OBX3 SPOILERS

thinking about a sloppy maybe tipsy make out sesh with chad that turns into you riding his thigh….

generous

fem!reader, thigh riding, 18+, unedited blurb

© msgorillagripcoochie , do not steal, post on third party sites or translate my work

the music is loud and the room smells of cheap booze and sweat but all you can really smell and feel is chad. "god, you're so pretty." is the words he groans before pressing you up against the wall.

it's a messy kiss, the drinks you guys had obviously getting the best of you as his tongue pushing against yours, his hands are in your hair tugging lightly on it causing you to whimper against his lips. he'd been trying to keep his hands off you all night but you just looked a little too perfect in your cowgirl costume i mean how could he resist?

"chad." you laughed against his lips, you can taste the shots the two of you had just taken. his arm wrapped around you pulling you impossibly closer to his warm skin as you placed your hands on his strong chest.

he dropped his head to your neck beginning to suck mark onto your skin your back arching when a moan slipped from your lips.

"chad, we're around a bunch of people." you gasp out but make no particular move to push him away.

his teeth graze your skin his hand dropping to your hips "you wanna go upstairs." he asked finally pulling back as you leaned your head back against the wall, he moved closer when someone said 'excuse me' so he was flush against you.

you think about it running your hands over his bare chest, your nails scratching lightly "i promised mindy we won't have sex." you sigh looking at him through your lashes "you know, horror movies rules and stuff." he groaned throwing his head back his cowboy hat almost slipping off his head. "don't do this to me."

"i'm sorry." you pout pressing a kiss under his jaw. "trust me any other circumstances, i'd have you in me in a second." he laughed looking back down at you shaking his head.

"we don't have to have sex, babe." he hummed his hands gripping your hips "i could always just make you feel good." he pushes his thigh in between your legs, his head dropping back down to your neck "i know how much you love when i do all the work." you let out a gasp when he pulls you to grind against his thigh in one swift moment "chad."

his lips are all over your neck nipping and sucking at your skin as he helps you grind against his thigh. to onlookers it looks like a couple cuddling in the corner, his broad shoulders blocking you from anyone looking. it shouldn't have turned you on as much as it did, you tried to keep quiet moaning softly in his ear.

he pushed his thigh harder against you as he makes due on his promise to do all the work, his hands moving you on his thick thigh. "there you go baby, that's my girl." he praised in your ear, your nails digging into his bicep the pressure against your pussy almost sending you over the edge.

it should be embarrassing but you think it's drinks making you more sensitive to chad's rough touch. you bury your face in the crook of his neck to hide your moans.

it isn't long before you're cumming on his thigh, you holding onto to him for dear life and he still moves you a little bit letting you ride through your high. he doesn't say much when he pulls back looking down seeing that little dreamy look in your eye.

"chad?" he has a smirk on his lips like he knew what you were going to say "yes, sweetheart?"

"wanna go upstairs?" you asked tossing your arm over his shoulders biting your lip "what about horror movie rules?" he teased "fuck horror movie rule i want you inside me." you huffed pulling him down into a rough kiss.

mindy squinted from afar watching as you led chad up the stairs "what's wrong?" anika asked following her eyeline "they're literally going to die because they can't keep it in their pants." anika laughed at mindy's words shaking her head "don't be like that."

"just glad i'm the smart twin."

"i don't know mindy.... there's bathroom with our name on it." anika giggled kissing mindy's jaw and mindy groaned "fine, i'm convinced."

"i haven't even tried to convince you yet!"

"don't care, let's go."

a/n: chad owns my mind, body and soul, tell me what you think and feel free to request. i really hope you liked and enjoyed this!

Confessions ✧ Fezco x Reader

A/N - Can someone pls tell me how to add a keep reading lol i’ve forgotten and i can find it online, on mobile btw thank you!!!

✎ Word count - 3,413

✩ Genre - Fluff, gets a little steamy lol

❀ Warnings - Mentions of sex

Fez was never good with words. He always struggled to put how he was feeling in his heart exactly in the right vocabulary. He always spoke with purpose, never saying anything he didn't completely believe or not mean. He was completely impeccable with his word. As your relationship developed though, he struggled to settle with just hugs and kisses, he yearned to tell you more. To tell you the truth. To tell you he thought you made his world rotate and the sun come up every morning. To tell you he trusted you with his life and loved you more than it. To tell you he wanted you forever and even after that. But for him, it was just so hard. Since he was born he always lacked physical touch, he lacked being told he was loved even more. So once he had grown up, all these things were a struggle to him. All the more when you entered his life, giving him new meaning and experiences every second you were around. Though tonight he decided it would have to change. You knew it was difficult for him, giving him plenty of time to say what he needed, unfortunately he didn't know that though. The knock on his door shook him out of his affectionate thoughts and he knew the sound off by heart. He rushed over to the door, opening it with ease to see you there, sheltering yourself with your hoodie from the Californian downpour.

"hey!" you greeted cheerfully, a paper bag of takeout in your dripping hand. He smiled, shyly as he let you inside, you immediately stripping off the damp clothes. He watched you as you dropped the bag onto the couch before going over to him to give him a hug. He almost accepted at first before pulling away quickly.

"Nah get off you're soaked!" He laughed, pulling away with out hesitation, a huge smile now growing on his freckled face.

"What do you mean? i'm dry as a desert." You replied back, laughing. Then shaking your head side to side like a kanine making all the raindrops run down your hair to the ends, splashing him.

"yo, hold up a minute! stop!" He raised his voice, lunging to the side to get away from the fallout. He began pacing away from you but you weren't gonna let him get away that easy. A mischievous look on your face as you strode after him again, trying to wrap your soaked through body around his. You made a lap or two around the 70s decor room before he had a enough. "Right that's it!" He decided, crouching down in front of you and before you realised, picking you straight up in a fireman's lift and throwing you over his broad shoulder. You waist was tickled by his firey beard as your whole weight was taken by him.

"Fez! Put me down!" You giggled, punching light fists into his back. Grabbing onto his white tee.

"No chance." He treaded through the house making a b line for the bathroom. He plonked you delicately on the tiles, a playful smile littering his lips and he leant past you for the shower head. A gasp left your throat but before you could say anything he'd turned the dial and you were now being coated in threads of ice cold water.

"No!" You shouted a grin plaster on your face as you tried to wrestle the shower head of him. He just laughed back at you, with a firm grip on the weapon.

"Do you submit?" He interrogated, the curl on his lips not faltering for a second.

"Yes! Yes! Please stop!" You pleaded, hands in front of your face to somewhat stop it from drenching you more than you were before. He let out a chuckle as he turned the dial back to zero and swung back round to see the damage. There you stood, head to toe with hair that had grown a good length and see through clothes that clung to your body in crescents. He looked you up and down, noticing he could slightly see your areoles through your saturated tee and he'd be lying if he said he didn't take a mental picture. A small wash of guilt washed over him as he saw your shoulders tense up, arms crossed over your body as your teeth began to chatter away. "Let's get you in some warm clothes." He smiled, handing you a towel before leaving the room briefly. you quickly covered yourself with the old, slightly grey cloth. The fibres quickly sending a chill down your spine before beginning to feel warmer. He returned with some boxers and a tee, placing them down on the only part of the counter that was dry and then turning to you. He rubbed his large freckled hands up and down your sides to help warm you up slightly before you both stop. He takes the towel from your grasp and you go to strip your t shirt off. The material is heavy and adheres to your curves but you shortly win the battle. He watches over you, not blinking as he watches you remove the shirt. His eyes nervously watching as your breasts bounce at the motion. "Shit.." He curses quietly under his breath, his eyes lay low and you watch his curled eyelashes blink once, his face full of admiration and desire. You just shake you head as you take the towel from him again, rubbing over your body before he takes it back without words. You grab the spare grey tee, pulling it over your head now you were dry and pulling your damp hair out the back. His eyes burn holes, making sure to watch your chest for as long as possible before it was covered up again.

"My eyes are up here!" You joke, afterwards you take off your jeans and pants, him sheepishly spinning around to give you somewhat privacy. He was afraid he crossed a line. "It was a joke Fez." You laugh, putting on his clean, white boxers as he turned back around, you now fully dressed. A smile adorns your lips and he mirrors you perfectly. "Let's eat that food before it gets cold." You say, moving towards the door as you notice his tongue peeping through his teeth. He follows behind you quickly as you jump on the couch. ripping open the bag on your lap as he sits next to you politely. You share the food equally, lying your heads back with hands on your stomach at the indulgence. The dealer turns on the remote, selecting some random action film on a channel as you cosy up. He instinctively places an arm around your shoulder and you hold his large hand. He presses a kiss to your temple, then check and you flush at the touch, his lips transferring a fuchsia glow to you. You were drawn closer, folding into his lap so you could lay your head on his warm thigh, covered in his sweatpants.

"You warmer now?" He asks briefly, rubbing small circles in your palm as his other hand was gently resting in your hair.

"Not thanks to you." You laugh lowly, thankful you were in dry clothes again.

"Stop playin." He adds before you go back to silence, the only sounds playing from the tv. He held you close, treasuring the feeling of your head resting on him, your small, soft hand held by his large warm ones. He traces your hands down to brush along your exposed thigh. He couldn't focus on the film, but only you and how much he adored you. He couldn't keep his hands off. Afterwards he bring your hand up to his mouth, where he takes your hand in both of his. Your elbow bent for ease of position. Lightly, he pulls it up to his lip where he lays a few light kisses along your knuckles before he keeps it there, his breath streaming down though your knuckles and down the back of your hand like veins.

"Fez baby, are you okay?" You ask sensitively but tired in a velvety calm voice. A voice like music to his ears.

"Uh yeah." He replies, confused as to why you'd pick up on anything.

"It's just you're being so clingy tonight." You laugh softly, not hating the feeling.

"Oh shit was I? Do you want me to stop?" He asks a slightly sad flicker in his voice. His body tensing up as he moves your hand away from his lips.

"Not at all." You reply quickly pulling both your arms into your chest to keep him close as his spare one dropped down again. You lay some kisses to his hand this time. lightly over every auburn freckle you could see. He relaxed into the movement, a sigh leaving his chest.

"There's sommin I wanna tell you." He admits gingerly, tagging your name onto the end. He sits there, heart pounding in his chest as he deepens his breaths, trying to calm his heart rate.

"Sure baby." You return, in a tranquil tone. You could feel his nervousness but didn't want to push him.

"It's just I-I.." He stuttered, trailing off. The words seemingly caught in his throat. He cursed himself for not making a plan before hand. He sighed again as you began to rub him soothingly to calm his nerves.

"Don't worry baby, you can take your time." You eased his worry as he let out another sigh frustrated with himself. Now annoyed, in a pleasantly subdued manner he lifts you up so your now sat next to each other again. He waste no time in pulling your legs over his and leaning into your lips. You were surprised at the action but quickly melted in to him. His speckled hand came up to your face, holding you firmly as you kissed tenderly and slow. His cold, gold rings stinging your inflamed cheeks. He passionately moved his lips and swiped your bottom lip a few times. He then moved his hand to your waist pulling you so you were straddling on his lap as he tugged you into his hold, your bodies aligned as one. You could tell what he was trying to say. You always knew how his mind worked about this thing, he could show his love but struggled to say it. Struggled to say all the deep and emotional things he felt inside him as he never learnt how. You tried to put his mind at ease with a "Fez it's okay, I know." You cooed. You knew he cared for you, you knew he loved you. Yes you would love to hear it, but if it was too painful for him to say, you didn't mind his lack of words. He looked back, his brows knotted together and a pained look on his beautiful face. His lips were pink and swollen in a small frown. You looked back with a sad and worried smile, watching him closely. His eyes drew glossy as he shook his head, unsatisfied. He moved in again, pressing his forehead to your own and kissing harder this time, with more aggression. His hand grabbed on to your upper back as the length of his forearm ran down your spine, trying to hold you as closely as possible. He soon carried you into the bedroom, Your legs wrapped around his middle as he lovingly put you in his sheets. Your contact not breaking for a second. You'd never seen him like this, so tender and unravelled. You feared what was running through his mind, was he safe? You kissed him back, matching his passion and longing. He then lay down, pulling you on top of him as he went to your neck smothering you in kisses.

"Baby I-" He breathed for a second, his head still tucked into your neck. He let out a disheartened groan so you pulled a hand up to stroke his shaved head. The groan rumbled through his chest into your neck, you could feel his frustration. You knew how much this meant to him but also the torment it put him through. He continued to intensely kiss you all over, his arms holding you so tight like some how you'd drift away. You pulled away and he looked up at you, a perturbed look across his face. His big blue eyes looking at you through his thick long lashes, full of concern. Your heart ruptured at the view.

