#danny ramirez

[xprloki]

After seeing the MV - I had to screenshot these moments because yes… DANNY RAMIREZ YOU ARE SO PRETTY

[flowersforbucky]

means i care

joaquín torres x reader

"You were dead, Joaquín. Your heart wasn't beating when I pulled you from that water."

He grins, taking your hand in his. He brings it to his lips and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Well, it’s beating now. Because of you. But what’s new? My heart always beats for you.”

word count: 3.3k

warnings/tags: friends to lovers, idiots in love, pining, enhanced!reader with energy manipulation powers, canon level injuries, some angst, fluff, no use of y/n, reader has she/her pronouns, pov switches

☆☆☆☆☆☆

“You know, if we don't succeed here, we'll be looking at World War III. I could use a little extra good luck. If you know what I'm sayin’.”

You shift your gaze from the Indian Ocean outside of the jet's window to the man sitting beside you. At first, you question whether or not you heard him correctly. Then, you see the sly smirk on his lips and the glimmer of mischief in his brown eyes and you realize that you had, in fact, heard him correctly.

If you had any doubt about what he meant by a little extra good luck, the look on his face makes it abundantly clear.

Your eyes flicker to his lips for a split-second before you look back out to the endless expanse of blue water surrounding you. God knows that if you stare at him for a moment too long, you might just be weak enough to give in.

It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve come dangerously close.

“Good luck, huh? I hope you’ve got a four-leaf clover or a rabbit’s foot stashed somewhere in that suit of yours, then.”

He laughs. The sound fills the jet and for a second, you forget where you are and what all is on the line.

“A thousand four-leaf clovers wouldn’t give me a fraction of the good luck that I’d get from a kis—”

“Landing in five!” Sam calls, effectively breaking the tension in the air. You doubt that it was intentional, but you’re thankful for the interruption nonetheless. As if the list of things on your mind isn’t already a mile long – the last thing you need to add to it right now is kissing Joaquín.

You should be used to it – the flirting and teasing. He hasn’t held back since the moment you met. First, you had assumed it’s just how he is – that he says the same things to any halfway decent looking girl in his age bracket.

Sam had insisted that’s not the case.

Still, past relationship trauma had left you unable to believe that he was being genuine –and unable to believe that any good could come from returning his flirtatious sentiments. Best case scenario, you hook up and relieve the tension that’s been brewing between you for months, things fizzle, and you have to continue to work together while attempting to ignore any awkwardness. Worst case scenario, you let yourself completely fall for him and someone inevitably gets hurt.

This line of work, this lifestyle – it doesn’t mesh well with romantic relationships. You’ve learned that lesson the hard way, a few times over.

So, despite the fact that you think he’s annoyingly attractive, you brush off the compliments and cheesy one-liners. You look for every excuse when he tries to spend time with you outside of work and missions, never letting yourself give in even when every fiber of your being is dying to do so.

Like right now. He sits beside you, his arm and thigh brushing against yours. Even through his thick, heavy gear, it sends a shiver up your spine. You resist the urge to grab his hand in yours and tell him that you and Sam have this handled if he wants to help from the sidelines.

You can hear his response as clear as day in your mind. “Keep to the sidelines? And let you and Sam have all the fun? Pshhh. You wish.”

You bite your tongue, afraid to let him know just how much you care. You might not let it show, but you’re more worried for his safety than you are your own.

There’s no chance of him staying on the base while you and Sam potentially risk your lives. But maybe you can at least give him an incentive to keep himself alive.

Joaquín starts to stand when you place a hand on his arm. He freezes, an almost hopeful expression on his face as he looks at you expectantly.

“Don’t die out there and we’ll see about that kiss. Okay?”

☆☆☆☆☆☆

“Are you listening to a word I say?”

Sam’s voice snaps you out of your trance. You blink rapidly, lubricating your eyes that had been locked on a beeping monitor for an embarrassing amount of time.

“No,” you answer honestly. You glance at him for a brief moment before your eyes are back on the sleeping body a few feet away from you. “Not really. Sorry. What did you say?”

He sighs. He’s trying his hardest to not let it show, but you know that he’s getting a little annoyed with you.

