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astraljedi · 16 hours ago

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Sexo Virtual (Miss American - Joaquin Torres)

President's Daughter AU Series | Joaquin Torres x Female Reader

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, MDNI, 18+ only, mention of period symptoms (vomiting, nausea, cramps), fluff, yearning and long distance relationship. Word Count: 2.9K Song: Sexo Virtual by Rauw Alejandro A/N: Finally updated Miss Americana! This has been sitting in my drafts for a week now. Reblog, let me know what you think and ENJOY! Masterlist | Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | _

Chief of Shade Podcast DM from Anon says: Any updates on the first daughter? They just announced she's going to be a speaker in one of the biggest tech conventions early next year. Is this her starting her father's re-election campaign? Congrats to Miss Americana for nailing a gig like that! Though, I don't believe this is part of a re-election campaign. But I do have an update on what's going on with her dating life. My sources allegedly say she was seen having a private dinner date at "Emerald" a few months ago. Is the president's daughter dating or was this a casual friend dinner? -

FACETIME CALL May 3rd Duration: 3:42:16 Connected – 6:08 PM EST

“Why are you cubing your chicken so small?” Joaquin scrunches his nose, his face closer on my phone screen as he watches me cube my chicken through his.

“Because I need every piece to be equally small and slightly overcooked so I don’t gag at the thought of eating chicken,” I say, trying to keep my eyes on the cutting board and not on my shirtless more-than-a-friend guy as he rocks his ribbed body for me through the small screen. His sweatpants hang low, his curly hair a little damp from the shower he took before we jumped on the call.

It’s unfair to have him like this, miles away from me.

“What?” he asks, still confused. I watch him toss the whole chicken breast into his pan, and the sound of searing fills the room. He readjusts his phone, setting me behind his kitchen sink. I forget about my knife and rest it on the edge of the board, my eyes following the flex of his biceps as he rinses his dishes.

“If I’m cooking chicken, I need to have it in little pieces because the thought of it being even slightly undercooked I will not eat it,” I try to explain, tossing the tiny pieces into the hot pan. I can barely hear him laughing through my AirPods—the searing from his pan almost mutes him. “Hey, don’t laugh at me. And turn down the heat, you’re going to burn your butter.”

“Yes, chef,” he chuckles, actually turning off the stove. “If our cooking date over FaceTime has you this bossy, I don’t want to imagine our actual cooking date when we see each other.”

“As long as you cube my chicken into small pieces, we’ll be fine.”

“Oh, baby. I’ll cube your chicken however you want if it means I get to see you like this every time,” he says, a low growl. I blush, my hand flying up unconsciously to fix the skinny strap of my crop top.

Did I throw on the tiniest top and shorts on purpose? Yeah. Am I still blushing like a schoolgirl when he notices? Of course.

I let the chicken sizzle on medium heat and turn off the burner under the pot of pasta. “As long as you bring those low-rise sweatpants, we have a deal.” I wink at him, purposely not adjusting the phone’s angle. I walk out of view with the pan of cooked pasta toward the sink behind me.

I look over my shoulder as I drain the pasta water, catching Joaquin’s eyes practically falling out as he gets a full view of my ass. My tiny shorts barely cover my cheeks.

“Fuck,” I hear him mutter under his breath, and I laugh.

God, I love our FaceTime dinner dates—but I’d rather have him here.

FACETIME CALL May 27th Duration: 00:08:34 Connected – 1:45 PM EST

The familiar FaceTime tone rings through my AirPods, letting me know our call has connected.

“Babe, are you still working on that proposal?” Joaquin asks, resting me somewhere on his desk while sitting down in his office chair.

He was coming back from his lunch break—something I didn’t fully take on my part.

“Yeah,” I sigh. “We start pitching this new, amazing tech to our investors in a few days, and I just want it to be perfect.”

“Did you finish your lunch?” Joaquin eyes me, raising a brow. I glance at my half-eaten Caesar wrap salad in its to-go container, long forgotten on the other side of my desk. I don’t even have to answer—he already knows I completely skipped my lunch break.

“You have to eat something. You can't rely just on your coffee to get through the workload.”

“I also have my water,” I try to be cute, showing him the light pink water jug on camera. He tries to be serious for a second, but he breaks easily, his bright smile tugging at my heart.

“But I’m definitely planning on ordering a huge dinner once I get back home.”

“Good girl,” he smirks, typing away on his keyboard. “What are you ordering?”

“Remember the tacos you brought me last month? I’ve been craving them this whole week. Oh! And the ice cream with fresh churros and the Nutella dip.”

My stomach growls just at the thought of dinner.

Joaquin’s moan fills my ear, and I bring my knees together, forcing them shut as I try to act like that didn’t affect me.

“Those were so good. Now I’m hungry again.”

“Me too,” I laugh, trying to hide how turned on I am.

“I have to call you back—Sam’s calling me.” He leans over his desk, grabbing the phone from where he had it.

“Don’t worry, duty calls.” I smile, blowing him a kiss before the call disconnects.

FACETIME CALL June 9th Duration: 01:10:23 Connected – 10:32 PM EST

I grab the beautiful bouquet of white and pink lilies from my bedside table and place them on my lap carefully. I hold my phone high, trying to get the flowers and my body into frame.

Joaquin had sent me the bouquet congratulating me on a successful pitch, and I just wanted to send him something back—even if he’s overseas on a mission. The time difference has been hell. We haven’t had a real FaceTime call in days, just some short texts here and there.

I open my messages and the app opens on Joaquin’s text thread already. I attach the photo I just took and check it before hitting send, making sure it actually looks good.

You can barely see the white, tiny lace bralette and matching bottoms—the bouquet covering most of my body—but it’s enough to tease him before he starts the day.

iMessage 10:56AM Joaquin: Finally have service 10:58AM Joaquin: I can try and call you before you go to bed. I miss you 11:01AM Me: I miss you too 11:03AM Me: I’ll text you when I get out of the shower Be safe 10:31PM Me: *Attached Picture* Thank you for the flowers

I place the bouquet back on the nightstand and jump into bed, waiting to see if he replies. Not even a minute later, my phone starts ringing. I smile, my head sinking into my pillow as I answer.