"Shhh.. my love." You whispered. His eyebrows slightly dropped from there agitated state and he relaxed, defeated. His head then almost dropped before you lifted it again with one hand. You kissed him with care one last time before shuffling across the bed and pulling his head onto your chest. His weight was heavy but you didn't mind, you ached for the feel of him trusting you and having all his walls pulled down. He melted into the embrace his arm wrapping around your waist to hold you securely as you cradled his head with both arms, slowly stroking him to ease his worry. "Shhh, baby. I got you." you hushed. He demeaner was sorrowful and you could almost hear his heart snapping. It took years off your life to hear the sound. He lay in your warmth his tears welling up in his eyes but he didn't let them descend. He praised you for what you did to him, how far you had got through his hard exterior. Soon you both fell asleep as you lulled him sincerely to rest.

✧ ✧ ✧

A few hours later your eyes fluttered open, you shifted an inch or two before noticing the bed was too spacious. You were alone. You flipped your body to find the sheet unaccompanied. A frown dropped onto your face and you thought for a moment. Your body flashed back to the night before, his desperate kisses and hungered touch. Dread set in and you rushed to get up before you noticed a slip of paper on the bed beside you. You sat up noticing the paper had your name with a small heart next to it in Fezco's sharpie handwriting. You picked it up quickly opening the note to find a page long letter. Your eyes sprinted to read it.

"To my love,

There's no minute that passes where you’re not in my mind. No second where I don't want you in my arms and no lifetime where I'm not meant to be with you. You mean the world to me and I hope one day your able to see yourself through my eyes. You're kind, smart, humble, funny and a better person than anyone I know, me included. I know I struggle to find the words what to say but I just need you to know you have my entire heart. Every single cell of it. I will always be yours in this life and the next. I love you tremendously now and forever,

Fezco.”

Your heart began running marathons, racing like it's life depended on it and you brought a hand up to your chest. You felt so overwhelmed you could faint and so filled with love you could cry. Your eyes had already began dotting droplets that shot to the page like knives and you quickly moved the paper from causing anymore damage to the sheet. You processed the letter for a moment before knowing you needed to find him. You needed to tell him the same. You shot up from the bed, still dressed in his boxers and tee and dashed down the hardwood floor to the kitchen. The room was quiet, undisturbed. The streetlights flooded through the blinds, lighting it up enough for you to see Ash lounging on the floral couch.

"Yo Ash where is he?" You asked hurriedly. A hand unconsciously going to your mouth to bite your nails, to somehow relieve your worry.

"He's uh... out doing business." Ash said, not seemingly matching your anxiousness.

"What do you mean? He didn't tell me about any of that." You pried, walking closer to the child. His eyes moved up from his phone, the brown circles looking innocently into your own.

"It's just some hand over or somin’, nothing to worry about." Ash lied, his eyes dotting back down to allow himself to say those untruthful words. You nodded, eyebrows still merged together as you sat on the sofa opposite him, body tense and your nails corroded.

"When's he back?" You asked. He swiped his iPhone screen to see the time before replying.

"Not long, maybe 20." The minutes felt like hours, sat here watching the clock tick, some stupid tv show playing on the TV that you tried to focus on but couldn't. You heard a shuffle behind the door, your body jolted to stand up as you gave it your whole attention. Ash did the same. You heard the gate clatter and open before the handle to the door dipped and moved towards you. You saw his foot first, a black trainer step into the house. Your eyes moved upward to where he was as you ran to him quickly.

"Fez!" You cried, jumping onto him before he had time to shut the door behind him. He quickly made eyes with his brother before throwing him the black knitted balaclava that was behind his back. Now hidden from you. He then softened into your embrace his eyes closing as he moved his hand you comfort you. "Baby i love you." leaked out of your mouth. "Where were you? You had me so worried." You whined into him, his skin slightly flush from the outside.

"I had to take care o' somin, it's okay now." He sighed. "Let's go back to sleep." Ash got up from behind you as you continued to embrace, Fezco sending him a nod to go back to his room. You pulled slightly away as you heard the click of Ash's door and soon noticed the crimson liquid, dried over the back of his hands.

"Baby.." You trailed off, looking up at the ginger in front of you. He looked down to see what you were referring to before one hand went to the back of his nape to scratch it nervously.

"Nah It's cool." He said, then knowing you weren't satisfied with his answer as a concerned look danced over your appearance again. "It's not mine." He watched as you chewed your lip to the side, taking a deep breath before nodding ever so slightly. "Now cmon, you go to bed i'll get washed up and come join you." You swallowed the lump in your throat before turning slowly, lazily walking back into his room and lying on the now icy sheets. You spread out unenthusiastically, thinking. 'what was he up to?' 'where had he gone?' 'why didn't he tell you?' Your contemplating thoughts were interrupted by a click off the door and him gently moving a hand to your legs so he could get in. You wasted no time in clinging to him, wrapping both arms around his neck as he practically yanked you to lie on him. His warm weight beneath you.

"I missed you, please don't do that again." You pleaded, kissing into his neck as the curtains now slowly started to lighten with the morning sun rising.

"Sorry ma, it won't happen again." He smiled softly, graciously having you in his arms again as he wished he never had to leave. His mind wondered for a moment. "Did you find the uh.." You interrupted, going straight to the point.

"Yes." You said caressing your lips across the male again, arms running over his body with care. "It was so, so beautiful baby, i feel the same way.” You whispered delicately in his ear before placing a kiss behind it.

"For real?" He asked, almost mockingly with his voice above a whisper.

"Of course, but let me show you." You smiled, moving to lay a lustful kiss on his small sweet lips. Deepening it til you could go no further. You showed him all the love he needed that night. You showed him how he should be respected, praised and adored. Just how he had treated you the whole time. He felt closer than he ever has before, with you that night, now knowing one day he had to make you his wife.

fake boyfriend (ricky bowen x reader)

summary: in which (y/n) asks ricky to pretend to be her boyfriend and that makes hidden feelings slip out. 

prompt: “can you pretend to be my boyfriend? it’ll be fifteen minutes tops.”

extra pairing: luke patterson x platonic!reader

warnings: underage drinking, kissing(?)

gif’s not mine.

This is what I get for lying, (Y/N) thought to herself as she scrambled around the party desperately looking for her best friend.

She walked past a couple making out in the corner of the living room, nose scrunching up in disgust as she got a glimpse of the sloppy kiss. It was loud, music blasting at full volume and voices that could barely be heard over the thumping of the base (she wondered if the neighbors would complain about that). A cheer erupted from the kitchen and she turned her head around to see two girls celebrating they’d gotten the little white ball inside the red cup, they were close to winning the round of cup pong. (Y/N) bumped past dancing teenagers, apologizing halfheartedly. She held a red cup in her hand, carefully raising it over her head as she moved past people, trying her best not to spill the content. She wished she could just sit back and enjoy her drink, instead she found herself avoiding Bobby Wilson.

At the distance she saw Luke Patterson, her childhood best friend, talking to Julie Molina.

She smirked as she watched them interact. They were unbelievably adorable. (Y/N) knew Luke had the biggest crush on Julie, even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself. She knew Luke like the back of her hand and his adoration for the younger girl was evident in the way he spoke about her and how absolutely smitten he looked at the moment.

Feeling eyes on him Luke turned around to meet her eyes. She glared at him, half playful, half serious. All it took was a single look of her face to notice the slight annoyance and Luke immediately knew the reason behind it. The idiot had the audacity of chuckling.

This was all his fault and he was laughing.

Such an ass, honestly.

She rolled her eyes and cursed him in her mind, flipping him off as she did. He responded with a smirk. She wasn’t truly mad, over the years she’d come to learn and accept that she could never be truly upset at Luke, and he was well aware of that.

Luke didn’t feel particularly guilty. When he’d suggested introducing (Y/N) to his band mates he’d done it without ulterior motives (she would counter that he’d known about Bobby’s crush on her and was therefore responsible for her current situation, he would shot back that she’d been the one to lie).

Truth to be told (Y/N) had been pretty excited when Luke had suggested that she meet his friends. She’d known Patterson since they’d both been in diapers, they’d grown up together and there wasn’t a moment of her life that she couldn’t remember him being around, but attending different schools meant that they had different groups of friends. Now, that was cool and all (after all, Luke was like that annoying little brother that you just can’t shake off and she was certain that if they’d had the same friends they both would’ve exploded) but lately he’d been talking a lot about his new band, Sunset Curve, and she’d been dying to meet them. She wondered if they would have embarrassing stories about Luke which she could use to tease him.

They were all incredible people. Alex was incredibly sweet and sassy, Reggie was incredibly funny and Bobby had an incredibly evident crush on her. It was so obvious it was almost painfully uncomfortable. Luke would later let her know that Bobby had been asking about her ever since he’d seen the picture of them together at (Y/N)’s mom’s wedding.

Now, (Y/N) liked Bobby just fine— he was a nice guy, much like Alex and Reggie —but she wasn’t interested in him in a romantic way. She had told him that, trying to let him down as gently as possible, but he seemed fixed on the idea that he could make her change her mind.

Being absolutely done with his shameless flirting she had resorted to her last option: lying. And not only did she lie but she did it like a pro, slowly introducing the idea that she was seeing someone before, weeks later, announcing that she now officially had a boyfriend.

Luke had snorted, she had elbowed him hard in the gut and Bobby had finally backed off.

She never expected to be forced to introduce her invisible and completely nonexistent boyfriend to Luke’s friend. But EJ’s parents were out of town and he’d asked Alex if Sunset Curve could play for his birthday and when people from both East High and Los Feliz had heard the band was playing a massive party had been formed. Bobby had jumped at the opportunity of meeting her boyfriend in this gigantic get together, she had given him a tight lipped smile and a nod and Luke had smirked at her discomfort.

She hadn’t panicked much at first, at the end of the day she could just tell him that her ‘boyfriend’ was sick and wouldn’t be able to make it. Well, that possibility had gone out of the window the moment Luke decided to open his big mouth.

“Oh, he’ll be here,” Luke had informed Bobby as they got ready to go onstage, ignoring the glare (Y/N) sent his way and (somehow) managing to not flinch when she pinched him in the arm in an attempt to make him shut up. “He texted me, said he wouldn’t miss it.”

It was payback. She’d eaten his favorite cookies two days prior (even when he’d called dibs on them and tried to hide them at the back of the cupboard) and now she was paying for it.

In the midst of panicking an idea had popped into her head; she just needed someone to be her fake boyfriend for the night. 

Brilliant plan, if she said so herself. 

So now here she was after Sunset Curve’s performance, looking for the only person in the world that could pull off the ‘fake boyfriend’ role; Ricky Bowen.

Keep reading

BABY CUPID; rafe cameron

summary: your little sister decides to play cupid for you and the boy you’re seated with.

warnings: mentions of panic attacks || gif credits to @whumpypepsigal

word count: 1644

author’s note: this has been in my idea outlines for months now since i’ve read this certain twitter thread.

rafe would pay to be anywhere but here.

if it wasn’t for his stupid father, and his stupid business, and his stupid people-pleasing complex, then he wouldn’t be stuck in this stupid economy flight to the bahamas.

there was still at least a few minutes before the plane takes off and rafe tries to compose himself as he counts his deep breaths.

“what’s our number?” your little sister asked as you tighten your grip around her legs. you were carrying her and your bags as you tried to look for your seats. “25f, millie.”

“oh, there!” she pointed at the row a few meters away. “there’s a boy in my seat.” millie frowned as she eyed the guy by the window seat.

“a very cute boy,” you mumbled, walking towards your booked seats.

millie snapped her head towards you, her face scrunched up in a scowl.

rafe only looked up from the window when he saw you mount your bags on top of the compartment above you. the little girl you were with had a frown on her face when she saw where he was seated. you offered him a small smile as you lowered her in between your seats.

he watched as you sat down with a relieved sigh. the little girl kneeled down on her seat and cupped her hands around your ear, promptly whispering something to you.

you carefully say her back down properly and placed on her seatbelt as the pilot announced that you were ready for take-off. “well, i did tell you that we shouldn’t have waited in line for your waffle if you wanted the window seat.”

rafe pretended that he wasn’t listening when the girl looked at him. instead, he busied himself with his seatbelt as the plane started moving.

as soon as the plane was in the air, you grabbed your earphones and plugged them into your phone. you turned to face your sister, giving her the stuffed bunny in her bag. “i’m gonna take a nap, okay? be good for me.”

“okay.” she nodded her head, fiddling with the bunny’s ear as you placed the sleeping mask over your eyes.

rafe let out a shaky breath as he gripped on the armrests. he wasn’t about to have a panic attack with a literal kid beside him. that would seem pathetic as he watched her play with her toy.

he was quite sure that he was about to burst into tears when she suddenly spoke up. “i’m going to talk to you randomly so you need to be prepared, okay?”

rafe snapped his head towards the kid looking up at him, letting out a confused hum. “what?”

“my name is millie, and this is da vinci,” she introduced herself and her stuffed bunny. “what’s your name?”

