⸻

The moment the door shut behind you, Joaquin shoved you up against it, one palm flat to your chest, the other tugging at your hair just enough to tilt your head back.

His voice was low, dangerous.

“You wanna act like a fucking brat in front of people? Try to make me jealous? Get on your knees for him like you’re some street-corner whore?”

You shivered.

“You are jealous,” you whispered, smiling up at him. “You just hate when he gets my mouth first.”

His grip tightened.

“You want my cock that bad?” he snarled. “Beg. And if I don’t like how you do it, I’ll gag you with Bob’s boxers and let him fuck your throat while you cry.”

Bob shifted behind him, clearly struggling.

“Joaquín—”

“Quiet.” His eyes never left yours. “She wants to be greedy? Let her find out what that really feels like.”

⸻

He dragged you to the bedroom.

Not gently. Not lovingly. Like he owned you. Like you were his problem to correct.

He sat on the edge of the bed, spread his legs, and nodded down.

“Strip. Now. And if you touch yourself, I swear to God…”

Your hands shook as you peeled your dress over your head, revealing your soaked panties. Bob sucked in a breath behind you.

“Fuck,” he murmured. “Sweetheart…”

You stepped out of them slowly, locking eyes with Joaquin as you did.

“Please,” you whispered. “Please, sir. I need—”

He snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor.

“On your knees.”

You dropped instantly.

“Now beg.”

You hesitated.

“Now.”

Your voice broke on the first word.

“Please let me have your cock. Please, I need to feel it. I’ll be good, I swear. I’ll do whatever you want—”

“You said that in the closet,” he cut in. “Didn’t stop you from unzipping Bob’s pants, did it?”

You whimpered.

“Open your mouth.”

You did.

He stood, walked behind you, and slapped your ass so hard your knees jolted forward. You cried out, back arching from the sting.

“That’s one for acting up in public.”

He smacked you again.

“One for that smart little mouth.”

Again.

“One for trying to pit us against each other. What kind of stupid little whore pulls that stunt?”

You were shaking now, face hot, thighs clenched.

He ran a finger through your folds, slow and deliberate, then brought it to your lips.

“Taste how fucking wet you are for being denied. Pathetic.”

You moaned around his fingers, sucking greedily, desperate for any part of him.

Bob finally moved—stepped forward, hands gentle as he helped you to your feet, voice like warm syrup:

“It’s okay, honey. You’re doing so well. You’re so pretty when you listen.”

He kissed your jaw, your shoulder, guiding you onto the bed with such reverence it made you ache.

“You ready for me?” he whispered. “Want me to fill you up?��

“Yes—yes, please, Bobby, I need it—I need you—”

He pushed in slow, thick and perfect, stretching you open until your fingers clawed at the sheets.

“God, you’re tight,” he groaned. “Like you were made for me. That’s it, sweetheart. Just take it. You’re doing so well.”

Joaquin stood at the head of the bed, cock out, thick and flushed.

“Look at you. Getting fucked nice and slow while you stare at the cock that should be choking you. Want it?”

You nodded, whimpering.

“Beg.”

Your voice cracked.

“Please, sir. Please fuck my mouth. I’ll be good, I swear.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

He slid his cock between your lips without warning, one hand in your hair, the other gripping the headboard. You choked a little, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes, but you took it—desperate and eager.

Bob thrust into you slowly, carefully, panting sweet words against your ear:

“So good for us… so beautiful… I’m so proud of you…”

Joaquin had no mercy. He fucked your throat like it was his to ruin.

“You’re nothing but a cock-hungry little brat. You think you’re in control? This is what greedy girls get—stuffed full of cock and used.”

Your moans were garbled around his length, but they didn’t stop.

Neither did the tears.

⸻

You were wrecked—sloppy, dripping, body trembling from too much stimulation, not enough release.

And then—

“Flip her,” Joaquin ordered.

Bob obeyed instantly, pulling out and helping you turn over. You were on your hands and knees now, barely able to hold yourself up.

Bob slid back inside, his cock coated in your slick, hands on your waist.

Joaquin moved behind you, spat between your cheeks, and rubbed it over your tight hole.

“You want both? That’s what this was all for, right?”

You whimpered, nodding rapidly.

“Please. I’ll be good. I promise. I’ll be so good—”

“We’ll see.”

He pushed in slowly, stretching you open, and the moment he bottomed out you screamed—loud, raw, filthy.

They moved together, perfectly timed, filling every inch of you. You were sobbing by the second thrust.

Bob kissed your neck, whispering, “You’re perfect. So perfect. You’re taking us so well, baby.”

Joaquin slapped your ass, deeper, rougher.

“Tight little holes begging to be ruined. You love this. Say it.”

“I—I love it—”

“Say you’re our greedy little fucktoy.”

“I’m—fuck—I’m your greedy little fucktoy—”

⸻

You came so hard it blacked out your vision. They didn’t stop.

They didn’t let up until your body was shaking, twitching, fully spent—used, exactly how you wanted to be.

You were still shaking.

Face down on the mattress, drool on the pillow, your body limp and pulsing. Your thighs twitched with aftershocks, your cunt and ass leaking, red and used.

Bob hovered behind you, hands gentle as ever, voice soft and tender.

“Let’s give her a minute,” he said, brushing your hair back. “She needs water. Maybe some space—”

Joaquin didn’t even look up from where he was stroking his cock lazily.

“No.”

Bob blinked. “She’s barely—”

“She wanted to act like a greedy little whore tonight?” Joaquin said, voice dark and cutting. “She gets used like one.”

Bob hesitated.

“She’s… she’s shaking.”

That’s when Joaquin finally looked at him.

“You don’t join.”

Bob’s brows pinched. “What?”

“You heard me. You’re gonna sit over there, and you’re gonna watch me fuck her. And if I so much as see your hand move to your cock?” He leaned in, kissed your hip possessively. “I’ll make her deny you the same way I deny her.”

Bob went quiet.

His cock was still aching—red, leaking, throbbing. But he backed up, lowered himself into the chair near the edge of the bed. Close enough to see. Far enough to be useless.

You were half-aware, legs trembling as Joaquin flipped you over, laid you on your back.

“Eyes open, princesa,” he whispered, tapping your cheek. “Let him see your face while I fuck you stupid.”

You blinked up at him, lips parted, wrecked and messy and soaked. Bob let out a breath he clearly hadn’t realized he was holding.

Joaquin didn’t start slow.

He shoved into you with one brutal thrust, and your entire body jolted. The sound was obscene—wet and loud and filthy.

Bob let out a quiet, “Fuck…”

Joaquin grinned.

“You watching? See how she takes it now? Loose and dumb and perfect.”

You couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. Joaquin was punishing—each thrust harder than the last, hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise.

Bob shifted in his seat. His thighs spread wider. His hand hovered near his cock—not touching. But close.

His face was flushed. His breathing shallow.

“Look at her tits bounce,” Joaquin muttered, low and cruel. “Look how she moans for me. You wish you were inside her again, don’t you?”

Bob whimpered.

“Don’t touch it,” Joaquin snapped.

Bob’s hand jerked back like he’d been slapped. He clenched his fists instead, thighs twitching, his cock dripping against his stomach.

You were babbling now, incoherent, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“Too much—can’t—f-fuck—”

“Yes you can. You wanted this, remember? Be grateful I’m even letting you breathe right now.”

Bob groaned under his breath, palms flat on his thighs, rubbing them—anything to relieve the pressure. His whole body was tense, cock bobbing with every shallow breath.

“Please—” he whispered, eyes locked on your soaked cunt. “Please let me—”

“What did I say?” Joaquin barked. “You don’t get to come.”

And then—

He smirked.

Pulled out of you.

“Ride him.”

You both froze.

Bob blinked. “W-what?”

“Go ahead,” Joaquin said, still holding his slick cock in one hand. “Sit on him. Let him feel how wet you are. Let him get close.”

Bob scrambled onto the bed like a man possessed, laying back against the pillows, cock already twitching, thick and heavy against his abs.

You straddled him, legs weak, body still trembling. He gripped your thighs like he was afraid you’d disappear.

“You sure?” he whispered.

You nodded, sinking down with a shaky gasp. You were still so full from Joaquin. Bob slid in easier than usual, and the stretch was softer—but deeper.

Bob’s head fell back with a choked sound.

“Oh, sweetheart… you feel like heaven.”

You rocked your hips slowly, and his hands found your waist—tight, needy, reverent.

Then he did it.

That thing.

That tell.

He pulled you down against his chest, arms wrapped around your back in a tight bear hug, and started thrusting up into you—fast, desperate, body lifting off the bed with each push.

Joaquin’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Bob froze. Mid-thrust. Whole body rigid.

You were panting, riding the edge again, so close to falling apart.

“I didn’t say he could finish,” Joaquin said coldly.

And then—yanked you off of him.

You let out a strangled cry, pussy clenching around nothing.

Bob gasped, nearly came from the loss of sensation, his cock twitching wildly, untouched and denied.

“You wanted her so bad?” Joaquin sneered. “Now sit there and watch me take her again.”

Bob was a mess—sweat-drenched, red, panting, his cock angry and leaking.

And you?

You were dragged back onto your knees, shoved forward, and Joaquin entered you again with no warning, fucking you hard enough to bounce you on the mattress.

Bob could see everything—your mouth open in a silent scream, drool stringing from your lips, your pussy swollen and dripping.

He palmed the sheets. Fisted them. Thighs clenched. He didn’t dare touch himself.

He watched.

Helpless.

Hard.

Ruined.

Joaquin’s pace hadn’t slowed.

If anything, it had gotten worse—sharper, deeper, crueler. Every thrust had you sobbing against the mattress, your whole body slick with sweat and spit, your pussy swollen and sore from how long he’d kept you in this state—used, ruined, shaking.

Your voice was barely a whisper now.

“Please… oh my god, please…”

But Joaquin didn’t give a fuck. He gripped your hips harder, thumb digging in so deep it made your spine arch.

“You’re not done,” he snarled. “You want to come so bad, you’re gonna earn it. On your knees.”

He pulled out—your pussy clenching at the sudden loss, dripping down your thighs—and manhandled you upright, pushed you down between his legs on the bed.

“Open your mouth.”

You obeyed, lips glossy, tongue already out like a starved little thing. He grabbed you by the back of the head, cock already smeared with your slick and spit, and shoved himself in deep.

You gagged on impact.

“That’s it,” he growled, rocking into your throat. “Take it. You know this is your favorite.”

It was. You fucking loved this—loved the weight of him on your tongue, the stretch, the way your throat fluttered and burned with each punishing thrust.

He was relentless.

His hips snapped forward, using your mouth like it was his, like it didn’t belong to you anymore. You moaned around him, drool spilling down your chin, tears leaking from your eyes—not from pain, but from bliss.

“Look at her,” Joaquin said, glancing over at Bob. “So fucking happy choking on cock. Aren’t you, baby?”

You blinked up at him, tears trailing down your cheeks, and nodded with his cock still stuffed in your mouth.

He pulled back just long enough to let you gasp a broken breath, then shoved himself in again with a grunt.

“Sloppy little mouth,” he muttered. “Built for this.”

⸻

Bob was dying.

Still sitting at the edge of the bed, cock throbbing against his stomach, eyes wide and wet.

He was trying to be good. Trying to follow Joaquin’s command. But his thighs were clenching. His fists were white-knuckled in the sheets. His hips kept twitching like his body was begging for friction.

And then—

He sniffled.

A real one. Sharp. Fast. Quiet.

Joaquin didn’t miss it.

“You crying, baby boy?”

Bob’s head snapped up, red-faced and miserable.

“N-No—just—” He cut off with a soft whimper, biting his lip. “I can’t—it’s too much—watching her like that, I—fuck—”

Joaquin barked a low laugh.

“Look at you. Cock so hard it’s dripping, eyes full of tears, and you’re still not touching it. That’s cute.”

You pulled off Joaquin’s cock with a wet gasp, drool coating your lips and chin, eyes glassy.

“Can I help him?” you whispered hoarsely. “Please? He’s hurting—he’s—he looks like he’s in pain, Joaquín—”

He grabbed your jaw, hard.

“No. He doesn’t deserve it.”

Bob whimpered again, a tear sliding down his cheek, his cock twitching without a single touch.

“You both wanted this. Now fucking take it.”

⸻

Joaquin laid back.

Spread his legs, thick cock resting heavy against his stomach, glistening with spit.

“Climb on.”

You didn’t hesitate.

Your legs were jelly, your mind was foggy, but you needed it—needed him inside you, needed to be filled again. You crawled onto his lap and sank down on him, moaning as your body melted around the stretch.

Joaquin’s hands gripped your waist, holding you still.

“Ride me.”

You started to move—slowly, hips circling, thighs trembling.

Bob whimpered.

You turned your head to him, saw him sitting there like a wreck—eyes wet, face red, cock flushed purple and leaking like a faucet.

“Touching yourself yet?” Joaquin asked, voice low.

Bob shook his head violently. “No—no, sir.”

“Good.”

You bounced harder now, moaning with each rise and fall, your slick coating Joaquin’s thighs. You were babbling—thank yous, pleads, incoherent praise—completely gone.

And Bob?

Bob cried.

Not loud. Not sobbing. But real tears slipped down his cheeks as he watched you fall apart on Joaquin’s cock, listened to the sound of skin-on-skin, and couldn’t join. Couldn’t help. Couldn’t even relieve himself.

“You see this?” Joaquin growled, pulling your head back by your hair, forcing your eyes to Bob’s.

“This is what happens when you act like a needy little slut in public. You get cock. He gets nothing.”

You came like that.

Hard.

Back arched, scream torn from your throat, legs shaking as Joaquin held you down and fucked up into you mercilessly, milking every twitch, every cry, every single wave of pleasure.

Bob sobbed silently in the chair.

Your body collapsed boneless against Joaquin’s chest, his cock still buried inside you, pulsing from the sheer force of your orgasm. His arms were heavy around you, grounding, his breath warm and steady against your ear.

And then—finally—he came.

A groan ripped from his throat as he gripped your waist hard and slammed into you one last time, thick spurts spilling deep inside your already dripping cunt. You moaned at the stretch, the fullness, the mess.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered against your neck, voice rough. “Took me so fucking good.”

You were gone. Floating. Dripping in every way.

He pulled out with a squelch, slapping your ass once as he stood.

“Don’t move. I’ll get us some water.”

And just like that—he disappeared into the kitchen.

⸻

Bob was still in the chair.

Sweaty. Tear-streaked. Cock angry red and twitching so hard it looked painful. You turned your head slowly to look at him, guilt and affection mixing deep in your chest.

“Bobby…” you whispered.

He let out a breathy whimper. “I—please—Y/N, I can’t take it anymore. It hurts.”