His face pops up immediately—bare chest in frame, a light glow coming from his bedside table. His hair is messy and his dog tags stick to his skin. Ever since I saw them for the first time, the idea of pulling him down to kiss me by the metal chain haunts me day and night when we talk or when he sends photos.

“Hi baby,”

“You’re going to drive me insane,” He groans, setting his phone on the nightstand. I stare at his naked torso, the rest of his lower body hidden under his bedding. I don’t even try to hide that I’m staring, I let my eyes trail along his body.

“I just wanted to thank you for the flowers.” I say innocently, resting my back against the headboard. I position my phone at the perfect angle, chest in frame just a little to tease. “You didn’t like the photo?”

“Fuck, no. It’s my new favorite photo.” He reassures me, voice low. “Jesus, the things I would do to you if I was there.” He runs a hand down his face, groaning.

“Tell me,” I breathe, my body already reacting. “If you were here, how would you touch me?”

I test the waters, something we’ve been doing back and forth, but in person, we haven’t gone further than makeouts, touching and grinding. But, this is something new. This is untouched territory in our relationship.

“Shit, baby” Joaquin shifts, the hand on his chest disappearing out of frame. “Since you love being a tease, I’d start slow.”

I place my phone on the nightstand, resting it against the flower vase.

“I’d pin you down to that bed, kissing every inch of your neck while my hands cup your breast.” Joaquin’s eyes follow my movements. I copy his instructions, guiding my fingers from my neck to my breast. “And with my teeth, I’d slide that thin lace off your nipples and then swirl my tongue over them.”

I free my breast and cup it with my palm, imagining his mouth in place of my fingers. “Joaquin.” I breathe, pinching my nipple just enough to send my hips jolting up from the contact.

I watch him spit into his palm, his phone at a perfect angle to show me everything. He slides his sweats down, freeing his straining cock, leaving me gawking at his size.

I’ve felt it pressed against me before, but seeing it now? I press my thighs together instinctively.

“No, open those legs for me.” He demands, letting his cock slap against his stomach.

“Still with me?” He asks and I nod, forcing my legs apart.

“I’d slip my fingers down, pull the lace aside, and circle your clit” he continues.

The softest exhale escapes me as I follow his instructions, middle finger grazing and circling, my fingers soaked with my arousal.

“Hey—slow,” he warns. “You follow my orders, or I’ll stop.”

I whine, but nod. “Please,” I beg.

“The way I’d already be lost between your legs,” Joaquin went on. “Kissing your thighs, fingers coated in how wet you are. So wet, I could slide two fingers in and let you suck me deep.”

My eyes flutter shut as I slide two fingers in, the sound of his commanding voice nearly enough to send me over the edge.

“Fuck, I’m so wet, baby.”

Joaquin groans, his jaw tightening. “Don’t rush it. Let yourself feel it—curl those fingers, baby. Tell me what you feel.”

“Fuck,” I whimper. “It feels so good—I need more.”

“What do you need?” He says through gritted teeth.

“You. I need your hands holding me open, your cock filling me up. I’d let you take me any way you want.”

“I need your eyes on me,” he adds, breathless. “I need you to see what you do to me, even miles away.”

I force my eyes open and moan at the sight of him. His hand around his cock, biceps and shoulders flexing, dog tags stuck to his skin and glimmering under the light—nearly makes me cum on the spot.

“Fuck, I bet you’d ride my fingers so good.” Joaquin pants. “I can’t wait to taste you. Make you cum with my tongue, fingers and cock until I have your legs shaking.”

I bite my lip, and force myself to choke down my cry as I rock my fingers faster. My other hand reaches for my clit, circling the little nub.

“You sound so pretty like this,” he groans. “Desperate to cum. Aching for my cock to stretch you out.”

I spread wider, pressing deeper, harder—nearly knuckles deep— as my back arches into the pillows.

“Joaquin, I’m close.” My thighs tremble, heat spreads through my body. I squirm, desperate as my hips try to meet with my own thrust.

“I need you,” I gasp. “I need your hands, your mouth—fuck, I need your cock, Joaquin.”

“Fuck, say my name again,” he pants.

“Joaquin. Joaquin—” My voice breaks as I tremble, trying to keep my legs spread. Tears burning the corner of my eyes.

“I’ve got you, baby. Let go for me.”

And I do.

The white-hot wave crashes through me, and I cry out, letting it take over me. “Fuck, fuck.” I keep my eyes on him as his fist tightens around his cock. I whimper, feeling my walls flutter around my fingers.

“You did so good for me, baby,” he groans, breath catching. “So fucking good.”

I watch the twitch of his muscles, his mouth falling open as he spills over, gasping my name, eyes on me.

We stay quiet for a moment, just breathing but never looking away. Not even for a second.

“Are you okay?” he asks, still a little breathless.

I nod. What are words? Cause I don’t know any at the moment.

Shit, that was hot.

“I need to hear you baby, I can’t go on with my day without hearing you say it.”

“Fuck,” I rasp, smiling sleepily. “I’m more than okay.” I rest my hand on my chest, my breath calming down.

He laughs softly, leaning forward to grab his phone. “I miss you. I’m counting down the days until I’m done here.”

“I miss you too,” I sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed. “How much longer are we going to be this far apart?”

“Not much, I promise.” Joaquin gets up from his small bed, dog tags clicking as he moves around the small room. I watch him slide a pair of boxers, then his cargo pants.

I walk to the bathroom, resting my phone on the vanity. “Did you get some sleep at least?”

“Not much. It’s hot and the bed is uncomfortable. My shoulders ache from training and from the bed.” Joaquin rubs his shoulder, trying to get rid of the tension bothering him.

