#joaquin: about

[likeakiss]

licking blood from your teeth. a raised scar. the old east end. testing the cut on your lip with your tongue. a loud bang from somewhere in the distance. ringing in your ears. refusing to change. slicking back your hair. whiskey and cigarillos. shoot first, ask questions later. remembering where you came from. having to fight for everything you’ve got. violence as a language that everyone understands. exit wounds. the pig-headed belief that you’re always right. struggling to let things go.

statistics.

full name:  joaquin vidal nickname(s)/alias(es):  keen, the crooked hand name meaning:  established by god age:  fifty-seven date of birth:  april 16th star sign:  aries place of birth:  poplar, london (now tower hamlets) current location:  lambeth, london gender:  cis-male pronouns:  he/him sexual orientation:  bisexual religion:  raised catholic (not a very good catholic) occupation:  mob boss family:  david flores (father, estranged), alejandra franklin (née vidal, mother), bernard “bernie” franklin (step-father, estranged), ricardo “ricky” franklin and antonio “tony” franklin (half-brothers, estranged), emilia franklin (half-sister, estranged) “sweeney todd” (ex-wife) education level:  didn’t even get his o levels (old man equivalent to gcses) living arrangements:  a modern warehouse conversion in stockwell financial status:  wealthy spoken languages:  english, spanish

inspirations.

reggie kray (legend) harry (in bruges) tyler durden (fight club) euron greyjoy (game of thrones) maxwell roth (assassin’s creed: syndicate) reyes vidal (mass effect: andromeda) bill sykes (oliver twist)

biography. (tws for poverty, xenophobia, violence, unhealthy relationship dynamics)

A third generation Peruvian immigrant, Joaquin Vidal has never known any home but London. Born and raised in Poplar (a notoriously impoverished area of the city) life was always going to be a struggle for his family - for stability, for money, for respect - but struggle they did. Joaquin’s grandparents went about things the old fashioned way, sacrificing every last shred of their dignity to scrape together enough money to take over the lease on the local newsagent after the previous owner passed away. They managed it, just barely, but even at the tail-end of the sixties, Poplar wasn’t the most tolerant of places, and the shopfront was regularly graffitied or worse.

By the time Joaquin was born, the Vidals had come to realise that London’s streets weren’t paved with gold, as they had hoped they would be when they arrived in England. They had their shop, true, but it wasn’t enough - the family was still living on top of each other, three generations packed into two rooms, living hand-to-mouth. His mother, Alejandra, was only sixteen when she discovered she was expecting, and a wedding was quickly organised in a desperate attempt to hang on to the precious little respectability the Vidals had garnered within their community. It was only two years before Joaquin's father vanished into the night, never to be seen again.

Joaquin was still young when he started looking for trouble (or when trouble started looking for him, as he’d always insist). He was a handsome, charismatic teenager, with a swagger in his step and an appetite for violence that only comes from feeling like you’ve got something to prove. It seemed as if he was destined for gang life from the get go, smoothly transitioning from playground bust-ups and brawling in the streets to the well-paid world of underground fighting. Joaquin was a workhorse in the ring, a surprisingly lithe figure that categorically refused to stay down, and it made him a hugely valuable commodity as a prize fighter. He would do whatever it took to win, and then some.

It was around this time that he set his sights on a woman known to the Jolly Rogers as Sweeney Todd. The former Crooked Hand, a man by the name of Alistair Winchester, had heard of Joaquin’s success on the underground fighting circuit, and was actively trying to recruit him to his cause. Sweeney was Alistair’s niece, and had been embroiled in the workings of the gang since she was very young, meaning she was already well established as a career assassin. Joaquin was drawn to her immediately - he knew they were made for each other.

As his relationship with Sweeney developed, Joaquin became as assimilated into the Jolly Roger lifestyle as she was, working his way up from pit fighter to contract killer in a matter of years. He would always prefer working with his hands (or, rather, his fists), but he learnt to wield a gun with precision and deadly force. As a rule, Joaquin and Sweeney were not supposed to work contracts together - they were both experts in their craft, but their dynamic was volatile and unpredictable, entirely inexplicable to anyone but themselves. People used to say that one day they’d either kill each other, or end up married - they chose the latter.

Realistically, it was never going to last between them - in fact, it’s some kind of miracle (or maybe a curse) that their marriage survived the eleven years it did. After one, final, explosive argument, the Vidals separated for good, but angry as they were, they couldn’t stay away from each other for long. Joaquin started taking contracts abroad, furthering his reputation with the Rogers while doing his best to forget about Sweeney. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t move on from her. He’s never been good at letting go.