You crawled off the bed—shaky, disobedient, aching—and dropped to your knees between his legs.

“I’m not supposed to—”

“I don’t care,” you whispered. “You deserve it.”

Your mouth wrapped around him in one slick, sudden motion. Bob shouted.

“Oh, f-fuck—baby, fuck—”

You sucked him deep, messy and wet, not even trying to tease. Just pleasure. You’d been ruined, sore, trembling—and still, all you wanted was to take care of him. He sobbed a quiet thank you as your tongue worked him over.

His hands found your hair, trembling.

“Don’t stop—don’t you dare stop—I’m gonna—fuck—”

He grabbed your head with both hands, suddenly forceful, and shoved your mouth all the way down until your nose was flush against his stomach, cock buried to the base. You gagged, throat clenched—

And Bob. Lost it.

“Fucking c-coming—fuck—I’m coming, I’m coming—shit—Y/N—”

He wailed as he came, hips twitching, cock spurting straight down your throat. You swallowed instinctively, tears running down your cheeks again, more from how deep he held you than anything else.

He kept your head there—hands shaking, holding you tight—until his whole body slumped forward, forehead dropping against yours, breath ragged.

“I-I’m sorry—I couldn’t—fuck, I couldn’t stop…”

⸻

And then the door creaked.

Bob’s eyes snapped open.

You both froze.

Joaquin stood in the doorway, holding a glass of water, expression blank.

Dead silent.

His eyes dropped to the sight: your lips red and swollen around Bob’s softening cock, his hands still in your hair, your knees on the floor.

A slow blink.

Then:

“What,” he said, calm and terrifying, “the fuck is this?”

Bob choked.

“I—I didn’t ask her to—she just—”

Joaquin walked forward slowly, each step deliberate.

“I told you not to touch your cock.”

“I didn’t—I didn’t touch myself, I just—she—she sucked me off, I’m sorry—”

Joaquin dropped the glass of water hard on the nightstand.

It didn’t break, but the crack of it echoed.

“And you,” he growled, eyes cutting to you, “knew the fucking rule.”

You were still on your knees, mouth shiny, chest rising and falling. You didn’t deny it. You just looked up at him with wide, glassy eyes.

“He needed it,” you whispered. “I couldn’t watch him cry again…”

Joaquin let out a low, humorless laugh. Then he looked at Bob, who was still red, dazed, lips parted in panic.

“You think that was an orgasm?” he asked coldly. “That was permissionyou never had. You’re gonna learn what it feels like to really come. After I take everything else from you first.”

Bob swallowed, hard.

Joaquin looked at both of you like you were prey now.

“You want to come without permission?”

He stepped closer, grabbed you by the throat, and pulled you up to standing, face-to-face.

“Then you can beg me both on your fucking knees while I decide who gets punished first.”

Joaquin shoved you back against the wall—not roughly, but enough to make your breath catch. His hand stayed wrapped tight around your throat, thumb pressing into the pulse point beneath your jaw.

Bob didn’t even try to move.

“You two made a choice,” Joaquin said, voice low and dangerous. “You wanna come without my say-so? Fine. But you’ll regret it.”

He pointed to the bed.

“Get on your back. Arms above your head.”

You obeyed without hesitation, still tasting Bob on your tongue. Your body was wrecked, but some primal part of you thrived under the threat.

Joaquin pulled the leather cuffs from the drawer—ones he’d used before on both of you—and bound your wrists to the headboard. Firm. Final.

Then he turned to Bob.

“Stand.”

Bob’s legs shook as he got up, eyes wide and damp. He looked like he was still floating in post-orgasm haze, but Joaquin wasn’t going to let him bask in it.

“Hands behind your back.”

Bob did it.

Joaquin circled him like a predator, grabbing the base of Bob’s cock, now sticky and soft but still twitching at his touch.

“You come without permission again,” Joaquin murmured, “I’ll make her edge you with her tongue for hours. You won’t come for days. Understand?”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

He snapped a cock ring in place with terrifying ease.

Bob whimpered.

⸻

Then Joaquin climbed onto the bed.

He straddled your waist, cock hard again—this man didn’t stop—and leaned over until his mouth was at your ear.

“You’ll come when I say. Not before. And you won’t say no, because you asked for this.”

You nodded frantically.

“Yes, sir.”

He moved lower, lined himself up, and slid inside you again—no warning, no prep—and you screamed, body jolting from the sensitivity.

“That’s right,” he grunted, hips grinding deep. “Feel it. Cry if you need to. I’m gonna make you come until you’re fucking ruined.”

⸻

Bob watched.

Still cuffed.

Still aching.

His cock filled back out in minutes, hard and angry against the restraint. He couldn’t come again, but the pressure was already unbearable.

And Joaquin?

He put on a show for him.

Made you moan, whimper, beg. Rubbed your clit with brutal circles until your legs kicked. Slammed into you with fast, punishing thrusts while holding your wrists down and forcing your mouth open for him to spit in.

“Look at him,” Joaquin growled, pulling your head to the side so you could see Bob panting, shaking. “He wants to come again so bad it hurts.”

“Please,” you whimpered. “Can I make him feel good again?”

“No.”

He reached down, gripped your throat again, and fucked you harder.

“You’ll make me feel good. He’s gonna sit there and ache. Just like you will after this.”

You came again—loud, writhing, toes curling, drool slipping from your lips.

Bob sobbed.

Your name fell from his lips like a prayer, voice cracked and helpless.

“Please—please let her touch me—I can’t—fuck, I’ll come in seconds, I’ll do anything—”

Joaquin laughed against your neck, still thrusting.

“Yeah? You want her to touch you that bad?”

Bob nodded frantically.

“Then beg her. Look her in the eyes and beg her not to listen to me.”

Bob met your gaze, wrecked.

“Y/N… baby, please. I—I need you. Just one touch. One suck. You’re so good at it, I’ll be good too—I swear, I’ll be so fucking good for you…”

Joaquin grinned like the devil.

“That’s cute. You still think she gets to choose.”

And then he spat on your face and came inside you again—hot, deep, and final.

You sobbed through the overstimulation, hips twitching, cunt milking him as your brain just short-circuited.

⸻

He pulled out, adjusted his pants like nothing happened, then turned to Bob.

“You? Stay cuffed. No coming. No touching. You move, I’ll edge her in your lap until you pass out from the pain.”

He walked out of the room without another word.

Bob sat there.

Breathing hard.

Crying again.

Cock hard, trapped, tortured.

And you?

You whispered, barely audible:

“I’m sorry…”

But part of you loved it.

Joaquin returned twenty minutes later.

Not sweaty. Not messy. Fully dressed.

Black fitted tee, jeans low on his hips, water bottle in one hand. Calm. Cool. Untouched.

The complete opposite of you and Bob.

You were still spread on the bed, body trembling, thighs sticky with slick and cum. Bob was kneeling on the mattress, still cuffed, still rock hard in that brutal cock ring—face red, jaw clenched, aching.

Joaquin didn’t say a word at first.

Just sat.

Pulled the chair around to the front of the bed.

Sat backwards in it, arms resting on the top rail, legs spread wide as he watched you both with a terrifying kind of casual ease.

Then—finally:

“Get on top of him.”

You blinked, eyes wide. “What…?”

“Ride him,” Joaquin said, voice low and sure. “You’ve both been so desperate to come, now I want to see how well you behave when I call the shots.”

You crawled over to Bob slowly, straddled his lap with shaky legs. He looked up at you like you were a miracle, his cock twitching violently under the ring.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he whispered, eyes glassy. “I missed you…”

“Don’t move,” Joaquin snapped. “She rides you. Not the other way around.”

Bob nodded quickly, swallowing a desperate moan.

You reached between you, lined him up, and sank down—slow, slow, slow. Bob let out a wounded sound, hands curling into fists behind his back.

“Oh my God—”

“Don’t come,” Joaquin said coolly, not even blinking. “If you even twitchlike you’re close, I’ll edge her right off you again.”

You started to move.

Bob was a wreck already—cock trapped in that ring, pulsing so hard it must have hurt, your walls squeezing around him like heaven.

And Joaquin?

He gave orders like it was nothing.

“Circle your hips—yeah. Just like that. Let him feel you milk him, slow and deep.”

“Now lean forward. Let your tits brush his chest. You like that, Bob?”

“Y-Yeah,” Bob gasped. “Feels—fuck—feels so good—”

“Don’t touch her. You don’t get hands yet.”

“Yes, sir—”

You whimpered as you ground down, slow and torturous, Bob’s cock so thick inside you, so full.

“Now rub her clit.”

Bob froze beneath you.

“I—I thought I couldn’t use my hands—”

“You can now. Just your right hand.”

You leaned back a little to give him room, your hands planted on his chest, and Bob brought one trembling hand between your legs.

His fingers found your clit—slick, swollen, throbbing—and started rubbing slow, careful circles, eyes locked on yours.

“That’s it,” Joaquin said. “Just like that. Let her work for that orgasm.”

Your hips moved with it, the friction building fast—your thighs shaking, moans falling from your lips uncontrollably.

Bob was whispering to you, soft and reverent.

“You’re doing so good, baby… so pretty on top of me… come for me, please…”

“Now go faster,” Joaquin commanded, voice still cool, still seated like a king watching his subjects fuck for his amusement.

Bob obeyed.

Your whole body tensed—orgasm cresting hard, so fucking close—

“Stop.”

You screamed, every muscle seizing up as Bob’s fingers yanked away.

He looked like he might cry again, eyes wide and terrified, cock pulsing painfully beneath you.

“You come without my say,” Joaquin warned, “and I’ll edge you both again until the sun comes up.”

You were still on top of Bob, thighs trembling, cunt spasming around his cock with every aftershock of that denied orgasm. Your body tried to chase it, to finish on instinct, but you forced yourself still—because you knew Joaquin meant it.

Bob was the one who nearly broke.

“Please, sir,” he choked, voice trembling. “I—fuck—please let her come. I can’t take it—her pussy’s clenching so hard—I’m gonna—”

“No,” Joaquin said simply. “You don’t come until she does. She doesn’t come until I say.”

He stood slowly, still fully dressed, walking in a slow circle around the bed like a man inspecting his work. You were soaking Bob’s lap, his thighs, the sheets. His chest was slick with sweat, lips parted, face flushed.

And still—his hands stayed behind him. Obedient.

“You look so fucking desperate,” Joaquin murmured. “Both of you.”

He leaned down, grabbed your jaw, made you look at him.

“Do you deserve to come yet?”

You swallowed.

“No, sir.”

“Why not?”

“Because I disobeyed.”

“And him?”

You looked down at Bob, who could barely breathe.

“Because he came without permission.”

“Good girl.”

Joaquin pulled your hair back roughly and kissed your cheek, just once.

“Keep riding him.”

You whimpered, already aching, and began to move again—slow, shallow bounces, slick noises echoing through the room as Bob moaned helplessly beneath you.

“Faster,” Joaquin commanded. “Don’t stop until he’s shaking.”

Bob cried out, head thrown back. “Fuck—Y/N—please—too much—”

“Don’t you dare come,” Joaquin snapped. “If you feel close, tell me.”

“Yes, sir—fuck—yes—”

Your pace stuttered. You were right there again, the pleasure curling up your spine, ready to explode. You couldn’t hold it—

“Sir—please—please let me come—”

“Not yet.”

You sobbed—your head dropped to Bob’s shoulder, nails digging into his chest as your pussy spasmed around him.

Bob was groaning like he was in pain, cock twitching violently inside you.

“Sir, I—I’m gonna come—I can’t stop it—”

Joaquin moved fast.

He gripped your waist, pulled you off Bob’s cock just as his hips surged—and Bob screamed, body jolting, orgasm completely ripped away as his cock slapped against his stomach, leaking but untouched.

“NO—fuck—fuck—”

“You don’t get to come until I say,” Joaquin growled. “You’re fucking lucky I don’t make you eat it off the floor.”

You collapsed into Joaquin’s arms, twitching and soaked, and he caught you easily—kissed your temple, rubbed your spine gently.

Bob was shaking.

Eyes wet. Mouth open. The cock ring looked brutal now, straining around his base, angry and purple.

“One more round,” Joaquin said softly, looking down at you. “You take him again. And this time, when you come—I’ll let him come inside you.”

“Th-thank you,” you whispered, voice broken. “Thank you, sir.”

You sank down again, this time leaning forward against Bob’s chest, his arms still bound, his lips whispering how good you felt, how much he missed you, how pretty you were like this.

“Please let her come, sir,” he begged. “Please, I want to feel it—I want to give it to her—”

“Not yet.”

Your eyes rolled back.

You clenched down so hard it made Bob scream.

“She’s close—sir—she’s so close—”

“Now,” Joaquin said.

And you both broke.

You came with a wail, whole body convulsing as Bob let go at the same time—cock jerking inside you as he came so fucking hard it hurt, filling you deep and full.

“Thank you—thank you, sir—thank you—” you both sobbed it like prayer, collapsing into each other, finally spent, finally free.

Joaquin stood there, arms crossed, watching you both with something almost like satisfaction.

You were still in Bob’s arms, trembling, both of you breathless, covered in sweat and slick and tears. Your cunt ached, stuffed and dripping, but all you could feel was the warmth of him—his arms tight around you, his lips pressed to your forehead, whispering over and over:

“You were perfect. So good. My sweet girl…”

Joaquin watched for another long second.

Then—finally—he moved.

The chair scraped back. His boots crossed the room slowly, deliberately. He crouched beside the bed, bringing a soft, damp towel with him.

“C’mere, baby,” he murmured, voice no longer sharp but low and steady. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He helped you off Bob’s lap—gently, careful of your knees and thighs—and eased you down onto the sheets, tugging the covers away so he could wipe between your legs. You hissed at the touch, overstimulated and raw.

“I know, I know,” Joaquin murmured, wiping delicately, his brow furrowed with focus. “You did so well. I got you.”

Bob was sitting up now, arms finally free, rubbing slow circles into your calves as you let Joaquin clean the mess he left inside you.

“You okay?” Bob asked softly, voice still thick with emotion.

You nodded, barely.

“I’m okay.”

Bob kissed your ankle.

“You were incredible.”

Once Joaquin was done, he tossed the towel aside and came to sit at the head of the bed. He opened his arms without speaking—and you went to him instinctively, curling into his chest, legs tangled between his. He cradled the back of your head, thumb stroking the slope of your jaw.

“Proud of you,” he said, low and warm. “You took everything. Even the punishment.”

You felt tears sting behind your eyes—not from pain, but from the release. The tenderness of it all after how rough the night had been.

“I didn’t mean to disobey,” you whispered.

“I know,” he said, kissing your temple. “That’s why you get this.”

Bob joined you both, easing in behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you between them.

Now you were cocooned—held completely—Joaquin behind your head, Bob tucked to your front, your body between theirs like something cherished.

