Jade

Welcome to my freaky world! 🖤

Masterlist:

Bad Bunny

Ruin the friendship (series): Benito’s long term friend hides him a big big secret, but what if he does the same?

Showing my devotion: In which Benito is obsessed with giving his lovely girlfriend his most sinful devotion, and she loves it.

Part. 1

Part. 2

Between the Sheets: After Benito’s historic performance at SuperBowl, the lovely couple can’t keep their hands to themselves.

Tú eres mía, ¿o no?: You go to a party together and someone thinks is too important important for you, benito doesn’t like that

Delicate: He had a reputation for breaking hearts. She had a habit of never trusting boys like him. Neither of them expected to be wrong.

I dreamt of you all summer long.. : When two people from opposite worlds find exactly what they need in each other.

Burning Down: She never thought that a simple dance would make him react in such a way…

VMA’s Night: What happens at the VMA’s after-party stays at the VMA’s after party, I guess…

Make love and music.: Where the biggest partners in music, become partners in a way they never imagined..

The Rythm of the Night: She’s the choreographer, he’s the singer and she doesn’t wanna risk it all.

Be mine..forever?: A perfect day at the beach enfs even more perfect!

Plus One: When you wanna try something new with your boyfriebd, and he say yes..

Part.1

Part.2

Part.3

Actor!reader x Benito: When Benito, your boyfriend of five years accompanies you on a set day, and your co-worker complicates his life…

Nick Jonas

Into chocking huh? That makes the two of us: A tweet that Elena thought no one would ever come, but he saw

Joe Jonas

Taking care of business: When Sarah it's too hot to handle and Joe need to take care of her

Send me requests!! 🤍🤍

What is that?

Find my other stories here!

Requests are open! 🩷

Masterlist: @percysley @suns3treading @maisiesthoughts @benitoswifeylol @gloriouscollectormusic @piecredheart comment to be part of the taglist! 🤍😉

Summary: When a fan comes up with a belly piercing and that turns benito on…

Warnings: SMUT, explicit sexual content, oral sex (f receiving & m receiving), sex, dirty talk, praise kink, belly button piercing!reader, clit piercing!reader, light cumplay, slight dom/sub dynamics, spanish pet names (“mami”, “princesa”)

⸻⸻

Her name was Y/n, a 24-year-old Brazilian with curves that turned heads everywhere she went. A fan of Bad Bunny since the first albums, she lived the dream when she found out about an extremely rare meet & greet in São Paulo. Only 50 fans would have the chance. Y/n didn’t think twice: she focused all her thoughts on an outfit that screamed sensuality without being too vulgar.

She chose a black crop top, showing off her toned, tanned stomach, and low-rise jeans that hugged her wide hips. Her wavy brown hair was loose, makeup glowy, and the main detail: the shiny silver belly button piercing, with a little stone reflecting the light. She arrived early, sweating nervously in line. When it was finally her turn, her heart was beating so hard it felt like it would jump out of her mouth.

Benito was sitting in a simple chair, wearing an oversized hoodie and dark sunglasses, but with the same lazy smile as always. He signed photos and gave brief hugs. When Y/n stopped in front of him, he lifted his gaze and paused for a second.

— Hola, mami… — he murmured, with that Puerto Rican accent that melted people.

Y/n smiled shyly, but turned her body slightly to the side, lifting her crop top a little as if adjusting it. The belly button piercing sparkled under the lights.

Benito blinked, pretending not to notice at first.

— What’s that there? — he asked, tilting his head with a curious smile, playing dumb. — Looks like… something shining.

— It’s my belly button piercing — Y/n answered, voice low but confident. — Do you like it?

He leaned forward in the chair, bringing his face dangerously close.

— I don’t know… I’ve never seen one up close like this. How does it work? Does it hurt when you get it done? — He slowly extended his hand, fingers brushing the warm skin of her stomach. — Can I?

Y/n immediately shivered when his fingers touched the cold metal and the skin around it.

— You can… — she whispered. — It’s just jewelry. You pull it lightly and… feel it.

Benito held the piercing between his thumb and forefinger, turning it gently, his thumb brushing the soft skin of her stomach in slow circles. His eyes traveled up to her face.

— Interesting… very interesting. — He lowered his voice even more. — You’re dangerous, huh?

While signing a photo, he discreetly slid a folded piece of paper into the waistband of her jeans, slipping it into the front pocket with his fingers. The touch was slow, intentional, brushing the skin just above her groin.

— Keep that safe, princesa — he murmured, barely moving his lips. — And take care.

Y/n felt the paper. She didn’t look at it there. She just smiled, thanked him, and walked away with trembling legs.

On the paper, handwritten:

Hotel Unique - Room 1702. After 11 p.m. Don’t make me wait.

⸻

It was 11:47 p.m. when Y/n knocked on the hotel room door. She had changed clothes: a short, tight black dress, no bra, and her heart racing.

The door opened. Benito was shirtless, wearing only low gray sweatpants hanging on his hips, showing the defined V-line and tattoos. Messy hair and the scent of expensive cologne.

— You came… — he said with a dirty smile, pulling her by the waist inside and closing the door. — Thought you were a coward.

As soon as the door closed, he pinned her against the wall, kissing her hungrily. His large hands slid down her back, squeezing her ass under the dress.

— Fuck, you’re hot as hell… — he growled between kisses. — Ever since I saw that piercing shining, all I can think about is fucking you.

Y/n moaned against his mouth, feeling his cock already hard against her stomach. He lifted her effortlessly and carried her to the king-size bed. He threw her onto her back and climbed over her, kissing her neck, moving down to her chest.

— Take this off — he ordered, pulling the dress upward.

When the dress came off, he stopped. He looked at her body: the belly piercing shining, the tiny black panties.

— Fuck… look at this. — He lowered his head and licked around her belly button, circling his tongue on the piercing. — You came prepared to drive me crazy, huh?

Y/n arched her back, moaning. He moved lower, slowly pulling off her panties. When they fell to the floor, Benito widened his eyes.

— No mames… — he whispered, surprised and turned on. There was a second piercing: a small vertical barbell on the hood of her clit, shining. — You’ve got one on your pussy too? Fuck…

He spread her legs apart with his large hands, admiring her.

— Look how delicious… — he murmured, lightly running a finger over the piercing. — That must be sensitive as fuck, huh?

Y/n bit her lip, trembling.

— Yes… really sensitive.

Benito didn’t wait. He lowered his head and gave her one long, slow lick from her entrance all the way to the piercing. Y/n let out a loud moan, grabbing his hair.

— Ahh, Benito… please…

He smiled against her wet flesh.

— You like it like this, mami? — He gently sucked on the piercing with his lips, circling his tongue around it. Then he pushed his tongue inside her, fucking her with slow, deep movements while his thumb massaged the clit piercing.

Y/n rolled her hips against his face, moaning shamelessly.

— Like that… like that, fuck… your tongue feels so good… don’t stop…

He ate her eagerly, making wet sounds, sucking, licking, pushing two thick fingers inside while sucking on the clit piercing. Y/n came for the first time screaming his name, thighs trembling around his head.

Benito came back up, his chin shining with her juices, and kissed her, making her taste herself.

— Now it’s your turn, naughty girl.

Y/n didn’t hesitate. She knelt on the bed and pulled his sweatpants down. His cock sprang free, thick, veiny, the head shiny with pre-cum.

— Wow… it’s bigger than I imagined — she whispered, holding it with both hands.

She licked from the base to the tip slowly, looking into his eyes. Then she took him into her mouth, sucking eagerly, using her hand on what didn’t fit. Benito groaned, holding her hair.

— Like that, fuck… suck it good… such a good mouth…

She drooled all over his cock, making obscene sounds, gagging lightly when he pushed deeper. Benito slowly fucked her mouth, controlling the rhythm.

After a few minutes, he pulled her up.

— Come here. I want to feel this pussy.

He laid her on her back, spread her legs wide open, and positioned his cock at her wet entrance. He slid in slowly, inch by inch, groaning.

— You’re tight as fuck… damn…

Y/n dug her nails into his back.

— Go slow… I want to feel everything…

He fucked her slowly, deeply, rolling his hips. His eyes never left the piercings. He kept lowering his head to suck on her belly button, lightly biting the skin around it, while thrusting.

— These piercings are going to make me addicted… — he grunted. — Every time I fuck you, I want to see them shining.

He sped up a little, but still controlled, holding her breasts, pinching her nipples. Y/n moaned loudly, grinding against him.

— Benito… deeper… like that… you fill me completely…

He turned her onto her side, lifting one leg, thrusting even deeper. His hand kept moving down to play with the clit piercing while he fucked her.

— Look how wet you are… hear that sound? — He thrust hard but rhythmic. — This pussy is mine tonight.

Y/n came again, tightening around him. Benito couldn’t hold back anymore. He pulled out, climbed over her, and started jerking himself off fast.

Y/n looked at him with a dirty expression and that was enough. Benito came hard: thick, hot spurts landed on her stomach, on her belly button, wetting the piercing, dripping down to her breasts and a little over the entrance of her swollen pussy.

— Fuck… so fucking good… — he moaned, emptying himself completely.

He collapsed beside her, pulling her against his chest, still breathless. He ran his fingers through his own cum on her stomach, spreading it around the belly button piercing.

— You’re not leaving anytime soon, mami — he whispered, kissing her neck. — This night isn’t over yet.

But you two started dating other people in both of you hoping whatever you feel for each other will just go away.

But yet even with others you and Benito still think about each other all the time. Till one day you two are really alone again and one things lead to another and you both are in bed.

Basically you two are each others sneak links or side chicks

Can skip if you want. Love everything you write!!

Hey!!! Thank you for the request, and for the details on it, i loved itt!! 🤍🤍

Find my other stories here!

Requests are open! 🩷

Masterlist: @percysley @suns3treading @maisiesthoughts @benitoswifeylol @gloriouscollectormusic comment to be part of the taglist! 🤍😉

Warnings: HEAVY SMUT (+18), friends to lovers, cheating/infidelity, possessiveness, jealousy, praise kink, light degradation kink (f!recieving), dirty talk, dom!benito, sub!reader, rough sex, oral/penetrative sex, light exhibitionism

You’ve known each other since 2017. You were one of the few people Benito truly trusted back when he still wasn’t the Bad Bunny the whole world knows. Back then, he was just a guy from San Juan with a dream too big for the size of the island, and you were the friend who stayed up until four in the morning listening to him sing rough drafts of songs on his phone. The chemistry was always there—the glances that lasted a second too long, the heavy silences, the “accidental” touches that made your skin tingle. But neither of you ever said anything. It was as if admitting it would ruin the perfect friendship.

Years passed. He blew up. Tours, Grammys, collaborations, fame. You kept living your life: college, work, relationships. But every time he came back to Puerto Rico, it was like no time had passed. You both fell into the same rhythm: nights at his place in Condado, listening to music, smoking, laughing at stupid things. The sexual tension only grew. You hugged tighter than normal, he looked you up and down when he thought you weren’t noticing, you bit your lip when he took off his shirt without a second thought.