“I’m so–”

“Torres.” A loud bang cuts me off from Joaquin’s side of the line. “We need you out here. Now.”

“I’m coming!” He yells back, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll call you later, get some rest, baby.” He rushes, slipping his boots.

“It’s okay, stay safe.” I managed to say, right before the call disconnected.

FACETIME CALL June 22 Duration: 05:33:45 Connected – 06:04 AM EST

The bathroom tiles feel cold against my hot sweaty skin as I sit in front of the toilet. I’ve been awake since four in the morning—puking, dizzy and struggling with awful period cramps.

I lean my back on the wall, closing my eyes while I try to steady my breathing and push down the nausea. My phone vibrates next to me, Joaquin’s contact picture lighting up the screen. My fingers hover over the phone. Do I really want him to see me like this?

But we haven’t talked in days, he’s been having a hard time with the wifi at the base he’s currently at.

Just as I slide my finger to answer, the awful wave of nausea creeps up from my stomach. I hurl into the toilet, gripping the bowl, leaving my phone unattended.

“Why am I looking at your ceilin—baby, are you sick? What’s going on?” I hear his worried voice through the speaker, but I can’t respond. Not when my gut is twisting inside me as I try to breathe through it.

I wipe my mouth with a towel, then grab the phone off the floor and settle back into my spot.

“Hi,” I whisper.

“Do I need to call someone? What’s wrong?” Joaquin’s face is pinched with concern. He looks like he’s ready to jump through the screen. He looks too cute when his worried forehead lines show up.

“I already told Carmen I’m not going into work today,” I say, my voice rough. “Just a bad period episode, that’s all.” I push the sweaty strands of hair from my face, trying to summon the strength to crawl back to bed.

“Does this usually happen?”

“No,” I admit. “But I think it’s the IUD I got earlier this week.”

I’d had the appointment, something I’d been meaning to do since our last FaceTime—but I hadn’t mentioned that it was for an IUD.

“You didn’t tell me you were getting it. I mean, you don’t have to, it’s totally your choice—but are the side effects supposed to be this bad?”

I chuckle as I listen to him ramble over the phone.

“I didn’t tell you because I did it just in case,” I shared. “Especially after our last few FaceTime calls.”

Joaquin blushes, cheeks and even the tips of his ears turn a cute shade of red. He scratches the back of his neck, but he doesn’t look away.

“I’m going to bed,” I sigh. “I already called off work.”

I stand up slowly, my hand braced against the wall for support. The nausea has passed, but my head still feels heavy, and the dizziness lingers.

“I hate not being able to be there,” he murmurs, his voice gentle. “I’d rub your back, grab the heating pad, feed you comfort food, run you a hot bath—whatever would help.”

“Hearing your voice helps.”

I lie down in bed, grabbing the heating pad and pulling the bed sheets over my body. I rest the phone on the nightstand, finally looking at him better.

Joaquin is in bed, shirtless, wearing only his cargo pants. He looks handsome, even with his messy hair, his tired eyes and the small constellation of moles on his face.

“You should go to sleep, handsome.” I yawn, rubbing my eyes.

“I don’t have to hang up. We can sleep together, baby—fall asleep together.” He yawns too, his free hand resting on his chest.

“I miss you so much.” I mumble, sleep already pulling me under.

“Descansa, mi amor. Te extraño mucho más.”

It’s the last thing I hear, his soft voice echoing through the phone, before darkness takes over.

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astraljedi · 2 days ago

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Begin Again (Miss Americana - Joaquin Torres)

President's Daughter AU Series | Joaquin Torres x Female Reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, light language, emotional vulnerability, brief injury mention (past trauma), soft angst

Word Count: 3.5K

Song: Begin Again by Taylor Swift

A/N: I decided to add a little something before every part, something like a little gossip podcast/social media account just for fun and to keep things interesting. Also, I read the lorax for this part specifically and I haven't read that book in YEARS HAHAHA. Masterlist | Prologue | Part 1 |

- Chief of Shade Podcast DM from Anon says: A journalist friend told me Miss Americana was spotted a few weeks ago at the White House gala—dancing all night with some guy, looking pretty close and laughing. Do you have an idea of who it was? Well, anon, I’ve gotten a few messages saying the night was definitely eventful for the First Daughter. I might have a guess who it is, but I’m not jumping to conclusions just yet. Let’s wait and see.

Spring in D.C. is gorgeous.

The light pink shade of cherry blossoms flourishes, the air is crisp, and the sun beams alone in the blue sky—no cloud overshadowing the golden star.

The White House garden is even prettier, this season already showing off the flowers blooming in the colors of the rainbow. I take in my surroundings as I sit on the fresh green grass, legs crossed, surrounded by a group of seven- and eight-year-olds dressed up from our medieval lunch party.

Today’s agenda started with one of my favorite pastimes—hosting an event for the foster group organization I work with. The goal is to get the kids out for a day, teach them a little about the environment, and let them just be kids through fun activities. It’s a small group today; they've gotten smaller over the months, which is a good thing. They're finding loving families.

Halle, a bright seven-year-old, sits on my lap with her head resting on my shoulder, her eyes slowly shutting as we’re halfway through The Lorax. I lower my voice, imitating the Once-ler, causing the kids to laugh. And I try to shove my own giggles down, staying in character for the rest of the story.

The White House doesn’t always let me host events like this here, but this weather was too perfect to waste. A beautiful spring day like this needed to be spent in the garden while reading with the kids.

“Grow a forest. Protect it from axes that hack. Then the Lorax and all of his friends may come back.”

I close the hardcover book and set it on the ground. “What did you think of the story?” I ask, brushing Halle’s hair out of her sleeping face.

“Are the trees real?” Dean asks, glancing around the garden like he’s searching for them and I smile.

“I wish. They’re so colorful and fun to look at. But we have our own and different kinds of trees all over the world. Trees are important because they give us shade, oxygen, and fruit; and they’re home to so many animals.”

“Like monkeys?!” Wes perks up.