No more orders. No more rules. Just warm skin, steady breath, and quiet praise.

“I love you,” Bob whispered into your hair. “I love you so fucking much.”

“Me too,” Joaquin said, brushing your curls from your face. “Even when you’re a brat.”

You giggled, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry I sucked his dick.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Joaquin said, smirking. “Right now, you rest.”

“You’ll let me sleep?”

“Yeah,” Bob said gently. “We’ll hold you while you do.”

[lastofdanny]

under your skin

pairing: manny alvarez x f!reader

summary: you’re supposed to hate Manny — he’s cocky, loud, and impossible to ignore. but after one tense patrol and an unexpected kiss, you realize the line between annoyance and something deeper isn’t as clear as you thought.

a/n: hi y'all! i've been obsessed with danny lately and while watching the last tlou episodes i decided to write this. english is not my first language and this is based entirely on manny's character from the hbo series. enjoy <3

part two

You couldn’t stand Manny.

Everything about him – his cocky grin, the way he always had to get the last word, how he called you "cariño" even though he knew it pissed you off – made you want to punch him in the face.

Unfortunately, there was also no way you could avoid him.

Isaac kept pairing you two up on patrol. Said you made a good team and the results spoke for themselves. You hated that he was right.

“Morning, chiquita” Manny drawled as he slung his rifle over his shoulder, walking beside you. “You get up on the wrong side of your bunk again, or is that face just for me?”

You rolled your eyes. “Keep talking, Manny, and I’ll give you a reason to limp back to base.”

He whistled low. “Ay, qué fuego. I love when you threaten me.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you can’t stay away from me.”

You didn’t bother replying. He wasn’t wrong – but he also didn’t know that the reason you didn’t report his antics to Isaac was because… well, you kinda liked it. Definitely hated it. But also liked it.

He was annoying. Cocky. Obnoxiously attractive.

And worst of all? He knew exactly how to get under your skin.

You were back at the base two hours later, soaked and sore. You peeled off your jacket in the hallway, grumbling to yourself when you spotted Manny across the hall with Nora and a few others. He leaned in, laughing at something, and then glanced your way.

Of course he smirked. You rolled your eyes and kept walking until Mel waved you over.

“Hey, come join us! Manny was just saying how you nearly tripped over your own boots today.”

Your eyes narrowed, and Manny leaned back in his chair like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Don’t worry, I caught her” he added, placing a hand dramatically over his heart.

“Oh, fuck off” you said as you dropped into a chair. “You shoved me into that mud puddle.”

“It was a gentle nudge.”

Nora cackled. “God, you two are like an old married couple.”

You and Manny answered at the same time.

“Gross.”

“Eventually, maybe.”

Your head whipped toward him, and Manny just winked.

You tried keeping your distance, but he was relentless.

Always showing up at your locker. “Need backup, hermosa?”

Always teasing on patrol. “You gonna shoot that infected or just glare it to death?”

Always brushing a little too close when he passed by.

Then you were on another mission together.

You were trying to focus on it. Really, you were.

But it was impossible with Manny's constant presence at your side, always in your space, always teasing, always brushing against you like he was trying to get under your skin.

The rain had stopped a few hours ago, leaving behind a thick, oppressive humidity that clung to everything. The quiet, unsettling feeling of being out here on patrol was only amplified by the tension between you and Manny.

You were in the territory of a few too many infected, and while you were both experienced, it was always better to be cautious. But despite the silence, you could feel his eyes on you.

And, for once, it wasn’t annoying. At least, not in the usual way.

You stole a glance at him as you adjusted your rifle, his eyes briefly meeting yours. He flashed that cocky grin of his, the one that made your stomach twist with annoyance and… something else. You quickly looked away, trying to push down the feeling.

“Something on your mind, cariño?” Manny’s voice cut through the silence, smooth and teasing, and it took everything you had not to sigh in frustration.

“Nothing you’d be interested in,” you muttered, keeping your eyes forward as you picked your way through the overgrown path.

“That's where you’re wrong,” Manny said, his voice light, but something in it made your heart stutter. “I’m always interested in what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the faintest blush that crept up your neck. “You’re annoying.”

“You keep saying that, cariño, but I think you like it," Manny’s voice was too close now, and when you turned your head, he was right only a few inches away.

His breath tickled your skin, and your pulse quickened. You couldn’t let this moment slip, not when everything you’d been trying to ignore was suddenly right in front of you.

“I really don’t. I can't stand you," you said, your voice a little shakier than you meant it to be.

“Then why are you not pushing me away?" Manny shot back, his eyes locked on yours.

You swallowed, unsure of what to say. His proximity was making everything in your mind go blank, and it was dangerous. You couldn’t let yourself get caught up in whatever this was.

But then the world seemed to stop for a moment when Manny’s hand brushed against cheek,  just enough for you to feel the warmth of his touch. You inhaled sharply, but instead of pulling away, you lingered there, just for a moment longer than you intended.

And that’s when everything shifted.

The sudden quiet was heavy, and the way Manny looked at you was different from anything you’d seen before. His usual cocky grin had faded, replaced by something deeper, softer. His eyes searched yours, and for once, you didn’t feel like you needed to look away.

 “I’ve been trying to figure you out for a while, you know that?” Manny said quietly, the teasing tone in his voice gone, replaced by something far more serious. 

“You trying to get under my skin, Alvarez?” you replied, voice strained.

Manny chuckled, taking a step closer. “Trying to figure out why I can’t stop thinking about you,"

His words hit harder than you expected, the raw honesty in his voice disarming you. You felt your heartbeat accelerate, the air thick with something unspoken between you two.

You weren’t sure who made the first move, but suddenly, his lips were on yours.

The world around you seemed to disappear as you kissed him back, your hands instinctively reaching up to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. Manny’s hand cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

It felt like a breath you had been holding for far too long, and now that it had finally escaped, you couldn’t stop.

He pulled away for a moment, just enough to look at you, both breathless and dazed.

You swallowed hard, still trying to process the surge of emotions that coursed through you. The mix of anger, desire, frustration, and something else – far more complicated than you wanted to admit.

You wanted to say something sharp, something that would push him away.It was all too much, too fast, but you only stood there instead, heart hammering in your chest, as you realized one simple truth. You didn’t hate him. Not even close.

You didn’t say much for the rest of the patrol. The kiss hung between you like an electric current, and you both seemed to be avoiding it as best as you could.

Manny walked beside you as you went back, the two of you falling into an odd silence, but there was no denying that something had changed.

As you reached the gates of the base, Manny gave you one last look, his eyes soft and knowing.

“See you around, cariño."

[sergeantbuckybarnes]

i know love // joaquin torres

Summary: Having been raised in the Red Room, people would expect you to be ruthless and cold. Your vulnerability surfaces when a conversation topic is brought up during dinner, and you need to have a difficult conversation with Joaquín.  

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Ex-Widow!Reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mentions of brainwashing and killing, mentions of reader having an involuntary hysterectomy in the red room, mentions of dreykov, reader doesn't know how to deal with her emotions, mentions of adoption, angst, hurt/comfort, but a happy ending!!

A/N: As always, remember English is not my first language. Also, thanks to @heybaynoot for proofreading this!

This is my first time writing for Joaquín, I probably got him OOC a bit, but hope you guys like this one! Oh, and I have more in store for Joaquín & BlackWidow!Reader so stay tuned!

marvel masterlist | main masterlist

It was an offhand comment.

This wasn’t something you should be overthinking.

Any other woman in your situation would have been thrilled. And that was the problem—you weren't like other women. And no, this wasn't meant to be a compliment.

Your childhood and adolescence hadn’t been the most conventional. You knew it hadn’t been your fault; you never had a say in anything, yet it didn’t undo the knot in your stomach nor make the nightmares go away.

It had only been a few years since you'd begun to get your life back on track. Or, well, to build your own. One that actually felt like yours, where you were more than just the prisoner of a rich sadist.

When Yelena found you and freed your mind from their control, you were lost. Waking up was difficult. Facing the reality around you was puzzling, and you struggled with understanding your true identity. 

But that was ages ago. 

You have got your life on track since then.

And everything was going well. You could say you were happy for the first time in a long time. A fundamental pillar of that happiness was thanks to Joaquin.

When Sam introduced you, you never thought he would become such an important part of your life. Falling in love with him wasn't in your plans, but it had happened. And it was quite simple. That was one of the long list of special things about Joaquín—loving him was so easy.

From the first moment, you noticed the brightness he radiated. He was funny, kind, sweet, and smart. He had a charming personality, and it was literally impossible not to smile when he was around—and you weren't someone who was used to smiling, not before him at least.

He knew who you were and what you had done, and it had never been an issue for him. To be honest, his reaction when he met you was something you hadn't expected. He was thrilled and excited to officially meet an ex-widow. And, despite his obvious curiosity, he never asked anything about the Red Room. You assumed it was out of respect; perhaps he did not want you to remember Dreykov, the training, and the brainwashing.

And the killing.

And you had to admit you were delighted that the subject was never brought up.

He still complimented your fighting skills. Like, all the time. Looking like a proud boyfriend every time you kicked someone's ass. 

There was a moment, early in your relationship, when you realized it was him. You had never known love before—not that kind. And Joaquin's was the best first experience you could have asked for. You had been certain that he was going to be your first and last. You didn't want anyone else. Because no one would ever make you feel the way he did.

But now everything has crumbled.

Because of a single comment.

“We're going to have the cutest babies.”

The words had rolled off his tongue so easily.

And they had stabbed your heart in the same way.

Sarah had smiled at his words, Sam had rolled his eyes and made a witty remark, while you pressed your lips into a thin smile, and the conversation at the table just continued on.

But you couldn't shake off the feeling.

In all the time you had been dating Joaquín, the topic of having children had never been brought up. You thought it was because he knew. And he was being the considerate, thoughtful gentleman he was.

But now you were thinking that maybe Joaquín didn't know everything you went through in the Red Room.

You had the image of his happy face burned into your brain when he made the baby comment, and it only intensified the knotting in your stomach.

This happened two weeks ago, and since then, your mind has not stopped spinning in a whirlpool of thoughts and feelings. You didn't know how to deal with the situation. Well, technically, you did; you knew you had to talk to Joaquín. If the future he had planned for himself was to have a family, it was clear he was not going to have that with you.

You rubbed your eyes as you let out a grunt of resignation. You'd tried your best to leave the past behind you, just for it to come back, knocking on your door and hitting you with a harsh reminder that happiness was a luxury you couldn’t yet afford.

Something was going on.

And Joaquin had noticed this. 

You'd been acting odd, distant even, and he couldn't figure out why.

Had he done something that irked you?

Despite living together, over the past two weeks, you’ve been coming up with excuses to avoid spending time together, skipping your regular morning coffee dates, and missing movie nights. Even during your training sessions, your conversations felt minimal and strained.

But what hurt him the most was that whenever he attempted to reach out for you, you recoiled from his touch—something you never did before. 

You had always loved his clinginess. He felt the need to have a hand on you constantly. While other people had considered it annoying in the past, it never seemed to bother you. On the contrary, it seemed like you yearned for his touch just almost as he longed for yours.

When he mentioned the situation to Sam, the reaction he got was that he was reading too much into it and that maybe you just needed to have some space.

“Have you talked to her about it?”

No. He hadn’t. Because he was afraid he would get the answer his brain was already conjuring up. 

And he wasn’t ready for it.

Not that it mattered, because you started the conversation yourself that afternoon.                               

A sense of relief washed over him as he noticed you standing in the living room of your shared apartment.

Everything may be okay after all. 

Perhaps Sam was right, and you just needed space. 

However, the happiness was wiped from his face when he noticed the expression on your face, followed by the dreadful words, “We need to talk.”

Joaquín felt the air escape from his lungs. A lump formed in his throat as your words echoed in his head.  

‘We need to talk’. 

Those words almost always came before terrible news.

He searched your face for clues, any hint that this time might be different, but the seriousness in your eyes revealed everything he feared. 

“Can we sit down, please?” 

Joaquín nodded, swallowing hard as he followed you to the couch. You sat across from him, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, a subtle sign of your own unease. The cushions felt too soft, and indulgent as if mocking the tension between the two of you.

“I’ve been thinking a lot these past few weeks…” You began, your voice quivering slightly, and he felt a surge of fear grip his heart. “I know you had noticed that I had pushed you away, and I—”

The words sent a shiver down his spine. A flicker of emotion crossed your eyes—a mix of determination and sadness—that sent a twist through his stomach.

You'd rehearsed this conversation in your head, every word, but now that you had your boyfriend in front of you, your mind had gone completely blank. Your eyes drank in how worried he was; you hated yourself for doing this to him.

You took a deep breath, the kind that tried to draw in all the courage you could muster. “Remember two weeks ago when we had dinner with Sam and Sarah?” 

He furrowed his brow in confusion. Of all the things his mind had conjured up, you mentioning the dinner at Sarah's was not among them. However, he nodded and gestured for you to go on. 

“Sarah said something about AJ and Cass and then you mentioned that we were gonna have the cutest babies, and I—” 

God, this hurt so much.

Each word you spoke felt like a dagger piercing his chest, and made his heart sink further. The lump in his throat seemed to grow even bigger. “Is that what this is about? You don’t want to build a family with me?”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks—of course, Joaquín would assume he was the problem. You swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. “No, it's not that I don't want to.” You exhaled, forcing the words out, your heart racing. “It's just…”

Joaquin leaned forward, squinting in a fervent plea for clarity. The concern on his face was palpable.

“I thought you knew about this, and that’s why you never brought the subject up…” You took a deep breath and finally uttered the words weighing heavily inside you. “I can’t have kids, Joaquin.”

“In the Red Room, they had this graduation ceremony…They sterilized us. One less thing to worry about, I guess.” You grimaced, your hands fidgeting instinctively—a nervous habit you couldn't recall developing. “For Dreykov, that was what mattered even more than a mission. It made everything easier. Even the killing.”

He struggled with the truth of what you said, and the world around him dimmed for a minute. 

“I've fought to put that part of my life behind me, and I don't want to be the burden that holds you back from having the life you want.”

“You're not a burden to me.” He moved closer and took one of your hands in his own, his thumb softly stroking patterns on the back of your hand. “What I want is you—just as you are. A future without you holds no interest for me.”

Emotions you had suppressed for so long started to overwhelm you, and tears filled your eyes. “I don't want to put you in that position. I want you to be happy.”

“But I am happy with you,” he replied, with a resolute tone.

“What if one day you change your mind?”

Joaquín leaned in, his eyes blazing with a sharp intensity that sliced through the fog of doubt that shrouded you. “I swear to you, my mind is made up. And it starts and ends with you.”

He cupped your face gently, wiping away a tear. You closed your eyes in contentment, leaning into his touch. 