“i- uh, rafe,” he hesitated, looking over at you then at millie before turning to look back out the window, when she started talking again. she wasn’t lying when she said she would talk to him randomly.

“oh, that’s a nice name.” millie smiled up at him. “my sister thinks you’re cute, mr. rafe.”

“i- wha-?” rafe furrowed his eyebrows. he wasn’t even able to get his question out when she opened her mouth again.

“hey, rafe, do you know what everyone should do when they get on the plane?” millie asked, trying to get a peek through the window.

“what?” rafe finally asked, wanting to humor her.

“thank the wright brothers.” she shrugged. rafe watched in amusement as the little girl clasped her tiny hands together and whispered, “thank you, wright brothers.”

“uhm, yeah,” rafe chuckled, feeling the tightness of his chest ease up. “thank you, wright brothers.”

“ooohh! this is a very nice ring,” she grabbed his left hand before dropping it suddenly. “oopsies, boundaries. i’m sorry,”

“nah, it’s okay.” he smiled, offering her his hand. millie hesitantly took it in her small ones and fiddled with the ring on his finger.

“i think it’s really pretty, but you should draw a smiley face in the middle,” she suggested, tracing the gold ring with her tiny finger.

“that’s a good idea, i might just do that.” rafe nodded in agreement. the both of them got into meaningless conversations, varying from different topics in the span of a few minutes.

rafe felt himself calm down completely in the presence of the little girl. he forgot all about his existent fear as she chattered his ear off with random facts and stories.

as soon as she heard the wheels of the cart, she immediately perked up. “oh, good timing, i was getting hungry.”

the flight attendant chuckled. “what can i get for you, sweetheart?”

“uhm,” she tapped her chin in thought. “oh! can i have those free cookies and chocolate milk, please? and uhm, i think my sister would also like that once she wakes up.” she said, before turning to look at rafe. “what about you, mr. rafe?”

“i’ll take the cookies and a cup of coffee, thanks.” he smiled.

“mr. rafe would take the cookies and the cup of coffee.” she repeated, grinning up at the lady as she handed her the cookies and drinks. “thank you!”

rafe sighed in relief as he took a sip of the warm beverage. he placed his own snacks on the tray table and helped mille pull down hers.

“we should watch a movie.” she suggested, grabbing her ipad from her bag.

“sure,” rafe agreed, watching as she scrolled through the number of choices in her downloads. she paused at one point, letting the princess and the frog load as she offered rafe the other bud of her earphones.

another hour later, you slowly stirred from your mini siesta, groaning at the feeling of your stiff neck as you stretched a bit.

“oh, good, you’re awake,” millie looked at you before returning her gaze at rafe, who was taking photos of the sunrise from above. “rafe and i took a lot of goofy pictures while you were asleep, we’re taking pretty sun pictures now.”

“keep the camera there, rafe, that way i can see out the window better.” she requested.

“who’s rafe?” you asked amidst a yawn.

“i’m rafe,” you immediately closed your mouth shut, forcing the yawn back as rafe offered you his hand to shake.

“oh, hi,” you ran a hand through your hair to make sure it was decent-looking as the other shook his. “i’m y/n.”

rafe smiled softly as he gave you a once over. despite the messy hair and wrinkled clothes, he thinks that you’re the most beautiful stranger he’s ever laid eyes on.

the both of you only snapped out of your gazing when the plane shifted and millie spoke up. “they’re tilting us so we can see better! how nice.”

you and rafe exchanged amused chuckles because the plane definitely wasn’t turning, only giving you a better view.

the captain spoke up, informing all of you that the plane was about to land in a few minutes. you buckled in your sister’s before yours as she tries to keep herself from practically bouncing on her seat.

rafe kept his eyes on you and your sister when he slowly felt his chest tighten. he placed a harsh grip on both of the armrests, trying to direct his attention on the two girls who made his flight bearable.

“we’re going down!” millie exclaimed, and you had to slap your hand on her mouth when the lady in front of you jolted out of her sleep at the sudden cry of your sister. rafe had a soft smile on his face when he felt her tiny hand unconsciously grab onto his, watching as you profusely apologized to the poor spooked lady.

“i feel so lucky that i got to sit by you, rafe,” millie smiled up at him.

rafe felt his heart warm up at the words of the little girl. he gave her hand a small squeeze as he replied, “me, too,”

you and millie were accompanied by rafe up until the baggage claim after your sister begged you to let him come with you, her quick attachment to the boy making it hard for you to compromise on your current situation.

“why can’t he come with us, y/n/n?” she pouted, staying over at rafe’s side instead of yours.

“i think mr rafe has some business he needs to attend to, love,” you smiled sadly, crouching down to look at her. “maybe you’ll get to see him again next time.”

“i mean, i can always fit you guys into my schedule during my visit.” rafe offered. “millie’s a sweet girl, and quite frankly, she, uh, helped me today with my issues with planes.”

“plus, a little birdie told me that you found her seatmate incredibly handsome.” he added, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“i didn’t- i never said-“ you huffed, throwing your arms lightly in the air.

“it’s fine, s’alright.” he assured you, as he grabbed his phone from his pocket. “i best believe that her seatmate found you really cute, too. especially when you were sleeping.”

“creep!” you laughed, grabbing the phone from him and punched in your number.

“what’s happening, i don’t understand what’s happening.” millie whined, switching her attention from you and rafe.

“i guess you and rafe could have another playdate.” you told her, fastening her backpack properly.

“how about you? will you and rafe have a date?” she wiggled her eyebrows at you mischievously.

“oh i-“

“well we-“

you and rafe looked at each other. he raised an eyebrow at you inquisitively. “i mean, i’d love to take you out on a date… if you want?”

“i’d like that.” you smiled at him.

“yes!” millie cheered, pumping her arm in the air. “i don’t know about you guys but i think i’d do a great job as cupid.”

Happy 800! As much as I love dressing up, I do love a dressing down even more. So hows about soft fluffy smut in old t-shirts and tea-stained shorts, and tom finding you absolutely beautiful anyway? 💕

Ugh fluffy smut is my favorite 😩

18+ Warnings: SMUT, soft smut though, protected sex, hand holding, forehead kisses

800 Thirst Night - Inbox

Tom has you on the bed, back against the headboard and legs spread wide. Your old shorts from who knows how long ago discarded on the floor next to the bed.

Tom’s never been a boob guy so not taking off your shirt has become a regular thing; though you can’t imagine how he could be into you with the old ripped tee covering his view.

He’s noticed your hesitation as he slid in between your legs; he’d just finished rolling the condom down his length and was lined up with your entrance.

“Darling?” he asked gently, “what’s wrong?”

“I just don’t know how you could like this outfit, thought you would’ve ripped it off immediately,” you whispered.

“No, no, no,” he soothed, “love you in anything,” he smiled, “you’re always beautiful to me.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “still wanna go ahead?” he asked against your temple.

“Yeah,” you smiled, feeling him push inside as soon as the word left your mouth.

You felt his breathy moan against your skin, your hand finding his now free one and locking on for dear life.

He started to thrust slowly, savoring your body, “love you, always,” he whisper-moaned.

“Love you too,” you breathed back before finding his lips with yours.

first impressions | joaquín torres x fem!reader

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x Fem!Reader Summary: When Joaquín visits the Avengers Training Facility, he meets you for the first time and quite literally falls head over heels for you. Warnings: Mentions of fighting/combat/body slamming, Word Count: 1.5k A/N: I got this as a request and I just loved the idea so much. It's different than anything I've written for Joaquín before as none of my readers have been Avengers, so this was a fun challenge. I hope you enjoy!

“Wait, so this is a legit training facility for Avengers?” Joaquin asks, the awe clear in his voice as he and Sam walk side by side into the lobby, trying to take everything in all at once, even though there’s too much to see in one go.

Sam nods. “Yeah, that is why I invited you out here today,” he laughs a little. The kid is always so shocked when it comes to the world of the Avengers and ‘superheroes’. Sam likes it though – it’s like being around his nephews and getting to see the childlike wonder for the world again, just from a grown man instead.

The two men continue walking inside the facility. Sam points things out here and there, making note of important places like bathrooms and the kitchen, until they finally reach the actual training rooms. The second they walk in, Joaquin’s eyes are drawn to you.

You’re in the far left corner of the room, clearly in the middle of combat training. There’s someone else sparring against you but it’s clear that you have the upper hand. You take them down with ease. To Joaquin, it looks like you don’t even think about your moves before you make them. You sweep the legs out underneath your sparring partner and send them falling to the mat. They groan and then laugh as you offer a hand to them to help them stand up again.

Joaquin thinks it’s the most attractive thing he’s ever seen.

“Who is that?” He asks Sam.

Sam follows his gaze and settles on you across the room. He almost rolls his eyes. Of course you are the one that the kid is drawn to straight away. He tells Joaquin your name. “She trained in the Red Room, hence her effortless fighting style. Don’t even try to go up against her unless you want your ass kicked, Joaquin.”

“I sure would let her kick my ass.”

“Joaquin.”

He looks at Sam, a stupidly large grin on his face. “Introduce me? Wait, no. I should introduce myself. I don’t need Captain America to do it for me.”

Sam sighs, then shrugs. “Your funeral.”

Joaquin throws a look at Sam over his shoulder as he walks away from him, heading over towards your sparring mat where you’re now alone, your partner having left. You’re sitting down on the edge of the mat, dabbing away sweat with a towel.

“Hey,” he starts, “I’m Joaquin Torres, I’m the new Falcon.” He extends a hand to you, intending for you to shake it. He’s a classy guy, he thinks. A hand shake is a good place to start.

You surprise him by taking his hand, then moving to stand up. But instead of actually standing up, you pull on his arm and use your strength and technique to flip him over your shoulder and onto the mat. He lands on his back with a groan. 

Sam, still watching from the door of the room, almost bursts into laughter.

“Okay, ouch,” Joaquin mutters, pushing himself to sit up. He turns around to look at you only to find you standing up and smiling down at him. The look on your face instantly makes him blush. He’s known you all of five seconds and you’re already making him blush.

“Sorry, was that not what you were offering?” You smile, crossing your arms over your chest. “I mean… we’re in the training room, you’re walking up to me while I’m on a sparring mat… seems obvious to me.”

Joaquin stands, ignoring the pain in his back from the sudden landing. He’s annoyed by the fact that he finds the way you handled him so attractive. “I was actually just offering you a handshake and introducing myself,” he explains, a little sheepishly.

You look at him, amused. The man is cute, you can admit that. You knew full well he was just introducing himself before but you’d seen a chance to throw him off his game before he undoubtedly started flirting with you and it had clearly worked. The red in his cheeks was obvious and undeniably adorable.

“Oh, my bad,” you hum, extending a hand to him again and introducing yourself.

Joaquin looks down at your hand. “I dunno if I trust you enough to accept a handshake.”

You grin. “I promise I won’t do that again. I’m offering a real handshake.”

Tentatively, Joaquin takes your hand and shakes it. Thankfully, he doesn’t get thrown to the mat again. Sam, across the room, seems a little disappointed at the fact. “I, uh, I’m here with Sam– uh– Captain America,” he explains, stumbling over his words a little. Hell, is he nervous around you? Joaquin doesn’t get nervous. 

You glance over your shoulder and give Sam a little wave. You’ve met him several times in the past. He’s a good guy and the perfect person to take on the mantle of Captain America. And this good looking man in front of you is his choice to replace him as Falcon. Not bad, Sam, not bad.

“I figured,” you say. “I saw you two walk in together. And Cap and Falcon have always been inseparable, even when Sam was Falcon and Steve was still around. I’ve gotta say, Sam made a good choice in picking you just based on looks alone.”

Joaquin almost raises a hand to his cheeks, as if he’ll be able to tell if he’s blushing by touching his face. Now you’re out here complimenting his looks? Joaquin had not expected this from you… he hadn’t really had any expectations at all, but flirting and flattery was well and truly off the table until now.

He runs a hand through his hair and crosses his arms over his chest. “Oh, I know,” he says, fully aware he’s coming off as incredibly cocky. “My experience in the Air Force was also taken into consideration but my looks obviously came first.”

Ah,  you think, two can play at this game. 

“Clearly,” you mutter. “I mean, you can’t be an Avenger unless you’re attractive, right? I know we’re meant to save the world and stop the bad guys and all, but it doesn’t hurt for us to be nice to look at… both for the general public and each other.”

Joaquin is pretty sure he resembles a tomato at this point with how much he must be blushing. He can’t remember the last time he was complimented this much. And all from someone who had basically body slammed him as a way of greeting. 

He really shouldn’t find that as hot as he does.

He clears his throat and nods. “Uh, yeah– yeah, you are– you’re so right.” He rubs his palm on the side of his jeans, trying to remove the sweat from it. Sweaty palms, stuttering over his words… what kind of person are you making him into?

“Well, Joaquin Torres,” you say, taking a small step towards him. “I suppose I’ll be seeing you around more often since you’re officially an Avenger now, won’t I?” 