You can’t really find the energy to care. You’re a little annoyed with him, too. He won’t stop tapping his fucking foot against the linoleum floor and the whole room still smells like the Chinese take-out he’d eaten hours ago.

Your stomach growls. Maybe you’re just hangry.

“I said you need to go home,” Sam says in an even tone. “Get a few hours of sleep, take a shower. Eat something that didn’t come out of a vending machine.”

Over the last four days, you’ve spent more time in this hospital room than your own apartment. You’ve only left to go home long enough to shower every other day, and to get gas stations snacks and coffee on occasion. The longest you’d been away from Joaquín’s bedside was yesterday morning, when you went to the Target down the road to put together a get well soon basket for when he wakes up.

Most guests would be asked to leave after standard visiting hours, but you suppose working with Captain America does come with some perks. You suppose it also helps that you were the one who pulled Joaquín from the ocean, flew him to safety, and restarted his heart with your powers while you waited on the emergency medical team to get to you on Celestial Island.

Maybe the hospital staff pities or – or maybe they’re a little scared of you. Either is fine, as long as you aren’t asked to leave for an extended period of time.

You’re hungry, and you need to shower, and a few hours of sleep in an actual bed certainly wouldn’t hurt. But the thought of not being here when he wakes up…

“I’ll call you,” Sam says, as if reading your mind. “I swear. As soon as he wakes up, I’ll let you know.”

You don’t trust your voice enough to speak, so you just nod. You’ve somehow managed to refrain from crying up until this point, but you’re running on a few hours of sleep and it’s starting to get to you.

Despite the various wounds and bruising across his body, he looks peaceful in his sleep. His chest rises and falls with steady breaths, and you feel yourself relax at the visual reminder that he’s okay. He’s resting, and healing, and he’ll wake when his body is ready.

“Okay,” you whisper as you stand up from the scratchy, old recliner that you have been glued to for the majority of the last few days. “You call me as soon as he opens his eyes.”

Before leaving, you walk to the side of his bed. On the table next to him sits a vase of wildflowers that have already started to wilt, and the basket that you had brought, full of some of his favorite things – beef jerky, Takis, gummy bears – as well as a few personal care items that may be of use for the duration of his hospital stay after waking up – deodorant, a toothbrush and travel sized toothpaste, and the biggest stainless steel tumbler that you could find.

In the middle of the basket sits a small, plush falcon. You hadn’t even been looking for it when it caught your eye in the store, but you immediately knew you had to get it for him. Seeing it had felt like a sign that everything is going to be okay.

You remove the stuffed bird from the basket and tuck it between his side and his arm before leaning down and pressing a tender kiss to the center of his forehead. It’s the first time you’ve touched him since the accident, and you’re reluctant to pull away.

Your eyes sting with all of the emotions that you’ve been holding inside for days. You don’t look back at Sam or say another word as you walk out of the room, hoping with everything in you that the next time you walk into this room, he greets you with one of his obnoxiously perfect smiles and a corny pick-up line.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

The first thing Joaquín hears is the low, repetitive beeping of a monitor. When he opens his eyes, he’s momentarily blinded by violent, early morning sunlight creeping through the blind slats.

“Well, well, well. How nice of you to decide to join the living today, Sleeping Beauty.”

He recognizes Sam’s voice a second before he sees him. Slumped in a chair in the corner of the room, he looks like he could use some sleep, himself.

All at once, images of the moments leading up to him plummeting into the ocean come flooding back. He remembers Sam yelling at him to back off from the last missile, the missile firing right at him, and then nose-diving into the ocean as you shriek his name.

You.

His eyes dart around the room in a panic, looking for any sign of you. His heartrate spikes on the monitor. Sam jumps up, rushing over to his side.

“What – where is she – is she okay?”

God, his throat is painfully dry. How long has he been unconscious?

“Easy, easy,” Sam soothes as he takes a seat at the foot of the hospital bed. “She is fine. She was unharmed and has hardly left your side in five days. It was like pulling teeth just to convince her to go home for the night. Made me promise to call her the second you woke up.”

At first, he assumes Sam is just messing with him. You have hardly left his side? You, the same person who has rejected every one of his advances for nearly a year?

“You’re being serious? She’s been here?” He asks in disbelief.