You had missed it so much.

You had missed him. 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you murmured, gazing into his chocolate-brown eyes. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

For the first time in two weeks, Joaquín found himself smiling—truly smiling. 

He pulled you closer, draping his arms around your shoulders. You buried your face in his chest, inhaling in his familiar scent, while he tightened his embrace around you, afraid that you would slip away.

He had missed you.

“Please, don’t push me away again,” he pleaded softly, his voice muffled as his face rested against your head. “Those were the worst two weeks of my life.”

“I’m sorry.” You pulled back slightly. “I don’t know how to deal with my emotions well, but I’m trying, I promise.”

“I know you are. And I’m here for you if you need me. We’ll work through it together. We’re a team, remember?”

As you listened to him, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. The fear that had gripped you for weeks started to fade.

“And we can always consider adoption,” he suggested, his eyes lighting up at the idea. “There are so many kids out there in need of a caring home. We can give them a shot at a better life.”

“I like that idea,” you said quietly, a timid smile emerging through the lingering traces of your tears.

“Good.” His hand found yours again, his fingers easily interlacing with yours. A wave of tranquility enveloped you, and for the first time in weeks, it felt as though you could breathe. You rested your head against his shoulder, settling into him and finding comfort in the calming thud of his heartbeat.

“Thank you for being so understanding. I don't deserve you.”

“Don't say that,” he said, lifting your chin, making you meet his eyes. “You deserve all the love and happiness in the world. And I'm not going anywhere.”

With that, he leaned into you, his lips softly brushing against yours, and in that instant, everything felt right again. The outside world faded, enveloping you in your warm little cocoon of comfort and understanding.

[redwingstan]

the angel that fell from the sky [joaquin torres x fem!reader insert]

author's note; if you haven't seen cap 4, please go see it. also slight spoilers below!

warnings; none; just fluff. please enjoy!

"'The Angel that fell from the sky.'" "The 'Angel'?"

"That's what they're calling you."

You heard the squeaking of wheels from Joaquin's chair as he pushed himself towards you. He peered over your shoulder, bracing one arm on the desk to get a closer look at your monitor. His breath fanned your cheek as he mumbled aloud the headline of the article you had been reading.

"Sounds a bit dramatic, don't you think?" he asked before pulling away and plopping back into his chair. You looked over your shoulder to catch him wincing as he nursed his broken arm that was still in a sling. "But if it gets me closer to meeting Ant Man, I'll take it."

You stifle a soft laugh before clicking from the article and typing away on the screen you were working on before. "Glad to see the fame hasn't gone to your head."

"If months of physical therapy and being told over and over by you and Sam to 'take it easy' is the price of fame...I don't know know if it's all worth it," he joked with a laugh that made you roll your eyes.

You continued to type away. "Well, sorry that we're worried about you," you said, feeling your cheeks grow warm as you the felt the atmosphere shift a bit. "But to be fair, you did almost die."

"Huh."

Your typing ceased and you looked over your shoulder to find him grinning.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing." He was leaning back in his chair, studying with an amused grin. You rolled your eyes again and decided to take him for his word. You faced your monitor and went back to typing.

"It's just that..." You groaned and ceased typing once more, though you didn't dare look over your shoulder as he continued. "I could've sworn you just said you were worried about me." He used his feet to make his chair roll towards you.

Biting the bullet, you looked over shoulder and met him with a harsh stare, though it was accompanied by a subtle smile you couldn't seem to hide this time around. "I said Sam and I."

"Which," he continued on as if presenting his final argument to a grand jury, "implies that you do, in fact, care about me too." He leaned his good elbow on his knee and propped his chin in the center of his palm as he gazed at you, tickled pink by this revelation. "I'm starting to wonder who's head over heels now?"

You laugh a bit, already in the process of turning back to your computer. "So am I."

You had long ago sworn off telling Joaquin your real feelings despite knowing his feelings towards you were mutual. But every time you or Joaquin mustered up the courage to share your true feelings, things went wrong.

The first time it had been a simple miscalculation resulting in minor scrapes and bruises that landed him in the infirmary. This time it was the ICU. You balled up your fists in your lap as you recalled the long wait in the waiting room, the sight of him strung up to wires that monitored his fragile heartbeat; and the black and blue bruises that littered his skin.

You didn't even want to dwell on the possibilities on how much worse things could get. Which is why it was much easier to bottle up your feelings and hope that they would wear off eventually. After all, in your mind at least, it would save you both the emotional damage of losing one another.

Your heart suddenly skipped a couple more beats as Joaquin reached out to stop your chair from turning away from him. You let your feet go slack against the hardwood floor as he used one arm, with little to no effort, to gently tug your rolling chair towards him so you were facing him again. You came to a slow stop as your knees briefly touched. It was during this moment that you felt your brain turn to mush.

"It's me."

You blinked. "What?"

He reached out to touch one of your fists resting on your thigh. Slowly your fingers began to uncurl from your palm.

"I'm...head over heels...for you," he said with nervous laughter.

You laughed too, unsure of what to say. "Did Sam tell you say that?"

He chuckled, his cheeks turning a shade of red you've never seen before. He gave your loose fist a soft squeeze. Eventually, his infectious grin turned into a subtle, nervous smile.

"I want to give us a chance—"

"Joaquin—"

He threaded his fingers in the spaces between yours. You were too distracted by the bundle of nerves in your chest to feel them.

"Y/N, I've kissed death one too many times not to at least let you know how I feel...not that you don't already know." The corners of his lips turned upwards just as yours did.

He was right. It wasn't like you didn't know how he felt about you. Ever since he came wandering into your uncle's gym, he didn't once shy away from letting you know how he felt. Be it a lingering gaze; his signature grin of approval when you successfully hit the punching bag right; or the occasional conglomerate of words that fell out of his mouth that sometimes didn't make much sense—though you always understood what he was trying to say. His feelings for you had always been right there within your reach.

As if reminding you of this, Joaquin squeezed your hand, eyes yearning for a response.

"You know Sam will tease you endlessly when he hears about us," You said, apprehensive of the consequences to come.

Joaquin inched forward, the wheels of his chair scraping the floor. "I think I can handle it. He already does that to me now, I'm used to it."

"Good point," you said with a shrug, your body naturally inclining forward. "But, you'll only hear me complaining twice as much for you to take it easy."

He let go of one of your hands, his bruised fingers reaching forward to stroke your warm cheek. "Child's play, mi amor. I could never get tired of you nagging me."

The beating of your heart grew louder than your thoughts.

"Then there's Captain America..."

"Yeah, yeah. You mentioned Sam, already," he said, his thumb stroking your skin as he leaned forward, your foreheads brushing against each other. He glanced at your lips.

"No, I mean...the other Captain America."

Joaquin paused. "Your uncle?"

You nodded. "You know he still never got over you calling him 'gramps' when you first met."

His shoulders slumped a bit, slight disappointment lacing his features. "But I thought he liked me?"

"I like you." The words fell out of your mouth before you could stop them. His grin returned at this. You squeezed his hand, the one that was still holding your cheek. "But he won't go any easier on you if it's me you're after."

"So I'm up against two Captain Americas?" He whispered, eyes growing wide at this sudden revelation. You laughed and shook your head in amusement.

Before you could respond, he pressed a kiss to your cheek. Just as he pulled away, he managed to murmur, "Game on," before pressing his lips to yours.

[andy-15-07]

Hello could I request a sweaty summer smut with any Danny character on ur list 🥹 thank you in advance 💘

Too Damn Hot

PAIRING: Manny Alvarez x Reader 💥💋 WORD COUNT: 1159✍️ REQUESTS: Open! 💌 (send yours my way — I love writing them all!)

🌟 Danny Ramirez Masterlist 🌟

The heat was fucking unbearable.

A sticky, suffocating July sun had welded itself over the compound, trapping everyone inside the rusted Firefly base like bugs in a jar. The old military ventilation unit sputtered every few minutes, doing little more than circulating warm air and dust. Shirts clung to skin. Tempers ran short. And Manny Alvarez… well, he hadn’t stopped smirking at you since morning.

“Chica,” he said now, voice like a lazy drawl as he leaned in the doorway to the weapons room, “you are sweating like a sinner in church.”

You didn’t even look up from the workbench. “It’s ninety-three degrees and I’ve been cleaning rifles for two hours. What’s your excuse for looking like you just ran a marathon?”

He scratched his jaw, eyes shamelessly trailing down your tank top and the way it stuck to your chest. “Maybe I was imagining you bent over this table, giving me orders.”

You rolled your eyes. “Try imagining a cold shower instead.”

“I would,” he said with a wink, “but you keep distracting me.”

You finally looked up. His curls were damp with sweat, clinging to his forehead. His tan skin shimmered with a summer sheen, and his Firefly tank clung to his chest and biceps like it was painted on. He looked every bit the cocky, infuriating flirt you’d known for the last year and lately, every bit the man you wanted to pin against the wall and ride until he shut the hell up.

Instead, you tossed him a rag. “Make yourself useful.”

He caught it mid-air, grinning. “You sure you want my hands on something long and hard?”

“Manny,” you warned, but your voice wasn’t nearly as annoyed as you wanted it to be.

“Fine, fine,” he chuckled, setting down next to you. “Let’s see who can clean their rifle faster.”

“You’ll cheat.”

“Only if you promise to punish me.”

You groaned, laughing despite yourself. God, he was impossible. And yet, you let yourself glance just a second at the way his forearms flexed as he unscrewed the bolt, the way sweat beaded at his temple and trickled down his throat.

It wasn’t the first time you noticed.

It definitely wasn’t the first time you wondered what it would feel like to kiss him when he was like this: hot, reckless, and just this side of trouble.

You were halfway through reassembling your rifle when he leaned in close, voice low and rough in your ear.

“You ever do it in a supply closet?”

You paused. “Jesus, Manny.”

“What?” he grinned, pretending innocence. “It’s a simple question.”

You turned to glare at him, but he was too close. His arm brushed yours, and his breath was hot on your cheek. The air between you was already thick,but now it sizzled.

“Manny,” you warned again, but this time it came out softer.

He tilted his head. “Say the word and I’ll lock the door behind us.”

You stared at him, heartbeat kicking up. For once, there was no smirk on his lips. Just a low simmer in his gaze, a quiet dare. You could’ve laughed it off. Could’ve shoved him and gone back to your work.

But instead you stood, rifle forgotten, and said, “You’ve got five minutes before someone comes looking.”

His eyes darkened. “That’s all I need.”

You grabbed him by the collar, yanked him down, and kissed him like he was the last drop of water in the desert. His hands found your hips instantly, tugging you close, grinding into you like he’d been holding back for weeks.

The door slammed shut behind you as he shoved you into the narrow storage room, lips never leaving yours.

“You’re insane,” you panted.

“You love it,” he muttered, teeth scraping your jaw.

And fuck,maybe you did.

His hands were already under your shirt, fingers rough and greedy, thumbs grazing under your bra. He lifted it without ceremony, growling when he saw your hardened nipples.

“Look at you,” he whispered, mouth trailing down to latch onto one breast, tongue flicking fast. “All hot and bothered…”

“You’ve been teasing me all goddamn week,” you gasped, hands threading through his curls. “This is your fault.”

He smirked against your skin. “Then let me fix it.”

His hands were on your shorts, tugging them down, then your panties. The cool air on your thighs made you shiver, even in the heat. You reached for his belt, fumbling, desperate.

“Fuck, Manny please”

“I got you, mi cielo,” he said, voice softer now, reverent.

He turned you, bent you over a crate of ammo, and knelt behind you like it was worship. You cried out when his tongue found you, broad and slow, licking from base to clit with maddening patience.

“Manny fuck”

Your fingers gripped the edge of the crate, legs trembling as he licked, sucked, and moaned against you like a man possessed. His fingers joined the mix,two thick digits curling just right while his mouth never left your clit.

“I can’t, gonnna”

“Come for me, hermosa,” he said, voice ragged. “Let me taste it.”

You did, gasping, knees buckling, thighs shaking. He held you through it, tongue lapping up every drop like he needed it to survive.

When you turned around, breathless and still shaking, he was already stripping off his shirt.

“You’re not gonna let me return the favor?” you teased, still panting.

He pulled you close, hand fisting in your hair. “Next time. Right now, I need to be inside you.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he lifted you effortlessly onto the crate. One swift thrust, and he was seated deep, both of you moaning at the stretch.

“Fuck you feel so good” he muttered, forehead pressed to yours.

You tightened around him in response, smirking. “Still think five minutes was enough?”

He growled, hips snapping into you faster, harder. You clawed at his back, thighs wrapped tight around him, both of you covered in sweat and barely holding on.

“You gonna come again for me, baby?” he panted.

“Only if you don’t stop , fuck,right there”

Your nails dug into his back as you came again, clenching around him. He gasped, thrust twice more, then stilled with a deep groan, spilling inside you.

For a moment, the only sound was your breathing. Then his arms were around you, pulling you into his chest, sweaty and spent.

“Shit,” he whispered into your hair.

You laughed weakly. “Yeah. That happened.”

He kissed your forehead, then pulled back to look at you. “Still think I’m trouble?”

You smirked. “I know you’re trouble.”

“But you like it,” he said, nuzzling your nose.

You shrugged, grinning. “Maybe I like a little heat.”

“You like me,” he corrected smugly.

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe.”

He kissed you again, slower this time. “Then let’s get outta here before we both get court-martialed.”

You reached for your clothes, still flushed and breathless. “Next time, Manny, I’m on top.”

“Oh, chica,” he said, laughing. “You can ride me all summer long.”

[fairylatte7]

are you bored yet? ~ Joaquín Torres

Joaquín’s job has often separated the two of you. His new duties as the Falcon haven't done anything to help the situation. This story takes place during one of the first quiet moments you and him have had in what feels like ages. 

Reader is addressed with she/her pronouns. 

One ticket to delulu land 😍! I was listening to Wallows and came up with this idea. It’s crazy because I haven’t listened to Are You Bored Yet? in years until now. I hope you enjoy it!!

Joaquín was hesitant to pursue a relationship from the beginning. Not because he didn’t like you. That certainly wasn’t the case. Anyone who knew him well knew he was madly in love with you, and he had been since his Air Force days. 

It was his job that kept him moving from place to place that caused his hesitancy. But he wanted you so bad. Every time he saw you was a blessing and a painful reminder that you weren't his. Each smile that you flashed and, eye-roll that you gave him after he said something boyish or immature, seemed to drive a pin deeper and deeper into his heart.  

He had to have you. 

But would you go for it? 

Or would you back down due to his circumstances? 

All this time later, his obsessive pining over you during that era feels like it took place in another universe. As far as he was concerned, you had always been his and he had always been yours. 

Despite your official relationship status, being away from you never got easier. And since becoming the Falcon, he was seeing you less and less. 