To try to kill what you felt, you both started dating other people. Him with models and influencers, you with a decent guy who worked in marketing. It worked… for a while. But every time Benito texted you at three in the morning saying “I’m in PR, come over,” you dropped everything. And him even with whatever girlfriend he had at the moment—would call you when he was drunk at some party in Miami just to hear your voice.

⸻

It was a rainy Thursday in May. Benito had just come back from a European tour and canceled all his plans. His girlfriend was in Los Angeles shooting a campaign. Your boyfriend was in New York for work. For the first time in a long time, both of you were completely free and alone at his house in Dorado.

You were in the TV room, lights low, a documentary playing on mute. You were lying on the huge couch with your head on his lap, legs stretched out. He slowly ran his fingers through your hair.

— You’re quiet today — he murmured, his voice rough from having slept during the movie.

— Just thinking — you replied.

— About what?

You hesitated. He noticed.

— Say it.

You turned your face up, looking at him.

— Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if we had just fucked right from the beginning.

The silence that followed was heavy. Benito stopped moving his hand through your hair. His dark eyes dropped to your mouth.

— And why do you think we never did? — he asked, low.

— Afraid of ruining everything.

He gave a slow smile, almost dangerous.

— And now? Still afraid?

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you sat up, turned to face him, and kissed him.

It was like years of repression exploded all at once. Benito grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you onto his lap. The kiss was hungry, wet, tongues tangling with no delicacy at all. You felt him already hard beneath you, pressing against your thigh.

— Fuck… finally — he growled against your mouth.

He lifted you like you weighed nothing and carried you to the master bedroom. He threw you onto the king-size bed and stood there, slowly taking off his shirt. His body was exactly how you had imagined on the nights you touched yourself thinking about him: tattooed, muscular, golden skin.

— Take your clothes off — he ordered, voice low and commanding. — Slowly. I want to see everything I missed all these years.

You obeyed, taking off your tank top and shorts while he watched, biting his lower lip. When you were left only in black underwear, he climbed onto the bed, kneeling between your legs.

— Look at you… already soaked and I barely touched you. — He slid two fingers over the fabric of your underwear, feeling how drenched you were. — All of this is for me, right? Your little boyfriend doesn’t get you like this.

You moaned, grinding against his hand.

— Answer — he demanded, giving your thigh a light slap.

— It’s for you, Benito… it’s always been for you.

He smiled, satisfied. He pulled your underwear aside and pushed two thick fingers inside you at once, curling them just right. You arched your back, moaning loudly.

— That’s it, moan for me. I want to hear how long you’ve waited for me.

He fingered you hard, his thumb circling your swollen clit while lowering his mouth to suck on your nipples. You held his head, digging your nails into his scalp.

— Benito… please…

— Please what? Say it.

— Fuck me. I need you inside me.

He pulled his fingers out, licked them in front of you, and lowered his pants. His cock was thick, long, the head shiny with pre-cum. He rubbed the tip against your entrance, teasing.

— You’re mine now, understand? Even if we go back to those idiots tomorrow. When I want to fuck you, you come. When I want you to suck my cock, you open that pretty little mouth. Got it?

— Yes… — you moaned, desperate.

— Good girl.

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, until he was fully buried inside you. You both moaned together. He stayed still for a second, feeling you pulse around him.

— Fuck… so tight. So warm. Perfect for me.

He started moving. First slow, deep, feeling every reaction from you. Then faster, harder, skin slapping. He held your thighs open, watching where you were connected.

— Look how you take all of me… what a greedy little slut.

You were delirious. Every thrust hit your G-spot. He lowered his body, bracing himself on his forearms beside your head, and kissed you while fucking you hard. The rhythm was brutal and intimate at the same time.

— Come on my cock — he whispered in your ear. — I want to feel you squeezing.

You came screaming his name, your body shaking. He didn’t stop. He kept thrusting, dragging out your orgasm until you were trembling. Only then did he pull out, flip you onto all fours, and slide back in, even deeper.

— Now you’re going to take all of it, got it?

He held your hair like reins, pounding deep, his other hand spanking your ass. You pushed back, asking for more.

— Harder… use me, Benito.

He laughed, rough.

— Look at you… begging to be used like a little slut. And I thought you were a good girl.

He thrust faster, deeper, until you felt him swell inside you.

— I’m gonna come… fuck, I’m gonna fill you up.

With a guttural groan he came, long hot spurts filling you. He stayed inside until the last spasm, then collapsed beside you, pulling you against his chest.

You stayed in silence for a while, just breathing. He stroked your back.

— That wasn’t just a one-time thing, right? — he asked, almost shy now.

You lifted your face and smiled.

— No. That was us finally admitting what’s always been there.

He kissed you slowly, gently this time.

— So you’re my side chick now… and I’m yours.

— And I don’t want to be anything else.

⸻

From that night on, it became routine. Whenever Benito was in Puerto Rico, the ritual was almost sacred. He’d send you a simple message, usually in the afternoon: “Tonight. My place. No underwear.” You went. Sometimes he didn’t even wait for you to reach the bedroom—he’d grab you against the garage wall, lift your dress, and fuck you right there, fast and rough, murmuring in your ear: “Look at you running over here all soaked… you dirty slut. Does your boyfriend know you come here to get fucked for real?” You’d come just from his words, tightening around his thick cock while he laughed low, satisfied with the power he had over you.

On tour, the distance made everything even more intense. At three, four in the morning, while he was in some hotel suite in Madrid or São Paulo, your phone would buzz with a video call. He’d appear sweaty, shirtless, sometimes with a thin gold chain around his neck. “Show me,” he’d order in that raspy voice. You obeyed: spreading your legs for the camera, touching yourself slowly while he jerked off looking straight into your eyes. “That’s it… open more. I want to see that clit swollen thinking about my cock. I bet your boyfriend doesn’t make you moan like this, huh? Say it.” And you moaned his name, confessing between breaths that only he could make you like this—desperate, wet, submissive.

During the day, it was constant messages. Photos you took in the work bathroom, underwear pulled aside, captioned “thinking about you using me.” He’d reply with audio of him moaning your name or short videos of his hard cock in his hand: “This is throbbing for that little mouth. Save space for me.” You lived in a constant state of repressed desire, fueled by those small daily sins.

The “relationships” lasted a few more months. You kept seeing the marketing guy, Benito kept seeing whatever model he was with. But it was all an act. You both knew it. When he fucked you, he liked to remind you—that was part of the game you both loved. He’d put you on all fours, grip your hair tight, and thrust deep while asking:

— Does he fuck you like this? Answer.

— No… — you’d moan, pushing back against him.

— Of course not. Because this pussy is mine. — A sharp slap echoed in the room. — Say you’re my slut.

— I’m your slut, Benito… only yours.

He loved when you said that. The mix of light humiliation and possessiveness made you come harder, and he knew it. Every time you met, he made you repeat it, made you admit out loud how much you needed him, how no one else was enough.

And anyone paying attention knew. Mutual friends noticed the way he looked at you when you were in the same place, how his hand lingered a second too long on your waist, the knowing smile you shared when you thought no one was watching. But no one said anything. It was your open secret.

Deep down, you and Benito belonged to each other in a way no label could explain. You were best friends. Confidants. The perfect escape. And above all, you were addicted to each other—body, mind, and soul.

Every time you were alone, he reminded you exactly where you belonged: lying with your legs spread, moaning his name, taking every inch while he called you a good girl and a slut at the same time. And you loved every second of it.

It was messy. It was wrong. It was addictive.

Sooo, first of all thank you soooo much for the request!! I disappeared bc i got really involved with this story, this is why is soooo long, BC IT’S VERY LONG..anyway hope you enjoy it!! 🤍🤍

Find my other stories here!

Requests are open! 🩷

Masterlist: @percysley @suns3treading @maisiesthoughts @benitoswifeylol @gloriouscollectormusic comment to be part of the taglist! 🤍😉

Warnings: long story, SMUT, +18, mdi, fluff, flirting, tension, soft voyeurism, aftercare, praise kink, oral sex (f! receiving)

The lights of the Metropolitan Museum of Art seemed even brighter that night in May 2023. The Met Gala was at its peak, and the red carpet was a sea of flashes and dresses that looked like works of art.

Y/n Al-Mansour, a brunette with golden skin, deep brown eyes with a subtle Arab slant inherited from her father’s Lebanese family, adjusted her earpiece while smiling at Vogue’s camera. Brazilian from São Paulo, at 29 she was already one of the most promising designers in the country, and that night she represented one of the biggest French fashion houses as a global ambassador. The white dress with gold details and embroidery she herself had helped design fell perfectly on her body, elegant and powerful at the same time.

“We’re live with Vogue, straight from the Met Gala 2023!” she said with that natural charisma that won over both Brazilian and international audiences. Her voice was warm, her accent lightly mixed with São Paulo’s rhythm. “And look who’s arriving…”

Bad Bunny walked down the carpet with that relaxed yet imposing posture. All in white, an impeccable suit with sleeves and a dramatic train made of roses, almost like a living sculpture. His hair slicked back, beard neatly trimmed, and that lazy smile that made the world stop.

He spotted Y/n and, instead of heading straight to the next interviews, slightly changed course and walked toward her. Vogue’s producers almost lost their minds with happiness at the spontaneity.

Y/n opened a genuine smile, feeling a pleasant flutter in her stomach, after all, it wasn’t every day that the biggest artist of the moment chose her camera.

— Benito! What a pleasure to see you here. First: this look is insane. You’re not just wearing the outfit, you are the outfit. The roses… my God, I want to steal that idea for my next show — she said, laughing, while the camera captured every detail.

Benito stopped in front of her, looking her up and down without hurry. His gaze was intense, but his smile playful.

— Y/n Al-Mansour… — he said slowly, in that deep, raspy voice, almost singing her name. — I should be the one complimenting you. You’re… brutal. Seriously. When I saw you from afar, I thought: “esta es la que manda esta noche.” The most beautiful brunette on the carpet, y con talento además. Brasileira, con esa cara de ángel y diabla al mismo tiempo… me tienes loco ya.

He took a step closer, still in frame, lowering his voice just enough to feel intimate but still picked up by the mic:

— And that smile? Dangerous. Careful, I might get lost staring at you and forget there are a thousand cameras.

Y/n felt her face warm, but she kept up the game. She tilted her head slightly, biting the corner of her lip for a second before replying in the same light, flirtatious tone:

— Careful, Benito. I’m good at designing clothes, but I also know how to take them off people. And you’re making it way too easy tonight.

The silence lasted half a second before they both laughed, complicit. But the damage was already done.

The internet exploded.

On Twitter, the trending topic #Y/n&Bunny shot up within minutes. Clips of the moment looped everywhere: him looking at her like the rest of the Met Gala didn’t exist, her returning the flirt without fear. Memes, edits with his songs, tweets in Portuguese, English, and Spanish. “They just flirted live,” “Vogue just created the couple of the year,” “Y/n won the Met Gala with just that exchange.”

The interview continued lightly, full of laughter and glances. He praised her work as a designer, she asked about the concept of his outfit and his new album. Pure chemistry.