“That’s right, Wes,” I chuckle. “Monkeys, birds, and all sorts of animals need trees to survive. We may not live in them, but we still need them to keep the environment safe and healthy. So it’s our job to protect them an—”

The kids gasp, eyes wide.

“That’s Captain America!” Wes says, pointing behind me, his face lighting up.

Halle stirs on my lap, eyes fluttering open at the name.

I glance over my shoulder and sure enough, the President walks beside Sam, who’s dressed in a navy suit and headed straight toward us. I smile at the sight of them, the kids are going to love Sam and—no, this can’t be happening right now.

My eyes drift to the strong-framed body walking next to Sam, his laugh echoing through the garden, and my heart forgets to function properly for more than a second.

Joaquin.

Aviators cover his rich brown eyes, the same eyes I spent an entire evening staring into a month ago and haven’t stopped thinking about since. He looked good at the gala, but this version: sunkissed, casual with his shirt sleeves rolled up? It makes my heart practically jump out of my chest and take off running across the White House lawn.

My cheeks heat up and my palms begin to sweat. I can’t help but think of the clipped photo of him in uniform that I’ve stared at for hours after Carmen handed me the navy file.

But I wasn’t expecting to see him again. Especially not like this and not today.

I gently help Halle up before rising myself, smoothing out my dress with shaking, sweaty hands.

“I hope we’re not interrupting,” the President says warmly. “I just wanted to stop by and say hello with some friends for our special guests today.” He wraps an arm around my shoulder and presses a kiss to my temple.

“The more the merrier,” I chuckle nervously. My eyes find Carmen, who is doing a terrible job hiding the smug grin on her lips.

She knew.

“Hi, Sam,” I say, giving him a quick hug as my dad moves to greet each kid.

“I like your crown,” Sam laughs, nodding at the flimsy gold piece on my head—something I completely forgot about. Shit.

“We had a medieval party for lunch,” I say, shrugging off the crown and placing it on Halle’s head as she pops up beside me. Her small hands grip my waist, hiding behind me, too shy to face Sam. “Captain, I want you to meet my friend, Halle.”

She steps forward just a bit, still clinging to my dress.

“Hi, Halle. It’s nice to meet you,” Sam says, crouching to her level and offering his hand.

Instead of shaking it, Halle giggles and throws her arms around his neck in a hug. Sam laughs, nearly losing his balance.

“Let’s play! I want to show you my castle!” she exclaims, tugging him toward the cardboard castle setup.

I snort a laugh, biting my nail, trying to hide the smile as I watch Halle break out of her shell. I step back to give them space, but I bump into Joaquin, not realizing he was closer than I thought. I inhale, my eyes fluttering close when the familiar touch lands on my back, steadying me.

“Sorry,” I murmur, looking everywhere but at him. The birds are signing, the mix of children laughing and screaming echoes the usually quiet garden.

Joaquin and I stand there awkwardly, watching the chaos of knights and dragons unfold before us. Sam wields a tiny plastic shield as he protects Halle from two roaring “dragons” trying to storm her cardboard castle.

I laugh, watching my dad join the group playing as a knight.

“Joaquin,” I say, testing the waters. “It’s a beautiful day, right?” I immediately cringe inside. The weather? Really?

I’ve spent weeks imagining our next conversation, rehearsing a dozen different scenarios. And I start with the damn weather?

“It’s nice,” Joaquin says, smirking. “You organized this for the kids?”

“We usually go to an interactive museum, a park or a library. But the weather has been so nice this season that I managed to persuade them to let me do it here.” I say, scooting closer to him. “It’s the one thing I’m always looking forward to doing with the organization I work with, but sometimes I wish I could do more for them.”

“Even if it's for a few hours, it’s a memory they will take with them forever. Especially today, nothing tops playing dragons and knights with Captain America to save the princess.” He says.

I laugh and agree.

“The night at the gala was nice, too,” I change the subject. I look at him and immediately regret it. He lifts his aviators off his eyes and our gazes lock.

“It was,” he says, his smile growing. “Then you had to leave me stranded in the middle of the dance floor.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could’ve stayed.”

“No worries. You had First Daughter duties.” He shrugs. “Didn’t think you’d remember me.”

“Joaquin,” I say, stepping closer. Our shoulders brush, and I feel him tense, though he doesn’t move away. “Trust me, that night, that dance, you—are embedded in my brain permanently.”

“So I’m not a fool for not being able to stop thinking about you, the President’s daughter?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we’re both fools.” I smile.

“I’ve never done this. I’m not someone who makes the first move or any move, really. But if you want, my agent can give you my secure line. Because I haven’t stopped beating myself up for not doing this that night. And I’d really like to see you again. if that’s something you want.”

“One month and you’re already turning rebellious.” Hee chuckles, shaking his head a little.

“Back up! Where’s my backup, Torres?” Sam yells from the castle setup. The kids have taken Halle hostage, and Sam is on his knees, trying to “save” her from the knight’s lair. “The princess has been captured!”

“Duty calls,” Joaquin says, mimicking the words I told him that night. I laugh and watch him take off, joining Sam in the medieval chaos.

iMessage 8:42PM Joaquin:Hey 8:45PM Joaquin:When can I see you again?

The moment Joaquin texted me a week ago, Carmen and I screamed at the top of our lungs when my phone chimed later that night. It was such a relief that I hadn’t made a complete fool of myself by basically admitting I hadn’t stopped thinking about him, all after one night of us dancing.

I stare at my reflection in the tall mirror in my living room. The short navy dress hugs my waist perfectly, and the cropped cream cardigan matches the cream lining of the dress. From what Joaquin told me, tonight is supposed to be quiet and private, something I didn’t think he’d actually be able to pull off.

I glance at the clock on the wall, my stomach twisting with nerves as the seconds tick by. Then, a knock at the door pulls me out of thoughts. I straighten my posture and walk to the door, my heels clacking against the wooden floor.