Joaquín was incredibly proud of how well you were taking it all. As much as you would love to have him in your arms 24/7, the sight of him doing what he loves and helping so many people was irreplaceable. 

You kept pictures of him up in your apartment and in your wallet. Your phone lockscreen was a photo that was taken of the two of you at a gala in D.C. Even if you were kinda embarrassed to admit it, you loved to talk about him. It was a way to remind yourself that he was real. 

He was really yours. 

Joaquín brought you up every chance he got. From interviews, to small talk, as soon as he got the chance to mention you, he took it. It got to the point that there were certain words Sam wouldn’t say around him. A particular color, food, or movie would set the poor boy on a rambling marathon about you because, in Joaquín's words, “Everything reminds me of her.”, he would say while wistfully looking off into the distance. 

It was on a crisp fall evening in September that you and Joaquín had one of your first quiet moments together.

He was in D.C. for one of those government- sanctioned public events that Sam made him go to. Despite Joaquín’s annoyance with having to attend, it gave him an excuse to spend the weekend with you. Due to the long period of separation, the two of you spent much of your time bouncing from restaurant, to museum exhibit that you told him “he just has to see”, to “sick-ass workout class” that Joaquín “has been meaning to check out.” 

You two were running around Washington D.C. like mad-men, going from thing to thing. It was fun, tiring but fun. The feeling of your hand in his and the soft forehead kisses that Joaquín planted on your forehead made everything worth it. 

As the sun began to set, Joaquín formed a pensive look on his face. 

There was a slight chill in the air. Autumn leaves were falling down and the golden light on your boyfriend’s face made him look like a vision. Joaquín always shined. He lit up every room he walked into; it was one of the things you loved about him from the start.  

He squeezes your hand as he looks down at you. “I wanna take you to one more place. Are you up for it?”, he smiles. 

You nodded. Was it even a question? 

He took you to a park near the downtown area. It was a lovely stroll to his chosen location. It was the first time since seeing him that you weren't rushing to be somewhere. 

Joaquín stopped next to a picnic table. He turned to face you, grabbed your waist, and swiftly scooped you off of your feet and sat you on top of it. You had forgotten how strong he was. You were caught off-guard, but the act of him picking you up had you giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush. 

“You like that?” He laughed, clearly proud of himself. “I should do that more often.”

“Yeah, you should.”, you replied. 

You couldn’t stop smiling. You were terribly in love with him.

He leaned back so that his back was laying flat on the tabletop. You did the same. 

The sky was painted auburn and burgundy. The sun shone through what was left of the leaves on the trees. 

The two of you laid there in a comfortable silence for a while. 

When you finally turned to face Joaquín, you found that he was already looking at you. 

The small beams of sunlight that remained as the sun remained in the sky for its final few minutes of the day reflected off of his eyelashes. 

You could barely breathe. 

He reached out his hand and traced your jawline with his hand. A flash of confusion appeared on his face. 

You broke the silence. 

“What is it?”, you ask. 

“I can’t believe you’re really here.”, his voice falters. 

“I’ll always be here for you, Joaquín. Even if I’m not here.” You tell him.

He turns his head to face the sky once again. 

The silence hangs in the air, not in an ominous way. It’s peaceful.

“We’ve spent, ah.. 48 hours straight together…” He trails off. 

You go to speak, but he beats you to it. 

“Are you bored of me yet?” He’s facing you again. 

“What kind of question even is that, Joaquín?” You deadpan in the kindest way possible. 

“I had all of this stuff lined up for us to do, because I never see you. I felt like I needed to compensate by doing as much as possible. But the best part of my day, heck, the best part of the past few months has been us on this picnic table.” 

Joaquín had this casual way of saying things that tugged at your heart in a hundred different directions. 

“What if I told you that I feel the same exact way?” You ask him. 

“Oh, I’d kiss you, for sure.” He holds back a smile. 

“I feel the same exact way.” You say quickly. 

Joaquín stays true to his word. He holds your face in his hands and pulls you close to him. 

The way he kissed you warmed your whole body. He snaked one of his hands around your body and rubbed circles around your lower back. You smiled into the kiss, then the two of you just laid together, enjoying each other’s presence. 

Even after it all, Joaquín Torres is worth more than what your time apart could ever take from you. 

photo and gif are from pinterest. divider credits to @anitalenia

thank you for reading <3

[hlvstia]

kissland - joaquin torres x f!reader

drunkbf!joaquin torres showing up at your doorstep at 2 in the morning?!

minors, do not interact!! 18+ post

a/n: i’m back from my 2 year hiatus wtf 😭 anyways hope yall enjoy this fic cuz it’s my first time posting smut! BUTTTT YEAH, my reqs are open and i have more coming soon. trust me.

you couldn’t remember the last time you had a goodnight rest after that whole ordeal with the government and almost being in a war that didn’t even start. it honestly hurt deep in your soul to see joaquin being shot out the damn sky and seeing him plummet down into the ocean.

on top of that, the hospital visits here and there to check if he was doing okay were nonstop; you just cared too much to let him go.

and here you were, tossing and turning in your sleep because you were worried about him, not knowing how he was doing at the bar and how well his friends were taking care of him. you didn’t like to admit it but you were overprotective of him, and hell, you’d go to the ends of hell for joaquin.

before you could almost drift off to counting sheep, there was a heavy knock at your front door— which alarmed you immediately, getting up to check the cameras and it was joaquin. your boyfriend.

he seemed out of it and needy. ( as per usual )

without thinking for a damn second, you ran out of your bed and opened the door for him, his body immediately melting into your arms as he towered over you, slamming the door behind the both of you.

“hi, sweetheart.” he mumbled into you, slipping off his boots as his lips found its way to your jawline, giving you sloppy wet kisses. “hi, pretty boy. how was— the bar?” you paused in between your sentence, a bit surprised with how his hands tightly gripped onto your waist, slightly hissing at the pressure. “it was good, really good.” he continued to trail his kisses down to your neck, his hands still on your hips. “jump for me,” he whispered, his hands now moving down to your ass to hold you.

and best believe you jumped into his arms while you wrapped your legs around him as he slowly began making his way towards your bedroom, gently laying you down onto the mattress. “missed you so much, you have no fuckin’ clue, baby.” he grabbed your legs, pulling you to the edge of the bed as he tugged off your shorts, his lips immediately kissing your inner thighs, taking in your organic scent.

“joaquin…” you sat up, your fingers finding his hair and pulling on it slightly. “please let me eat you out, y/n.” he pleaded, looking up at you with glossy eyes. “you can, baby.” letting go of his hair, you laid back down on the bed.

not wasting a second, he threw your panties across the room and slowly worked up to your wet pussy, first kissing your inner thighs before making out your clit, his fingers teasing your folds and entrance, using your arousal fluid as a lubricant to slowly ease his way inside with his fingers.

he was pumping at a slow pace while he was still kissing away at your pussy, making you weak in the knees already, your legs were almost at its shutting point, struggling to keep em’ spread but the way his shoulders were propped against you was making it impossible to even do so.

“fuck, what a good boy…” you whimpered, biting down on your lip softly while he was still going at it, your praise being his cue to go a bit faster and messier with his antics.

which… just brought you closer to the edge honestly.

“say that again, sweetheart.” he begged, his nose covered with your fluid as he was mumbling into your pussy. “you’re being such a good boy for me, joaquin.” you said, your legs locking around him once you started to pulse, your stomach tightening when his fingers curled up inside you, his fingertips hitting that spot.

“come for me, y/n.” he whimpered, his face pulling away while his fingers were still curled up inside you, waiting until your walls loosened up against him.

and like that, you came onto his fingers and he was quick to clean you up with his mouth. his words afterwards being nothing but affirming.

[swordgrace]

❝ 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬. ❞

┊ 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: by anonymous — “I would love to see a little friends to lovers, dramatic love confession type thing after Joaquin has his near death experience. I just love that man and he looks way too handsome lying on that hospital bed”

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: joaquin torres x fem!reader.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.1K.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none, this fic is really fluffy and sweet. friends to lovers, confession of feelings, joaquin means everything to me. cameo from isaiah bradley.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: first time writing for joaquin (mcu) and I adored this request so much! 🫶 you will be seeing a lot more of him on this blog! I hope you all enjoy!

Hospitals were the bane of your existence.

Too stark, too pale — it encased suffering all in one centralized location, with gaunt, exhausted faces and hollow eyes. It was the embodiment of everything sick, of helplessness.

Discomfort nipped at your heels whenever you were in one, but it was different this time.

You surrendered any shred of discomfort for desperation, perched in a chair that had seen better days, cushions painfully rigid. Plastic leather squeaked whenever you shifted your weight elsewhere.

Time passed abnormally slow, heartbeat timed to the idle beeps of the monitor, red lights flashing in steady succession.

Haggard bags hung beneath your eyes, frayed and worn from the past few days of waiting by his bedside, hands fisting into your jeans.

Joaquín had crashed from the sky over the Indian Ocean in shock and smoke, landing in the water at inhuman speeds. You’d toiled over him — cried during his surgery, sobbed into Sam’s shoulder.

He was your best friend, your everything; part of you feared what you’d become if he didn’t pull through. Even then, you were trying to stay optimistic, and Sam had enough to share between the both of you.

Sam told you that he was in and out — mostly sleeping, and when he was conscious, making jokes about the whole situation as if it were normalized.

It was infuriatingly Joaquín; playful even in the face of death.

“Still sleeping?” Isaiah murmured, having nudged past the door without you knowing. Startled, you shifted in your seat, swallowing the growing lump within your throat.

All of your concentration had been laser-focused on Joaq’s slumbering visage, sporting a myriad of scrapes and bruises.

“Yeah, ah — Yeah, still asleep,” With a nod, you rubbed at your cheek, flashing a threadbare smile before you glanced at the old soldier. “Sam said he’s been in and out.”

“He’s a strong kid, he’ll pull through,” Stepping inside, Isaiah held a styrofoam box, beads of perspiration rolling from the lid. “Brought you somethin’ to eat.” He offered, moving around the end of the hospital bed.

“Oh,” You croaked, clicking your tongue. “Thanks, Isaiah. You didn’t have to.” In an awkward clamor, you were ready to move from your chair until he waved you down dismissively.

“You ain’t been eating,” He chided, tone fatherly as he shook his head. “Somebody’s gotta look out for you, too.” Through a stern gaze, he offered you the box, complete with plastic silverware.

“I would’ve gone to the cafeteria, I just —” With a sigh, you exhaled, pushing the air out through your nose. “I wanted to be here when he wakes up again.” You mumbled, taking the box with a weak ‘thank you’.

“I don’t think he’s goin’ anywhere anytime soon,” Isaiah’s voice is somewhat dry, but he’s got sympathy for you; you’re resolute, he’ll give you that. “My wife used to do that — fret over me, sit like I was on my deathbed.”

“I don’t think I would be able to live with myself if I left.” Through your soft-spoken confession, you feel yourself lurch with embarrassment.

Heat creeps over the back of your neck as you open up the container, met with a lackluster buffet of hospital food. It’s something, and you’re hungry, sticking the fork into a dismal glob of mashed potatoes.

“She said somethin’ similar.” Isaiah muses, countenance one of a distant lament, chasing the tails of a memory. There’s a spark in his eyes when he talks about her — same way you light up when you talk about Joaquín.

Taking a slow bite, your stomach thanks you, and you eat in silence for a while before answering. “He’s resilient, and strong,” You murmur, telling yourself that, too. “He’ll be okay.”

Isaiah huffs, characteristic of a stoic old man, but there’s a peculiar softness in his eyes. “You love him.” He states plainly, as if you’ve said it a thousand times before.

There’s a beat, a pause; you react as if you’ve been caught in the act of something heinous.

He leaves little room for refutation or retort, and you quietly acknowledge his words, and that’s a confession enough.

A wet sheen of tears shimmers within your eyes, and you take a bite of the rubbery hamburger patty to distract yourself. Isaiah isn’t wrong — he’s wholeheartedly correct in his observation, but you’re afraid.

Afraid that Joaquín would reject you if you told him, or not feel the same way — or never wake up, and that love would die with him.

“Yeah,” Through a hoarse croak, you confirm the obvious; Sam knows, too. “I love him.”

To say it outloud, say it where he can hear — it’s both a blessing and a curse, a weight that’s freeing yet dragging you down. A tight coil forms within your stomach, a torrent of nerves.

“I think he loves you, too.” Isaiah states, hands folded together within his lap. There’s something forlorn within his gaze, as if he’s reminiscing; you think it’s about Faith.

A tearful laugh escaped you, one of half-disbelief and despair as you swiped at your eyes again. A hush falls between as you shovel a mouthful of wilted green beans, heel tapping against the tile.

Sometimes you wonder if that’s true, if Joaquín loves you too — loves you in the way you love him, more than just friends.

Going quiet, you make sure to eat, satiating the constant gnaw of your stomach, gaze shifting towards Isaiah. He’s looking at you with a sense of understanding, wisened as he juts his chin at the styrofoam container.

“Make sure you eat,” He insists, lips twitching into a ghost of a smile. “Gonna go meet Sam for lunch.” Standing from his chair, he briefly presses a hand over your shoulder.

“Thank you, Isaiah.” With a nod, you get nearly three-fourths through the plate before setting it aside. “I’ll see you soon.”

With a low hum, he wordlessly departs from the hospital room, shutting the door behind him with a click and a rattle. Silence seeps into the cracks, save for the monitor’s incessant beeping.

Sitting back, your gaze flutters over his features; handsome even when he’s beat-up, black curls disheveled, jaw slack. His eyelids twitch, and you wonder if he’s dreaming.

Looping an arm behind your head, you’re starting to feel exhaustion catch up to you, curling around your bones as you fight to keep your eyes open.

The nurse comes by to check in, and leaves when there’s no update. You’d only gone home once since his accident, glued to the hospital room as if it was your sworn charge.

Outside, daylight slips in through the windows, catching over pockets of dust that float throughout the stagnant air. The chatter of hospital staff chat hums beyond the door, and for a moment, you nearly fall asleep.

“Hey.”

Joaquín’s voice is taut with grogginess, frayed and worn-thin, warped by a hint of discomfort. Slivers of light catch over his eyes, prompting him to squint as a low groan splits through his diaphragm.

His body is still battered, sore from the fall — his pride is sorer still, but he’ll survive. Bruises feel bone-deep, and he’s got a few cracked ribs, a mild concussion, a broken arm — the list goes on.

When he sees you, it’s as if you’re encompassed by the sun’s gentle glow, your personal halo. Maybe he’s died, and this is what he sees; you.

He’d die happy, if that were the case.

The whites of your eyes are splintered with scarlet, partially due to a lack of sleep, the other half due to crying. He wants to reach out and hug you, but everything hurts — his heart included.