But that year… nothing happened beyond that. His schedule was insane, hers too: shows in Paris, shoots in Rio, new collections. But it was at the same event years later that everything changed…

⸻

Met Gala 2025. Theme: “Superfine: Tailoring Black Style.” The red carpet was even more electrifying than in 2023.

Y/n Al-Mansour, now 31, was even more confident and radiant. Her dark hair in loose, glossy waves, golden skin glowing under the flashes, a long white dress with black pinstripe details and a silhouette that highlighted her Latin-Arab body. She held Vogue’s microphone naturally, her confident smile as she narrated arrivals.

Then he appeared.

Bad Bunny climbed the stairs with that slow, assured walk. An impeccable dark brown suit, light shirt, pale yellow tie, black gloves with golden stones, round dark glasses, and a traditional Puerto Rican straw hat. In his hand, a large brown and yellow bag. He looked like he had stepped out of a 70s haute couture editorial—but with the attitude of someone who didn’t care, which made him absurdly sexy.

Y/n felt her heart race, but this time she didn’t wait. As soon as he approached the interview area, she turned toward him with a mischievous smile.

— Benito Martínez Ocasio… look at you — she said, her voice low and velvety, almost purring into the mic. — You came here to kill, didn’t you? Because this look is dangerously good. Brown suits you so well I’m about to design an entire collection inspired by you.

Benito stopped in front of her, slowly removing his glasses and flashing that lazy smile she remembered so well. His eyes traveled down her body unhurriedly.

— Y/n… carajo. Two years and you get even more beautiful? That’s not fair. — He stepped closer, looking straight into her eyes. — You’re glowing, mami. That dress… those eyes… those lips talking to me like that. I almost forgot there’s a camera.

Y/n laughed softly but held his gaze, tilting her head.

— Almost? Good thing you didn’t forget. Because I want the whole world to see how good you look in brown. Seriously… I’m trying to be professional here, but you’re making it hard.

He bit his lower lip for a second, laughing.

— Then stop being professional for a bit. Compliment me more. I like it when you look at me like that.

— Like what? — she teased, raising an eyebrow.

— Like you want to slowly take this suit off me.

The air between them grew heavy. The camera caught everything: his gaze fixed on her lips, the way Y/n wet them before answering.

— Maybe I do — she replied, voice low enough to be intimate, but loud enough to go viral. — And maybe you want to let me.

The internet caught fire again. Clips of the flirt exploded across all platforms. #Y/n&Bunny returned stronger than ever, now with a much hotter tone.

⸻

Later, the afterparty was exclusive—low lights, loud music, no press. Y/n was in a more reserved corner, talking to some designers, when she felt a presence behind her. His scent arrived first.

— You ran away from me all night — Benito said near her ear, voice raspy.

She turned slowly, smiling.

— Me? You were surrounded by people. I didn’t want to interrupt the Rey of perreo.

He laughed, taking her hand naturally and pulling her slightly aside.

— Rey de nada. I just wanted to talk to you. Come on, let’s get some air. It’s too hot in here.

They stepped out onto a quieter side balcony, lit only by soft lights. The New York night air was cool. Benito took off his hat, running a hand through his hair, leaning against the railing while looking at her.

— Seriously, Y/n… you look insane tonight. I couldn’t stop looking at you the entire event. When you complimented me like that… I almost pulled you into a kiss right there in front of Vogue.

Y/n stepped closer, stopping right in front of him.

— And why didn’t you?

He let out a low laugh, almost a groan.

— Because I’m a caballero… sometimes. But I’m tired of being one. Two years thinking about that 2023 flirt and now you show up looking at me like that? Provoking me?

— I was just being honest — she replied, lightly running her fingers over his collar. — You look really, really good in brown. And I like you. I always have.

Benito held her waist with both hands, pulling her against his body. His gaze darkened.

— Tell me the truth… you want this as much as I do?

— I do — she answered without hesitation, voice low and urgent. — I want it so damn much.

He didn’t wait anymore. His mouth met hers in a hot, deep kiss, unhurried. His hands moved down her back, gripping her waist firmly as his tongue explored hers with built-up desire. Y/n let out a soft moan against his lips, threading her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly. The kiss grew wetter, more urgent, tongues tangling, heavy breathing, bodies pressed together.

— Fuck, Y/n… — he murmured against her lips, trailing his mouth to her neck, biting lightly. — You kiss so damn good.

She laughed breathlessly and pulled his face back for another, even more intense kiss, almost desperate. His hands moved to her hips, squeezing firmly.

That’s when she opened her eyes for a second and saw a distant flash.

— Benito… — she murmured against his mouth without pulling away. — There’s paparazzi. Over there, on the right.

He paused for half a second, looked where she pointed, and instead of pulling away, smirked, his eyes gleaming with desire.

— Then let them watch — he growled, voice rough. — Let the whole world see.

And he pulled her back harder. The next kiss was even hotter, almost animalistic. He pinned her against the balcony wall, one hand on her neck, the other gripping her thigh over the dress. Y/n matched his intensity, moaning softly as she bit his lower lip. Their bodies pressed together, desire thick in the air.

— I want you — he whispered between kisses, voice uneven. — Not just tonight. I want to really know you, Y/n. I want to take you to Puerto Rico, show you my home, fuck you good and then make you breakfast.

She laughed against his mouth, breathless.

— How romantic, Benito. Fuck me and then breakfast?

— I’m a complete man — he replied, smiling as he kissed her again, slower now but still deep and wet. — And you deserve both.

They stayed there for long minutes, kissing, touching, laughing between kisses, the paparazzi forgotten. The desire was obvious, but there was something softer too, something real.

When they finally pulled apart slightly, forehead to forehead, Benito stroked her face with his thumb.

— This night doesn’t end here, right?

Y/n smiled, biting her lip.

— Definitely not.

The afterparty was still in full swing when Y/n and Benito went back inside, now not even trying to hide anything. The chemistry between them was so obvious people naturally made space. Benito didn’t let go of her hand. From time to time he pulled her closer, kissed her temple, or whispered something in her ear, making her laugh.

They moved around the room together. Benito grabbed two glasses of champagne and handed one to her.

— For you, mami. Because tonight you deserved more than I did — he said, toasting with a lazy smile.

Y/n took a sip, looking at him over the rim.

— Liar. You were stealing the show with that brown suit.

He laughed loudly, that raspy laugh she was starting to love.

— Y/n mami, you’re dangerous. Come here — he pulled her by the waist, dancing slowly even with the electronic music playing. — I just want to really get to know you now. No cameras, no interview. Just us.

They spent hours like that: dancing close, talking about everything and nothing. He told funny tour stories, she talked about the pressure of creating entire collections alone. Benito listened attentively, thumb tracing her back gently.

— You’re incredible, you know that? — he murmured at one point, resting his forehead against hers. — Beautiful, talented, smart… and you still look at me like that. I’m screwed.

— Good that you know — she replied, smiling and stealing a quick kiss. — Because I’ve been screwed since 2023 too.

When the afterparty started to empty around 4 a.m., Benito laced his fingers with hers firmly.

— Let’s leave together?

— Together — she confirmed.

They walked out the main door hand in hand. The paparazzi flashes were deafening. Hundreds of photographers shouting:

— Bad Bunny! Y/n! Here! Look this way! Are you dating?!

Benito just smiled, squeezing her hand tighter, raising his other hand in a calm wave. Y/n leaned her head on his shoulder for a second, shielded by his larger body. They got into the black SUV waiting, still holding hands.

In the car, the silence was comfortable. Benito gently stroked her fingers.

— Tired? — he asked softly.

— Very. But it was worth every second — she replied, turning to give him a light kiss.

They arrived at the luxurious hotel and Benito walked Y/n to her room.

— I’ll wait here outside — he said, leaning against the doorframe. — Change, take a shower if you want. I’m here.

— I won’t take long — she promised, giving him a lingering kiss before going in.

Fifteen minutes later, Y/n came out in comfortable clothes: light gray sweatpants, a white cotton T-shirt, and her hair tied in a messy bun. Benito, who had also changed into a loose black T-shirt and sweatpants, smiled at the sight of her.

— Damn, you look even more beautiful like this. Come on, let’s go to my room. There’s a bed big enough for at least three of us.

They went up to his top-floor suite. As soon as the door closed, Benito pulled her into a long, tight hug, swaying them slowly.

— Finally really alone — he murmured against her hair. — All day I just wanted to do this.

Y/n sighed, tired but happy, burying her face in his chest.

— Me too. My feet are destroyed, my head is spinning… but I didn’t want it to end.

He guided her to the huge king-size bed, lights already dimmed and curtains closed. Benito lay down first, opening his arms.

— Come here, needy girl. Tonight I take care of you.

Y/n climbed onto the bed and lay on top of him, fitting perfectly against his body as if they had done it a thousand times. Her head rested on his chest, one leg between his, arms around his broad torso. Benito pulled the comforter over them and began gently running his fingers through her hair.

— Comfortable? — he asked softly, voice rough with fatigue and affection.

— Very… you’re warm — she replied softly, hugging him tighter. — Benito?

— Hmm?

— I really liked today. Truly. It wasn’t just the flirting… it was everything. You being so caring, so present.

He smiled, kissing the top of her head.

— Me too, princesa. I was nervous as hell, you know? Two years thinking about you and today you hyped me up like that on the carpet… I almost melted in front of the camera.

Y/n laughed softly, tracing lazy circles on his chest.

— You melted? The all-powerful Bad Bunny?

— With you? Completely. — He pulled her closer, his large hand moving slowly along her back. — I want to do this right, Y/n. I don’t want just a crazy night. I want to take you home, show you Puerto Rico, introduce you to my family… I want to see you working, see you angry creating clothes, see you sleeping like this on top of me every day.

She lifted her head slightly, brown eyes shining with sleep and emotion.

— Are you serious?

— Very serious. — He held her face, thumb brushing her lower lip. — I like you. A lot. And today, seeing you shine on that carpet… I don’t want to pretend it’s just flirting anymore.

Y/n kissed him softly, lingering, full of affection.

— I like you too, Benito. A lot. And I’m way too tired to pretend I don’t want this.

They stayed like that for a while in comfortable silence, exchanging lazy kisses and gentle touches. She snuggled closer, softly asking:

— Play with my hair more… I love your hand in my hair.

— Of course, mi vida — he replied immediately, fingers massaging her scalp gently. — Like this?

— Perfect… don’t ever stop.

He chuckled softly.

— If you sleep like this on top of me every day, I’ll never stop. You can even drool, I won’t mind.

— Hey! — she lightly tapped his chest, laughing. — I don’t drool!

— If you do, I think it’s cute. You can be as clingy as you want with me. I like it.

Y/n adjusted herself, nestling her face into his neck, breathing in his scent.

— Benito… thank you for today. For making me feel desired and cared for at the same time.

— You deserve both, always — he murmured, kissing her forehead several times. — Now sleep, princess. Tomorrow we’ll order breakfast in bed and keep talking. I’m not going anywhere.

— Promise?

— I promise.

Her breathing grew slower and heavier. Benito kept stroking her hair, softly humming a gentle melody in Spanish until he felt her body completely relaxed on top of him.