When Alistair Winchester shit the bed and got himself nicked, it was only a matter of time before someone was called in to clean up his mess. Following the customary vote between senior members of the gang, Joaquin was compelled to return from his work overseas, not so much stepping into Alistair's shoes as kicking them out of his way. He never sought the title of the Crooked Hand, and his election came as a surprise, but who is he to spit in the face of democracy? If the Jolly Rogers wanted a show of force, Joaquin Vidal would be the one to give it to them.

He's been the head honcho for coming up on four years now, driving the Jolly Rogers into an era of prosperity that puts old man Winchester's legacy to shame. The treaty is starting to chafe at him, though, his patience for niceties running dangerously thin. No, he thinks its high time his people start making some more aggressive plays - show the Jabberwocks and everyone else who really runs the streets of London.

other things.

Before he was the Crooked Hand, Joaquin was known as Sykes, after the character from Oliver Twist. Not the most flattering of code names, but he’s never been much of a reader, and didn’t understand the connotations until much later on. 

Joaquin calls in on his mother approximately once every six months. They didn’t have the best of relationships after she remarried and started a new better family, but she’s old now, and the only surviving relative he’s still in touch with.

He's not usually much of a gambler, but he goes out of his way to attend the Royal Ascot every year, delighting both in betting on the horse races and terrorising the unfortunate toffs forced to share space with him for the duration of the event.

He’s a passionate West Ham supporter, and will thank you not to remind him how poorly they’ve been performing in the premiere league.

To date, Joaquin has never seen a cow in real life.

There isn’t a single event that could convince Joaquin to wear a tie. He didn’t even wear one to his wedding.

[flaminandgooo]

Bucky, in his apartment: *drinking his morning coffee while watching the news*

*News broadcast showing Joaquin going after two missiles and Sam surfing on another one while getting shot at*

Bucky, slowly putting down his cup and staring at the TV blankly: ... Oh my god, there's two of them.

[almadelsur]

Joaquín Torres and those fuckin grey sweats +18 kinda

Joaquín deffo the type of guy to have a rlly pronounced dickprint when he wears grey sweatpants. And it. Drives. You. Crazy. He’ll just be casually bouncing around the house after his post-workout shower in grey sweats and a fitting white top groaning about how he’s “so fuckin sore” and the sight of it paired with his quiet little grunts has you practically salivating.

“Hellooo? ‘toy hablando solo o que ma?”

He waves his hand a little in front of your face trying to snap your attention back to his words rather than the bulge in his sweats and your face instantly flames.

“Sorry what?”

You fumble out, but Joaquin already has you clocked. With a small tilt of his head and a little grin that promises everything your hungry eyes are searching for, he shuffles over to sit next to you.

The sofa gives a little under his weight and he can practically hear your bitching little whine about upgrading the furniture in the apartment. Maybe after he fucks your brains out he’ll consider it, inspirations to give you the world always strike him in his post-orgasm haze.

“I asked you if you wanted to order in tonight?”

He makes a show of stretching his body out, letting that slutty little white shirt ride up to tempt you further. The sliver of tanned lower stomach just begging to be licked or bitten, ravaged even.

“Uh yeah sure I could be down for that, what were you thinking?”

You try your best to sound as normal as possible, but it’s obvious to the both of you that the night won’t be ending with take out in bed.

“S’okay baby” he leans forward and grabs your wrist placing your hand directly over his crotch “I know what you want” it’s vulgar. So vulgar coming from the Boy Scout himself, but goddamn if it doesn’t make you horny when he acts this way.

“C’mere mama” he doesn’t give you a second to react before he’s pulling you on top of him grinding you down right over where your eyes had been trailing

“yeah I know what you want, eyeing my dick up like it’s a fucking meal. I bet you’re all wet and ready huh?” He groans in your ear and it’s enough to warrant a shuddering moan out of you.

“Fuck baby all this cause of some old sweatpants?”

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Hold Me Closer

summary: you give joaquin exactly what he needs after a rough mission.

pairing: subby!joaquin torres x f!reader

contents: 18+/MINORS DNI/SMUT, internal angst, food mention, dom/sub undertones, kissing, teasing, cockwarming, unprotected p in v

wc: 1,845

an: finallyyyyyy got to writing this subby!joaquin goodness, hope yall enjoy while i finish past 5 of vuelve!

danny ramirez characters masterlist

Joaquin usually texted or called you when he was almost home, even though he’d set up notifications to let you know when he and Sam made it back to the armory.

But today, there was nothing—just the notification—no call, no message.

Several minutes passed in silence before you caved and checked his location, confirming he was on his way.