“Oh, yeah,” Sam exhales. “She’s been a mess, man. I don’t know how much you remember, but…” He trails off, avoiding Joaquín’s gaze.

“She’s the one who pulled you from that water. By the time she flew you somewhere safe, you weren’t breathing. She had to restart your heart with her powers until the medical team got to you.”

He can tell by Sam’s demeanor that he isn’t joking around, but he still struggles to wrap his head around it all. He had fucking died? His heart stopped, and you’re the reason that he’s alive? And you stayed with him while he’s been recovering?

Then, he remembers the last words you said to him before arriving on Celestial Island.

Don’t die out there and we’ll see about that kiss. Okay?

He isn’t sure if you really spoke those words, or if it’s some false memory that his subconscious conjured to keep him holding on while on the brink of death.

If it’s the latter, it worked. If it’s the former, and you really did say that, he supposes that offer is probably off the table since he technically did die.

Damn it.

Joaquín attempts to sit up and becomes aware of two things at once – he feels like he has been repeatedly ran over by a bus, and there's something fuzzy tickling his arm.

“What the hell…”

He picks up the small, stuffed falcon and can’t help but smile at it. “You shouldn’t have,” he chuckles, tossing the bird at Sam.

He catches it, smirking. “Oh, I didn’t.”

Sam gestures towards the table beside Joaquín. He follows his gaze, noticing the dying flowers and basket stuffed full of various snacks and self-care items. Whoever chose the contents of the basket, knows him well. He could live off of beef jerky if he had to, and gummy bears are his favorite.

“Who..?” Joaquín asks, trying not to get his hopes up that it could be from the person he most wants it to be from – the person who apparently saved his life.

“Take a guess,” Sam jabs as he tosses the stuffed animal back to Joaquín.

For a second, he thinks his heart just might stop again. He pictures you picking out the items and he has to shake his head to keep himself from grinning too big.

“Man, if I knew that all I had to do was die to get her attention, I would’ve done it a hell of a lot sooner.”

Sam rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Just don’t go making a habit of it, okay? I don’t know if she would forgive you if you did it again.”

Sam then pulls out his cell phone, excusing himself from the room to give you a call and to get Joaquin’s nurse. Once he’s alone, Joaquín fights against all of the stiffness in his body to reach for the basket sitting on the bedside table. In addition to all of the other goodies, there’s a card tucked between a stick of Old Spice deodorant and a bag of Takis.

It isn’t in an envelope. He instantly snorts at the image on the front of the card – it’s a cartoon dog wearing a cone collar with a dejected expression. In bold print, it reads: At least you don’t have to wear a cone.

He opens the card, and immediately recognizes your handwriting.

I specifically remember asking you to not die. Guess you were right about that good luck kiss, after all. I'll remember that next time.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

The simultaneous dread and relief that you feel when you see Sam’s name pop up on your phone can’t be described in words. Dread at the mere possibility of bad news. Relief that it could be what you’ve been hoping to hear for days.

As soon as you hear him say that Joaquín is awake, you’re jumping out of bed at the ass crack of dawn. You don’t think about taking the time to eat any breakfast or even make yourself a cup of coffee – you just throw on some clean clothes, brush your teeth, and you’re out the door.

The short drive to the hospital is spent talking to yourself about what you're even going to say to him. How are things supposed to just go back to normal between the two of after something like this? After it felt like your heart stopped when his did? Do you even want things to go back to normal?

You knew you’d feel relieved to see him awake, but you don’t expect the overwhelming rush of emotions that comes over you as soon as you hear his voice murmur your name.

He's sitting up in his bed, holding the stuffed falcon that you’d given him and smiling at you like you hung the moon and stars as soon as you walk through the door.

That’s when you know the answer to your question – no, you don’t want things to go back to normal between you. With the way that you feel your heart in your throat, you don't think that’s a possibility, anyway.

“This little guy was a nice surprise to wake up to, you know. Kind of wish it had been you, but he’s cute, too.”

You no longer attempt to hold back the tears that had been threatening to spill over for the last five days. You sit on the edge of his bed, directly beside his thigh and meagerly wipe the teardrops that leak down both of your cheeks.