“Hey,” Joaquin says, a little breathless. His hair is slicked back, just like it was the night of the gala, and he’s holding a stunning bouquet of white tulips and pinkish lilies close to his chest. “I’m a few minutes early, I thought getting through your security would’ve taken longer.”

Usually, I have to give Carmen and the rest of the agents the full name and contact info of anyone who’s planning to see me. No surprise visits, ever. Everyone who comes up to my apartment has to be cleared. But with Joaquin, I already knew it wouldn’t be a problem. I’d bet anything Carmen cleared him before I even told her about our date.

To be fair, no one ever comes to visit me. Not like this.

“It’s okay, I’m pretty much ready.” I chuckle, a little nervous.

“These are for you.” He hands me the bouquet, and I take them with a smile, stepping aside to let him in.

“Want to come in? I want to put these in water before we leave.” He nods, and I close the door behind us. Joaquin lingers awkwardly near the sofa, his eyes following me as I head to the kitchen.

“These are so beautiful, thank you.” Tulips and lilies—my favorites. I told him that just a few days ago when we FaceTimed for the first time. He was out of town visiting family, but somehow we ended up talking for hours, him lying in his childhood bedroom while I curled up in my bed after a long day of work.

“I remembered,” he says, smiling as he steps farther into the room. “Took note of it when you mentioned it over FaceTime.” His gaze moves to my gallery wall: photos from my university years, my childhood dog, and a portrait of our old house in California. “Is this your old house?”

“Yeah. I took that photo the day we emptied it out before moving to Virginia. I remember being so heartbroken when they finally sold it.” I walk past him and place the vase of flowers on the center of the coffee table.

“What do you miss most about it?”

I grab my purse and step closer. “The huge bay window in the living room. My mom had this massive bookcase built there, and I used to sit on the bench reading while the sunlight streamed in. It was my dog’s favorite sunbathing spot too.” I laugh, remembering the lab mix who used to hog my blankets at night.

I glance at Joaquin—and that’s my first mistake. Because when I turn to him, his eyes are already on me. His hand gently finds the small of my back, pulling me closer.

“Ready?” he asks, leading me toward the door after I nod, my words caught in my throat. The moment he touched me, I was done for.

The whole car ride is silent. Marcus, my usual driver, sits behind the wheel while Carmen rides up front. Joaquin watches the city pass by through the window as I steal glances at his side profile.

He’s wearing a nice white shirt, just one or two buttons undone, paired with dark pants. And God, he even smells good. Even better than the last time we saw each other in the garden.

I didn’t even notice we made a stop and arrived at our destination. Carmen stands by the open door, and Joaquin is already halfway out of the car when he catches me staring. His hand finds mine, pulling me out of my trance.

My cheeks burn. I take his hand as he helps me out of the black-tinted SUV. I glance around—we’re parked in an alleyway—and Carmen opens a door that leads into a building. She walks ahead of us, and another agent follows quietly behind.

Joaquin keeps my hand in his, guiding me through a spotless restaurant kitchen. The scent of food hits me immediately. The smell of something sweet in an oven makes my mouth water. Two chefs stand straight against a metal rack, as if the president himself just walked in.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” I say with a smile. The two chefs blush and mumble their polite greetings.

I look around, but I don’t recognize the restaurant at all. The whole place has been cleared out. Only a single table for two sits in the center, covered in a white tablecloth, set with candles and elegant dinnerware.

Joaquin pulls out a chair for me, and I sit down with a small smile. “How did you manage this?” I whisper, leaning in across the table once he sits down. Carmen gives the room one last look before disappearing to the far corner.

“I have my connections,” he laughs. “No, but really—Sam knows the owner, and I coordinated everything with your security to make sure it went smoothly.”

“Thank you. I don’t think you know how much this means to me.”

His lips part like he’s about to respond, but a waiter steps up beside us.

“Good evening, my name is Sydney and I’ll be serving you tonight. Would you like a moment to look over the menu, or can I get you started with some drinks?”

“I think we can start with some wine, yeah?” Joaquin says, glancing at me over the wine list.

I nod, letting him choose.

After what feels like hours, our plates are almost licked clean, our wine glasses are nearly empty, and the only sounds filling the empty restaurant are our laughter and the low-tempo music.

“You know, that night at the gala, Sam found me after you left,” Joaquin says, holding his glass close to his lips.

“What did he say? That your ballroom dancing needs some cleaning?” I chuckle, setting my now empty glass on the table. Joaquin grabs the bottle from the metal ice bucket beside us and pours the rest into my glass.

“Don’t act like my moves weren’t key to your escape from that old politician,” he mocks, placing the empty bottle back into the ice. “But that night, I was about to go after you until Sam stopped me—told me that if I liked my arm and didn’t want the Secret Service to knock me off my feet, I shouldn’t go after the president’s daughter. That’s when I realized who you were.”

“Does that scare you?”

“No,” he says immediately. “I’ve been shot out of the sky unconscious. Nothing scares me.”

“Joaquin,” I say, my voice laced with concern. I reach for his hand across the table, my thumb tracing the skin along his knuckles. He doesn’t look at me—just stares at our hands.

“I remember seeing the news. I didn’t realize it was you until Carmen mentioned you being the Falcon a while back.”

“Oh, so you talked about me,” he teases, though his eyes stay focused at our hands.

“We don’t have to talk about it. Forget I mentioned anything.” I start to pull my hand away, but he stops me, gently catching it back in his.

“It was rough. I had to go through a lot—physical therapy, training with the new suit, and talking to an actual therapist about going back into service. What happened that day doesn’t define who I am, in or out of the suit. I take it home with me and use it to push myself to become a better Falcon.”

And for the first time, I don’t know what to say to him. I just smile softly and squeeze his hand.

“Does that scare you?” he asks, finally looking at me.

“No,” I admit. “It just makes me admire you even more. It shows your love and dedication for all of it.”

He brings my hand to his lips and presses a kiss to my knuckles, my whole body almost melting onto my seat.