Joaquin nods, then remember he has to actually reply to you. “Yeah, if Sam lets me come back after embarrassing myself and making a pretty poor first impression on the only other Avenger I’ve ever met before,” he replies with a small laugh.

He’ll definitely be thinking about how embarrassing this whole situation has been for him for many, many days and nights to come. 

“Sam and I get along pretty well,” you shrug, “so I’m sure I’ll be able to convince him to let you come back around if he rescinds his invitation because of this first impression. And who’s to say it wasn’t a good one?”

Joaquin raises his eyebrows. “Being body slammed sounds like a bad first impression to me.”

“To me, the fact that you didn’t go running away like a puppy with its tail between its legs after I did that says that you’re willing to learn how to make sure that’ll never happen again,” you explain. “Now, I can’t make any promises that I won’t do that to you again… but, you know… lessons can be learnt.”

He lets out a small, breathy laugh. You can’t promise that you won’t body slam him again? Why does that make Joaquin feel so breathless and hot? Oh, he needs to get out of here before he makes an even bigger fool of himself.

“I’ll see you around, Joaquin Torres,” you grin, stepping back away from him and picking up your gym bag that’s on the ground. You sling it over your shoulder and turn away, walking towards the exit. As you walk past Sam, you fist bump each other.

Joaquin stands on the mat, staring after you. It’s only when Sam appears beside him that he snaps out of it. He meets Sam’s eyes. “She’s my favourite Avenger.” He means every word.

“I thought that was Ant-Man.”

Joaquin pauses. “Don’t tell him I said that,” he says. “Now… when can I come back here?”

steve would find himself dating a weird girl, and he probably has no clue how he got there but he just kind of goes with it anyway because, not only are you like a sex god or something, but steve’s kind of scared of you if he’s being honest.

like, seriously, the first time he goes to your house, he enters your room and nearly shits his pants. you have animal skulls littered through your room, dead moths in frames on your wall, various sharp tools and traps on shelves or hanging on your wall— you even had a mason jar full of bullets that steve has no desire to ask about for the sake of his peace of mind. not to mention, the first time you fucked, steve had never seen you before and steve thinks he knows everyone in this town— but fuck if you don’t have the best pussy steve’s ever fucked in his life.

it’s godly, genuinely.

so steve keeps his mouth shut, doesn’t ask anything about the various dead animals in your room or the weapons, and he sits patiently on your bed as you feed your pet lizard.

and when you’re done, you ride the shit out of steve. there on your squeaky bed, in your cold room with an old, rusty sickle above his head that steve is a little stressed might fall from the wall and slice his head off or something— seriously, are you like a murderer or something? is steve fucking a murderer?

it doesn’t matter. you’re wet, so fucking wet, and warm and tight. you ride him to filth, to the point where it feels borderline disrespectful, but steve doesn’t care, not when you’re fucking him near an inch of his life, sucking him in like you’d never had a cock in you before.

jesus, steve has no clue how he got here, but thank fuck.

when you’re both done, steve doesn’t even catch a decent breath before you clamber off of him to wriggle your skirt back into place and pass him his keys— “my parents will be back anytime now, so you should probably go. unless if you wanna stay and eat dinner, you can.” you shrug.

and… well steve doesn’t have anything better to do, so he stays for dinner. your parents are nice— a lot less of a scary vibe coming from them which makes steve wonder where you get it from, but he says nothing.

and your parents seem to like steve (what parents don’t?) so steve keeps coming over. all summer. and eventually you just start calling steve your boyfriend and steve just nods and goes along with it. yeah. you fuck him good and you’re kind of cute even with the whole aura of death thing you’ve got going on. yeah, steve likes his little weird girlfriend.

come into my bedroom

description. you and JOAQUÍN TORRES take a week long vacation to the beach together. just a week on the coast, spending time in each other's bubble, without falling for each other ... probably. visuals

includes. coworkers to friends to lovers, SMUT 18+ MDNI, reader has been kept as ambiguous as possible (hair type, skin color, body type, place of birth, etc), reader is able to tan, the location is ambiguous, slight spoilers for brave new world, takes place after bnw, protected p n v sex, oral (f receiving), soft dom! joaquín, reader is called "baby" a couple of times

wc. 12.3k+

a/n: title from champagne coast by blood orange. i tried to keep where they vacationed as ambiguous as possible, but it's definitely at least a little bit obvious. for my bsf who recently got back from miami. thanks to @luckypunklemonade for beta reading :D

You’re drunk. 

No, you’re not drunk. You’re too drunk, inching towards shitfaced. You’re still here, at least here enough to walk beside Joaquín down the street towards your hotel, but you’re not really here. You know you’re not exactly walking in a straight line, and you know where you’re heading, but you don’t know how long you’ve been walking. You could’ve left the club five minutes or 50 minutes ago. 

You weren’t going to get this drunk. Honest. You and Joaquín were just going to go out, have a few drinks, and go back to your separate rooms. 

But the music was good, and the drinks were good, and the people were good, and suddenly you and Joaquín are drunk and navigating your way down the street. Well, he’s navigating your way. You’re just trying to keep up with his long strides. 

He walks a little in front of you the entire time, slightly more rigid, and a little less drunk than you are. You’ll probably be at his level in another half hour, that is if you get something in your stomach by then. Every so often, he looks over his shoulder to make sure you’re still there. You thought about hooking a hand around his elbow to keep him close, but the thought entered your mind and left before you could act on it. 

There’s not much small talk happening, but you don’t mind it that way. You’re focused on making your feet pick up and land one (mostly) in front of the other. Actually, you’re focused on walking and finding an open food spot on the way. 

One part is going fine, the walking part, but you’re still blearily searching for something to eat. You pass bars and closed businesses, restaurants that require reservations weeks in advance, one of them you think you and Joaquín actually have a table at later this week, but nothing quick and greasy. Which is exactly what you need before calling it a night. 

Joaquín calls your name and you hum. 

“You up for stopping in right here?” He points to the side and you look around his wide shoulders to find your saving grace. It’s like he read your mind, or maybe you’d been audible harping on about wanting something to eat the entire time. Right now, either seems plausible. 

Either way, you nod and let Joaquín hold the door open for you. 

You and Joaquín end up sitting across from each other at a tiny outdoor metal table. With the wind blowing against your skin as you’re sipping freezing cold water from a to-go cup, you finally realize how hot you’ve been this entire time. You lift your skirt up a bit to press your thigh against the cool metal and a sigh pushes out front your lips. Your eyes fall shut as you just sit in the moment. 

“You still drunk?” Joaquín speaks from across the table. 

You open your eyes and destroy your brief peace to glare at him as you wrap your lips around your straw. “What do you think?” you ask him only when the cool liquid has slid down your throat. 

He laughs. “First night here and you’ve already gotten shitfaced.” He shakes his head as if he’s ashamed of you, but the playful glint in his eyes keeps you at ease. 

“It’s your fault!” you accuse. “You’re the one who made friends with that couple. They kept buying us drinks.” 

Joaquín throws his hands out to the side in a surrender. “I’m not going to say no to free drinks. Don’t blame me!”

He’s right. Even if he wasn’t, you aren’t in the arguing mood anymore. You would rather finish the greasy taco sitting limp in your hands. And you do.  

You’re not being very attractive about it, though, you can tell from the way the juice slides down your fingers and around your mouth, but that’s not really the point to all of this. 

Besides, you and Joaquín are just coworkers and friends. Just two coworkers/friends on vacation together. Sitting across from each other in front of a taco spot, fighting for sobriety as you occasionally lock eyes between large bites. There’s no reason for you to be attractively drunk eating when you’re only with your coworker/friend. 

You finish the last bite, wipe around your mouth with a crumpled napkin and throw it onto your empty tray, looking up to find Joaquín already looking at you. He has this look on his face, nothing different from the one he usually wears—soft eyes and a softer smile—but it feels different this time. Maybe it’s the city lighting and your drunkenness that’s skewing the meaning. You’re going to blame both factors for the flutter in your heart, too.

Neither of you say anything for a moment and in that moment, a thought flashes across your mind. It’s quick and fleeting, but still strong enough to evoke a reaction. Just a thought of you leaning over this small table and pressing your lips to Joaquín’s. And the thought was truly fleeting, but you bring it back and sit in it to imagine how he would reciprocate with his hands on your lower back, big palms resting on the strip of skin between your top and skirt, and he would taste like lime and alcohol and when you pulled away he would have a look almost identical to this one on his face. 

Joaquín’s eyebrows push together, skewing the soft look he wore before and knocking you out of your drunken trance. 

“What’s that look?” he asks. 

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. “What look?”

His gaze lingers for a moment, but then he licks his lips and cleans up his area. “You think you’re sober enough to walk back now?” 

You scoff and attempt to make a point by quickly standing to your feet. When you wobble, it’s because your shoe didn’t land right on the concrete. Honest!

You have a crush on Joaquín. 

You don’t know why you’re realizing it here and now—laying in a hotel bed on vacation first thing in the morning. You don’t even know how long this crush has been here, but you know for sure you have a crush on Joaquín Torres, your partner/coworker/friend. 

You thought your little image from last night was fleeting, nothing but a drunken thought that you let yourself imagine for less than a minute, but it proved to be way more than that because when you got back to your room, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

As you took your makeup off, you thought about Joaquín waiting in your room for you to finish, snuggled under the blankets and scrolling through the channels on the TV until you came out of the bathroom in his shirt. As you climbed in the shower you imagined him standing at the sink brushing his teeth and humming that song he’s always singing but you never ask the name of. As you finally climbed into bed and clicked the lights off, you imagined fighting for covers with him and sleepily talking about your plans for the next day. 

It was so domestic and loving and absolutely sickening and unexpected. 

Well, maybe you should have expected it. At least a little. 

Joaquín is kind of the perfect guy. Everyone in your life made sure you were aware of it. He was funny, attractive, hard working, and easy to get along with. Even his flaws—his incessant nature and occasional annoyance for one—was quickly reworked as lovable in your head. 

You struggled with falling asleep for at least a half hour last night, and as soon as you knocked out, you were out. You might not have remembered your dreams but you knew deep in your mind and body that he was there. 

Just as he is here now, standing in front of you early  in the morning, wearing a bright smile and an athletic set. 

“No,” you sternly shut him down before he can even say anything. 

Joaquín’s jaw drops and he wears a mixture of shock and humor. “C’mon, you didn’t even let me say anything.”

“I know what you’re gonna say, Torres. I’m not going to some ‘sick workout class’ when we’re supposed to be on vacation.” 

“Oh, so we’re on last name basis again?” He crosses his arms over his chests and widens his stance. “I thought we moved past that.” 

“If you ask me to come with you then we’re back to last name basis, yeah.” 

He pouts and it’s so stupidly cute that you want to slam the door in his face. “Don’t let the hangover speak for you. I know you secretly wanna come workout with me.” 

You squint at him accusingly, leaning into the doorframe. “‘m not hungover.” 

“Uh-huh. How’s the headache?” He’s obviously not buying your shit.

“I don’t have a headache.” Bullshit and you both know it. 

“How’d you sleep?” He asks you instead, this time lacking any suspense. For a moment, he seems like he’s actually wondering how you slept. 

“Like a baby.”

“Then that means you should be energized enough to go for a workout. It won’t be bad. It’s only an hour.” 

You shake your head. “That’s an hour that I could be sleeping.” 

“And basically waste the whole day away? That doesn’t sound like the partner I know and love.”

You don’t let your mind linger on that word, especially when you know he doesn’t mean it like that. But still, knowing that Joaquín has some sort of love for you makes your chest feel all airy and glittery. 

“Yeah because that partner isn’t here right now. We’re on vacation.” 

Joaquín doesn’t respond. Not verbally at least. Instead, he tilts his head and fully pouts, lips pushed out and eyes big. He’s not backing down and truthfully, it might be better for you just to say yes and halfass the entire session. 

Finally, he reasons with you. “I’ll buy you a smoothie afterwards. Whatever overpriced shit you want. Fair?” 

Fair enough. 

Compared to what you’re used to, the workout is quick, but it’s certainly not painless. The instructor, some woman with much more energy than you’re willing to exert on vacation, seemed to find pleasure in kicking your asses. For a brief moment there when you were catching your breath and wiping your forehead on a towel, you wondered if she could be some big and bad super villain hiding in plain sight. That would explain the inhuman stamina, and the almost eerie cheery personality, but other than that your theory didn’t make much sense. And even if it did, you were on vacation. Now wasn’t the time to seek out trouble that wasn’t presenting itself. 

The only thing that pushed you through the entire thing was looking over at Joaquín, one because of how attractive he looked with sweat glistening along his tanned skin, and two because you refused to let him show you up, even if the workout was his idea. 

You will admit, though, that every time he lifted his shirt to wipe his forehead, your knees did feel just a little weaker and your last rep in a set was not nearly as strong as it could’ve been when you heard him grunting beside you. 