“Hey, hey,” His demeanor completely shifts when he realizes that you’re crying. He leans in closer and pulls you to him. You sob against his chest, and he runs a large hand up and down your back. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I’m here. It's gonna take more than a missile or two to take me out.”

You nod against his chest, but don’t pull away. He continues to massage your back as you attempt to calm down, focusing on the feeling of him against you. When you finally lean back, he wipes a lingering tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“You were dead, Joaquín. Your heart wasn’t beating when I pulled you from that water.”

He grins, taking your hand in his. He brings it to his lips and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Well, it’s beating now. Because of you. But what’s new? My heart always beats for you.”

You exhale, finally letting yourself return his cheeky grin. The teasing remark makes you feel the happiest you have in days.

“Leave it to you to find a way to flirt when we are having a conversation about your death.”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, his expression suddenly turning more serious. “I do have a question, though.”

You tilt your head in curiosity.

“When you brought me back to life, was it like a mouth to mouth type thing? Or..?”

You roll your eyes, playfully shoving him back against his pillows. He cackles, his cheeks turning pink. He pulls you back to him, this time even closer than before. You can smell mint on his breath from the toothpaste you’d put in his get well soon basket.

“No. Thought I’d save that for when you’re awake.”

He places his hands on your sides, the light touches sending a thrill through you. The normally chilly hospital room suddenly feels a whole lot warmer.

“Are you sure?” He murmurs. “I don’t want you to think that you.. owe me anything, or have to kiss me just because of what happened—”

You’re shaking your head before he finishes speaking.

“Joaquín,” you interrupt him softly. “I’ve been stupid. So, so stupid and I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that it took something like this for me to open my eyes to what’s been right in front of me this whole time. I knew that if I let myself want more, if I let myself give in, that’d be it for me. And that terrified me. But I don’t care anymore. I’m more terrified of never getting the chance to—”

Suddenly, his hands move from your hips to either side of your face. He pulls you the remainder of the short distance to him, and then his lips are against yours; effectively ending your rambling.

One of your hands cups the nape of his neck, your fingers intertwined in his soft curls. His tongue ghosts along your bottom lip and you eagerly part them for him. The sounds from various machines and the voices out in the hallway all fade to white noise as he moves his lips with yours.

He's gentle. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s still relatively bedridden, but he touches you like he’s touching fine, breakable China. There’s an underlying urgency, like he’s scared he’s dreaming and wants to savor this as much as possible before he opens his eyes.

You pull away with a gentle tug of his bottom lip between your teeth. He doesn’t drop his hands from caressing your face, and your rest your forehead against his, basking in the afterglow of a kiss long overdue.

“Damn,” he breathes. “Please tell me we can do that again, minus all of the months of rejection and the close call with death.”

You laugh. “I can promise you no more rejection, but you have to promise me no more close calls with death.”

A gentle stroke of his thumb across your cheekbone sends goosebumps down your spine. “I promise, mi vida. I’ve been waiting too long for this. There’s no getting rid of me now.”

☆☆☆☆☆☆

mi vida: spanish for "my life"

thank you so much for reading!!! as always, comments and reblogs are very appreciated ♡

[to0mo0o]

[ghostie-cola]

[thundervengers]

There are not enough pillows in the world for me to bite.

i've never been more gagged in my entire fucking life

[luckydiorxoxo]

[andy-15-07]

Bless Me, Madre, For I Have Sinned

PAIRING: Danny Ramirez x Reader 💋

WORD COUNT: 868 ✍️

REQUESTS: Open! 💌 (send yours my way ,I love writing them all!)

🌟 Danny Ramirez Masterlist 🌟

You didn’t remember how you got to the couch. One minute, you were kissing in the kitchen, and the next,Danny’s strong hands were pushing you down, his body already hovering over yours, his mouth everywhere.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured between kisses, voice husky.

“Don’t you dare stop,” you breathed, tugging his shirt over his head.

His abs flexed as he straddled you, a cocky smirk tugging at his lips. “Damn. Okay, bossy.”

“You love it,” you whispered, grabbing the waistband of his sweats.

He hissed between his teeth as your hand slid under. “Fuck, babe…”

Your name fell from his lips like a prayer. The pace between you two was desperate, needy, fast. You were already half-naked, thighs parted, back arching as he kissed down your chest, sucking a bruise right under your collarbone.