The ride back to my apartment is quiet, but it feels different this time. I’m tucked closer to him, our fingers laced together, my head resting on his shoulder. Carmen glances over her shoulder at one point, catches our joined hands, and smirks before turning back around.

Thankfully, my apartment building has a private garage underneath, which makes sneaking in easier without paparazzi trying to snap a photo. My loft is on the top floor, sharing the floor with only one other tenant I rarely see.

I slide my key into the lock and open the door, but I don’t step inside. Not yet.

“Thank you. I had a lot of fun tonight.”

“Me too. My cheeks hurt from all the laughing,” he admits, one hand on the doorframe, his body hovering close to mine. I could kiss him, no one’s watching. But I’m too paranoid that my neighbor is watching us from the peephole.

Instead, I pull him into the apartment and shut the door behind us, catching him off guard.

“If you’re going to kiss me, I’d rather you do it here,” I whisper, my hands fisting the front of his shirt.

His hands find my waist, his thumbs pressing into my hip bones. He spins me suddenly, and my back hits the door with a soft thud. A gasp escapes me.

I didn’t expect him to push me against the door.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I first saw you tonight,” he murmurs, leaning in. My grip on his shirt loosens, and my fingers trail up his chest until they reach his shoulder.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the moment you pulled me to the dance floor and stepped on my feet.”

“I did not step on your fee—” I don’t get to finish because his lips crash into mine.

My whole body relaxes as I let him take the lead our first kiss. One of my hands squeezes his shoulder, trying to pull him even closer, if that was possible. He cups my jaw, tilting my face just right, and I part my lips for him. His tongue brushes mine, hot but not desperate. He wants to take his time, and I whimper against him, my fingers curling into his hair and tugging him deeper.

When he finally pulls back, he curses under his breath. I whine from the loss, yearning for more. My lips are swollen, my breath uneven. He presses his forehead to mine, still cupping my face like he can’t bear another second of us being apart.

My heart pounds in my ears. When I open my eyes, I find him already looking at me.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, brushing my hair behind my ear.

I lean in, stealing a few more kisses—soft, lingering ones—before I finally force myself to let him go.

“Text me when you get back to your hotel,” I say between kisses. He nods, smiling against my lips.

When I finally pull away, his hair is a mess, his shirt wrinkled, and his lips are parted as he breathes heavily.

God, the look on his face has me fighting the urge to pull him back in. To kiss him until my lungs beg for air. To kiss him until I feel him melt into me and his whimper when I bite his lip.

But I can’t. Not tonight.

I open the door, giving him a flirty smile. “Good night, Joaquin.”

“Good night,” he says, smirking as he steps into the hallway. I close the door behind him and lean back against it, exhaling hard. My fingers hover over my tingling lips as I catch sight of the flowers on my coffee table.

Yeah, I’m fucked.

iMessage 11:22PM Joaquin: Just got to the hotel. That kiss is gonna live in my head until I see you again 11:25PM Joaquin: When can I see you again?

#joaquin torres fanfic #joaquin torres imagines #joaquin torres x female #joaquin torres au #joaquin torres fic #joaquin torres fanfiction #joaquin torres x you #joaquin torres imagine #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres #danny ramirez x you #danny ramirez fic #danny ramirez #astraljedi #joaquin torres blurb #joaquin torres series

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astraljedi · 2 days ago

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A little snack while I write 🍿. I’ve been craving popcorn for DAYSSSS

#astraljedi #i needed popcorn #I’m procrastinating a little #what are words?

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astraljedi · 3 days ago

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UGH SAMEEE

Papasito (Joaquin Torres)

Summary: I saw him across the dance floor and knew—I needed him. And being with him? That's something I'll never recover from. Warnings: explicit sexual content. Oral sex (female recieving), mentions of drinking alcohol, sexual tension, voyeurism (in an alley, but no one sees), Spanglish, dirty talk. Word Count: 2.05K A/N: Oops, I said I wasn't going to write it but I JUST HAD TO. Also, I think this is the first fic I fully incorporate my culture and roots, and I'm so happy with it. I hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think! -

Papacito, ay, que rico tú Te quiero pa' mí, no pa' un ratito

The moment I walked into the bar, my eyes land on him instantly. He stands close to the dance floor—not dancing, just laughing and singing with his group of friends. He looks good, the most handsome in the room in a neat white shirt with a couple of buttons undone, part of his tan chest exposed.

God, and the way his smile glistens under the lights, the way he holds the cup of beer in his veiny hands—the cup looking so small under his grip. The wildfire that spreads through me isn’t from the alcohol running in my system, but from the way his eyes meet mine.

Even from across the bar, those brown eyes almost make my knees buckle. His gaze roams over my body and returns to mine. And I don’t dare look away, lost in a trance.

Our gaze lingers, and I lick my lips, swaying my hips to the rhythm of the song, feeling Gianna behind me doing the same. I throw my head back, letting the beat control my moves, running my hand all over my body.

The rush. The need.

It makes me lose my mind for him, spiraling just from one look across the dance floor. I want to feel his body against mine, feel his tight grip on my hips. I want to feel his lips brush over my skin. I need to taste him until it makes me dizzy and then beg for more.

The bar is packed with flowy colorful dresses twirling between linen shirts and a group of tourists trying to learn the steps to basic salsa in one corner. The live band is electric, playing their hearts out under the glowing string lights. It’s salsa night on the back patio, and every Friday, the girls and I never fail to show up in our best colorful dresses and dancing heels to relieve our beautiful culture from back home in the caribbean.

A mural of El Viejo San Juan stretches across one wall—flor de magas, coquis and the colors of my beautiful island and home decorate the other. Behind the bar, a line of Latin American flags hang over the tall liquor shelf, celebrating our cultures all together in one small bar.

I turn, facing Gianna. “Are you going home with the congas guy?”

“I might. Are you eyeing someone?” Gianna smirks, taking a sip of her mojito.

I nod, scanning the crowd. “Where’s Casey?”