With one last kiss on her hair, he whispered:

— Good night, mi amor.

And he fell asleep like that, with Y/n Al-Mansour sleeping peacefully on his chest, their hands intertwined, their hearts beating in the same rhythm.

⸻

The soft morning light filtered through the half-closed curtains of the suite. Y/n woke first, still on top of Benito, her body perfectly fitted against his. She moved slowly, feeling the warmth of his skin against hers. Benito opened his eyes right after, a lazy smile forming on his lips.

— Good morning, mi vida… — he murmured, voice husky with sleep, running his large hands along her back under her shirt. — I promised I’d take care of you today, right?

Y/n smiled, biting her lower lip as she propped herself on her elbows to look at his face.

— You promised to fuck me good and then breakfast… I’m holding you to that.

Benito let out a low laugh and flipped them over easily, ending up on top of her. His body was heavy and warm, pressing her deliciously into the mattress.

— Then I’ll start fulfilling that right now.

He began slowly, just how she wanted. Slow kisses on her neck, trailing down her collarbone, while his hands explored her body under her clothes. Y/n arched her back, sighing.

— Benito… you’re going to drive me crazy before you even take my clothes off.

— Good — he whispered against her skin, lightly biting her earlobe. — I want you soaked and desperate for me. Tell me what you like, princess. I want to learn every part of you.

He removed her shirt slowly, kissing every inch of exposed skin. When he reached her breasts, he licked and sucked slowly, paying attention to every sound she made.

— Here? — he asked, circling his tongue around her nipple. — Or harder?

— Harder… a little — she answered breathlessly, fingers tangled in his hair. — Fuck, Benito… you’re good at this.

He smiled against her skin and obeyed, applying more pressure while his hand slid down her stomach to the waistband of her sweatpants. He removed them slowly, caressing her thighs, the sides of her underwear, but not touching where she wanted most.

— Don’t stop talking — he asked, voice rough. — Tell me what you’re feeling.

— I’m dying to feel you… you’re teasing me on purpose — she complained, moving her hips against his hand.

— Exactly on purpose. I want to make you crazy.

He finally removed her underwear and slid his fingers between her legs, groaning at how wet she already was.

— Damn, Y/n… this wet for me? — He circled her clit slowly, applying light pressure. — Look at me while I touch you.

She obeyed, brown eyes locked on his as he touched her slowly, finding the exact rhythm that made her tremble. When he inserted one finger, then two, curling them just right, Y/n let out a louder moan.

— There… like that, Benito… don’t stop.

— I won’t stop. I want to see you come on my hand first.

He kept the steady rhythm, kissing her lips, swallowing her moans as he gradually sped up. Y/n dug her nails into his back, body writhing.

— I’m close… fuck, I’m so close…

— Come for me, mami. I want to feel it.

She came with his name on her lips, trembling, tightening around his fingers. Benito slowed down, prolonging the pleasure until she was limp and breathless.

He removed his own clothes, revealing his defined body and hard, thick, pulsing cock. Y/n licked her lips, reaching out to touch him.

— Come… I want to feel you inside me.

— Easy — he said, laughing softly as he positioned himself between her legs. — I’m still learning what you like.

He rubbed the head of his cock against her wet entrance, teasing, slipping in just a little and pulling out repeatedly.

— Benito, stop teasing and just fuck me already — she begged, pulling him by the waist.

— Like this? — He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, groaning along with her. — Fuck… you’re tight as hell. So warm.

When he was fully inside, he paused, forehead against hers, breathing heavily.

— You good? — he asked, both concerned and turned on.

— Perfect… move, please.

He began thrusting slowly and deeply, rolling his hips in a delicious rhythm, finding the angles that made her moan louder. Y/n wrapped her legs around him, nails scratching his back.

— Deeper… like that… you fill me completely — she whispered between moans.

— You like it like this? Hard or slow?

— Both… switch… fuck me good, Benito.

He obeyed, alternating deep, slow thrusts with faster, sharper ones. The room filled with the sounds of their bodies, moans, and uneven breathing. He whispered praise constantly:

— You look so beautiful coming… look at me… that’s it, mami, squeeze my cock like that.

Y/n came a second time, tightening around him. Benito didn’t last much longer. With a few deeper, faster thrusts, he came inside her, groaning her name against her neck, body trembling.

They stayed wrapped together for long minutes, sweaty and breathless, exchanging lazy kisses.

— It was even better than I imagined — he murmured, pulling out slowly and lying beside her, pulling her against his chest.

Find my other stories here!

Requests are open! 🩷

Masterlist: @percysley @suns3treading @maisiesthoughts @benitoswifeylol @gloriouscollectormusic comment to be part of the taglist! 🤍😉

Summary: you’re in a secret relationship with benito, and he decides to reveal it to the world

I had this idea last week, so i started writing, hope you enjoy it!!! 🤍

The best-kept secret of two worlds that don’t mix.

Benito Martínez Ocasio, known worldwide as Bad Bunny, and you, Y/n, one of the most sought-after stylists of the moment in the Brazilian and international fashion scene. You met almost two years ago, at a private party after the Met Gala. He was there looking gorgeous and you were exhausted after dressing three celebrities that night. A conversation about music, then about fashion, then about life… and the rest happened slowly, in silence, almost as if the universe conspired to keep you hidden.

Your relationship was absurdly private. No photos together in public, no stories, no suspicious likes. The only people who knew were his brother, your best friend, and Benito’s trusted bodyguard. You saw each other in rented houses, on trips to remote places, in hotel rooms under fake names. It was hard, but it was real.

That night, the red carpet was for the Met Gala 2026. You had created the look for a very famous Mexican actress and, as always, appeared next to her in photos. You looked stunning in a black dress with blood-red details, created by yourself. On the ring finger of your right hand, a delicate white gold ring with a very subtle solitaire diamond shone. Benito had given it to you as a gift on your one-year anniversary, three months ago. It wasn’t an engagement ring. Yet. But it looked like one.

As you posed next to the actress, a journalist from E! News approached with the microphone extended, eyes shining with curiosity.

— Y/n! My God, you look incredible! First of all, this dress is a work of art. But… I have to ask, because everyone’s going to ask: that ring on your right finger… is it what I think it is? Any romantic news for us?

You smiled, that smile Benito called “actress mode.” You looked at the ring for a second, pretending to be surprised, and let out a light, teasing laugh.

— Oh, guys… You’re so cute imagining things. This ring? I bought it myself last month, at a small jewelry store in Lisbon. It’s beautiful, right? But fiancé? Boyfriend? Please… I barely have time to eat properly, imagine finding a man. If I had a boyfriend, let alone a fiancé, I would’ve already freaked out and posted like ten stories crying of happiness. Relax, I’m single and very happy like this - you winked, teasing. — Now let me work, come on.

The journalist laughed, half embarrassed, half convinced. The answer was so natural and funny that even the other reporters nearby burst into laughter. You moved on, posing a little more, your heart beating fast in your chest. You knew Benito was watching everything from home, in Puerto Rico.

And he was.

Benito was lying on the huge bed in the house you secretly shared in Dorado, Puerto Rico. The TV was on, tuned to the channel broadcasting the Met Gala live. When he heard your answer, he couldn’t hold back his smile. He shook his head, laughing to himself.

— Qué cabrona… — he murmured affectionately, biting his lower lip.

He picked up his phone. Opened Instagram. It had been more than a year and a half since he posted anything on his main feed. Only stories that disappeared in 24 hours, and even then, rarely with his face. But that night, something inside him changed.

He opened his gallery and started selecting photos.

The first: the two of you on a deserted beach in the Dominican Republic, six months ago. You were sitting between his legs, your back against him, your head resting on his chest, his arms wrapped around you. The orange sunset behind you.

The second: a photo taken by him in the bathroom mirror, after a shower. You facing forward, him behind you, only a towel around his waist, kissing your shoulder while you laughed.

The third: the two of you cooking together in the kitchen of his house in Puerto Rico, you with flour on your face, him looking at you like you were the most beautiful thing in the world.

The fourth: a selfie taken by you early in the morning, Benito still asleep, his face buried in your neck, your arm stretched out holding the phone.

The fifth: the two of you dancing reggaeton in the living room, barefoot, laughing a lot.

The sixth: a more recent photo, from just two weeks ago. You sitting on his lap on the couch, him with his chin resting on your shoulder, looking at the camera with that look he only had when he was with you. Your fingers intertwined, the same ring shining on your hand.

He chose seven photos in total. Created a carousel.

The caption was simple, direct, without embellishments. Just three words:

“Ella es mía”

He posted.

In less than two minutes, his Instagram exploded. Millions of likes, comments in every language, people freaking out, people saying they always knew. The internet caught fire.

Meanwhile, you were still at the Met Gala, leaving the red carpet and entering the main hall, when your phone started vibrating nonstop on silent. You discreetly picked it up and opened Instagram.

The main notification was his.

@badbunnypr posted a photo.

Your heart almost stopped when you opened the post. The photos. All the photos. The caption.

Your eyes welled up. Not with sadness. With something much bigger. He had just made public what you had guarded so carefully. And he had done it in the most Benito way possible: no explanation, no announcement, just truth.

You quickly stepped out into a more private hallway and called him. He answered on the second ring.

— Benito… — your voice came out low, almost an emotional whisper.

— Hi, mi vida — he replied, his voice calm, but you could hear the smile. — Did you see?

— What do you mean “did I see”? Have you lost your mind? — you laughed nervously, running your hand through your hair. — You just posted a whole dump of us…

He chuckled softly on the other end.

— And what did you tell the journalist again? “If I had a boyfriend I would’ve already freaked out and posted like ten stories”? Yeah. I’m not a stories kind of guy. I’m a feed kind of guy.

You leaned your forehead against the cold hallway wall, smiling like an idiot.

— You idiot… I love you so much. But what now? The whole world is going to freak out.

— Let them. I’m tired of hiding, Y/n. Tired of pretending I don’t have the most incredible woman in the world by my side. Tired of watching you come up with funny excuses to protect us. I want to be able to kiss you in public if I want. I want to be able to call you my girlfriend without fear.

You stayed silent for a few seconds, emotional.

— …I want that too. I just… didn’t expect it to be today.

— Neither did I — he admitted. — But when I saw you lying so cutely to that journalist, with that ring I gave you shining… something clicked. No more hiding.

You bit your lip, trying not to cry there in the middle of the Met Gala.

— And now? What do I do when they ask me again?

He let out a low chuckle.

— Now you can tell the truth. Or you can keep messing with them. Up to you. But if someone asks if you have a fiancé… you can say not yet. But that you do have a very annoying boyfriend who randomly posts dumps and makes the whole world lose its mind.

You laughed, wiping away a discreet tear.

— Benito…

— Hm?

— I’m proud to be yours. Even if now I’ll have to deal with a million messages and haters.

— Screw them. I take care of you. I always have. And tomorrow morning I’m going to meet you in New York. I want to see you in person. I want to kiss you without having to look around first.

— Promise?

— I promise, bebé. Now go back to the party. And when they ask you again about the ring… smile that way you know how and say the owner is a very stubborn Puerto Rican.