“Danny…”

“Say it again,” he muttered, tongue flicking over your nipple.

You gasped, threading your fingers through his hair. “Danny…Jesus”

His grin was smug. “He’s not the one making you moan like that.”

“You’re so full of yourself.”

“And you’re full of me in about… ten seconds,” he growled.

You giggled breathlessly. “Promise?”

He hooked your legs around his hips and grinded down against you, slow and deliberate. You let out a soft, needy sound, and his eyes rolled back for a second.

“Fuck, you’re unreal,” he whispered.

Just as he reached down, lining himself up—

BRRRRRING. BRRRRRING.

You both froze.

Danny's head dropped against your chest. “No way.”

BRRRRRING.

“Ignore it,” you groaned, pulling him back down. “Please.”

He reached for the phone just to hit Do Not Disturb,but paused.

You saw the look on his face and sat up. “Who is it?”

He turned the screen so you could see:

Mamá.

Your jaw dropped. “No way. Now?”

“She always knows,” he whispered, voice panicked. “She’s psychic.”

You tried not to laugh. “Are you seriously gonna answer?”

“She’ll think I’m dead!”

“She should hope you’re getting laid!”

He swiped the screen and pressed the phone to his ear, trying to clear his throat and talk like he wasn’t still rock hard and ready to absolutely wreck you.

“Hola, Mamá…”

You lay back, covering your face in the blanket so she wouldn’t hear you wheezing with laughter.

Danny cleared his throat again. “Sí, estoy bien… sí, comí… no, Mamá, I’m not in trouble.”

His hips were still between your legs, and you were still panting, watching his chest rise and fall. You gave him the look and slowly dragged your nails down his back.

He choked,literally choked,mid-sentence.

“Estoy bien!” he coughed, glaring at you.

You mouthed, Payback’s a bitch.

He turned slightly, as if that would help, and kept nodding. “Sí… no, no estoy solo.”

You froze.

He realized what he said too late.

There was a pause on the other end, and then:

“¿¡CON QUIÉN ESTÁS!?”

Danny flinched like he’d been slapped.

You burst into silent laughter.

“Uh,solo un,una amiga,” he stammered.

Ouch, you mouthed, pretending to clutch your heart. Friend?!

He held the phone away and whispered, “I’m so sorry. She’s gonna start asking questions.”

You licked your lips and leaned up to whisper in his ear, just loud enough.

“She doesn’t have to wonder. I can scream your name and confirm.”

His eyes widened.

You smirked and pulled him down again, hips shifting under him, just enough to make him twitch.

“Okay, Mamá,” he said shakily. “Sí, I’ll call you tomorrow. Te amo.”

He slammed the phone down.

You didn’t even finish your laugh before he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head. “You’re evil.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you teased. “Just… helped paint a picture.”

Danny kissed you, deep and hot and a little pissed off.

“‘A friend’?” you teased against his lips. “That what I am?”

“You’re gonna make me say it while my mom’s voice is still echoing in my head?”

“Mmhm.”

He kissed down your throat, teeth scraping your skin. “Fine. You’re my girl. My problem. My addiction.”

You arched against him. “Keep going.”

He slid inside you with a slow, deep thrust that knocked the air from your lungs. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You moaned, fingers digging into his shoulders.

He started moving, fast, punishing, like he needed to chase away every trace of that damn phone call. Your bodies moved in sync, messy and frantic. The couch creaked. The air was thick with heat and panting and your name falling from his lips again and again.

“Look at me,” he growled. “I wanna see you when you fall apart.”

You did. And when it happened, when your body clenched around him and you gasped his name, he followed right after, burying his face in your neck with a broken groan.

The room went quiet except for your heavy breathing and a little squeak from the couch springs.

Danny collapsed on top of you, still catching his breath. “If she calls again, I’m joining the priesthood.”

You laughed breathlessly. “You’d make a terrible priest.”

“I really would. I’m too into sin.”

You turned your head to look at him. “Next time, we put the phone on airplane mode.”

“Next time,” he whispered, “I’m throwing it out the fucking window.”

[buckyytorres]

HELLO??!? DANNY??!?