You couldn’t understand it. You and Joaquín workout together all the time. You train together, sometimes with Isaiah and Sam, sometimes with friends of friends, sometimes with just each other. You’re used to seeing him sweat, you’re used to hearing his grunts and breaths, you’re used to all of it. But something about all of this happening now is making you lose your mind. 

As soon as the class ended, relief entered your entire body. 

The relief certainly didn’t last for long, though. 

Since you did what Joaquín wanted to do that morning, he did what you wanted to do right after. Before you could even really think about it, you happily suggested sunbathing on the beach until you were too hot or hungry to continue, whichever came first. 

It wasn’t until Joaquín slyly grinned and sang your name that you realized what you signed up for. 

“You tryna see me shirtless?” he teased at the time. And you rolled your eyes and called him a freak and continued walking down the hall towards your rooms, but as soon as you were behind the closed door you were digging into your suitcase to find the cutest swimsuit you brought. 

Not that you were trying to impress Joaquín or anything. 

As soon as your bare toes are sinking into warm sand, you slowly feel yourself relax. Slowly. 

Laying on your back in a swimsuit that was a nice mix between cute and attractive, your eyes closed, your ears full of a playlist you made just for this occasion, the sun radiating down on your skin. It’s easy to forget everything laying just like that. The breeze cools your skin as soon as you get too warm, the sun heats you back up as soon as you get too cold. Absolutely nothing to worry about except how long you’ve been laying on one side and when you should flip over. 

Absolutely no stressors. 

Until Joaquín speaks. 

“Do me a favor and get my back?” 

You peek an eye open and lift your sunglasses up to see Joaquín standing next to you, holding out a bottle of sunscreen. 

You don’t mean to hesitate, but you still do. It takes a moment to process his question, and it takes another moment to find an answer, even though the clear one is yes. If he wasn’t standing there without a shirt, wearing forest green trunks that hung low on his hips, and his skin wasn’t glistening in the daylight, it wouldn’t have taken nearly half the time to help him out. 

“What would you do without me?” You try not to let your voice falter while you watch him massage sunscreen onto his chest, but you’re sure the little dip at the end of your sentence was noticeable. 

Joaquín just tilts his head and tosses the bottle into your lap.  

It’s not awkward. At least you don’t think it’s awkward. You rub the sunscreen on Joaquín’s skin as quickly as possible, trying to ignore the sturdiness of his muscles beneath your hand. You know how fit he is, it’s impossible for you not to know since you’ve been working with him for a while now. But knowing and knowing are two different things. 

Seeing is not the same as feeling. 

Feeling his muscles as you work them beneath your fingers, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingertips, grazing your hand lightly over the scars littering his skin, only lingering for a second on the life altering scar that trails down from the side of his neck to his shoulder. You try not to touch it too much. He hasn’t talked to you much about the accident, not since you visited the hospital with high quality food instead of flowers for him. Even then, he joked around it, even if you saw sorrow in his eyes like you’d never seen Joaquín wear before. 

You rubbed the sunscreen down his back and finished above the waistband of his trunks. Not even a second later did he look over his shoulder and down at you through a squint. “Now let me do you,” he urged without leaving much room for argument. 

Doesn’t mean you wouldn’t make room. 

You shook your head. “‘m okay, I already got it.” 

Joaquín turns around to face you completely. He laughs through a quick puff of air, his lips pulled up at the corners. “Barely. I saw you struggling over there. C’mon, let me top it off for you.” 

His hands take the sunscreen bottle from you, but he doesn’t put any in his palm. Not yet. For now, he stares at you, eyebrows lifted, waiting for you to give him the final answer. 

You turn around, moving whatever needs to be moved to give him basically full reign over your back. 

The first touch makes you jump, even if you were expecting it. You hear him quietly apologize under his breath, and you quietly brush it off, but you aren’t sure if your response was heard or if it was carried off with the wind. 

He continues in silence. 

You’ve had Joaquín’s hands on you before. A hand clasped in yours to pull you up, a touch fixing your posture when he was showing you a new trick Isaiah taught him before, a finger jabbed into your side when he walked past you. But again, this is much different. 

Having Joaquín’s bare hands on your bare back makes you tense up, and you hope he doesn’t notice it. He rubs with a lot more attention to detail than you did; he reaches beneath the straps of your top with curt permission, and even asks if he can get the backs of your arms too. 

By the time he finishes, you’ve started to relax just a bit, to the point where the expected disappearance of his hand on your back feels unwanted. Joaquín’s hands are big and soothing, you could do with them on your skin for the rest of your life. 

Of course, you don’t tell him that. Not just because it would be completely inappropriate, but because he would never let you live it down. He would go the lengths to change his phone contact to Joaquín “best hands there ever were” Torres. 

Which is just a step below Joaquín “best co-worker there ever was” Torres. 

Somehow, you manage to make it through the rest of the beach day without much trouble. You tan until you don’t think you could tan anymore. Joaquín lays next to you most of the time, besides when he began to feel fidgety and he ran to grab both of you drinks, and pre-cut fruit for you, as an excuse to stretch his legs. You used the few minutes of solitude to text your group chat about the agony you accidentally put yourself into. Agony that was only made worse by Joaquín coming back with two drinks in one hand, fruit still in its rind in the other, and his newly tanned skin glistening from sweat in the sunlight. 

Shortly after, you had to leave and take a cold shower to get your head on straight. 

You think you’re doing pretty good at ignoring your feelings. You know you have a crush on him, but acting on it would change nearly too much, and a lot in your lives—his especially—has already changed. It’s not a leap you think you’re ready to make yet, so you’ve been ignoring your feelings. 

Over the course of the past couple of days, you and Joaquín have been spending your time doing every relaxing thing you could think of. Decompressing at that same club from the first night, but leaving as soon as the crowd proved to be very different from before—more rowdy for the hell of it and less generous in general. Eating at trendy, overrated lunch spots, or underrated hole-in-the-wall dinner spots. Spending a little too much money on new clothes but enabling each other anyway, because the shirt might look similar to another one that you already have but that shirt back home wasn’t that shirt there in your hands, so you needed it. 

There were just two nights left and then you would have to pack all your stuff, somehow fit in more new clothes than you anticipated, and return to the real world. One that entailed mission debriefs and learning how to work new tech. The only thing you were looking forward to about the real world was Sam, since he happened to be a natural barrier between you and Joaquín. It’ll be hard to focus on how badly you wanted to be underneath the Falcon whenever Captain America was in the vicinity providing tasks that required your full attention. 

But that is days away. For now, you’re going to try and enjoy the remainder of your all too quick vacation as much as possible. Even though you’re becoming more and more tense as you go on, a tension that your fingers beneath your panties hasn’t been able to fix yet. 

You didn’t think your behavior was noticeable, but Joaquín notices more than you thought. 

The two of you are walking side by side down the boardwalk. You’ve been fairly silent throughout, but not for any particular reason. Silence made sense to you, there wasn’t much to talk about right now. 

Apparently, Joaquín felt different. 

“What’s up with you?”

You furrow your eyebrows, quickly trying to figure out if you did something wrong between the walk from your hotel to the walk at the start of the boardwalk. Coming up short, you ask for clarification. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean why’re you so tense? Isn’t this relaxing for you?”

Yeah, this is relaxing for you. Walking side by side, letting the beach breeze blow your dress in the wind. Showered, fed, at the end of your vacation, this moment you exist in is like heaven. It’s a little too much like heaven, a perfect plane where the guy you’ve been crushing on is wearing a button up with the first two buttons undone so you can see the fresh tan he has and the gold glint of the chain he wears instead of his dog tags. 

It’s hard to relax when right beside you is someone you’ve wanted so badly, and he looks like everything you’ve ever wanted. 

“I’m not tense,” you finally respond. Although it’s a lie. 

“You so are,” Joaquín counters, “let me show you what you look like walking around here.” He takes a few quick strides ahead of you, and then pulls his shoulders up to his ears, straightens his spine, and walks with a little too much purpose. He looks odd and menacing. And definitely not like you. 

You tell him as such. 

He turns around to face you, grinning and walking backwards. “Okay I did take some creative liberties there, but you do look tense.” He turns back around and slows until he returns to a stride right beside you again. “What’s wrong? Do you wanna do something else?”

You shake your head. “No. This is fine. I like doing this.” 

Joaquín takes a moment and you see him look down at you from the corner of your eye. “Then what’s up? Anything you wanna get off your chest?” 

God, you should just tell him the truth. Well, not the full truth. 

Joaquín is chill personified. If you told him that you’re wound up sexually, he would likely make a joke about it, then brush it off and avoid asking you about it again. Friend to friend, you could just let off some steam—verbally!, although the other option is much more preferable—and then hopefully feel better. 

But just imagining yourself saying those words makes you tense even more and you have nothing to do but shake the thought out of your mind completely. 

“No. ‘m okay. I was just … thinking. But not anymore.”

He doesn’t say anything for a second and you don’t know if he believes your lie. But he moves past it. He points to an ice cream shop to your right, and you swerve for the window. 

You and Joaquín end up sitting side by side on the beach, willingly letting sand press into your nice clothes but neither of you care much. You have a dinner reservation soon, and you’ve just been killing time—and also your appetite, but you and Joaquín both swore to eat dinner. Even if you’re devouring ice cream cones. Truthfully, this is a perfect way to end your night, sitting by your partner's side, letting the world exist around you both. 

The breeze blows against your skin. You and Joaquín sit with your bare toes digging into the sand, shoes having been discarded to the side, your shoulders close enough to brush against the other if either of you move. You’re looking off at the ocean, watching people enjoy the evening air around you both as you sit in a moment of stillness. There’s paragliders, a few jet skis, some boats, and a large cruise ship sailing into the port. 

Joaquín points off at the ship with the hand not holding his waffle cone.

“We should cruise for our next vacation.”

You turn to face him, tilting your head to the side. “Our next vacation?”

Joaquín nods. “Yeah. We should make this a regular thing. You know we work well together.” 

That you do. You grin and knock your shoulder into his.  “Let’s hope Sam doesn’t start feeling left out.”

Joaquín laughs with a quick exhale through his nose. “He’s definitely having the time of his life back home.” 

You’re unable to stop yourself from grinning as you imagine it—Sam working back home, likely enjoying the rare lull in the terror that the three of you have been fighting and will continue fighting. “He’s probably blasting Marvin Gaye over the speakers in the office.” 

This gets a real laugh from Joaquín, likely because he, too, can see it perfectly. 

Your laughter dies down and for a few moments, you and Joaquín sit in comfortable silence. 

Then, “You been having fun?” 

You hum. “Yeah. It’s nice not having to deal with—” you gesture vaguely in the air and Joaquín nods beside you. “Especially after everything.” You don’t say it exactly, but you know Joaquín still understands you. He knows you’re talking about his accident. 

You weren’t even the one in danger, having stayed grounded on the ship, but the horrors still settle deep in your heart some nights. Things are repaired, or currently being repaired in the case of D.C, but everything still feels so fragile to you sometimes. 

Which is why you’re so glad to be here with him at your side, reminding you that he’s okay. Everything’s okay. 

Joaquín takes a breath as if he’s about to speak. You turn to look at him. He’s staring off at the sunset, his face mostly stoic except for a slight twitch in his eyes, a flare of his nostrils, and his jaw clenching. “For a moment there when I was falling out of the sky, and when I could barely move my body on my own in the hospital I was worried that I wouldn’t get the chance to see places like this again. To … you know…” he hesitates and you’re about to tell him that he doesn’t have to keep going if he doesn’t want to. You and Joaquín have avoided talking about the day his heart stopped, and you don’t have to start now. But then he inhales through his teeth and continues. “To see home.” 

Your breath hitches and your eyes sting. Without thinking too much about it, you scoot closer into Joaquín’s side, tilting your head and resting it on his shoulder. Immediately upon contact, Joaquín wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you fully into his side. 

“I’m glad you’re here with me, Joaquín.” 

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” he says your name at the end, echoing you but somehow sounding more earnest. More meaningful. 

He places a kiss on the top of your head and in that moment you decide you could stay here just like this for the rest of your life. It all settles in your body at one time, the realization that you want Joaquín, you’ve known that for a while, but you want more than his body. 

You want Joaquín Torres in his entirety. 

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about?” he continues, “Is that why you’ve been tense? Because I promise I’m okay. It was scary for a bit but my heart’s fine and I feel fine physically—”

“No. It’s not that, Joaquín. I promise I was just a little tense but I’m good now, too.”

He nods once. “Okay.” He pulls his phone out and checks the time. He doesn’t say anything for a while as if he doesn’t want to disrupt the energy, but he speaks eventually. “If we wanna make our reservation we gotta leave now.” 

He stands to his feet and puts a hand out for you to grab. You take a moment to look at the sun setting and to finish the rest of your ice cream in one bite, then you take another moment to look at him. With resolution, you place your hand in Joaquín’s and let him pull you to your feet. 