You let out a soft, teary laugh.

— I love you, Benito.

— I love you more, Y/n. Take it easy. I’m here.

You hung up.

When you returned to the hall, your phone wouldn’t stop vibrating. Friends from fashion, stylists, Brazilian and international celebrities sending you shocked messages. Your publicist was already freaking out on WhatsApp.

But you just smiled, put your phone away, and lifted your chin.

For the first time in almost two years, you didn’t have to pretend you were alone.

And somewhere in Puerto Rico, Benito looked at the exploding notifications on his phone, but didn’t care about any of them. He only looked at the photo of the two of you dancing in the living room, laughing like fools.

For the first time, the whole world knew.

Heyy, thank you for the request!! This was the first time I wrote on the reader’s pov directly, so i hope you enjoy it! 🤍

Find my other stories here!

Requests are open! 🩷

Masterlist: @percysley @suns3treading @maisiesthoughts @benitoswifeylol comment to be part of the taglist! 🤍😉

Warnings: shy!reader, boyfriend!benito, SMUT, +18, mdi, oral sex (f receiving), edging, teasing, crying (from pleasure/frustration)

⸻

I was sitting on the living room couch, my legs crossed beneath me, the notebook open on my lap and my heart beating a little faster than usual. The soft afternoon light streamed through the large windows of the house in San Juan, painting everything in a warm golden hue. Benito was beside me, his arm resting on the back of the couch, his fingers absently playing with a strand of my hair while I tried to repeat the phrases he had just taught me.

— Let’s go again, mi vida — he said, his voice low and husky, that Puerto Rican accent that always made me melt. — Repite conmigo: “Te deseo tanto que no puedo pensar en otra cosa.” (Repeat after me: “I desire you so much that I can't think of anything else.”)

I blushed instantly. My cheeks burned. I was still shy with Spanish, especially when he chose phrases like that, so direct. I swallowed and tried:

— Te… te deseo tanto que no puedo pensar en otra cosa.

Benito smiled, that lazy smile that showed his perfect teeth and made his eyes shine. He leaned closer, his nose brushing against my ear.

— Muy bien, bebé. (Very good, baby) Pero you said that with so much embarrassment… As if it weren’t true. — His hand slid slowly down my arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps. — It’s true, right? Or do you want me to help you feel it for real?

I bit my lower lip, looking at the notebook as if it could save me. My Spanish was still basic, but I understood enough to know he was teasing me. He always did that when teaching me: it started innocent, with everyday vocabulary, and suddenly turned into this. Heat climbed up my neck.

— Beno… — I murmured, my voice barely a whisper. — I’m really trying to learn.

He laughed softly, the sound vibrating against my skin. Suddenly, the notebook was gently taken from my hands and placed on the coffee table. He pulled me onto his lap, his large hands holding my waist, positioning me facing him. My heart raced.

— And I’m helping you, mi amor — he whispered, his lips brushing mine. — But sometimes the best way to learn is… practicando. Dime… ¿qué quieres que te haga ahora? (…practicing. Tell me... what do you want me to do to you now?)

I trembled. The words came out clumsy:

— Yo… yo quiero… besarte. (I…I want to…kiss you)

He smiled against my mouth and kissed me slowly, deeply, as if he had all the time in the world. His hands slid up my back, under the thin blouse I was wearing, tracing warm circles on my skin. The kiss grew more urgent, but still slow, sensual, his tongue dancing with mine until I was breathless, my hands gripping his shirt.

— Buena chica — he murmured against my lips. — Now tell me… ¿quieres que te toque más abajo? (Do you want me to touch you down there?)

My legs tightened around him. I was embarrassed, but desire was already throbbing between my thighs. I nodded, my face buried in his neck.

He lifted me as if I weighed nothing and carried me to the bedroom, laying me on the bed with black sheets. The light was dim, only the bedside lamp on, creating shadows that danced over his body as he slowly took off his shirt, revealing the tattoos I knew by heart. He climbed onto the bed, covering my body with his, kissing my neck, moving down to my chest, unbuttoning my blouse one by one.

— Relájate, bebé (relax, baby)— he whispered, his warm mouth against my skin. — Today the lesson is about feeling. And I’m going to teach you very slowly.

He removed my shirt and bra, his large hands covering my breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples until they hardened. I arched my back, a soft moan escaping. He moved lower, kissing my stomach, unbuttoning my shorts and underwear with torturous slowness. When I was completely naked, he knelt between my legs, his dark eyes fixed on mine.

— Mira esto (Look at that)— he said, his voice rough. — So wet already… solo por aprender español conmigo. (Just for learning spanish with me.)

He lowered his head and gave me the slowest, most perfect oral I had ever felt in my life. His tongue slid slowly along my entrance, licking every inch, savoring. He wasn’t in a hurry. He sucked my clit carefully, slow circles, then faster, then slow again. Two fingers entered me, curling at just the right spot, moving in the same lazy rhythm as his mouth. I moaned loudly, my hands in his hair, my hips trying to move, but he held my thighs open, keeping me in place.

— Benito… por favor… — I whimpered, using the little Spanish I knew.

He looked up, his lips glistening.

— Dime en español, mi vida. ¿Qué quieres? (Tell me in Spanish, mi vida. What do you want?)

— Quiero… más — I managed, my voice trembling. (I want…more)

He smiled and continued. His mouth was magic, sucking, licking, penetrating with his tongue while his fingers fucked me slowly. He brought me to the edge of orgasm three times in a row, very slowly. The first time, my whole body tensed, my inner walls tightening around his fingers, pleasure rising like a warm wave. I was almost there, moaning his name, when he suddenly stopped, pulling his mouth and fingers away, blowing lightly against me just to keep me sensitive.

— Not yet, bebé — he whispered, kissing the inside of my thigh. — Learn to wait.

I let out a frustrated moan, my body throbbing. He waited a full minute, kissing my stomach, my breasts, until I calmed down a little. Then he returned. His tongue firmer on my clit, his fingers deeper, rotating slowly. The pleasure came back stronger, faster. I was breathless, tears already forming at the corners of my eyes from sheer need. He felt I was close and stopped again, this time lightly sucking just at my entrance, keeping me on the edge without letting me fall.

— Benito, please… I can’t… — I begged, my voice hoarse.

— Shhh. One more time. And you’ll learn to ask properly.

The third edging was the longest and cruelest. He devoured me like it was his last meal: flattened tongue licking everything, sucking my clit with perfect pressure, three fingers now, curling and hitting my G-spot in a slow, steady rhythm. My whole body trembled. I whimpered, my hands clutching the sheets, my hips moving against his face. The orgasm rose so high I saw stars, pleasure pulsing through every nerve. I was screaming his name, almost coming… and he stopped completely. Pulled everything away. Just stared at me, lips swollen, eyes dark with desire.

I was crying now, tears streaming down my cheeks, my whole body sensitive and aching with built-up desire.

He moved up my body, taking off his pants and underwear slowly. His cock was hard, thick, glistening at the tip. He positioned himself between my legs, rubbing the head slowly against my swollen clit, entering just an inch, then pulling out, repeating.

— We’re going slow today, mi amor — he murmured, his voice low and sexy. — I want to feel every second.

He entered me inch by inch, so slowly I felt every vein, every pulse. When he was fully inside, he stopped, hips pressed against mine, filling me completely. We stayed like that for what felt like forever, him pulsing inside me, me tightening around him. Then he began to move in long, deep, slow thrusts. Every time he pulled almost all the way out and pushed back in, I moaned loudly. He kissed my mouth, my neck, whispering in Spanish:

— Tan apretada… tan mojada… eres mía. (So tight…so wet…you’re mine)

He fucked me like that for minutes that felt like hours. Slow, deep, rolling his hips at the end of each thrust to brush against my clit. He brought me to the edge of orgasm four more times during sex, the fourth was the worst. I was screaming, tears falling freely, my whole body trembling, my nails digging into his back.

— Please, Benito! I need to come… please, please! — I cried, my voice breaking, sobbing from pleasure and frustration.

He stopped mid-thrust, still buried deep, and held my face with both hands, his thumbs wiping my tears.

— Shhh, mi vida. I’ll let you come… but only if you ask properly. In Spanish. Say: “Por favor, Benito, déjame correrme.” (Please, Benito, let me cum)

I was desperate, my body throbbing, my pussy tightening around him nonstop. The words came out mixed with sobs:

— Por… por favor, Benito… déjame… déjame correrme… ¡por favor!

He smiled, his eyes shining with pride and lust.

— Buena chica. Muy buena.

And then he started moving again, still slow, but deeper, stronger, his thumb circling my swollen clit in the perfect rhythm. The orgasm he had held back for so long exploded like a massive wave. I screamed, my body convulsing, squeezing him so tightly he groaned loudly. I came for endless seconds, tears streaming, the pleasure so intense I saw stars. He followed right after, moaning my name against my neck, coming deep inside me with slow, deep thrusts until the end.

Afterward, he stayed inside me, holding me, kissing my tears while I trembled in his arms.

— Did you learn the lesson, mi amor? — he whispered, smiling against my skin.

can we please get a shy!Benito x reader? he seems very shy irl until he gets comfortable, and I think it'd be so cute to see that play out

Helloo, thank you for the request!!! I absolutely love the idea, i’ve been wanting to write smt like this for a while now! ❤️

Find my other stories here!

Requests are open! 🩷

Masterlist: @percysley @suns3treading @maisiesthoughts @benitoswifeylol comment to be part of the taglist! 🤍😉

Warnings: no warnings, just shy!benito 🤍

It was a warm night in San Juan, Puerto Rico, during a private party after a show at a festival. Benito or Bad Bunny to the world, had just stepped off stage, sweaty, his face glowing under the lights, dancing reggaeton like the world belonged to him. He laughed loudly, joked with his friends, flirted effortlessly with everyone around him. He was the life of the party: extroverted, sexy, funny. The usual Bad Bunny.

Until he saw her.

Her name was Y/n. A Brazilian graphic designer who had been living in Miami for two years, hired to create the festival’s visual identity. She stood in the corner of the terrace, holding a glass of moscow mule, watching the ocean view. Hair down, a shy smile when someone spoke to her. She wasn’t the kind of woman who threw herself into the center of the dance floor. She was quiet, observant, with a dry sense of humor only noticeable if you paid attention.

Benito stopped in the middle of a joke. The laughter died in his throat. He felt his heart pound, like he’d been punched in the chest. He, who had kissed models, actresses, and fans at parties, suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands. He shoved them into the pockets of his baggy shorts, lowered his head, and muttered to his friend:

— ¿Quién es esa? (Who is this?)

His friend laughed.

— Y/n. The designer. Go talk to her, cabrón. You’re never like this.

When he approached, Benito—the man who filled stadiums—stuttered.

— Hey… hola. I’m Benito. I mean… you know who I am, right? But… hi. You did an amazing job with the festival design. Seriously. It looks… beautiful.

You raised an eyebrow, amused by his shyness.

— Thank you. I appreciate it. Your show was incredible. You seem like a completely different person on stage.