“Joaquín,” You gasp, dragging your chair as close as it’ll allow, wood scraping over hard tile. Words fail you in the moment, but you’re overjoyed, and that’s more than enough. “Hi.”

His mouth quirks into a smile despite himself, brows creasing as he adjusts to his surroundings. Aside from the crushing physical pain he’s in, he’s doing well — Sam promised him a new pair of vibranium wings.

“How long have you been here?” He questions, wincing when he adjusts himself, body spasming with a constant ache.

His good hand moves toward the bed’s remote, shifting it up enough to get a better look at you; the pain in his spine is completely worth it.

“Since you went into surgery,” You confess, fingers plucking at your sleeve. “Sam made me go home once, but I’ve been here the whole time.”

Joaquín blinks owlishly, seemingly surprised that you hadn’t left his side, but he’s happy about it. “Really?” He clears his throat. “Sleeping in that chair, too? Your back is probably as bad as mine.” He chuckles.

It gets a laugh out of you, and he’s head over heels; you have the prettiest smile, the prettiest laugh, everything about you is stunning.

“It’s pretty uncomfortable,” Smiling, you lean in close, letting part of your knee perch against the edge of his hospital bed. “Are you feeling okay? Do you want something to drink? They’ve got a slushie machine.”

“Do they have pineapple?” Joaquín asks, dimples forming at either corner of his mouth. His throat is disarmingly dry, mouth akin to a desert as he wets his bottom lip.

“I can go find out,” You offer, preparing to stand, but he grabs your wrist before you can go anywhere. He grunts, coaxing you back before shaking his head back and forth. “No?”

“Not now, just — In a few minutes,” His heartbeat hitches, and it’s reflected in the monitor’s idle beeping. “I want to look at your face for a little while.” Joaquín’s cadence softens, brown hues glued to you.

Surprised, you settle down into your chair, nose wrinkling at the distasteful groan of the cushions. “Your concussion is catching up,” You mumble, stomach twisting with butterflies. “Brain’s rattling around in there.”

Joaquín rolls his eyes, throat bubbling with a burst of laughter. “Didn’t hit it that hard,” He refutes, hand still loosely lingering around your wrist, and when he realizes, he lets go; reluctantly. “How’s Sam and the OG?”

You giggle at Joaquín’s nickname for Isaiah — you couldn’t tell if he liked it or tolerated it. “They’re good. Isaiah was just here, he and Sam are going for lunch.”

“You didn’t go with them?” A twinge of shock permeates his tone, but he knows the answer already; he wants to hear you say it.

“No,” With a nonplussed shrug, your fingers idly pick at a frayed patch on the knee of your jeans. “I wanted to stay here, in case you woke up.” A smile tugged at either corner of your mouth.

“Oh,” He swallows, dark lashes kissing the bruised skin beneath his eyes. “You don’t have to stay. I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere for a while.” Joaquín grumbles, brows knitting together.

“I want to stay,” You assured, and he didn’t object to that in the slightest. “How are you feeling?” In hindsight, it might’ve been perceived as a silly question, but you asked anyway.

“Ah, you know,” He flashes a pearly smile, accompanied by a weak thumbs up. “Like someone hit me with a tank. Pride’s more wounded, I think.”

A soft huff escapes you, and you tuck a hand beneath your chin, gazes interlocking. Tendrils of heat curl over your features, and he’s mesmerized — Joaquín never looks away, not once.

“You stopped a war from breaking out, Joaq,” Your voice softened, laced with admiration. “You saved so many lives. I know that Sam is really proud of you, and I am, too.”

Joaquín’s smile was somewhat weak, but he basked beneath your praise, eyes carrying a sheen of mirth. “Thanks,” He paused. “You’re looking at an Avenger now, you know.”

“Sam asked you?” Incredulous, you watched as Joaquín nodded, pumping one hand into the air before groaning in pain. “Easy. You’ve still got your wings clipped, Falcon.” You tease.

Settling down, he nodded, deciding to heed to your advice and not strain anything. As he placed his arm back down, he shifted over enough to make room for you.

A soft laugh tumbled from his mouth, and he gestured for you to sit. “This bed’s gotta be more comfortable than the chair.” He offered.

He wanted to tell you how he really felt about you, let that weight come soaring off of his chest.

When he was crashing over the Indian Ocean, all he could think about was you — heard your voice on his comms before they went dark. He considered the possibility that he might die without you knowing he loved you.

A gap of silence passed between the both of you, with Joaquín appraising your features, awestruck by your beauty. He’d always thought you were gorgeous, but in this light, in the moment — you were stunning.

Wordlessly, you abandon the old, discomforting plastic for the soft foam of his mattress, sitting just beside his hip, one leg still touching the tile. He welcomes your closeness; you smell like peaches and cream.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” Through a hoarse whisper, you felt tears sting your eyes, brusque and prickling. “I was so scared, Joaquín.”

Through a burning stare, he reached for your hand, thumb caressing over your knuckles. You gladly held onto him, giving him a melancholy smile.

“Me too,” He admits, tone frayed as he swallows down the swell of nervousness. “Kept thinking about you, when I was falling.”

Joaquín wished he could’ve told you somewhere else — somewhere more romantic than a hospital bed. Though, he had to make do with what he had, and he didn’t want to go any further without you knowing.

With several owlish blinks, you swallowed the growing lump within your throat. “What?” Bewildered, you almost couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“I was scared because I thought I was gonna lose you, too,” He whispers, as if the heaviness of it might crush him. “I didn’t think I could be scared of something like that.” Joaquín utters, eyes never straying from you.

“Joaquín …” Part of you feels like this is a dream, a fantasy; you don’t want to wake up if it is. A shaky breath hitches within the bottom of your throat, hands intertwined.

“I love you.”

The tenderness of which he says it makes your heart burst through your chest, tingles of exhilaration coursing through your spine. Your lips part, making room for a light gasp as he squeezes your hand.

“I should’ve told you bef —” He begins, but you’re stopping him with a swift and impulsive kiss, lips briefly sealing against his.

There isn’t an ounce of him that protests, sinking into the feeling of your mouth as if he’s made for you, pushing out a sharp exhale through his nose. Joaquín doesn’t recoil, reciprocating the kiss, much to your surprise.

When you pull away, you don’t stray far, lashes fluttering as you smile. “I love you, too.” You murmur, and he laughs, eyes warm and glittering as your foreheads ghost over one another.

“I know, cariño,” He mumbles, a hint of mischief prevalent on his features, and you come to the realization then and there. “Before you say anything, I didn’t …”

“You were listening to Isaiah and I the whole time,” You aren’t upset in the slightest, but you do let out a shocked burst of laughter, riddled with faux theatrics. “I can’t believe you!”

“Guilty,” Joaquín teases, but his grin fills your stomach with butterflies. He’s so handsome, so warm — he reminds you of summertime. “Heard your voice, and it sounded like heaven.”

A playful scoff leaves you before you reach for his jaw, fingertips idly caressing over bruised flesh and small scrapes. “You’re lucky I love you, Joaquín.” You mumble, and he’s the happiest man on earth.

“That’ll never get old,” He remarks, and you scoot closer, well within reach as he admires you, adoration thinly-veiled. “I love you.” The ardor in his voice is unmistakable, genuine.

Your hand falls to his chest, and if it weren’t for being bedridden, he would’ve pounced on you — his patience was about to be tested.

A gentle sigh tumbles through his lips, pulled from his diaphragm, a contented sound that warms the both of you. His gaze is awestruck — he looks at you as if you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“I love you, too.” When you say it, you mean it; stare at him as if he’s hung the moon and the stars for you. You want to kiss him again, kiss him a hundred times over.

“When I’m all healed up and discharged, can I take you out somewhere? I know a great steakhouse near Arlington.” Joaquín is smooth, endlessly charming, and he knows it, too. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

A giggle bubbles from your chest as you nod, enthusiastic about the idea of going out on a date. “Took you long enough to ask me, Falcon,” You smile, cheeky as ever. “Thank you.”

Joaquín nods, sure of himself and emboldened, unable to keep from grinning. “Still got it,” He chimes, thumb still tracing patterns over your knuckles. “Do you think you could kiss me again? Heard it’s really crucial for recovery.”

“You’re unbelievable.” You mumble, but you’re leaning in before he has time to make another humorous remark.

Mouths meet again, passionate this time, and he wants nothing more to grab onto your hips and pull you with him. Maybe it’s a good thing, he thinks, unable to fully act on his own wants.

He’ll never let go of you once he gets his hands on you, that’s for certain.

The kiss lasts longer, lingers; he’s pouring all of his effort into it even when he’s bed-bound, eyes fluttering shut. You’re leaning in, mapping him out, something you’ve dreamed of doing for so long.

“Should get shot out of the sky more often if it means I get a kiss.” Joaquín murmurs against your lips, his own mouth twisting into a faint grin before you shake your head.

“If that happens again, I’m never kissing you, Joaq.” Teasingly, you plant a sly kiss to the corner of his mouth, and he turns his head right at the last second, capturing your lips again.

“I’m gonna hold you to that.”

[sillygoose067]

Hii!! Ive never sent a request so I hope im doing this right lol. I was wondering if you could write some hurt/comfort for lewis pullman with a reader who is getting a lot of hate online for her looks and he comforts her? No worries if not! Love ur writing!

Hey! I'm pretty sure there's no wrong way to send requests, but this is great! Sorry about this taking so long, I just had a hard time putting my thoughts into writing for this one— I love hurt/comfort, but it's slightly more of a lengthy process since I try to put more real-life based experiences into these fics (key word: TRY).

I hope this is something along the lines of what you were looking for!

———————————————————————————-

This Is How You Fall In Love

Lewis Pullman x Reader

You sat on the edge of the bed, frozen. Eyes vacant. Your phone buzzed relentlessly beside you, the screen lighting up every few seconds like it was mocking you.

The photos from your beach trip—sunlight warming your skin, Lewis’s arm draped around your waist, you in a bikini you’d worn bravely for the first time—had turned into a battlefield. A flood of hateful comments poured in.

“She’s lucky Lewis even looks at her.” “Stretch marks? No thanks” “Why does he settle for someone so ordinary?” “She’s just using him for clout.”

You swallowed hard. Each word sank deeper, cutting in places you’d worked so hard to heal.

The bathroom door creaked open behind you.

“Babe,” Lewis called casually, towel around his neck, water still dripping from his hair. “You won’t believe how soft this shampoo makes my—”

He trailed off.

You didn’t respond. Didn’t flinch. Just kept staring at a distant corner of the room, trying not to cry.

“...Babe?”

Concern threaded through his voice. He stepped closer, taking in your silence, the blank stare, and the phone beside you buzzing like a warning light.

He picked it up, glanced at the screen, then unlocked it.

The comments stared back at him.

“Those thighs are working overtime.” “She has the body of a school lunch lady.” “How did he end up with that?” “Stretch marks aren’t sexy. Sorry.” “There’s brave, and then there’s delusional…”

Lewis didn’t speak at first. His jaw tightened. His shoulders stiffened.

When he finally did, his voice was quiet—but it carried weight.

“They said this to you?”

You didn’t answer right away. Just lowered your head.

“They’re right,” you whispered. “I thought I was finally okay with how I looked… but maybe I was just deluding myself.”

Lewis gently set the phone aside and sat beside you, his expression stormy but softening as he reached for you.

“Sweetheart.”

You blinked. A tear slipped free before you could stop it.

He pulled you into his arms like he could shield you from all of it.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, cradling your head. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You buried your face in his chest, breath hitching as the emotions cracked open. “I thought I looked okay.”

He held you tighter.

“You looked beautiful. You are beautiful,” he said, with quiet certainty. “You wore that because you felt good. Because you felt free. That’s not something to be ashamed of—that’s something to be proud of.”

Your voice was raw. “You made me feel good in my body. And now I feel stupid for ever thinking I could be.”

Lewis’s hands trembled slightly as they stroked your arms. “Don’t let them take that from you.”

You gave a weak, broken nod.

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. “You think those stretch marks are ugly? I think they’re beautiful. They tell your story. I kiss every one like it’s a secret I’m lucky to know.”

He slid a hand along your hip, his touch reverent.

“Your hip dips? I could trace them forever. They’re you. Not flaws—features. Art. The thick thighs I hold when you’re cold, the softness I rest against when I need comfort—everything about you is something I love.”

Your eyes brimmed with new tears, voice cracking. “I never thought anyone could love those parts.”

“I do,” he said. “All of you. Without exception.”

After a long, quiet moment, he kissed your forehead.

“Go splash some water on your face,” he said gently. “Take a second. Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

You hesitated, then nodded and rose from the bed, walking slowly into the bathroom.

Lewis sat still for a beat, staring at your phone as the screen lit up again and again.

And something in him snapped.

He picked it up, opened Instagram, and tapped the Live button.

The screen blinked to life.

Lewis stared straight into the camera—hair still damp, eyes sharp, jaw clenched with controlled fury.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and steady. “Lewis Pullman here.”

He let the silence hold for a second, letting his presence settle before he continued.

“I know a lot of you follow this account because you want glimpses of me. I get it. I’m an actor. That’s part of the job. But if you’re here just to tear her down—my girlfriend—because of how she looks, or because you think she’s not ‘good enough’ for me? Then do us both a favor and unfollow right now.”

His gaze hardened.

“She is not a side character in my story. She’s not a prop for your fantasies. She’s a real person. And you have no idea what it takes to be that open, to show herself the way she did.”

He leaned closer.

“If you think you get to rip into her because you don't like seeing someone real and unfiltered, if you think her stretch marks, her curves, her body make her less deserving of love—then go. Unfollow her, if that’s what you think love looks like.”

He shook his head.

“I don’t want fans who tear down the person I love. If you can’t respect her, you don’t respect me. And I don’t need your attention.”

His voice dropped, quieter but intense.

“I’ve seen her when she’s glowing. I’ve seen her when she’s broken. And she is still the most breathtaking person I’ve ever known.”

He exhaled slowly.

“She’s in the next room right now, trying to put herself back together because of some of the things you’ve said. And even after all that, she still has more grace in her pinky finger than any of you do behind your anonymous usernames.”

He stared at the screen a moment longer.

“She doesn’t owe you beauty. She doesn’t owe you perfection. And she sure as hell doesn’t owe you her pain.”

You stood still in the doorway. Barely breathing. Warmth bloomed quietly in your chest—deep and full and aching in a good way.

This was Lewis, as he was, standing between you and the world’s cruelty like it was second nature.

You pressed a trembling hand over your mouth.

This was love, if you'd ever witnessed it—in its rawest form.

He finally exhaled and glanced down at the screen. “That’s all. She doesn’t owe you anything.” A pause. Then, quieter: “She’s in the next room right now trying to put herself back together after what some of you said. But she’ll be okay. But I hope that you guys really reflect on yourselves.”