“She went to make out with that girl she bumped into earlier.” Gianna tips her chin toward the bar. I spot Casey’s pixie-cut jet-black hair, tangled up with said girl from earlier.

“Do you have your location on?”

“Always,” I take a sip of my drink, more for courage than thirst. “Tell them to play something hot y con mucha pasión.” I wink at her, smacking her ass as she makes her way toward the small stage. She looks back, blowing me a kiss before the lead singer helps her up stage.

The space around me crowds the moment Gianna leaves, more bodies joining the packed and hot dance floor. I move through the crowd, my way to brown eyes, getting closer to those hypnotizing brown eyes, unaware of me closing in on him. His back is still to me, just a few feet away when the band changes to a sultry, sensual rhythm. The crowd lights up, people cheer and scream excited.

I glance at the stage, Gianna flashes me a thumbs-up as she settles close to the congas on stage.

Never underestimate Gianna. Ever.

The familiar buzz spreads through my veins. The ache in my feet from the heels fades under the adrenaline rush.My heart drums in my ears, beating fast against my chest with the hum of the congas and bongos on the stage.

I bump my body into his side—accidentally.

I saw you there looking so good tonight

I swear to God, I'm dying to kiss you

The music is perfect, sensual, dirty y apasionada. The gritty and soulful voice of the lead singer takes me back home, the fiery and fast paced rhythm has my body gliding and moving effortlessly, melting with the velvety music.

I feel him turn, his hand lands on my waist, and he spins me around to face him. Then he grabs my hand, interlacing our fingers as the hand on my waist slides down to my lower back, pulling me close to him.

Our noses brush, my hand slips to the back of his head, fingers diving into his dark curls. Up close, he smells good—dangerously delicious, so good I want to drown in it. My eyes nearly roll back when I feel his cheek graze my temple, the heat of his body pressed to mine as he leads the dance.

“Where have you been all night?” he growls in my ear.

“I’ve been looking at you,” I say over the music. “Trying to get you close.” My name slips from my lips, brushing against his jaw.

“Joaquin.” I feel the warmth of his breath on my neck, his hand now on my lower hips, guiding me exactly how he wants. I’m already his, ready to be used, handled.

I would let his biceps crush me. No. I would beg him to do it.

It doesn’t feel like much time has passed. We stay on the dancefloor, teasing each other, moving to the intimate songs the band plays, no space between our bodies as we dance across the floor. His hands stay low and hot on my body, my fingers still tangled in his hair. Joaquin’s lips linger near my ear, singing the lyrics like a prayer—like a promise of what he plans to do to me.

I cradle his jaw with one hand, our lips hovering close but neither of us move to close the gap. Joaquin spins me, pulling my back into his chest, switching our positions. His face nuzzles into my neck, and he smooths his hands slowly down my arms, somehow still leading the dance with ease and in control.

I bite my lip, fighting back a whimper as his breath heats my skin. His nose brushes down the curve of my neck to my shoulder, where he leaves quick, wet kisses before trailing lower along my spine. My whole body shivers as his palms settle low on my hips, guiding them side to side matching the rhythm while I glide my arms through the melody.

I look over my shoulder, watching him stare as my hips move under his control effortlessly.

He straightens behind me, chest pressing to my back as his palms graze my skin, and I feel the hard strain in his pants against my ass. I arch into him, lips parted as his breath hits my ear.

“You trust me?” His voice is rough, like he’s barely holding on.

I nod. Not a single scared bone in my body. Not with him. He takes my hand and pulls me off the dance floor. My stomach twists with anticipation as we pass groups of people, stumbling towards the back of the bar. He pushes the side door open, the music fading behind us as the squeaky door shuts, leaving us in the soft dim narrow alley.

The cold air brushes my skin, the red mini dress I’m wearing barely covers my chest or thighs—but that’s the last thing I care about. Joaquin crashes his mouth onto mine and I moan, melting into the kiss instantly. His tongue slips between my parted lips, taking ownership of me.

Joaquin cages me between his body and the brick wall, one firm hand gripping the side of my neck while the other hooks under my thigh, raising my leg over his hip. I tangle my fingers into his curls, pushing him closer with the leg I’ve wrapped around him.

“Fuck, mami.” he mutters, dragging his lips from my jaw down to my neck. His teeth graze the skin before pressing slow, wet kisses on my burning skin.

I laugh, breathless. “Ay, papasito, qué rico.”

Joaquin kisses his way down to my cleavage, then pauses to look up at me. “Papasito?” He grins.

“¿Quieres que te llame por otro nombre?” I play with his curls, looking down at him. Joaquin licks his lips. He places a firm hand on the side of my thigh, squeezing hard until I gasp.

“No,” he says, resting his cheek against my cold breast. “Tú me puedes llamar como tú quieras, mami.”

Then he bites down on the swell of my breast, his tongue flattening over the mark he just made. I tug on his curls, the air escaping out off my lungs as I watch him sink to his knees in front of me.

He hooks my leg over his shoulder, bunching up the material of my dress, exposing the black lace thong I wore underneath.

Joaquin growls, nose brushing against my soaked center as he inhales, like he’s memorizing this moment. A whimper escapes my lips, heat flooding my entire body.

His eyes darken full of lust and desire. Joaquin pushes the lace aside, and the cool air hits my exposed sex. I’m already trembling, and he’s barely touched me.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me.” He growls, spreading me wider before crashing his mouth into my folds. I moan loudly, throwing my head back to the rough brick wall, his tongue sucking on my clit without mercy.

I yank his curl, rough, showing him how I like it. He picks up the pace quick, fingers pressing and teasing my soaked entrance. I part my lips, feeling him ease two fingers inside, stretching me open as his tongue sucks relentlessly on my clit.

“Ay, amor.” I whimper, his fingers curling up into that sweet, perfect spot that makes me tremble. I grind down on his face, chasing the pleasure building up rapidly. His fingers press deeper and harder, knuckles deep. I arch my back, the coil inside me desperate to snap.