Yeah, ignoring your feelings isn’t working anymore. 

It’s not like you’re exactly able to ignore how bad you want Joaquín when you’re at dinner with him, sitting in such an intimate setting—sat at a small table tucked in the corner of the restaurant next to a window looking out on the street, his tan skin lit by candlelight and ambient low lighting around the both of you. 

Having just come from the beach, the two of you are still wearing the same outfits (now without as many grains of sand as possible), meaning you have an even better view of Joaquín’s chest and the chain sitting right below his collarbones. He looks so nice and put together—his curls out more than you’ve ever seen them before, his face a little unshaven and adding an older look to him. 

God, he’s so pretty, it’s impossible for you not to think so. Not when you’re faced with him like this. 

Joaquín’s looking at the menu, acting like he didn’t look at it on his phone two hours ago. You’re holding the menu open, acting like you’re still deciding between two options, when really you’re just trying to decide if you should make a move or not. 

When Joaquín looks up, you quickly look down, furrowing your eyebrows and pouting as you stare at words that aren’t processing.  

Joaquín calls your name and you hum without lifting your eyes. When he doesn’t say anything immediately, you glance up. Not only is he already looking at you, but he’s looking at you with a certain look in his eyes. Infatuation, admiration, something else that you don’t wanna name, for it feels like too much of a jump.

“What?” you ask, a shy grin splitting your face open as your skin starts to warm. 

Joaquín shrugs like he’s going to say the most casual thing ever. Instead, he tells you, “Nothing. I just wanted to tell you how pretty you look.”

Oh my godddd. 

What are you supposed to say to that? Everything thus far on this vacation has been widely platonic, and anything crossing that barrier has been nothing but a hopeful figment of your imagination. But his words, paired with the way they were delivered, feels like a step towards a future you want to live in. 

But maybe you’re overthinking it. Joaquín is honest and earnest when he wants to be and maybe now is one of those moments. 

You wrap your hand around your glass of ice water and bring it to your lips, pausing just long enough to respond. “What is it? The tan?”

Joaquín nods but that look in his eyes is still there. Chocolate brown dances across your figure before settling back on your own eyes. “Yeah … among other things. The tan and the color of your dress,” a bright colored fabric that hung loosely over your body and dipped around your back, you chose it especially because you knew it would look good on your skin, “and just you.” 

You gulp down water, trying to contain yourself. 

“Thanks, Joaquín,” you finally respond, trying to remain as casual as possible. “You look good, too.” 

Joaquín grins and you can see the man you’re used to coming back to himself. He tugs at the collar of his shirt and dusts off invisible particles. “I clean up well don’t I?”

You halfheartedly roll your eyes and return back to the menu. That interaction has already been catalogued for you to hyper analyze in the shower later. 

You thought that interaction was mind boggling, but the one you find yourself in later is ten times worse. 

You’ve both steadily worked through your plates, giggling and laughing about any and everything you could think of. The waiter mentioned the option of drinks at one point, and you looked to Joaquín for his reaction, wanting to see if that’s how the night was going to go. Not exactly as drunk as you were the first night, but at least a little buzz. When Joaquín politely shook his head, you did the same, and continued to sip your water instead. 

You do, however, decide to split two desserts. 

“Can I say something?” Joaquín speaks whenever he scrapes his fork across the decadent chocolate dessert sitting in the center of the table. 

You hum, grabbing a forkful of the fresher, citrus dessert instead. “Depends. How stupid is it gonna be?”

“Um … let me say it and then we can decide.”

You sit back in your seat, thereby giving him the floor. 

He takes his time chewing and swallowing before he goes to respond. “I’m shocked that we’ve been together every day and night of this trip.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “What d’you mean?”

“Like we haven’t … been with other people.”

His words shock you. “Is that what you think of me, Joaquín?” 

You don’t feel upset, or particularly offended. You’re just a little confused on why Joaquín has been thinking about your sex life while the two of you have been on vacation together. Sure, you’ve been thinking of the same thing, but his sex life hasn’t exactly crossed your mind. Besides whenever you pictured the two of your sex lives merging into one. 

But now that he’s presented the idea, you, too, are shocked that things have been contained to just the two of you this entire week. It’s not that you expected Joaquín to sleep around, you actually didn’t know what to expect when it came to his dating life. You did know that Joaquín was attractive and people other than yourself thought so, and he obviously knew it as well, but it’s unexpected that you didn’t see him intentionally ogling at least one other person on your nights out. 

You don’t know why he would think the same of you, though. 

“No!” he’s quick to defend himself, “But I wouldn’t judge you if that’s how you wanted to spend your vacation. I mean I wouldn’t blame you.”

“You’re digging yourself further and further into a hole, Torres.” 

He laughs. “Yeah, I can tell.”

A moment goes by and you sip your water. The air here feels open, but certainly not casual. You feel like you can tell the truth in this intimate atmosphere, and your words would hold intentional weight. 

You take the jump. “I didn’t wanna be with anyone else. I liked being with you.”

Joaquín looks surprised. “Really? So you preferred beach trips and coffee shops and working out over a hot hookup?”

You shrug. “I haven’t been interested in hooking up with anyone else.” 

His eyebrows lift in the center. “Anyone else?”

Fuck. 

It seems you have joined Joaquín in that hole, but you don’t mind being here. It’s about time you did something, right? You don’t bother responding, at least not verbally. Instead, you just look at Joaquín over the rim of your glass, sincerely hoping that he’s starting to understand. 

Before any more progress can be made the waiter comes back with the check and you’re already reaching into your bag for your wallet, verbally chastising Joaquín before he can even reach for the bill. 

Quiet returns to you both during the walk back to your hotel. It feels natural this time, likely because you’re not speaking, but it isn’t silent. Cars against asphalt as they drive down the street beside you, music spilling out of establishments that line the way, the automated voice of the pedestrian crossing pole when Joaquín presses the button for the both of you. There’s not anything being said, but there doesn’t need to be; much is being communicated through the energy radiating off of your body. 

Walking closer to each other than you had ever before, elbows grazing, a lightness to your bodies even if you both indulged a little too much over dinner. Everything just feels so right, even if there’s still an emptiness inside of you. Even if you leave this trip without getting laid, you’ll still feel fulfilled because you and your partner are closer than you’ve ever been before. Though, after existing in this bubble with only him, it’s going to be hard to return to your normal life and let other people in. 

A car honks and skirts to a stop. Before you can even realize what just happened, Joaquín’s already throwing an arm over the front of your torso, his face turned to the car that almost (wrongfully) hit the two of you. He yells something at them and blindly grabs your hand, pulling you in front of him and pushing you to the sidewalk and out of the street. 

He mutters something under his breath, but you don’t hear it. “You good?” he asks at full volume. He stands next to you but still holds onto your hand. 

“Yeah. We’ve been through worse than almost getting floored by a Benz, right?”

He laughs and continues leading the way back to the hotel. 

Your hand stays in his the entire time.

You and Joaquín make it all the way inside of the hotel with your hands still clasped together. They don’t part until an unattended child runs between your bodies, forcing you to separate. 

You end up standing in front of the elevator with the up button pushed. It dings every few seconds, an indicator of its steady descent, but it makes a few stops along the way. While you wait, you lean your shoulder into the wall next to it, crossing your arms over your chest and your legs at the ankle as you look at Joaquín standing across from you. 

He speaks first. “You wanna go out again tonight?  End the week with a bang?”

You shake your head. Your eyes are big, your lips are pulled into a soft smile, your entire expression is soft. Fuck hiding it, you’re done pretending. 

“Nah. I’d rather stay in tonight.”

Joaquín nods and tucks his hands in his front pockets. “Alright. Together or separate?”

“Together.”

His eyebrows lift as if he’s shocked, but there’s a little glint in his eyes. You think he’s starting to catch on. 

“Okay,” he drags the last syllable out and shifts his stance. He clears his throat before he speaks again. “What d’you wanna do?”

The elevator door opens and you and Joaquín stand out of the way to let people come out. As soon as everyone has cleared out, the two of you enter the elevator alone and you push the button to shut the door before anyone else can come around the corner. With the doors closing you turn to face Joaquín to see him already looking at you. 

You smile up at him and he smiles down at you. 

You take a step closer to him and he takes a step closer to you. 

You reach a hand out to his face, hesitating, and then he nods just before he reaches a hand out and places it on your waist. 

And then finally, your lips press against his. 

The first kiss is tentative. It’s testing. Your lips press together, you stay like that for a moment, and then you pull away. The two of you stare at each other, Joaquín’s expression as soft and docile as it always is. You think you’re mirroring him in this moment. 

Then, without any words exchanged, you both move towards each other again. Your heads are tilted and without much trouble at all, your faces slot together nearly perfectly. This kiss is more exploratory. It’s open mouthed, teetering towards a messiness that you’re sure you’ll both fully succumb to by the end of the night. At least, you hope so. 

You don’t have much time, you’ve realized that as soon as the elevator dings the first time to indicate its ascent, therefore you’re trying to get what you can while you can. You throw your arms over Joaquín’s shoulders and hook them around his neck, pulling him down towards you as you tilt yourself up into him. His body curves to engulf yours in his warmth, but he kisses you like he has all the time in the world. 

He kisses you like he means it, like there’s more than one mutually shared goal at the end of this motivating him. 

It’s hard not to give in to the slow and longing way Joaquín kisses you. You don’t even try resisting it at a certain point. Instead, you press your chest up into his and lean up on your toes to get more of him, yet not initiating a change in the pace at all. You like the slow way Joaquín’s lips move against yours. You feel much more this way. 

Your fingers lay across the back of his neck and just as they start to inch up into the faded part of his haircut, the elevator dings and announces your floor. 

You and Joaquín separate with clear hesitance in the movement. The two of you stare at each other, unmoving, just looking in each other’s eyes. His eyes look darker than you’ve ever seen them before. If you got closer, you think you would see his pupils blown out. From here, though, you see his desire in other ways—the flush on his cheeks, the prominence of his chest rising and falling, the hint of your lip products that have rubbed off on his lips. 

The elevator door starts to shut and Joaquín is forced into making the first move. He slots his arm between the doors just before they close and he stays there when they open. He turns to look at you, tilts his head in a beckon, and holds his hand out for you to grab.

The walk to your rooms feels much longer than it usually does. You try to make it go as fast as possible, skittering ahead of Joaquín as fast as your impractical sandals would allow, but you’re trying not to look too eager all the while. Still, when you reach the number you’ve memorized for the week and turn around to look at him, he has a slight smile of amusement on his face. 

You’re already searching into your bag for your key when you ask, “Yours or mine?”

Joaquín reaches around you for the handle to the door without speaking. You watch him press the key card to the sensor and push the door handle down just as you feel your fingers find the piece of plastic. 

“We gave each other one of each when we checked in, remember? Just in case.” comes his unprompted explanation. And now that you’ve been reminded, you do remember. Your key to Joaquín’s room has been sitting on the dresser forgotten the entire week. You know he wouldn’t have done it, not without your explicit consent, but you wish Joaquín had used the key to his advantage once this week. You wish he would have acted on the tension between you both, the tension that you’re finally realizing has been reciprocated this entire time. 

But now it’s happening. There’s no reason to complain when you’re getting what you wanted. 

His hands are on your hips as he leads you into the room, your bag is thrown to the floor and your shoes are kicked off of your feet. Your body is turned at his will, your eyes meet his as he lazily grins  down at you. His tongue flicks out over his lips in a quick and smooth movement, and at a much slower pace, you lean back in to press your lips back to his. 

Joaquín’s hands automatically latch onto your lower back, one warm palm pressed into the thin fabric of your dress and the other settling right on your bare skin in the opening. Meanwhile, you start working on his shirt, popping button after button through the holes. You stop when you’re halfway down, not on your own accord. 

You’re forced to stop when Joaquín slots his hands behind your thighs and he easily lifts you up. You squeal into the kiss on instinct. 

There’s a moment where both of you are grinning against each other’s lips and it just feels so right. It feels incredibly natural to be doing this, to be smiling when you’re kissing Joaquín, even though nearly everything else about this situation isn’t natural for the two of you (your erect nipples rubbing against his chest, your panties stuck to your cunt, the very faint brush of his cock stiff in his pants that you get on the journey up). 

“You’re just showing off,” you half-heartedly chide. 

Joaquín shrugs and walks you back to the bed. “Maybe just a little.” He places you down, kneeling between your legs and finishing off the remaining buttons on his shirt. “You love it, though.”

You don’t admit it verbally, but the way you shamelessly ogle his chest when he pulls the shirt off says everything. 

As soon as his shirt is gone, he places a hand on your ankle, slowly inching your dress up a few inches before he stops and looks at you. His expression is open, you can tell what he’s asking without words. But for good measure, he includes them. 

“Can I keep going?”

You nod, eager and unashamed. “Yeah. Keep going.”