He tapped the screen to end the live.

Silence fell.

You stepped into the room, and he turned—eyes widening slightly when he saw you standing there. “Oh,” he breathed. “You—how long were you…”

“Long enough,” you said softly.

“I just—I had to say something. I couldn’t let them—”

“I know,” you said.

And you meant it. You felt it. Deep in your chest, where shame had been living a moment ago—something new had taken its place. Something steadier. Warmer.

You crossed the room and climbed into his lap. He embraced you instantly, pressing kisses to your temple.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

He looked at you with so much love it almost hurt. Almost. Because he would never let anything—anyone—hurt you.

[lives-in-midgard]

Misunderstanding

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x reader

Summary: You wanted to surprise Joaquin when you suddenly overhear a conversation between him and Sam. What you heard made you sad and you start to distant yourself from Joaquin, not knowing that you misunderstood what he said.

Word Count: 1245

A/N: Hey! This is my first longer fanfic about Joaquin, I hope you like this!💗

Divider made by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

Today wasn’t a good day, so you decided to surprise your boyfriend, Joaquin. After work you drove to Sam and Joaquin’s base and were so happy to see him. You and Joaquin have been dating for three months now and are so happy together. You spend as much time as possible together and sometimes you would also visit him at the base.

At the beginning of your relationship, you were a bit shy, but Joaquin didn’t mind. He is so sweet to you and always makes sure you feel comfortable. He understood that it takes you a while to open up more and when you did, he was more than happy.

After a short drive to the base, you parked your car at an empty parking lot. You reached for your bag and then made your way to the building. As you walked into the building you began to smile, excited for Joaquin’s reaction. When you were close to the door you suddenly heard Sam say something. You didn’t understand what he was saying but when you got closer you heard Joaquin say:

“When we started dating, she was shy and now she talks so much.” When you heard him say that you froze. Your heart began to beat faster, and you couldn’t hear what he said next. You wrapped your arms around yourself and looked at the door one more time before quickly walking out of the building.

While walking to your car questions filled your mind. Does Joaquin really think you talk too much? Are you annoying him? Should you start talking a little less and give him some space?

When you got home you laid down in bed and snugged into your blanket. You had to think about what he said for a while and decided to try not to talk too much, so you wouldn’t annoy him.

A few days have passed since you overheard the conversation between Joaquin and Sam. Joaquin noticed how you began to be a bit more distant to him. He didn’t like how you suddenly shut down and didn’t talk much anymore. Joaquin missed how you would tell him about the book you were reading and that you would tell him everything about your day. He always loves to listen to you and began to worry. When he asked you if everything was okay you just lied and told him that you were alright, but he knew that something was wrong.

Two more days had passed, and Joaquin still didn’t know what was wrong, which made him worry so much.

When he came to your apartment that day he gave you a tight hug.

“How was your day babe?” You asked him and he smiled at you. Then Joaquin reached for your hand and intertwined it with yours.

“It was exhausting but good. Sam introduced me to Isaiah Bradley, still can’t believe that I really met him. We went training with him. He was amazing, you should have seen how he throw the punching bag across the room.” You smiled and listened as he started to ramble about his day. After he told you a bit more about his training, he gently squeezed your hand.

“How was your day, carino?” Joaquin asked softly.

“It was good.” You wanted to say more but hesitated. He tilted his head and had a worried expression on his face.

“Mi amor, what’s going on?” He asked while gently rubbing the back of your hand.

“Nothing, everything is okay babe.” You said and tried to give him a smile.

“No don’t do that…please don’t lie to me carino.” He whispered and you looked away for a moment.

“Please, whatever it is you can tell me.” Joaquin said in a soft tone. You knew you couldn’t lie to him anymore and hearing how worried he is made you look back to him. He gave you a light smile, happy that you were looking at him again. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze showing that he is there for you. You took a deep breath and then said what was on your mind.

“I just don’t want to annoy you with too much talking.” You said quietly and he furrowed his brows.

“What? Mi amor, you could never annoy me. Why would you think that?” He asked and you took another deep breath.

“On Monday I wanted to surprise you at the base but then I heard what you said to Sam.” You said and left out that the day wasn’t good for you. Because you knew that Joaquin would feel guilty knowing that he had made your day even more worse.

“What do you mean?” He asked confused.

“You said that I was shy when we started dating and now, I talk so much.” You said and broke the eyes contact. When he realized what you just said he tensed up.

“Oh, dios mio. I didn’t mean it like that. You didn’t hear what I said after that am I right?” He asked. You looked back at him and shook your head.

“No, I didn’t.” You mumbled and he let out a sigh.

“I’ll tell you what I said to Sam and please listen to me.” Joaquin took a short pause to gather his thoughts.

“You’re right I told him that you were shy when we started dating and now you talk so much but then I told him that I’m so proud of you for that. Mi amor, you could never annoy me. I love to listen when you talk, I don’t care if it’s about a movie, a book or when you tell me about your day. You’re so important to me and I love to listen to you. I love you.” He explained with so much love. And somehow his words made your insecurities fly away. You began to smile and your heart began to beat faster when he suddenly said “I love you” for the first time.

“You love me?” You asked quietly and he started to grin.

“More than anything, mi amor.” He said and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I love you too.” You said and he was smiling at you with bright eyes. Then he gently pulled you into a soft kiss. When you pulled away you smiled at each other.

“Come here.” He said and opened his arm. When you moved closer Joaquin wrapped his arms around you and held you tight.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled against his chest and his grip around you tightened.

“It’s okay, carino but if anything like this happens again or anything else is bothering you please tell me, okay.” He said as he drew some soft circles on your back.

“Yeah, I will do that babe.”

“Promise?” Joaquin whispered with a smile.

“I promise.” You said and he gave you a kiss on the forehead.

“How about we cuddle in bed while you tell me about your day?” He asked and turned away from the hug so he could see your face. You looked up at him with a smile.

“That sounds perfect.” He smiled back at you and reached for your hand. Joaquin was glad that he finally knew what was bothering you and that the two of you talked about it.

You spend the rest of the day cuddling, talking and watching a movie. He was so happy that you talked to him again and so were you.

[happypopcornprincess]

Under the Same Sky Part 2

Pairings - Joaquin Torres X fem!Reader (TFATWS AU)

Premise - You have your heart guarded for the longest time. But when you encounter a stranger on the same mission, will you be able to do the same?

Word Count - 4.2K

Warnings: Gore, blood, SMUT, minors DNI

a/n - I'm sorry for being late about the second part, a relative of mine passed away after new year and I was with family. This part is dedicated to all the lover girls by heart out there. may you find your lover and have an amazing story. Hope you guys like it <3 Take care.

The wind picked up speed as Lucas and his team stepped on the backyard of the Wilson Residence. Guns drawn, stance ready, they took the steps to the back entrance.

Nadia and Artie moved in first, Matt in tow and Lucas in the end. They hear not a single sound around them. Matt signaled clear after checking the rooms and the kitchen, Nadia let her shoulders relax watching him sign.

“Where are they?” Artie whispered.

The radio in the kitchen turns on its own accord…

Can't stay at home, can't stay at school

Old folks say, "Ya poor little fool"

Down the streets I'm the girl next door

I'm the fox you've been waiting for!

Lucas shoots the radio; the broken device fell to the floor with a thud. A scratched-out sound of Cherry Bomb still playing on.

“That’s a shame…”

Nadia was too slow to turn before you hit her head with the butt of your Glock, “I love that song.”

Artie fell on the floor as Joaquin kicked him in the back, you advanced towards Matt. The first thing that bastard did was to kick off the floor and punch you square in the jaw, but you duck in record time, just to kick his feet off the ground and lose your Glock in the process.

Joaquin got busy with Artie and Lucas, who had teamed up to defeat him. Lucas ducked a kick on his chest, and Artie tried to stab him in the neck. Joaquin got a knife out of his belt and fought with all his might, after throwing Lucas on the kitchen table.

Matt was twice your size, he got up in no time trying to throw you off your feet but you were smarter than that, you ran on the wall, kicking off it and using the velocity to climb his shoulders. You pull a hidden wire from your wrist, falling back and choking him in the process. Matt fought hard to get a hold of you, but you pressed on harder. His movements slowed down, and eventually he stilled as you released the wire.

Joaquin was pinned down on the ground with Artie on top of him, his blade inches away from his windpipe. Joaquin pushed hard on his end of blade, trying to nick off his collarbone. Lucas came rushing towards them now recovered from being thrown on the table… Joaquin threw off all his strength to turn his entire body sideways, which in turn put Artie on the side, giving him a chance to stab him just where his neck met his shoulder.

You got up to rush to Lucas, but fell face first feeling a stronghold on your ankle. Turning, you meet a very pissed off looking Nadia with blood covering her face.

She held a Glock, your glock, aiming at you. You kick her in the face, grabbing your knife in the holster. You sit up to stab her in the back, just an inch away from her heart.

So why was it that you felt a sharp jab on your shoulder?

You look at the source, only to see a blade sticking out of your right shoulder. Nadia’s hand being the holder. She looked you right in the eye as she twisted the blade deeper. You grunt, stabbing the woman again and again until she stopped.

Unbearable pain clouded your senses, but Joaquin’s voice brought you back to your senses, turning towards him to see him spar with Lucas, taking punches and pulling ones. You got on your knees to snatch your Glock from Nadia’s dead fingers, keeping an eye on Joaquin.

Blood ran down his elbow from his palm, he staggered on his feet trying to get a jab at Lucas, but found himself covered in his brains once you shot Lucas in the forehead.

You sighed, feeling your tank top getting wet with blood. It felt like an out of body experience, Natasha’s voice echoing somewhere inside your head; “Your brain is in shock trying to process the pain. Get the blade out, press on a cloth and get the hell out of here before one of them wakes up.”

“y/n, look at me.” Joaquin grabbed your face, making you look at him. He glanced at the knife sticking out of your body. “This might hurt.” Saying so he pulled on the blade, prying it off.

You screamed out loud as he pressed hard on your shoulder with a cloth bandage.

How are you lying on the floor?

Joaquin lifted you up like you weighed nothing, “We gotta go. Come on…” resting your head on his shoulder, you try not to pass out looking at the blood running down his face.

------------------------------

Seeing double with an open stab wound was never good news. Joaquin’s jacket did enough to hide the blood and bandage on your shoulder, but it was only a matter of time until some keen observer in the hotel lobby looked at you long enough to know you were unwell.

Leaning on the wall next to you, you watched as Joaquin came towards you and wrapped his arm over your shoulder, careful of your wound, he whispers, “you alright?”

“Kinda.” Your words came out slurred.

“Let’s go.” He led you towards your room, and despite knowing there was no chance of you being followed, you still looked over your shoulder.

As soon as the door opened, you limped towards the bed and Joaquin closed the door and the blinds. Taking off your jacket, you made the rookie mistake of taking a glance at yourself in the mirror.

Your hair was unkempt, your tank top’s strap was torn to pieces, the entire right side of your body covered in blood. The open wound right under your collarbone stared back at you through the mirror.

The room suddenly felt too small, the taste of metal heavy on your tongue.

“whoa!” Joaquin grabs your left side before you fall to the floor, his eyes find yours, and it is then you see the hidden fear in his eyes. He acted fine until now, witnessing the amount of damage on your body.

He helps you sit on the bed, and lean back on the headboard while pressing his jacket on your torso before tearing off your straps. Holding out a piece of rolled up fabric, he holds out to your mouth, “you’ll need this.” You’ve been through this before, never on this scale; but you don’t argue with him before biting into it.

The last thing you felt before blacking out was the burning sensation of rubbing alcohol on your skin and Joaquin’s hand holding yours.

----------------------------

The smell of spirit lingered in the air, as you were woken up from deep sleep by a gentle voice. Opening your eyes, you see the bedside digital clock showing 02:18, and your eyes travel to Joaquin sitting on a chair next to the bed. His white vest had spots of blood, your blood, on it. His right hand was bandaged poorly, and the cut above his eyebrow had two butterfly tapes.

“You scared me for a while.” He says while gently caressing your forehead.

“What happened?” you groaned, trying to sit up, he placed a pillow behind you as you leaned back on the headboard. You look down at your body to find your tank top gone, and you wore Joaquin’s Air Force T Shirt. You look at him again to see his shoulders slumped with exhaustion, his eyes heavy. He hadn’t slept the entire night.

“You passed out while I was cleaning your wound, I woke you up to give you some medicines, and you fell asleep.”

“I don’t remember that.” You huffed out, looking at the ceiling.

Joaquin holds your hand, and you feel the rough bandage on your skin, “are you alright?” you look at him and his line of vision, which were trained on your hand.

“yeah.” You sit up straighter, and take his hand in yours, “I’m fine Joaquin, hey,” you gently hold his face that makes him look at you, “I promise.” You smile.

You rest his injured hand on your lap and open the bandage to redo it properly. The next few minutes are spent in silence, the occasional honk and sound of passing vehicles outside being the only noise. You take a proper look at his hand after you’re done, and you bring it to your lips to kiss.

Joaquin inhales sharply as your lips touch his fingers, and your eyes lock on his.

“I thought I would lose you today.” He says, his eyes flickering from yours to your lips.

“I ain’t going anywhere Joaquin. I’m right here.” Your voice came out as a whisper, and he held your face in his hands.

He looks into your eyes again, silently asking for your consent, and your reply wordlessly by leaning towards him.

The kiss was gentle.

Joaquin’s lips were featherlight on yours and you closed your eyes to feel him whole. Holding the back of his neck you brought him closer as you fell back on the headboard, and he climbed the bed to hover over you.

You kiss each other slowly, letting go of the fear of losing each other flow through it.

You savor it; the warmth of his body, his breath on your face, his hands on your waist. He continues to kiss you as his hands traveled your body, and you didn’t open your eyes in fear that it was some kind of dream. 

He cautiously pulls you down on the mattress, your back meeting the sheets of your motel bed. Joaquin gets on his knees to take off his vest, tossing it on the floor. Your eyes couldn’t leave his toned torso, and his broad shoulders covered you entirely when he leaned forward, trailing kisses on your neck. The contrast in the touch of both his hands; one bandaged and one not… you closed your eyes yet again to just feel his touch on your skin. You couldn’t breathe by the way he bit your neck, and you arched your back as his hands gathered the t-shirt to roll it up to your ribs.

“We can stop if you want to.” He says in between kisses, and you moan, “no, please… don’t.”

“As you wish…” he says, his breath hot on your neck. He kissed you right in the valley of your breasts, and sucked on your skin.

You locked eyes with him as he carefully removed the t-shirt off of your body, leaving you in only your jeans. You grabbed a fistful of his hair as his lips left open mouthed kisses on your nipples, you heard him moan as he squeezed your breasts, a sound that made you pull on his hair harder, which only made him louder.