That’s how you know it’s bad before he even opens the door. And the confirmation is all over his face the moment he steps inside, setting his bags down with a weighty exhale. He’s not his usual cheery self, even as his gaze catches yours and he forces a smile.

“Rough one, huh?” you ask gently.

He sighs. “Yeah. Just—really shitty.”

You rise from the couch and make your way to him, cupping his face in your hands. “Then let’s have a not-so-shitty night, okay?”

“Seguro, mi amor,” he agrees, though his shoulders still slouch.

You turn his head this way and that, examining him. “Mmm. ¿Tienes hambre?”

He makes a face, shaking his head. “Not really.”

You raise a brow. “But did you eat?”

A pause. “Not really,” he repeats. “Don’t light a fire under my ass, querida, I can see it in your eyes.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m the sweetest girl you know.”

“That’s true, but you’re also the most stubborn. Which is why I know you’re about to make suggestions on what we should eat.”

“We could get Happy Camper—I’ve never seen you deny pizza.”

His hands find their place on your waist, squeezing gently as he mulls it over. “I could eat some pizza,” he murmurs, a smile pulling at his lips.

At the sight of that familiar light in his eyes, you can’t help but smile too. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his in an adoring kiss. With each word, your mouths brush, “I’ll order the pizza and you shower?”

He uses his grip on your hips to pull you closer, kissing you more deeply than before. He’s a little breathless, warmth creeping into his cheeks when he breaks away. “Sí, patrona.”

—

When Joaquin returns, you’re on the couch again with your book. You look up at him with a warm smile, but there’s something in your eyes that has him in a near shiver. Something hungry. Possessive.

“C’mere,” you murmur, patting the space next to you. He obliges, sitting beside you so your shoulders brush. Setting your book down, you rise onto your knees to straddle him.

He narrows his eyes at you playfully, though his hands slide up your thighs, kneading at the soft flesh. “What’re you up to?”

You ignore his line of questioning, threading your fingers through his damp hair. “Your hair’s longer than usual. Gonna cut it?”

“Maybe,” he sighs, his eyes fluttering shut when you start using the pads of your fingers to scratch at his scalp.

His breath deepens, his body slackening beneath your touch. Your gaze traces every detail of him—the sharp curve of his jaw, plush lips, delicate lashes. He’s stunning like this, and the quiet reverence between you feeds your growing hunger.

“I’m gonna touch you now, ok, cariño?” you ask softly, your fingers working against his scalp in slow, methodical circles.

“Mhmm,” he hums, sounding a little desperate. His body shifts, pressing more firmly into the couch, exposing the line of his throat to you.

The sight of him, open and willing, ignites something in you. You lean in, pressing your lips to the warm skin of his neck, trailing soft kisses downward. Your hands fall to his sweats, one rubbing against his hardening cock before slipping inside.

You’re met with nothing but solid warmth.

“You went commando on me, Torres?” you tease, your grip on him just as playful, fingers curling only slightly to emphasize your point. “That’s something a slut would do.”

“Oh fuck, baby,” he breathes, his eyes squeezing shut. His fingers twitch against your thighs, his muscles flexing as he fights the urge to thrust into your hand. His restraint is cracking, barely holding together, but he’s determined to be good for you.

“Are you a slut, Joaquin?”

“For you—por ti, cualquier día,” he mumbles eagerly, hoping that his willingness will bring him a reward.

His answer should bring nothing but arousal, but you feel yourself softening. How sweet it is that the man in a suit, the superhero, goes tender for you. You rest the bridge of your nose against his, asking him softly to look at you.

When he does, his brown eyes meet yours with a soft haziness, something vulnerable beneath the hunger.

“Te amo, mi amor. Lo sabes, ¿verdad?”

“Always.”

You lean in, taking control, your lips finding his with slow, deliberate pressure. His breath hitches, body tensing as you deepen the kiss, feeling his need swell against you. His hands tighten on your hips, a silent plea.

“Can I be close to you?”

You know what he means as soon as he asks. It isn’t the first time and it won’t be the last. Joaquin has this thing where he wants to crawl inside your skin and be there forever. Sometimes he’ll smoosh his cheek against yours and hope that somehow you’ll start to meld together. But when he’s asking like this, he wants to be inside you. Simply inside you, and nothing else.

“I don’t know if you asked correctly,” you murmur, your lips brushing his.

Joaquin’s known for his honesty, his playfulness, his confidence. But when you take control like this, you can draw out the part of him that’s shy. This is one of those times.

There’s a faint flush in his cheeks as he says, “Can I be inside you…please?”