He scratched the back of his neck, looking down at his feet.

— Yeah… up there I’m Bad Bunny. Down here… I’m just Benito who doesn’t know what to say to a pretty girl.

She laughed softly. That was the beginning.

In the following weeks, the contact was slow, almost painfully slow. He sent simple messages on Instagram, nothing like “te quiero” or heart emojis. Things like:

Benito: Hey, Y/n. I saw you posted that new drawing. It’s beautiful. How do you come up with that stuff?

You: Haha, thank you! It’s just coffee and insomnia. And you, how’s the star life?

Benito: Tired. But thinking about you sometimes. I mean… your work. Your work.

He would delete and rewrite ten times before sending. His friends teased him mercilessly. “Benito, tú eres el rey del perreo and now you look like you’ve never seen a woman in your life.”

⸻

The first real date was in Miami, three weeks later. He invited her for a “quick” coffee, but chose a hidden place, with tables in the back, where no one would recognize him easily. He showed up in a cap, oversized hoodie, and worn-out sneakers. He sat down and, for ten minutes, just fidgeted with a napkin.

— Sorry — he finally said, voice low. — I’m not like this normally. On stage, I talk all the time, joke around, dance… But with you I get… stupid.

You smiled, tilting your head.

— I like this “stupid” Benito. He’s cuter than the Bad Bunny on magazine covers.

He blushed. For real. And laughed, nervous.

— Cute? No one’s ever called me cute. Sexy, yeah. Funny too. But cute… that’s just you.

From then on, their conversations became daily. He sent voice notes, softly singing snippets of new songs he was working on, just for her to hear first. She sent pictures of sketches inspired by him. He replied with heart stickers and then deleted them, embarrassed.

The second date was a nighttime drive along the beach. Benito drove his Jeep, no security, just the two of them. They stopped at an empty viewpoint. He turned off the engine and stayed quiet for a while.

— You know… — he started, looking at the ocean. — I’m never nervous around anyone. Never. But since that party, every time I think about seeing you, my hand shakes. It’s ridiculous.

You turned toward him, the wind messing up your hair.

— And why do you think that is?

He shrugged, shy.

— Because you look at me like I’m just Benito. Not the guy with billions of streams. Not Bad Bunny. Just me. And that scares the hell out of me.

You reached out and touched his arm.

— Then stop being scared. I like this version of you.

He took a deep breath, as if gathering courage, and laced his fingers with hers. It was the first touch. It lasted seconds, but to him it felt like forever.

⸻

The following months were sweet. Dinners in small restaurants, nights watching movies on the couch at his house in Puerto Rico. He was still shy with her in public, holding her hand under the table, looking away when someone passed by. But when they were alone, it was another story.

The first time he truly let himself go was on a rainy night in Miami, four months after they met. They were at his place, watching a bad movie. You laughed at a scene. Suddenly, Benito laid his head on your lap, like a big puppy.

— Will you play with my hair? — he asked, his voice soft and clingy. — Please… I need it.

You blinked, surprised, but ran your fingers through his hair.

— Look at that… Bad Bunny asking for cuddles.

He closed his eyes, smiling against your thigh.

— Shhh. Out there I’m Bad Bunny. In here… I’m your baby. Don’t tell anyone.

From then on, the “clingy” side appeared as a new version of him. When they were alone, he became someone else. If she was cooking, he would press himself against her back, wrapping his arms around her waist, kissing her neck slowly.

— Mi amor… it’s taking too long — he’d murmur, dragging his words, pouting. — I’m hungry for you, not food.

You’d laugh and turn your face to kiss him.

— Benito, you’re impossible.

— Impossible to let you go — he’d reply, tightening his embrace. — Stay here. Don’t ever leave. I’ll make you breakfast every day if you stay.

⸻

The confession came during a trip to the Dominican Republic, six months later. They were on the balcony of a hidden hotel, just the sound of the waves. He held her hand, but it trembled again.

— Y/n… I love you. Like, really. It’s just… you made me stop pretending to be the extroverted guy all the time. With you, I can be the Benito who gets shy, who wants affection, who sends voice notes singing badly just to make you laugh. I love you so damn much.

You smiled, tears in your eyes.

— I love you too, Benito. The shy one, the clingy one, the funny one… all of them.

He pulled you onto his lap, burying his face in your neck, hugging you tight.

— Then stay here with me. Forever. I’m yours now. Completely yours.

Today, almost a year later, the world still sees Bad Bunny: the guy who dances wildly on stage and fills stadiums. But when the lights go out, when the bedroom door closes and it’s just the two of them, Benito turns into a big kid. He lays his head on her chest, asks for kisses on his forehead, uses a soft voice just to get her attention.

— Mi vida… can you hold me tighter? I’ve missed you all day.

And you laugh, running your fingers through his hair, and reply:

HEYYYY!!! I LOVE THISSS YOU’RE FREAK LIKE ME!!!

Find my other stories here!

Requests are open! 🩷

Masterlist: @percysley @suns3treading @maisiesthoughts @benitoswifeylol comment to be part of the taglist! 🤍😉

Warnings: NSFW, heavy smut, +18, mdi, rough sex, possessive sex, jealous!dom!Benito, begging, edging, orgasm denial, thigh riding, multiple orgasm, oral sex ( f &m receiving), anal teasing, dirty talk, manhandling, unprotected sex (USE PROTECTION), secret relationship

The soft glow of the set lights still lingered on the tanned skin of Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio, Bad Bunny, as the day’s filming wrapped. He was an imposing sight: golden-bronze Puerto Rican skin, thick black curly hair falling messily over his forehead, dark brown eyes full of intensity, and a smile that could melt anyone. He wore a tight black t-shirt that hugged the muscles of his shoulders and pecs, loose cargo pants, and his favorite sneakers, always carrying that charming vibe mixed with raw sensuality.

His co-star in the movie was Y/n, a 28-year-old Brazilian actress with light brown skin, long wavy brown hair, and green eyes that hypnotized every camera. The film was a romantic action production where Benito had a special appearance who gets entangled with your character in a story of crime and passion in Miami. On set, your romance was an absolute secret. No one knew that between takes, in the dark trailers or hidden corners of the studio, you two exchanged hungry kisses, hands sliding under clothes, whispers mixing Spanish and Portuguese. Benito would call you “mi reina” in a low voice, pressing your waist against his body, feeling your heat against his growing erection, always stopping just before anyone could catch you. You loved the risk, the way he dominated you with a single look, how his fingers squeezed your thighs under the makeup table, promising more later.

⸻

That afternoon, the press junket for the movie arrived. You were sitting side by side on a luxurious couch in a Los Angeles studio, cameras rolling, bright lights on. The interviewer, a blond guy with an easy smile named Ryan, started light: “Benito, how was it working with Y/n? The chemistry between you two on screen is electric!” Benito smiled professionally, answering in his English with that thick Puerto Rican accent: “She’s incredible, man. Brings an energy that inspires me.” But then Ryan turned to you, leaning forward a little, eyes locked on yours. “And you, Y/n? Working with Benito must be a dream. He’s so… intense. Did you feel that in your skin? Any scene that left you breathless?” You laughed, a genuine and charming laugh, tossing your hair back and lightly touching Benito’s arm on the couch. “Oh, definitely. Benito is pure fire. Every take with him is like dancing reggaeton, it’s hot, unpredictable, addictive.” You smiled even more, looking at Ryan with those bright green eyes, answering one of his jokes about “chemistry off-camera” with another light laugh and a playful “who knows, right?”

Benito felt jealousy rise like lava. His jaw tightened, fists clenched discreetly in his lap. He saw the way Ryan leaned toward you, the way you smiled back, the way your body shifted an extra centimeter closer to the interviewer. On set it was work, but here? Right in front of him? His blood boiled. He kept the smile for the cameras, but inside he was burning. The interview ended with applause and photos, and you left together for the car that would take you back to the hotel in the city center.

⸻

In the hotel elevator, the air was thick with tension. Benito didn’t say a word until the door of his suite clicked shut. You, still wearing the tight black dress from the interview that hugged every curve of your full breasts and round ass, turned to him with a seductive smile. “Benito, baby… what’s wrong? You were quiet the whole way.” He pinned you against the wall, hands planted on either side of your head, his tall, muscular body pressing against yours without fully touching yet. His dark eyes were blazing. “Are you fucking kidding me? Smiling at that son of a bitch like I wasn’t sitting right next to you. Touching his arm? Laughing at his little jokes? Right in my face, Y/n? I’m your man here, coño. Secret or not, you’re mine on set, in the trailer, in the hotel.”

You swallowed hard, desire already throbbing between your legs just from feeling his heat so close. His thick cock, already half-hard inside his pants, brushed lightly against your thigh. “Benito, it was just the interview… work. I’m yours, you know that. Please…” You tried to kiss him, hands sliding up his tattooed chest, feeling the hard muscles under his shirt. But he turned his face away and gripped your chin firmly. “No. Tonight you’re not getting it easy. You want my cock? You want me to fuck you like I always do? Then beg. On your knees, mi reina. Show me how much you really want me.”

You obeyed instantly, dropping to your knees on the soft carpet, green eyes begging as you looked up at him. “Benito… please. I want you. I want your cock inside me, stretching me open. I’m yours, only yours. Fuck me, use me, make me cum until I cry.” He smiled slowly, aroused, pulling his shirt off deliberately, revealing his tattooed torso, defined pecs, chiseled abs, and the dark happy trail disappearing into his waistband. He sat on the edge of the king-size bed, legs spread, and patted his right thigh — thick, muscular, and covered in tattoos. “Take everything off. Then mount here. No dick, just your wet little pussy rubbing on my thigh until you beg again.”

You yanked the dress off in one quick motion, bra and panties flying. Your heavy breasts bounced free, nipples hard, your pussy already glistening and swollen with need. You climbed onto him, straddling his tattooed thigh, legs wide, clit pressing directly against the warm, firm muscle. “Like this, Benito? Please…” He grabbed your waist with strong hands, guiding the slow, tight rhythm. “Harder. Rub that hot pussy on my leg like the dirty little slut you are. But don’t cum yet. Only when I say.”

You started grinding, hips rolling in tight circles, the friction making your pussy throb against his skin. Your juices dripped down, soaking his tattooed thigh, shining under the low lamp light. He watched, his cock twitching inside his pants, but he refused to touch it. “That’s it… look how wet you are for me. Whining already?” You moaned loudly, nails digging into his shoulders, tits bouncing with every movement. “Benito… please let me cum… I want your cock…” He denied you, tightening his grip on your waist, forcing the pace faster and tighter. “Beg better. Say you’re my slut and you’ll never smile at another man like that again.”

You whimpered, tears starting to form in the corners of your green eyes as pleasure built without release. “I’m your slut, Benito… only yours… never again… ahh, please, fuck me…” Your clit swelled against his thigh, body shaking and sweating, but every time you got close he stopped the movement. Tears rolled down your face, makeup smearing, voice breaking in sobs of frustration and desire. “Benito… I’m crying… please… give me your cock… I can’t take it anymore…” Only then, after minutes of delicious torture, did he lift you, throw you face-down on the bed, and rip his pants off. His cock sprang free — thick, veiny, the swollen head glistening with pre-cum.