He starts to push the bright fabric further and further up your legs, speaking to you as he continues. “You gotta let me know if …” his words taper off when he sees the first hint of your panties, and you don’t know exactly what he’s seeing, but it makes him speechless for a moment and your ego inflates. 

“I’ll let you know if …?” Cockiness is audible in your words but he doesn’t comment on it. 

Joaquín blinks and comes back to himself. “If you wanna stop, or if you want something changed. We gotta communicate.” 

“M’kay.” 

And with that, Joaquín pushes the fabric completely over your hips and he’s met with your panties. They’re a bright color that compliments the color of your dress, and, consequently, your tanned skin. He swears under his breath and although you don’t hear him clearly at all, you’re pretty sure it wasn’t in English. 

You sit up fully and slip your dress over your torso with Joaquín’s help. He lets the fabric drop to the floor without looking, his eyes are focused solely on your chest. 

You’re laying back on your elbows, elevated just enough to look at him. You stare at his eyes, even if you aren’t making eye contact, while he leans up to hover over you. His head dips and he presses a single kiss in the center of your chest and repeats the action right over each side of your ribcage. The tip of his nose grazes your breast and instinctively you arch up towards him. When he pulls away just enough to look up at you, you see him smiling.

You could beg, but the night has only begun. You decide to save that for later. For now, you huff and stick your spine back to the mattress. 

Joaquín places a hand around your side and dips his head back down, this time higher than before. When he latches his lips around your nipple, a little gasp breaks from between your lips. He lets his teeth scrape against the bud, alternating between giving you pressure and giving you wet heat from his tongue. By the time he switches to your other nipple, you’re already desperate for a true relief focused on your cunt. His lips travel upwards, brushing against your skin throughout the journey, until he’s pressing them into the side of your neck and under your jaw. You let him continue upwards, you let him kiss you a bit more, but you can only go so long without real, fruitful stimulation. And maybe another time after this (circumstances willing) you would love to prolong everything. 

But right now you need to get fucked, whatever that could entail. 

You buck your hips up and end up catching the bulge in Joaquín’s pants where his zipper lies. You think he’ll catch on that way, and maybe he does, but he just chooses to ignore it. Either way, you send him a hint and Joaquín doesn’t do anything about it. He continues kissing you, he tweaks your nipples and slots a knee between your legs, all of which you’re grateful for since it is a stepping stone in the right direction. But you need stimulation, you need to get off, and the slow crawl is slowly driving you crazy. 

You pull away from Joaquín to call his name. He responds with a gruff yeah that immediately settles deep in your gut. 

“I need more. Please.” 

He grins right in your face. The expression almost looks wicked on him for the first time ever. He has the power here right now and he’s obviously letting it go to his head. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asks while his hand slides down between your bodies until his thick fingers can slip between your clothed folds. 

His question was rhetorical (and smug but that’s besides the point), yet you still find yourself going to respond. Your lips part, you can feel the corners turning down as you prepare to say something just as smug back to him, but then he presses down and quickly finds your clit after a moment of fumbling. As far as words go, you’re silent. Nothing but sounds slip from your mouth from that point onwards. 

Joaquín toys with your clit. He starts with one finger, just the pad of what you think might be his middle finger, and when that has you forcing your hips up into his touch, he adds a second finger. With two fingers, he has more space to work with, resulting in larger circles right over the most sensitive part of you. He speeds up, too. 

Your back arches and you dig your nails into the sheets. You know what you want to ask for, it's simple and you’d already said the word in this space, but it gets trapped in your throat this time. You’re close already. Yeah, you’d been getting yourself off throughout the week, but finally having Joaquín do it for you has made you so much more responsive. 

You get the first syllable out, the ‘M’ vibrating in your throat before you open your mouth to round it out in an ‘O’. 

Joaquín picks up where you left off. 

“More?” he asks, eyebrows lifting as he holds your heavy gaze. Before you even respond with a nod, he’s already sitting back far enough to slip his hand in your panties and repeat his emotions. 

The first real touch dizzies you for a moment. You pinch your eyes shut with the pure intention of orienting yourself, but then Joaquín chastises you in a soft, but firm voice. 

“Look at me. I wanna see you.” 

You do as told, of course. 

He nods. “There we go.” His fingers get just a little faster, the circles tighter. You’re so wet that there isn’t any uncomfortable friction at all, his skin easily glides against yours. 

“You close?” he asks after a moment. When you nod, he continues, “If I give you this one, you’ll be able to give me another, right? You can give me more?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I can.” You’re breathless when you speak, and it certainly doesn’t help that it’s then when Joaquín decides to pull his fingers away completely, pull your panties to the side, and sink down completely until his face is level with your cunt. 

Just the image below you is enough to twist that section deep into your stomach into a knot. He’s barely able to give you anything before your back is arching off of the bed and everything in you mounts to a peak. 

When you come, it’s from the controlled and effective licks Joaquín delivers to your cunt. You don’t know when your hand moves on its own, but you feel silk-like strands between your fingers. It helps anchor you, gripping his hair helps keep you sane, especially when Joaquín keeps going. 

He broadens his reach this time. His mouth opens wide enough to slide his tongue down from your entrance and back up towards your clit. And he doesn’t just lick this time, you hear the audible suck from him. He’s slurping that shit, and you can already feel the introduction of another orgasm. 

If you were with anyone else, you’d be shocked at how soon another is on the precipice. But it’s Joaquín, and aside from the fact that you’ve wanted him for a while, you’re not exactly shocked that he knows what he’s doing. 

He slowly sinks one finger into you, pumping the digit in and out of you with meticulous ease. It’s a stark contrast from the almost sloppy way he’s eating you out. But it works. 

One finger is nice, it’s thicker than your own, rougher, too. You could get off just like that. And then, he adds a second. 

“Fuck,” you swear without any conscious intention. 

Joaquín comes up for air, releasing you with an audible smack. “Yeah?” he asks, the word coming from right in his throat. 

You nod as you take in the way he looks—cheeks flushed, hair tousled and hanging over his forehead, pink lips shining, his eyes wide and nearly doe-like. 

“Yeah,” you confirm. You see a look flash in Joaquín’s eyes then. It’s a look similar to the one he has whenever Sam affirms his work with a clap on the back—self-satisfied, delighted, proud. It occurs to you then that he doesn’t know what he’s doing to you. He can read your body language, sure. It’s obvious from your cunt, along how good he’s making you feel, but you know verbal affirmation is different. It’s better, especially for Joaquín. 

As he goes back in to finish you off, you speak to him.

“Just like that,” you tell him. Just this little bit encourages him, you can feel it in his movements.  “Keep going. ‘M close, so close, Joaquín. Please, don’t stop. You’re so … you’re so—” Before you can even get it out, all noise dies completely from you. Your mouth uselessly hangs open, not even air comes out as your entire body stiffens. Nothing happens for a moment, Joaquín continues, you’re stuck, and then a nanosecond later everything knocks into you. 

Sound emits from you, moans and groans and breaths. You’re digging into whatever you can find—the heel of your foot into Joaquín’s back, your hands in his hair, the rest of your body into the twisted sheets beneath you. You’re simultaneously trying to escape and trying to keep Joaquín from parting with you for even a moment. It’s hard to decide which you prefer, you don’t even think your mind has any say in the dilemma, your body is in control at this point. 

Ultimately, your body decides to let go, releasing both of you at the same time. Still, Joaquín takes a moment to pull from you. He continues licking and sucking, but his fingers slowing down indicates his intent to free you. It comes after a few drawn out moments where you’re stuck twitching beneath him until finally, he pulls his fingers out of you and presses one final kiss right onto your clit. 

His head lifts and the evidence is more obvious than you expected. It’s gathered all over his chin, stuck along the beginnings of facial hair that will likely be gone first thing Monday morning. It’s gathered on his lips and along his tongue when he uses the muscle to pull the remnants of your arousal into his mouth. 

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and only then does he realize how much of a mess you’ve made of him. He pulls his hand back, brown eyes big as he stares at the evidence. 

“Shit,” he laughs. 

All you can do is agree through labored breaths. 

He tries to clean you off of his mouth, but not much is done. He leans in tentatively after that, as if you’re going to shy away from him. You don’t. 

You kiss him back eagerly, although a bit lethargically. You’re trying to hide it from fear that Joaquín could think that you’re done. But your body needs a moment to recover from that. 

When Joaquín pulls away from you with a small smile on his face, you know he’s onto you. 

“You need a minute?” The way he says it isn’t much different from the way he asks you those same words when he’s kicking your ass in the gym. 

And just like when you’re in the gym, you shamefully nod. 

Joaquín chuckles and leans in to kiss your forehead. “That’s okay. You want anything? Water maybe?” 

“Water sounds good.” 

You watch him leave and then your eyes are focused solely on the ceiling. You can’t even let what’s happening sink in when you’re still a little spacey. But you can handle more. You want more from him. 

Joaquín comes back with a glass of water. He stands next to the bed and passes the full glass to you. You don’t question the source, you just drink until there’s half left. You offer it to him and he gladly takes it from you. 

“Are you … do you wanna stop?” He speaks when the glass has been emptied and placed on the nightstand. For the most part he looks like he would be unaffected by whatever answer you gave, but you think you can detect some premature dejection in his features. Quickly, he adds, “Because it’s fine if you do. I’m okay with that.” And he’s being honest. You don’t feel any pressure coming from Joaquín at all. 

It’s what you truly mean and want when you immediately shake your head. “No. Let’s keep going.” 

He nods once to himself. “Alright. Cool. Yeah.” 

Excitement leaks from his pores but you don’t comment on it. You felt just as he did not long ago. You still feel like that, but you’re under a haze right now and that’s what your emotions are being led with. 

Joaquín hooks his thumbs into his already-loosened jeans and goes to pull them down. First, though, he pats at his pockets. When he doesn’t feel what he’s looking for, he swears. 

“One second.”

You watch his form retreat until the door of your room is pulled open. Not even a minute later he comes back in with a foil pocket brandished between his fingers, the same fingers that were in you not long ago. 

“You came prepared?” The question comes out more judgemental than you meant it to. 

Joaquín shrugs. “I keep an emergency bag full of … stuff. You know, in case of an emergency.” 

“Freak.” You don’t mean it. 

“You’re about to get fucked by a freak so, wouldn’t that make you a freak by association?” He seems to mean it. 

“I don’t think that’s how that works.”

He holds the packet between his teeth while he slides his jeans off of his legs, stepping out of them and leaving them at the foot of the bed. He comes back around to the side, pulling the packet out from his teeth and staring down at you. Like this he looks more imposing than he ever has before. 

When he’s been out in the field, when he’s training, when he yelled at the car earlier tonight, he didn’t look as imposing as he does now—staring down at you over the bridge of his nose, hair tousled, cock tenting in his black briefs. 

“That’s definitely how that works,” he claims as he leans down. He presses his hands into the bed beneath you to leverage himself as he kisses you, slow and passionate. You wonder if he’ll fuck you like that too. 

You reach a hand up and pull the elastic away from his waist. When he doesn’t react, you tug the fabric down. You feel it get stuck around his cock just before you feel his cock spring free. It brushes against your wrist and you make a little noise into the kiss. 

As soon as Joaquín’s briefs are laying at his feet he assumes his previous position, this time sitting right on his haunches. You avoid looking at his cock for a moment, but when you watch him tear the condom packet open, you get the first glimpse at him. 

Even this part of him is attractive. He’s thick, that’s the first thing you notice. Thick and heavy, if the way he hangs to the side is any indicator. There’s a vein leading from his taut stomach down towards the dark and trimmed thatch of hair at the base of his cock. You hadn’t noticed the vein ever before, not when you had been too busy ogling the v-line chiseled into his torso instead. 

Now that you’ve seen all of Joaquín, you can easily conclude that he’s perfect. Just as you have that thought, Joaquín takes an inhale as he prepares to speak. 

“You’re so perfect,” he says. 

The warmth instantly floods your body. 

“I was just thinking the same thing about you,” you tell him. 

He dips his head almost shyly and doesn’t say anything. Instead, Joaquín pulls the condom out of the packet. 

“Wait. Lemme do it. Can I do it?” 

He looks momentarily surprised at your request, but he passes you the condom and politely places his hands on top of his thighs. 

It’s truly an excuse to feel him beneath your palm as you glide the latex barrier down his length. You revel in the warmth beneath your hand, because as soon as you’ve secured the barrier around the base of his shaft, Joaquín's leading you back without even having to touch you. He leans forward and in response, you lean all the way back until you’re nestled amongst the pillows at the head of the bed. 

“Ready?” 

You nod, letting your legs fall open for him. 

One warm hand falls to the inside of your thigh while the other disappears between your legs to line up his dick. Then, slowly, Joaquín pushes forward. The stretch is instant, you can feel yourself opening up wider and wider to fully fit him in. If you weren’t as soaked and prepped as you were, you’re sure the burn would’ve been way worse. 