“Since you asked so perfectly, amorcito. Hips up,” you command softly, and he moves in nanoseconds, allowing you to slide his sweats down to his knees.

Joaquin’s chest is heaving, his breaths rushed in anticipation. You don’t break eye contact as you pull your panties to the side, line him up with your entrance, and sink down onto him.

He gasps sharply, his fingers twitching against your skin.

“Perfect fit, hmm? Or should I try again?” you wonder playfully out loud.

“No—baby—I—” he sputters, but both of you know you weren’t truly asking.

You lift your hips until just the tip of him is inside you before lowering yourself again—slower this time. Neither of you can help it, moans mingling as your heads fall back in pleasure.

“Much better,” you murmur through a hitched breath, burying your face in his neck.

“M-much better,” he grits out, nuzzling into your temple. His hands rest at your hips, holding you, not guiding. He’s letting you take from him whatever you want.

And you do.

There’s a desire to tease him more, but you know what he needs from you. He wants you to pry control and decision-making from his hands and make him feel safe. He wants to be nearly brain-dead with just the thought, the smell, the feel of you. So you hold him close as minutes stretch on, whispering soft praises here and there, dusting any skin you can reach with kisses.

Eventually, your patience wears thin— he feels too good inside you, but it’s not enough. It’s like scratching an itch with dull nails, like soothing an ache that can’t be satisfied.

You start a lazy but steady rock against him, pressing the tip of him firmly against the most sensitive spot inside you. Joaquin’s breath quickens but he stays quiet and still, letting you take what you want from him. Just a few minutes of this— you fucking him like this— and you’ll fall over the edge, but this isn’t just about you.

“Think you can cum like this for me? Or does baby boy need some help?”

“Can I touch you, hermosa? It’ll help,” he asks, guiding your head an inch so that his gaze can meet yours. He’s completely under your spell, his eyes glazed over with restlessness. With need.

You break for him, ready to let him have whatever he needs.

“Sure, baby, touch me,” you agree easily, sitting back more firmly on your heels so that you have a better position to rock against him.

One of his hands finds the hem of your shirt, eagerly skimming up your skin to knead and caress your breast. The other takes an opposite path, forgoing the waistband of your panties to play with your clit.

Now your breath goes shallow, your hips bucking more quickly as his hands and cock serve you just the way you want them to. The sight of you alone— lips parted, half-naked, consuming him has him nearing his orgasm.

“Kiss me, mi vida. Please,” he begs, and you feel the way he tightens his muscles further beneath you, trying to resist the urge to fuck you back.

You close the gap between you, taking his lip between your teeth. “¿Ya no puedes más, cariño?”

“No,” he nearly whimpers, trying to pry his lip from your grip so that he can kiss you.

“Patience, I’ll kiss you, but when I’m close. Understand?”

Joaquin is tortured, you can see the resolve he’s been holding onto fading in his eyes but he nods, all of him growing still but his working hands.

He doesn’t know it, but you’re close too, barely holding on. You have less than a minute, you can feel it in the way you start to clench around his cock. You know that Joaquin can feel it too, but he continues to be a good boy for you, plucking at your nipples and clit.

You don’t give him a warning when your high washes over him, you just crush your mouth to his, groaning into the wetness as wave after wave of ecstasy floods your system.

It’s his undoing and he mirrors you, whimpering against your tongue as he fills you to the brim. It’s warm, comforting, and exactly what you both needed.

When you pull away, Joaquin is as out of it as ever, his head falling back against the cushions once more. You run your hands up and down his bare chest, planting soft, alternating kisses on his cheeks.

“¿Estás bien, amorcito?” you ask him gently, snuggling into his arms.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs dreamily, his fingers grazing over your skin absentmindedly as he starts to drift.

You smile softly at his words, feeling a rush of warmth in your chest. But then—your thoughts go back to the pizza.

“Hey,” you murmur, shifting so you’re looking down at him. “Don’t forget about the pizza, cariño.”

His eyes flutter open, still hazy from the pleasure, but there’s a playful glint in his gaze. “How could I?” he whispers, pulling you closer into his arms. “But I’m good here…we can always eat later.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “No way. We’ve got pizza, and I’m not letting you fall asleep on me just yet.”

Joaquin groans but grins up at you. “Alright, alright. You win, mi amor.”