He slammed into you in one deep thrust, stretching your soaked walls with a rough groan from him and a cry from you. “That’s it, mi reina. Take it all.” The whole night became a marathon of raw sex. He fucked you doggy style first, hands gripping your hips, pounding hard, heavy balls slapping against your dripping pussy. You screamed, tears still falling, but now from pure pleasure: “Deeper, Benito… rip me open!” He yanked your hair, leaning down to bite your neck, sweat dripping from his chest onto your back.

Then he flipped you onto your back, missionary, your legs over his shoulders, cock sliding in and out slow and deep, eyes locked on yours. “Look at me while I fuck you. You’re mine.” He sucked on your nipples, biting gently, while his fingers circled your swollen clit. You came for the first time like that, pussy clenching around his cock like a fist, squirting hot juices all over the sheets.

You didn’t stop. He pulled you onto his lap, reverse cowgirl, hands spreading your ass while you rode him wildly, his cock disappearing completely inside you. “Grind harder, you dirty girl…” Hours passed — he fucked you sideways in spooning position, one hand squeezing your breast, the other on your clit, cumming together for the second time. A short water break, then he put you on all fours again, this time sliding a lubed finger into your tight ass, double stimulation while his cock kept pounding your pussy.

The third round was oral: him lying down, you on top in 69, sucking his cock all the way to your throat, drool running down your chin, while he devoured your pussy hungrily. “Swallow it all, mi reina… just like that.” He came in your mouth and you swallowed every drop, moaning.

Fourth round: standing against the floor-to-ceiling glass wall, city lights sparkling below, he held you by the thighs, cock driving up into you vertically, slamming deep with every thrust. You cried again, this time from ecstasy, nails scratching down his tattooed back. “Benito… I love you… don’t ever stop…”

You fucked until sunrise. Fifth round: slow and sensual on the bed, him on top, wet kisses, cock swirling deep inside you in long circles. Seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth rounds blurred together. The count was lost between moans, sweat, and mixed fluids soaking the sheets, the whole room smelling like sex and his cologne.

Around 6 a.m., exhausted but still connected, he fucked you one last time in slow missionary, bodies pressed together, mouths kissing nonstop. “You’re mine, Y/n. Always.” You came shaking, tears of happiness now, and he exploded inside you, filling you with hot cum until it overflowed. You collapsed in each other’s arms, breathing hard, the set secret stronger than ever. The whole night had belonged to him: jealousy, domination, raw pleasure, and hidden love. And the next day on set, no one would suspect a thing.

⸻⸻

Hey, thank you for the request, I loved the idea!!! Soo, she’s not a lawyer, she’s an astrophysics, bc this is literally my DREAM profession, hope you enjoy it! 🤍

Find my other stories here!

Requests are open! 🩷

Masterlist: Masterlist: @percysley @suns3treading @maisiesthoughts @benitoswifeylol comment to be part of the taglist! 🤍😉

Summary: You’re an excellent astrophysicist and benito it’s just SOOOOO proud of you!

Warnings: nothing big, just fluff

It was a hot summer night in Houston, Texas, where the air conditioning at NASA headquarters struggled to keep the coolness against the humid heat coming from the Gulf. Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio, known worldwide as Bad Bunny, was sitting in a chair in the main auditorium of the Johnson Space Center, his eyes fixed on the stage lit by blue LEDs that simulated the glow of the stars. He was wearing a black shirt and custom sneakers embroidered with stars—a gift from her, handmade with scraps of old space uniforms.

Next to him, with her hand intertwined in his, was Dr. Y/n, his girlfriend of two years. At 30 years old, she was one of NASA’s most promising astrophysicists, specializing in exoplanets and the search for signs of life beyond the Solar System. Her red hair fell loose over the shoulders of her immaculate white lab coat, and her dark eyes shone with the same intensity as the galaxies she studied. Benito affectionately called her “mi estrella” because, to him, she was the center of the entire universe, the brightest star.

They had met in an unlikely way, at a charity event in San Juan, Puerto Rico, where NASA had sent a team to talk about the Artemis program and the future of lunar exploration. Y/n, Puerto Rican by birth just like him, was presenting a panel on the James Webb Space Telescope and how it revealed atmospheres of distant worlds. Benito, who had donated part of his tour profits to STEM education in Latino communities, was in the audience. When she mentioned, with passion, that “The universe doesn't care about borders or languages, it only asks for curiosity” Benito felt something click. After the event, he approached her, shy for the first time in his life, and said: “Doctora, you just made me want to be an astronaut just to see you work up close.”

Now, two years later, they lived between Los Angeles, where Benito recorded and planned shows, and Houston, where Y/n spent days and nights in mission control. The relationship was a delicate balance: video calls at 3 a.m. when she was on night shift monitoring data from the Perseverance rover, or Benito showing up unannounced with arepas and Puerto Rican coffee at the lab, ignoring the curious looks from the engineers.

That specific night was Y/n’s big moment. The auditorium was packed with scientists, astronauts, journalists, and even some Hollywood VIPs that NASA invited to attract funding. The event was the virtual launch of a new phase of the space telescope program, where Y/n would present her team’s preliminary results: the detection of possible biosignatures on an exoplanet 120 light-years away. It was the work of a lifetime—years of spectral analysis, sleepless nights, complex mathematical models that she explained as if they were poetry.

Benito squeezed her hand tighter when the presenter called her name. “Doctor Y/n Y/l/n, Main astrophysics of the Habitable Worlds Observatory project.” She stood up, kissed him quickly on the cheek—a kiss that smelled of vanilla gloss and confidence—and walked to the podium with firm steps, her white lab coat contrasting with the simple black dress underneath, chosen by her the day before.

From his seat in the front row, Benito couldn’t take his eyes off her. While Y/n spoke, her clear and passionate voice echoing through the speakers, explaining how the telescope data revealed water vapor and methane in proportions that suggested biological activity, he felt his chest swell with a pride that didn’t fit in his body. It wasn’t the empty pride of a famous boyfriend. It was the deep pride of someone who saw the woman he loved conquering the impossible. He, who had grown up in Vega Baja dreaming of microphones, now saw his star unraveling the secrets of the cosmos.

As she advanced through the slides, showing colorful graphs of alien atmospheres, Benito discreetly picked up his phone and opened the camera. It wasn’t to post backstage stories. It was something bigger. He recorded a short video of her on stage, zooming in on her focused face, and saved it for himself, like a memory he didn’t want to forget.

At the end of the presentation, the auditorium exploded in applause. Y/n smiled, waving, but her eyes searched for his in the crowd. Benito stood up first, clapping hard, whistling like a fan at a show. When she came down from the stage, he met her in the side corridor, hugging her so tightly he almost lifted her off the ground.

“¡Mi vida! You were amazing. I understood like 20% of what you said about methane and oxygen, but the rest... fuck, Y/n, you're changing the world. The whole universe now knows that my girlfriend is the smartest on the planet.” He held her face with both hands, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. “I stay here thinking: I sing to millions, but you talk to the stars. And they answer you. I'm exploding with pride, coño.”

Luna laughed, her eyes watery not from tiredness but from emotion. “Benito, you don't need to understand the graphs. You understand what matters: that I love it as much as I love you. And seeing you here... knowing that you canceled a rehearsal to come... it gives me more strength than any telescope.”

They left the Johnson Space Center hand in hand, the Houston sky full of stars as if the universe were conspiring in their favor. Benito insisted on driving the car to her apartment near the space center. On the way, he turned the music on low volume: a playlist he had made especially for her, mixing his songs with soundtracks from science fiction movies. “Un x100to” played, and he sang along, but changed the lyrics in the chorus just for her.

In the apartment, small but full of plants, posters of nebulae, and a table cluttered with laptops and notes, Benito prepared something simple: arroz con gandules that he had brought frozen from Puerto Rico on his last trip, heated in the microwave, with a red wine. They ate sitting on the couch, legs intertwined. He wouldn’t stop talking.

“Do you know what I love the most? When the engineers look at me strangely in the laboratory, like 'what's Bad Bunny doing here?'. And I answer: 'I came to see my girlfriend!'”

Luna poked him, laughing. “You’re ridiculous. But i love it. You make me feel... normal. In the middle of all this pressure of deadlines and peer reviews, you arrive and remind me that I am more than data and equations."

Benito suddenly became serious. He set his plate aside and took her hands. “Listen, Y/n. I grew up thinking that pride was winning awards, filling stadiums, seeing my name on Billboard. But that? Seeing you on stage today, explaining how the universe began... this is the biggest prize of my life. I post on Instagram, I tell my friends, my brothers in PR, fans: “Mí novía es astrofísica de la NASA'. And they love, but no one loves more than me. Because I know the effort. The nights you cry because a model doesn't close. The times I wake you up with a kiss because you slept on the keyboard. I'm fucking proud, my love. And it's not because you're famous or rich, it's because you are you. The woman who looks at the sky and sees answers that no one else sees."

She pulled him into a long, slow kiss, the kind that mixes gratitude and pure desire. When they pulled apart, Y/n whispered against his lips: “So take me to see the real stars. Not James Webb's. Ours.”

That night, they went up to the building’s rooftop, a hidden spot Y/n had discovered. Benito brought a blanket, his phone with the constellations app, and a bottle of champagne he kept for special occasions. Lying side by side, he pointed at the sky as if he owned it.

“That one over there is Orion, right? You taught me. But look, mi estrella... for me, all of them are you. Because you shine stronger than anyone.” He rolled to his side, propping his head on his hand. “Do you know what I want? One day, when you discover the first habitable planet, I'll be there at the launch. And I'm going to sing to you out of nowhere, just to see you laugh in front of all those serious scientists. And then I'll scream: '¡Esa es mi novia! The one who found life in the cosmos!'”

Y/n turned her face, her eyes shining with happy tears. “And I'll drag you to a simulated mission on the Moon. You will hate the costume, but you will love the zero gravity. And I'll show you that the universe is big enough to fit both of us and our love."

They stayed there until dawn, talking about dreams: him about the next album, her about the possibility of a trip to Puerto Rico to present her work at the university where she had studied. Benito wouldn’t stop repeating: “Estoy tan orgulloso de ti.” (I’m so proud of you.). In Spanish, in English, as if the words were never enough.

Months later, the whole world found out. During the sold-out show at the Coliseo de Puerto Rico, Benito stopped at the introduction of “BAILE INoLVIDABLE.” The lights went out. He grabbed the microphone, sweaty, with the crowd of 18,000 people silent.

“Esta canción es pa’ mi novia, la Dr. Y/n Y/l/n Ella trabaja en la NASA, buscando vida en otros planetas. Yo busco amor en sus ojos. ¡Orgulloso de ti, mi astrofísica! ¡Te amo hasta las estrellas y más allá!” (This song is for my girlfriend, Dr. Y/n Y/l/n She works at NASA, looking for life on other planets. I look for love in his eyes. Proud of you, my astrophysics! I love you to the stars and beyond!)