For a few moments it’s like the length of him keeps going and going, but then you feel his thighs press up against the back of yours and there’s the faint feeling of his balls resting against your ass and you know he’s bottomed out. He looks at you, gauging your reaction, and your response comes in the form of linking a leg around his back.

Joaquín smiles through nothing but the twitch of the corner of his mouth upwards, and then he wastes no more time. He rests his weight on his hands at either side of your head, and pulls his hips back just to roll them forward and slide his cock back into you. 

And for a bit, Joaquín does fuck you slow and passionate. He fucks you in full strokes, a nice tempo that doesn’t overwhelm you too quickly. There’s punctuation at the end of each thrust, followed by a nearly agonizing pull back out. Whether intentional or not, Joaquín’s introducing you to the feeling of his cock filling you up, just as he’s introducing the concept of another release to you. 

But you’ve had your fill, it’s his turn now. 

You press your hands into his shoulders. They glide back, one hand grazing over the raised skin of the scar that leads down his back, the other following a smooth path, but they meet in the same place—back around the front to where his chain hangs. You hook one finger into the gold link, the other going behind his head. You pull him closer until you can nudge your noses together. 

His eyes flutter shut and his eyebrows pinch together in the center. You kiss him once and pull back to tell him, “You can use me, Joaquín. Take what you want.”

His eyes open to stare at you with confusion written on his face, bordering on hope, as if he already has an idea formed in his head of what he really wants to do to you. 

You nod assuredly. “It’s what I want.” Just as you’re about to add a quiet plea to seal the deal, Joaquín adjusts his position and then he pulls nearly all the way out of you, only to forcefully drive back into you. 

The switch is immediate. He still fucks you in complete motions, but they’re shorter, no longer the tip to the shaft each time. These are faster, much faster. It feels like he’s reaching up into your guts each time, just to pull back and do it again and again and again. 

You’re forced to find purchase again, hands digging into whatever you can find. One hand attaches to his hair and the other holds onto his chain, your legs have linked around Joaquín’s hips, your head has craned backwards, leaving the area between the base of your neck and your chest open for Joaquín to rest his forehead on. 

You can’t hear his sounds over yours, but you feel them—quick breaths let out onto the sweat coated area of your chest. You would try and silence yourself to better hear him, but you couldn’t even if you tried. 

Luckily, though, Joaquín lifts his head and notches his nose against the side of your neck instead. He kisses you right beneath your earlobe, but when he can no longer complete that action, his jaw goes slack and every single noise he makes travels directly to your ear. 

You swear and it comes out as a whimper, not even a second later Joaquín swears and it’s a deep groan all the way from the back of his throat. You call his name and he calls yours. He’s affecting you, and you’re affecting him, even just by laying back and urging him to get himself off by using your body.

“Are you close?” you eventually gather the strength, and will, to ask. 

You feel Joaquín nod against your neck. “Yeah,” he confirms, “yeah, baby, ‘m almost there.” 

Your reaction is instant. You groan, a sound that could be interpreted as frustration if you weren’t having your guts completely rearranged right now. 

He chuckles deeply against your skin. “What? What’s up?”

“C…Call me that again.”

“What? ‘Baby’? You like when I call you baby?” 

You hum affirmatively. 

Joaquín lifts his head and slots one hand against your cheek. His pace slows as he stares at you. “You’re my baby? Hm? Are you?” 

You nod, whining out an “uh-huh”. 

“Yeah?” he grins as he says it, as if he’s shocked that you agreed. You don’t know if he’s serious, if he knows that his words are holding weight even if you’re a little dumb right now, but you do mean it. 

He licks his lips and you see an idea coming to his head. “You gonna be good for me, too?” When you nod, he continues. “Be good for me, baby, and touch yourself, alright?”

He gives you the space needed and watches your hand slide down your stomach. When you use two fingers to tweak your already overstimulated clit, Joaquín nods. 

“That’s right. Just like that.” 

He resumes his original pace, this time with his eyes fully locked on your cunt. He pulls one of your legs up and throws it over his shoulder, leaning forward to get even deeper into you. 

You’re close, you’re almost there, and the erratic way Joaquín practically jackhammers into you as he chases his own release is what pushes you over. You finish just after Joaquín buries himself into you and curls his body over yours. This orgasm truly feels like a release. Everything in you melts into the world around you, just as Joaquín’s body melts on top of yours. 

He kisses the skin closest to him, first in small almost discrete pecks, and then they gradually get bigger and more audible until he’s clearly making them ridiculous on purpose. 

His cock is still nestled in you and his head is still resting on your chest when he speaks. “You think you’ll be up for a shower?”

You hum, letting the question run through your head for a minute before responding. “In about ten minutes, yeah.” 

“Take your time.”

In the meantime, Joaquín slowly slides out of you. The emptiness is immediate, but after all you’ve been through since getting back to your room, you don’t exactly hate it. Your eyes start to feel heavy but you let them close for a little while. You rely on your other senses throughout. 

The feeling of Joaquín kissing over where you think your bikini tan lines are, the rim of the glass that he brings to your lips, the sound of his voice as he gently urges you to drink, the feeling of cool water sliding down your throat. He holds you steady as you drink with a hand behind your head. Your lips turn up tiredly, and you feel his thumb at the corner of your lip catching a stray drop of water. You don’t have to open your eyes to know he’s wearing that same soft look on his features.

You’re so pampered there that you don’t force yourself to get up until you hear the shower running. 

Joaquín’s already there waiting for you at the door. He smiles when he sees you as if he’s shocked that you came, even though this is your room and your bathroom. Still, he reaches out and grabs your hand, pulling you into the bathroom and in front of him. His hands push at your back, guiding you towards the shower. He pulls the door open for you and lets you step inside before he follows after you. 

You reach for the towel and soap, but stop when he tuts behind you. 

“I got it,” is all he says. So you let yourself completely relax with the feeling of Joaquín dragging the cloth up and down your limbs. He talks to you throughout, mostly asking you to lift an arm or turn around, sometimes bringing up small bits of conversation, every now and then singing bits of songs—some that you recognize, some that you don’t. There’s a familiarity now that you’ve gained since his hands had massaged sunscreen into your shoulders. 

Eventually, though, he finishes with you, leaving you to lean against the wall and watch him shower.

“You know what I realized like a few minutes ago?” he says when he’s rinsing the soap off of his body. 

“What?”

“Remember the couple from the club that first night? The one who kept buying us drinks?”

“Yeah, how could I forget?”

“Yeah well I’m pretty sure they thought we were like … swingers or some shit.”

You’re startled awake. “Huh? Why do you think that?”

“Oh I don’t think, I know. The guy gave me his number and everything. Plus you saw the way they were looking at us, and the woman kept cozying up to you.”

You frown. “I thought she was just drunk or friendly.”

“She definitely was drunk and friendly. And she also wanted you.” 

You blink. “I thought she wanted you.”

Joaquín shrugs and rinses the last of the soap from his back before he shuts the water off. “She probably did. That’s sort of part of the whole swingers gig, isn’t it?”

You laugh through a quick exhale of air. “Come on, Joaquín, let’s go to bed.” 

You step out of the shower and wrap a towel around your body. Joaquín follows after you. 

“Oh, I get to sleep with you tonight?” He sounds giddy when he says it, as if he wasn’t just fucking you so good that your legs are still getting used to walking again. When you tell him that, you see the unintended compliment go straight to his head. 

You end up getting exactly what you wanted. Joaquín leans into the bathroom counter with the towel hung low around his waist and his eyes watching you do your skincare routine. As soon as you’re finished, he’s trekking off to his room for a change of clothes and to do whatever he needs to do, and he comes back in nothing but boxers with a big shirt in his hand. He lays it on the counter for you casually, but you see the tips of his ears tinted just a tiny bit red when he retreats back to your room. 

You come out in his shirt to see him lying on your side of the bed, the remote in his hand and pointed at the TV. As if the entire trip had been going like this the entire time, he instantly scoots over when you come to the side of the bed and lifts the sheets for you to climb under. You lay curled into his side, telling him to click a channel playing a movie that you know he likes. 

The remote is placed on the nightstand, the lights are clicked off and you’re snuggled up next to Joaquín, wearing his shirt and talking about how the two of you are going to spend your last day of vacation. 

Not everything goes how you thought it would, though. Joaquín ends up being pretty mindful with his blanket usage. 

Do you know a fandom’s about to die when everyone starts posting social media AUs

ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ; ᴀᴏ‘ɴᴜɴɢ xᴏᴍᴀᴛɪᴋᴀʏᴀ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Summary: You and Ao‘nung are on your way to collect special fruits for an Assembly of the Mitkayina Clan, but things are getting weird and… hot?

Warnings; Fluff, Kissing, sexual …talk? Enemies to Lovers, mentions of death (hate that) lol thats it enjoy

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"Aonung wait." I hissed, kicking some leaves out of the way. Below me the wet grass between my toes. We must have been walking for almost an hour now and the bag in which I was collecting the fruit for the Metkayina assembly almost overflowed. "What's the matter? Can't you keep up?" Ao'nung taunts and swings over a tree trunk closely followed by me, who somehow struggles over it. 

I was sure we'd had enough and all this fuss was just to annoy me. After all, I was allowed to carry the heavy bag, although he always talked about how strong he was. Idiot. With ease he pushed some branches to the side which then almost killed me. I was angry and I wanted to push him off a cliff. After I had overcome the last dangers that Ao'nung had exposed me to, we entered a sandy beach. Almost a bay I would say. The waves hit the rocks and far behind I recognized the spot where our ilus were waiting for us.

"You're kidding me, aren't you? We could have just come here straight away, then we would have saved ourselves the difficult journey." I snapped spitefully. Me and Ao'nung have always had our...differences. In the beginning he was really likeable to me, until he became an absolute ass. After Neteyam's death he dropped this whole macho scam and I was free from him insulting me everyday but I'm still being screwed 24/7 until I can't anymore. Fine, from time to time I'll take revenge and sometimes it's even funny. Still, I can hardly judge Ao'nung at all.

"Don't get so upset, the way is the goal." he laughs and sets off into the bushes to pick whatever I'm allowed to carry anyway in the end. Rolling my eyes, I put the bag down and stretch. A moment later, Ao'nung comes back out of the bushes. He walks over to me at the end of the beach and holds out a pink prickly fruit. I look at them both skeptically and raise an eyebrow.

"Thanks, but I'm poisoning myself." I decline with a grin. But Ao'nung doesn't let go of me, pulls out his knife, cuts off a piece and puts it in his mouth. "Something of poisoned." he whispers, dramatically holding his stomach. I suppress my laughter and just roll my eyes. Again he cuts off a piece and puts it in front of my mouth. "here." I try to reach for it but he pulls his hand away. "I thought you wanted me to try?" I ask. "Yes-but not that you hurt yourself." Only now do I recognize the barbs on the shell. However, he doesn't seem to mind. "bite off."

Somehow I don't really feel comfortable with it, but I bit it off and felt his cold fingers. Juice dripped from my chin, which Ao'nung brushed away with a gentle movement, and then licks his finger. I freeze, barely able to breathe. I was beyond confused, and somehow, …suprised."

" swallow." he breathes softly and raises his eyebrows. My head is a red room full of panic signs that glow brighter than neon lights. "wa-what" I bring out with my mouth full. "I said swallow." I get goosebumps. At no point did I think that Ao'nung's words could provoke a reaction of this kind, but I press my legs together and swallow the sweet fruit. Ao'nung eyes wander up and down my body, knowing what that just was. Funny, I would also like to know that. I swallow again.

"Do not look at me like that." I command him. "How am I looking at you?" smiling, he takes a step towards me, his eyes look deep into mine. "N- well the way you're looking at me. Stop that." "I can not." he blurts out.

Fuck. I think to myself, undecided whether I should just kiss him or run away. Then being confused because of my own thoughts. Ao'nung was all flirtation... just not usually with me. "You know, then just turn around or-" I keep getting quiet until my air to breathe is replaced by Ao'nung's lips. While I still hold my hands in the air in surprise, Ao'nung throws away the knife in his hand and grabs my waist. I reflexively wrap my hands around his neck.

The moment he lays me down on the sand, I forget all my principles and pull him down to me. I feel the cold sand beneath me, Ao'nung hands in my hair. I pull away from him, breathing heavily.

He just grins, with those cute dimples and his perfect eyes. "okay that was… quick." I gasp, trying to cover my nervousness with a laugh that only makes it more obvious. "fast?" he asks, looking at the air thinking. "Well, this is the first time you've let me get closer than a foot without hitting me, you're actually pretty slow today." embarrassed, I put my hand in front of my face. His confident flirting makes me more than nervous. "Don't talk such nonsense, there were at least a two." He licks his lips and presses another kiss on my lips. "You could hit me right now and I'd still want you, not gonna lie."I clench my teeth tightly and still roll my eyes in shock at what just happened.

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