[pedro-reed]

Danny Ramirez as Joaquin Torres CAPTAIN AMERICA: BRAVE NEW WORLD (2025), directed by Julius Onah

[lives-in-midgard]

Bucky: So is this whole thing between Joaquin and y/n supposed to be a secret?

Sam: Not really? I mean the only people who don't know are Joaquin and y/n.

[81gb]

danny ramirez as hector , black mirror .

[dannysgf]

— HES SO CUTE IM CRYING. Estábamos mirando el mismo juego!!! vamos!!! :3

[astraljedi]

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.” 

[xprloki]

Danny Ramirez as “Papasito” in Karol G’s new music video “Papasito”

HIS HANDS?!? THE PLACEMENT?!? THE GRIP!! 🫦

[emeraldserenade]

I was thinking of an idea for a story. Joaquin and his girlfriend visit his abuela in Miami and it’s his girlfriend’s first time meeting his abuela. His abuela shares stories about her late husband and their love. Joaquin is wanting to propose and thinks it might be time ❤️

Proposals ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: Joaquín proposes without thinking

tw: fem!reader, slightly insecure Joaquín, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

Hi, Sid!! Joaquín would totally just propose because his mouth moved faster than his brain!! I might add this to another story I plan to write eventually!!

➽──────────────❥

You and Joaquín had been together for almost three years, you were perfectly ok with the fact that Joaquín hadn't proposed yet. Your friends always told you that it was a red flag that he hadn't proposed, but you just stared at them. "I think you're too used to people being together for less than a year before marriage. Some people genuinely love each other enough that marriage isn't needed to prove it," you would tell them. Sure, you wanted to wear a ring picked out by Joaquín and have his last name, but you also knew that there was a lot in his life, including Falcon.

You now where on the way to see his abuela, you had yet to meet her in person. You've briefly seen her in some Facetimes but there was no real meeting. You were nervous but according to Joaquín's mom, she was super excited to see you. "She'll love you, angel," Joaquín told you, knowing you were in your head.

"You keep saying that, but what if she doesn't?" You voiced your fears but Joaquín grabbed your thigh with his right hand and gave it a small squeeze.

"My mamá doesn't lie and she said abuela was super excited to see you," Joaquín said with a soft voice and you relaxed.

"Ok, I can do this," you said to yourself and Joaquín nodded.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You were sitting on the couch with Joaquín's abuela as she showed you older photos of her and her late husband while telling you stories. "This one was taken after our first date, Felix always said he knew he was going to marry me after that date," she told you and you smiled at her, your eyes focused on the picture. Joaquín was sitting on a chair across the room, his eyes trained on you. The way your eyes would light up with every story and how his abuela seemed to take an instant liking to you. Joaquín had thought about marrying you since meeting you, but he also knew that being Falcon made it harder for you. He was just constantly waiting for you to break things off with him, but watching you with his abuela, seeing how you loved his family like your own, squashed all fears.

"Marry me!" Joaquín blurted out and you whipped your head up at him. His mom entered from the laundry room and his abuela was staring him down, the three scariest women he knew were all staring at him. "Wait!" Joaquín rushed to his bag and pulled out a ring box, falling to one knee in front of the couch in front of you. "I have a ring, I've had it for a while but I was worried that you wouldn't say yes. I was worried that you were going leave me because of my job, but you've proven time and time again that you aren't. Watching you with my family, how you love them like your own, really solidified it for me. So will you marry me? Please?"

"I," you pushed the ring away and threw yourself into Joaquín's arms. "Yes!" You laughed and both his mom and abuela smiled at the exchange in front of them. A kiss was shared between you two before Joaquín slipped the ring on your finger before you celebrated with Joaquín's family.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests If you want to be added to the tag list, follow the directions on my masterlist

[sandamakmak]

oh my goddddd 😭🤚🏼

EDIT: i've watched this for the nth time since being aware of this video's existence and my thing is like,,,, wHYYY did his dramatic ass have to kneel 😭🤚🏼 WE GET IT YOU LIKE BEING ON UR KNEES GET UP THO IT'S NOT GOOD FOR ANYONE'S HEALTH 😭🤚🏼

Had to get this video for scientific purposes obviously