“Damn right I do,” you tease, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

nsfw joaquin taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @glader13, @how2besalty, @happypopcornprincess, @hiireadstuffsometimes, @lisiliely, @spider-steve, @nolita-fairytale, @hrlzy, @faretheeoscar, @giuliahowlett, @abriefnirvana, @fanboyswhore9 , @sidkneeeee, @sophreakingfunny, @heartbreakgirlism, @peachyxlynch, @lomlbuckybarnes, @a-randomscrub, @ajcs150, @glimodejun

[ex0rin]

Oh, but you do like green, though, right? (x)

[sunsburns]

plz expand on the subtle soft launch with Joaquin. kicking my feet and twirling my hair at the thought after reading the tags

listenn because you're over here trying to be super suave and cutesy about your relationship, and since you guys are avengers it's safe you say you both have a good number of followers on your socials. so you're trying to have mysterious, private, but not secret kinda love. like these pics:

and then there's joaquín, the sweet guy, doesn't really get the gist of 'soft launching' so he straight up posts whatever he wants and swears it's fine because "no one can tell it's you, babe," even tho he literally tags you 😶

[risrambles]

the sambucky fans’ holy trinity rn: sam wilson, bucky barnes, and joaquin torres

[lanasgirlfr]

⚠️‼️ CAPTAIN AMERICA BRAVE NEW WORLD SPOILERS ‼️⚠️

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.FUCK HE'S SO BEAUTIFUL OMG

[likeakiss]

Are you happy in your current relationship?

"That's a stupid fuckin' question. Do I look like the sort of bloke that would stay with someone if I wasn't happy?"

And it isn't that Joaquin's unhappy with Marisol - she's beautiful, young, and unspoiled in a way that many of the people he deals with aren't. Her innocence allows him to get away with a great deal, all while reaping the benefits that come from having someone to turn to at the end of a long day, and that isn't nothing.

That being said, she's very different from anyone else he's been with for any significant length of time. All the other lovers he's had would just as soon slit his throat as suck his cock, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss the excitement. In that regard, she'll never be able to completely satisfy him - she's just too soft.

[thehermitsacedia]

Le sang coule à longs flots de sa poitrine ouverte ; En vain il a des mers fouillé la profondeur ; L'océan était vide et la plage déserte ; Pour toute nourriture il apporte son cœur. […] Et, regardant couler sa sanglante mamelle, Sur son festin de mort il s'affaisse et chancelle, Ivre de volupté, de tendresse et d'horreur.

The blood runs in slow waves from his open chest In vain has he plumbed the depths of the seas The Ocean is empty and the shore deserted To provide food for all he offers his heart. […] And, watching his bloody breast drop On his death-feast he sinks and staggers Drunk on pleasure, on tenderness and horror.

-Alfred de Musset, La Nuit de Mai

[chronic-hyperfixator]

WLW music goes so hard. Us girl kissers know how to make fucking good music! Half of my playlist is WLW music because it is just so fucking amazing!!!

[ex0rin]

like i'm not even kidding you, i went and watched cap 4 for s second time just for joaquin and sam. dont even get me started on all my reposts of joaquin edits on tiktok 😭 i need him BIBLICALLY. such a pretty boy, lowkey has a ego tho but its hot

HIGH KEY has an ego (it's very hot) and needs to be taken down a couple pegs, though, they do pretty much handle this by the end of the movie haha - i watched it the first time and was like: i can't believe i was right about his bratty-ass character 😂

we LOVE Joaquin and Sam in this houuuuuse, they're so so cute together and i'm very into the annoying little brother vibe Joaquin gives off every time they're in a scene together (will i move on and start proper shipping samquin with a side of hero worship, like maybe but we'll see)

look at these babies can you BELIEVE

also Isaiah clocking him as a pretty boy the first time he saw him was too real, i'm right there with you my guy 😌

[jinxed-thylacine]

these two being portrayed by the same guy will never not be funny to me

[buckys-sam]

something something about the winter soldier being woken up through the decades for missions meant he would have been exposed to the world changing more gradually (than say Steve who just popped out of the ice) so he wouldn't have had such a hard time adjusting but also... exposure to music of different decades while he was 'awake' and maybe sometimes Bucky hears a song on the radio playing that might trigger something - a memory or a moment, generally not always pleasant - but Bucky playing or focusing on these popular hits with Sam or their friends to overlay positive associations to them instead-

All that to say imagine Bucky and Sam road trip and car-eoke and Bucky really getting into belting out the classics lol

[polktd]

all i'm saying is after captain america: brave new world i BETTER be seeing more joaquin torres content

[brittnicki]

Was watching a movie where two of the characters were together but trying to keep it quiet but everyone knew and his landlord calling them out. Then I was thinking of idea of sneaking around with Joaquin and thinking yall are so good at hiding it for not until getting called out by Sam about it bc it’s so very obvious I love those tropes idk why