Joaquin made quick work on his belt as you quickly removed your jeans, but he clutched your hand halfway, “wait…” stumbling on his words, “uh… you’re hurt… let me…” he held your jeans and you let them go, as he pulled them down your legs and on the floor.

His hands caressed your thighs, and his gaze lingered on your body. The intensity of it made you shiver, but it wasn’t lust you saw in them.

He wanted you, needed you. Recalling the kiss that you shared earlier today; this was the complete opposite of it. This was pure adoration. 

You were his reverence.

While the shadow of his tousled hair masked his forehead, he locked eyes with you. As he lowered his body bringing his face closer to your thighs, you didn’t dare look away. You arched your back as Joaquin’s arms held you down, his muscles flexing as he kissed your inner thigh, and a loud whine left your lips as he tasted you on his tongue. 

He stopped only when your moans turned into screams, and when you looked at him while heaving for breath, he was gasping for air, his pupils blown, but the gaze still gentle.

You locked your legs on his waist before you could stop yourself, and tossed him on the bed. Now he was under you, and you could feel how eager he was as you looked down at his tented boxers.

Joaquin caressed your waist, “take it easy, y/n.” as he shifted his gaze to your injured shoulder.

“Sure.” you breathed out, heart racing, as you lifted yourself up while he removed his boxers. As soon as you touched him to stroke, he fell back on the bed, his brows knit in pleasure. You laughed; watching how he was reacting to your touch.

“Huh… that wasn’t funny, querida.” he huffed, and you gasped as he grabbed your waist to pull himself up.

Joaquin was now inches away from your face, his chest pressed to yours as he locked his arms around your waist. You tried to wrap yours around his neck, but you hissed as a sharp pain shot through your injured shoulder straight to your neck.

“Ow!” you buried your face on the nape of his neck, as he stiffened within you.

“Told you to take it easy.” he whispered as he caressed your hair, “you wanna stop?”

“No,” you whined, lifting your face to look at him, “no… I…” you huffed out, “I want you.”

He exhaled, replying with a warm smile, “okay.”

Joaquin gently held both of your wrists and brought your hands to his face to let you hold on to his neck, and you gladly did. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and closed his eyes before leaving a kiss on your lips. He pulled you closer as you lowered yourself on him, moaning in each other’s mouths. As you moved, he kept on kissing you. 

Your pace increased as you felt his heartbeat on your skin, his hands grabbing your back. He kissed your face as you lifted your chin, leaving trails on your face and reaching your neck, but you grabbed his hair, pulling him back and exposing his neck to you. Sucking on his neck, you hugged him back, the sharp jab on your shoulder now least of your worries. He pushed into you as you continued to suck and bite his skin wherever you could. He tried his best not to pull your hair, but failed as he grabbed a handful by the end only to bring you closer.

Fighting for air, you kissed him on his mouth… stroking him even after he came inside you.

Joaquin fell back on the bed, bringing you into his arms; exhausted, spent, the two of you fighting for breath. 

You shifted to your uninjured side and you held him while resting your head on his chest; groaning, he adjusted himself so you could lay your head in his arms and stroked your hair,

Both you and Joaquin couldn’t tear your eyes away from each other. He was a sight to behold—his unruly hair sticking to his forehead, his face flushed, and the marks you left on his skin gradually shifting in color.

“You good?” he whispers, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your bare back.

“Yeah. You?” you murmur, feeling the weight of sleep beginning to settle in.

A chuckle bubbles in his throat, and you can't help but smirk when he slaps a hand over his eyes, letting out a soft laugh.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you tease, poking his cheek.

“You are…” he sighs, his voice serious but amused. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re really skilled with what you did earlier.”

You raise an eyebrow, unable to suppress a giggle. “You mean the way I body-slammed a Flag Smasher? Or are you talking about…”

“Uh…” He glances up at the ceiling, and you swear you see him blush. “Both.”

You both burst into laughter, and he pulls the covers over you, tucking you close to him. As your eyes meet, your heart skips a beat when his fingers trail over your bare back once more.

“Can’t we stay like this forever?” he asks, his voice soft. “This feels like a dream.”

“It’s real.” You reach up, your fingers gently brushing the cut over his eye. “And even if it is a dream, it’s the best one I’ve ever had.”

His gaze softens at your words, and with a gentle kiss to your forehead, he confesses, “Stay right here, will you?”

You nod, your voice a quiet whisper. “Yes.”

And with that, you slip into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

--------------------------------

Three Weeks Later, Wilson Residence

Karli was dead, the Flag Smashers were wiped out in a mysterious blast (which Zemo swore he had no part in), and John Walker had vanished off the radar. Sam was now Captain America. You and Joaquin had managed to sit that one out due to injuries, and life—relatively speaking—was almost back to normal.

The last three weeks had been the most peaceful stretch you’d had since the Thanos attack in New York. After a brief visit to Sarah’s newly renovated house—where Sam had to fight you off when you offered to pay for everything—you and Joaquin were finally heading to Arizona. He was finally going to take you to see the Canyons, a promise he’d made all the way back in that attic you two had shared.

It was night now, the kids were asleep, but the dinner table in the Wilson residence was anything but quiet, as Sam and Bucky were recounting the first time they met Spiderman.

“…and we got this kid climbing on the roof, he slams Bucky onto the floor, and screams out something about impressing Tony…”

“…and then he webs you to the escalator…” Bucky grumbles in-between.

“…I was getting to that! Anyways, I let redwing take care of the rest and send him flying through the airport and dump him midair. Ha!” Sam laughs, waiting for a reaction.

Sarah leans forward, utterly bewildered, “So you dropped a kid midair because he webbed you to an escalator?”

Bucky stops her with a laugh, “In our defense, he was on the opposite team!”

You couldn't help teasing him, “Still, you attacked a kid.”

Sam threw a baby carrot at you. “Okay, okay! Stop throwing food, Sam. What are you, five?”

Sam was about to throw another one at youtube bucky grabbed the baby carrots bowl and passed it to sarah, who gladly put it out of his reach.

You shifted your attention to Joaquin, who was looking at the whole ordeal trying not to laugh. The cut above his eye had almost healed, only a faint trail of new skin the only sign that there ever was any injury. 

“We have something to tell you guys,” Joaquin said, his voice a little too casual for the tension in the air. He reached under the table to take your hand, his thumb brushing over your skin.

You squeezed his hand in return, giving him a warm smile before you turned to look at Sam, Bucky, and Sarah.

Joaquin looked at you, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly, and then he said it: “Y/N and I are dating.”

The table went silent for a second, and then Sarah’s face lit up, her eyes sparkling. “Oh my god, I’m so happy for you both!”

Sam laughed loudly, throwing his head back, while Bucky froze, fork halfway to his mouth.

Bucky stared at the two of you in disbelief, his fork clicking loudly as it dropped to his plate. “Wait a minute... how long has this been going on?”

You winced. “About three weeks, maybe?”

Bucky groaned as he leaned back in his chair. “Three weeks? So, you’ve been hiding this from us?”

Joaquin shifted nervously in his seat. “Yeah, about that.”

“I swear, if you hurt Y/N—” Bucky's voice turned deadly serious, his Vibranium arm rising as he pointed it at Joaquin. “I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Joaquin quickly held up his hands. “I would never—”

“Good.” Bucky nodded, satisfied. “Just making sure, You two gross me out.” Bucky side eyes you as you respond by leaving a loud smooch on Joaquin’s cheek.

“Yeah, I’m gonna throw up.” Bucky grimaces and gets up from the table with his beer.

“Get outta here old man.” You scream, all in playfulness as he slams the porch door. Bucky had a knick of theatrics, and you knew deep down he was happy for you.

“He didn’t mean that, Buck’s a secret romantic and I bet you ten bucks he’s crying happy tears on the back porch.” Sam tells you both as you begin to clear out the table.

“I know.” You laugh, helping Joaquin with the dishes.

As Sarah and Sam left for their rooms, you and Joaquin took over cleaning the kitchen. The house fell into a quiet rhythm, the only sound the soft hum of the water running in the sink as you both washed the dishes.

“That went well,” Joaquin said, nudging your shoulder as you stacked the plates in the drying rack.

“Don’t worry, Sam and Sarah adore you. Bucky does too, he’s just... well, too stubborn to show it.” You rolled your eyes, feeling his hands wrap around your waist from behind, pulling you close.

He kissed your neck lightly as you finished stacking the last of the plates. “That was the last one,” you said, leaning back into him, letting yourself enjoy the closeness.

“Mmm-hmm...” You smirked, resting your hands on his as he tightened his grip around your waist.

“Everyone’s asleep,” he whispered, his lips brushing the back of your ear.

“I know,” you murmured, leaning back further into his chest. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, his breath soft in your ear.

“Can we take this to the bedroom?” he grumbled, his voice low and inviting as he hugged you tighter.

You chuckled, glancing over your shoulder. “We’re sleeping on the couch, babe.”

His hands moved slowly to your hips as he nuzzled your neck, “Wanna take this to the couch then?” His playful tone was backed by the softest puppy eyes you’d ever seen.

Before you could even consider it, footsteps echoed down the hallway.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Bucky’s voice rocked through the silence, causing both you and Joaquin to spring apart. You quickly went back to acting busy with the already stacked plates, trying to look as innocent as possible.

Bucky sighed loudly, his eyes toward the ceiling. “Please, for the love of god, tell me you two weren’t... doing that in Sarah’s kitchen.”

Joaquin let out a nervous, “...no.” His face flushed, making you stifle a laugh.

Bucky groaned, rubbing his temples. “I swear, you two...”

“Bucky,” you said, turning toward him with a teasing smile. “Were you crying?”

His eyes went wide, and he immediately shot you a glare. “No. I’m just... tired.” He slumped his shoulders dramatically. “And I’m taking the couch.”

He threw up his hands in exasperation. “You two can take the mattress on the floor. But if I hear so much as a whisper from either of you, I’ll kick you out myself.”

With that, he stormed off, muttering under his breath.

You turned to Joaquin, fighting back a grin. His face was bright red, and his embarrassment was almost too adorable to handle. “Looks like we have to wait until we’re in Arizona,” you said with a sympathetic swat to his arm.

Joaquin groaned, “You know, I’m starting to think Bucky’s secretly shipping us.”

You shot him a wink as you walked out of the kitchen, “He’s just really protective. Come on.”

You patted his arm sympathetically, but then, with a mischievous grin, said, “What about the attic?”

Joaquin raised an eyebrow. “You’re kidding.”

You opened your mouth to say yes, as your heart raced just by remembering his touch on your skin, but before you could, Bucky’s voice shouted from the other room.

“I swear to god, I will get a restraining order against the two of you! Don’t even think about it!”

--------------------------------------

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A/N - Thank you everyone for sticking with me till the end of this fic! if you liked it please let me know through the asks and the comments. Love y'all, Take Care!

[lastofdanny]

watch // manny alvarez x reader

a/n: so who's alive after that season finale and that 2 second manny appearance lolll there's no way i can wait until 2027 to see him again i need him NOW!!!! this is kinda short and i wrote it with a f!reader in mind but i think it could be gn? anyway enjoy it!! ♡ MANNY COME BACK THE KIDS MISS U

The cold wind howled around the Space Needle, sharp and relentless, as the city lay still – empty streets, shattered windows, and long shadows over the crumbling buildings. You were supposed to be alert, watching for Scars, patrols, or anything that might be a threat to the WLF.

But Manny had different plans.

He kept leaning in too close, that backwards cap shading his eyes just enough to make him even more distracting, drawing the attention to the smirk on his lips. Every time he leaned your way, his voice dropped into that smooth, teasing whisper that drove you crazy, and he knew it. He definitely knew it.

He stood casually against the railing, binoculars in hand, though his eyes kept drifting toward you more than the skyline. 

“All clear,” he said softly, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

“You’re not even looking.”

“I did,” he said, still watching you. “Saw you. Liked it. Mission accomplished.”

You rolled your eyes, turning toward him slowly. “Give me that,”

He held them up like an offering, but didn’t make it easy, holding them out of reach just long enough to make you step closer. His gaze flicked down to your mouth, then back up again, and your breath caught.

You brought the binoculars to your eyes, pretending to be responsible, but even then, focusing on the horizon, you could feel him move. He rested his chin on your shoulder, arms wrapping around your waist with an intimacy that made your skin hum.

“See anything interesting, cariño?” he whispered, soft kisses trailing along your ear.

“Manny,” you warned, but your breathless tone gave you away.

He chuckled. “What? Can't focus?”

He spun you around to face him before you could say anything, the binoculars dropping to your side as his eyes searched yours for a second before he kissed you, hot and urgent, one of his hands cradling the back of your neck while the other gripped your waist, pulling you tightly against him.

Everything else – the mission, the threats, the danger you were supposed to look out for – faded into background as he deepened the kiss.

Then the sharp static of the radio crackled in Manny’s pocket, cutting through the silence between you without any warning.

“Manny, you copy?”

The urgency of the voice snapped you both out of the moment, but Manny’s smirk hinted he wasn’t done just yet.

“You should answer,” you whispered.

Instead, he slipped his hand into his pocket, pulled the radio and lowered the volume nearly to silence.

“Didn’t hear anything,” he said, voice dipping into that warm, teasing tone again. His lips traced along your jaw, slow and soft and maddening. “Too much interference.”

You let out a shaky laugh, pushing against his chest as he kissed you again, lips crashing into yours with the kind of need that made your knees go weak. His hands slid firmly around your waist, guiding you backward with slow, deliberate pressure until you met the cold wall behind you. 

“Manny!” The voice came lower, but still sharp enough to cut through the tense silence between you. “Come in!”

He caught your bottom lip between his teeth, just enough to make you gasp, then soothed with a slow, lingering kiss.

“Manny, I swear to God-”

He smirked against your lips, unbothered, pulling back to whisper “Ignore it,” before kissing you again.

"Manny!"

You unwillingly reached for the radio, but Manny wasn’t done – not even close. His lips found your neck, tracing down as his hands slid under your shirt, his fingers moving slowly on your skin.

He made it impossible to think straight, but you still forced yourself to speak. “W-we’re good,” voice trembling as you fought to stay calm, Manny’s soft chuckle rumbling through the air.

There was a pause, just a flicker of static until the voice returned, more commanding this time:

 “We need a full status update. Over.”

Manny’s lips brushed your skin as he whispered with a playful smirk, “Tell them we’re busy.”

"Report. Now!”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves again as Manny’s lips still brushed your neck.  “Perimeter secure. No movement detected. We’re… engaged... in active surveillance. Over.”

The radio crackled with a teasing tone.

“Copy that. Try keeping your pants on during the next check-in. Over.”

But the rest of the voice on the radio was lost after Manny kissed you again.