“I’m so close—fuck, Joaquin.” I chant his name, my voice echoing in the alley, not caring if someone hears me. My skin is on fire, sweat sticking to my body.

Joaquin grips my hips hard, fingers digging into my skin roughly, but I didn’t care.

I want to have his hands dented onto my skin, a souvenir, a savored memory. There’s no way I’m letting this man go. I’m not letting this be another one night stand.

I glance down at him, watching him devouring me like a starving man. His eyes flick up to meet mine and my walls clench tight around his fingers. Joaquin chuckles, the low vibrations from his laugh sending me right over the edge as he watches me.

I fall apart, crying out his name. My body jerks as the hot wave of my orgasm crashes through me. My vision blurs, his face stays buried in me, tongue lapping every drop of my release as soft, overstimulated moans escape my lips.

Joaquin pants against my skin, resting his cheek on my thigh that’s on his shoulder. “I just discovered my new addiction.” He breathes, pressing a tender kiss to the inside of my thigh.

He gently lowers my shaking leg off his shoulder, hands sliding up my body as he stands up from the concrete. It’s like he can’t fathom a second without touching me. I rest my forehead on his chest, trying to catch my breath.

“No rehab can help me,” he murmurs. “Let me stay addicted to those desperate, pretty whimpers and moans you make when I have you coming on my tongue.” He presses his hard length against me, and I whimper, already aching for more. “Tu mirada es una que nunca quiero olvidar. No hay cura para superarte.”

“Then don’t.” I grin, grabbing his jaw in my palm. “I want you—and not just for a little while.”

I pull him in, our mouths crashing together again as his hand tangles in my hair. My other hand slips down between us, palming the thick bulge in his pants. He groans, grinding into my touch. He melts into it, alive and hungry for more.

“Not here,” he mumbles against my lips. “If I’m going to sink into you—stretch you out with my cock—I don’t want it to be in an alley. I want to get lost in you. I want to treasure every sound, every clench, every time your walls suck me deeper into oblivion.”

For that addiction, I would need rehab

I grip his biceps, body already needy for more. “Take me home, papasito.”

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astraljedi · 3 days ago

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Just imagine being his partner and coming home to him filming this? I would be laughing so hard but BLUSHING

I'm just doomscrolling, minding my business, and then all of a sudden I see Danny's new tiktok and my heart rate instantly picked up

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astraljedi · 4 days ago

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BABES WHAT THE HELL I NEED MORE

Not Supposed To

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

🪞Summary:

It started with a kiss in your best friend’s hallway—hot, fast, and cut short.

Now, it’s midnight, and Joaquin is climbing through your window like he hasn’t been able to breathe since.

He says he just wants to talk.

But his hands are already on your waist.

💌 Notes:

This was supposed to be nothing. A kiss. A moment.

But he came back.

And you didn’t tell him to leave.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

[first time doing this be gentle with me]

He was back—through your window again, like kissing you earlier hadn’t been nearly enough.

It started that afternoon at your best friend’s house. Just a moment. A heat-of-the-moment kiss in the hallway that should’ve never happened. But it did—Joaquin’s hands pressing you into the wall, your fingers tangled in his curls, his mouth trailing lower, tasting your skin like he’d been dying to.

You were seconds from giving in—right there, in her house, just down the hall—when you both heard her footsteps.

He pulled away with a whispered curse, breathing hard, pupils blown wide. You didn’t even get to say goodbye. He just slipped out like it never happened, like he wasn’t falling apart inside.

But now? Now he was here.

Climbing into your room at nearly midnight, eyes full of all the things he hadn’t said, wearing the same hoodie he left in—his hands already finding your waist the second his feet hit your floor.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he muttered against your throat, his lips brushing skin, warm and desperate. “You don’t get to kiss me like that and leave me hanging.”

You didn’t even pretend to argue.

Because you couldn’t stop thinking about him either. His mouth. His hands. The way his voice cracked when he whispered your name.

You pulled him down with you onto the bed, and he followed like gravity. Like he had to. His body pressed into yours like he belonged there, like the space between you was a mistake he needed to fix.

His kisses were hungry now—messy and fast and so much. You could barely breathe, but you didn’t want to stop. His mouth moved from yours to your jaw to your neck, sucking, licking, biting just hard enough to make you whimper. It lit him up. He groaned, deep in his chest, like he was trying to memorize that sound.

“Fuck,” he rasped. “That’s what I was thinking about. That sound you made when I kissed you right here…”

He dragged his lips lower, toward your collarbone, fingers already toying with your waistband like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to touch or tease.

You squirmed under him, and he just grinned—messy and cocky and entirely gone for you.

Then he paused.

Just for a second.

His breathing was heavy, hair falling over his forehead as he looked at you from beneath thick lashes. His hand still rested low on your stomach, warm and tense.

“You want me to stop?” he asked, voice low and wrecked. “’Cause if I don’t, I’m not gonna be able to walk away again.”

You stared back at him, heart hammering.

Then, without a word, you reached for him—fisted your hand in the front of his hoodie—and pulled him down like gravity had nothing on you.

And Joaquin?

He didn’t stop.

#joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres fanfic #joaquin torres blurb #joaquin torres fic #joaquin torres fanfiction #joaquin torres x you #joaquin torres imagines #joaquin torres imagine #joaquin torres #danny ramirez fic #danny ramirez

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astraljedi · 4 days ago

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Thank you for your service in writing the papasito imagine for Joaquín 🙂‍↔️. Are you writing a part 2?

Hello! I'm glad you enjoyed reading Papasito! For now, I'm not planning on writing a part two. I currently have a few other fics I want to finish for Joaquin and other characters.

#astraljedi #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x you #joaquin torres fanfiction #joaquin torres imagines #joaquin torres imagine #Joaquin torres fic #Joaquin Torres #danny ramirez fic #danny ramirez x reader #danny ramirez #joaquin torres smut

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