The crowd exploded. Phone screens lit up like an artificial galaxy. And in Houston, watching the live stream, Y/n covered her mouth, laughing and crying at the same time. Because Benito wasn’t just her boyfriend. He was her biggest fan, the one who turned science into art and pride into s

Ruin the Friendship

Episode 1

Episode 2

Episode 3

Episode 4

Episode 5

Episode 6

Episode 7

Episode 8

Episode 9

Episode 10

Episode 11

Episode 12

Episode 13

Episode 14

Episode 15

Episode 16

Episode 17

Episode 18

Episode 19

Heyy, thank you for the request!! sorry for taking SOO long! I couldn’t think of nothing with a comedy actor, but she is an actor!! 💕

Find my other stories here!

Requests are open!! 🩷

Masterlist: @percysley @suns3treading @maisiesthoughts @benitoswifeylol comment to be part of the taglist! 🤍😉

Summary: When Benito, your boyfriend of five years accompanies you on a set day, and your co-worker complicates his life…

Warnings: Heavy Smut, dom!benito, actress!reader, chocking, teasing, +18, mdi

The morning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of your Los Angeles penthouse, casting a golden glow over the rumpled sheets where you and Benito had spent the night tangled together. Five years together, and the spark between you two had only grown hotter, deeper, more passionate over these years. He was Bad Bunny to the world, but to you, he was just Benito, the man who whispered Spanish dirty things in your ear like they were deep secrets, who made you laugh until your sides hurt, and who loved you with a fierceness that sometimes scared even him.

“Despierta, mi reina” (good morning, my queen) he murmured that morning, his voice still husky from sleep as he rolled over and pulled your naked body against his. His lips brushed your neck, teeth grazing the spot he knew made you shiver. “You have that big scene today, and I’m coming with you. No arguments. I want to watch my bebé work her magic.”

You smiled, arching into him, your fingers tracing the ink on his chest. “You sure? You hate early call times.”

“Para ti? Anything.” (For you?) He kissed you slow and deep, tongue sliding against yours until you were both breathless. “Besides, I miss seeing you like this. All confident, sexy, owning every room you walk into.

The drive to the set was easy, his hand on your thigh the whole way, thumb stroking lazy circles under the hem of your skirt. He played one of his own tracks low in the car, singing along off-key just to make you laugh. When you arrived, the crew greeted him like an old friend, but his eyes never left you as you got into wardrobe and makeup.

The scene today was the big one: a passionate, rain-soaked kiss turning into a heated make-out against the wall of the fake apartment set. Your co-star, Marcus —a tall, polished British actor with a reputation for blurring lines between acting and real life—was already there, shirt unbuttoned for the shot, flashing you that practiced charming smile.

“Morning, love,” Marcus said, leaning in a little too close as the director called places. “Ready to sell this chemistry? I know we’ve got it in spades.”

You laughed politely, professional as always. “Let’s make it count.”

Benito sat just off-camera in a director’s chair they’d pulled up for him, arms crossed over his black hoodie, sunglasses on even though the set lights were bright. He looked relaxed at first—legs stretched out, nodding when you blew him a quick kiss before the first take.

Action.

The cameras rolled. Rain machines poured down as Marcus pulled you in, his hands sliding down your back, lower than the script strictly called for. His mouth crashed onto yours—wet, insistent, tongue slipping in deeper than rehearsed. You sold it, fingers gripping his wet shirt, body arching like the scene demanded. But even after “Cut!” echoed through the set, Marcus didn’t let go right away. His hand lingered on your waist, thumb brushing the bare skin where your soaked top had ridden up.

“Bloody hell, you’re incredible,” he said, voice low, eyes locked on yours as the crew reset. “That felt real. We should grab drinks after wrap, talk about how to make the next scene even steamier. Off the clock, obviously.”

You stepped back with a polite smile, wiping rain from your face. “Thanks, Marcus. But I’ve got plans.”

Benito’s face had changed. The easy smirk was gone. His jaw was tight, lips pressed into a thin line, eyes narrowed behind those sunglasses. He didn’t say a word when you walked over, towel around your shoulders, but the energy radiating off him was dark, stormy.

“Hey, you,” you said softly, sliding onto his lap in the chair like you always did between takes. You poked his chest playfully. “What’s with the face, grumpy bunny? Jealous much?”

He didn’t crack a smile. “No estoy celoso” (I’m not jealous) he muttered, voice flat, one hand resting on your hip but gripping a little tighter than usual. “Just… watching that pendejo put his hands all over you. Again. Even after they said cut.”

You grinned, thinking he was just being dramatic like he sometimes got after long nights. “Aww, mi amor is throwing a tantrum? It’s acting, Benito. You know that. You’ve watched me do love scenes a hundred times and never batted an eye. Marcus is just… method. He’s like that with everyone.”

He looked away, jaw ticking. “Method. Sure. He wasn’t acting when he had his hand on your ass like it belonged to him. And that little invite for drinks? Right in front of me, like I’m invisible.”

You laughed lightly, cupping his face and turning it back to you. “Baby, come on. Don’t be like that. You’re the one who gets me screaming your name every night. Not some co-star playing pretend.” You leaned in, nipping his earlobe. “My big, bad guy doesn’t get insecure over a silly scene, does he? Or do I need to remind you who this pussy belongs to later?”

He didn’t laugh. His eyes flicked to Marcus across the set, who was chatting with the director and glancing your way. Benito’s hand slid up your thigh under the towel, possessive but silent. “No me gusta” (I don’t like it) he said quietly, Spanish rolling thick off his tongue. “Not today. Not the way he looks at you. Like he thinks he has a chance.”

You teased again, thinking you could lighten him up. “Ooh, possessive today? Cute. Maybe I should flirt back just to see you pout more. You’re adorable when you’re jealous.”

His grip tightened, eyes flashing. “Not funny, mi vida. Don’t push it.”

⸻

The rest of the day dragged. Takes went on, Marcus kept the flirtation going: complimenting your “natural fire,” touching your arm during notes from the director. Benito stayed stone-faced, barely speaking when you checked on him. By wrap time, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

In the car ride home, the silence was heavy. You reached for his hand on the gear shift. “Benito, talk to me. You’re really mad?”

He glanced at you, eyes dark. “Mad? No. Celoso? Sí. That cabrón was eye-fucking you the whole time. And you let him. Laughing at his bullshit like it’s nothing. I know it’s your job, bebé, but today… today it felt like he was trying to take what’s mine. And you teased me about it. Like my feelings don’t matter.”

Your stomach flipped. The teasing had backfired. “I was just playing, amor. I didn’t mean—”

“We’re home,” he cut in, pulling into the underground garage of your building. The elevator ride up was pure silence. His hand was on the small of your back, but it felt like a brand, hot, claiming.

The second the penthouse door clicked shut behind you, the jealousy exploded.

Benito spun you around, backing you against the door with a growl. His mouth was on yours instantly, rough, hungry, nothing like the scripted kiss from earlier. His hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, yanking you against the hard line of his body.

“Enough of that shit,” he rasped against your lips, voice low and dangerous. “You’re mine, ¿entiendes? Only mine. Not his to touch. Not his to flirt with. Mine to fuck. Mine to love. Mine to keep.”

“Benito—” you gasped, but he swallowed it with another kiss, tongue thrusting deep, claiming every inch of your mouth like he needed to erase Marcus’s taste from your memory.

“Say it,” he demanded, one hand sliding up to cup your throat, fingers pressing just enough to make your pulse race. “Dime que eres mía, mi reina. Only mine.” (Tell me your mine)

“I’m yours,” you breathed, heat pooling between your legs at the possessiveness in his voice. “Only yours, Benito. Always.”

He smirked against your neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark. “That’s right, bebé. That pendejo can act all he wants. But this” His free hand shoved under your skirt, fingers finding you already soaked through your panties. He groaned, circling your clit roughly. “This pussy? It gets wet for me. Only me.”

You moaned, hips bucking into his touch as he pushed your panties aside and slid two thick fingers inside you without warning. He curled them perfectly, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes, all while his hand stayed on your throat, thumb stroking the side in a rhythm that matched his fingers.

“Fuck, look at you,” he murmured, eyes locked on your face as he pumped faster. “So fucking pretty when you’re falling apart for me. You think he could make you drip like this? Think he could choke you just right and have you begging?”

“N-no,” you whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders. “Only you, mi amor. Please—”

He pulled his fingers out suddenly, leaving you empty and aching. Before you could protest, he took you to the living room, bending you over the back of the couch. Your skirt was shoved up, panties ripped down your legs in one swift motion. You heard his belt buckle, the zipper, then the thick, hot press of his cock against your entrance.

“Gonna fuck you so good you forget his name,” he growled, one hand fisting your hair, the other wrapping back around your throat from behind. He thrust in hard—all the way to the hilt in one stroke, stretching you wide with that familiar, delicious burn. “¡Ay, Dios mío, tan apretada para mí!” (Oh ny god, so tight for me)

You cried out, pushing back against him as he set a punishing pace, hips slamming into yours. The sound of skin on skin filled the room, wet and filthy. Every thrust drove him deeper, his balls slapping against you, his hand tightening around your neck making your head spin with pleasure.

“Benito—fuck—harder” you gasped, voice hoarse from the pressure on your throat.

He obliged, pounding into you relentlessly, the couch creaking under the force. “You feel that, mi vida? My cock owning this tight little pussy. Say it louder. Tell me who you belong to while I choke you like my good girl.”

“I belong to you!” you moaned, the words breaking as he squeezed a little firmer, stars dancing in your vision. The possessiveness, the raw need in his voice it sent you spiraling. “I’m yours—only yours—Benito, please, I’m gonna—”

“Not yet,” he snarled, pulling out and flipping you onto your back on the couch like you weighed nothing. He hooked your legs over his shoulders, sliding back in even deeper this way. His hand returned to your throat immediately, eyes burning into yours as he fucked you slow and hard now, grinding against your clit with every roll of his hips.

“Look at me,” he ordered, voice rough with lust and leftover jealousy. “Eyes on me while I ruin you. No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to hear you moan my name like a prayer. ¿Me oyes? You’re my woman. My actress. My everything.”

Tears of overwhelming pleasure pricked your eyes as he hit that perfect angle again and again. His thumb brushed your lower lip, then slipped into your mouth. You sucked it greedily, tongue swirling, and he groaned.

“Fuck, you’re perfect. Mi reina sucia. Come for me now—let me feel you squeeze my cock while I choke you.”

The orgasm crashed over you like a wave, your walls fluttering and clenching around him as he kept the pressure on your throat steady. You screamed his name, body shaking, vision blurring at the edges from the intense high.

Benito followed right after, burying himself deep with a guttural moan. “¡Mierda—te amo, mi amor!” Hot spurts of his release filled you, pulsing as he rode it out, hips stuttering.

He didn’t pull out right away. Instead, he collapsed over you, hand loosening on your throat to cradle your face gently. His forehead rested against yours, breaths mingling.

“Te amo tanto,” he whispered, kissing you soft and slow now, all the roughness melting into tenderness. “I’m sorry I got so crazy today. Seeing him touch you… it just hit different. You’re my world. I don’t want to share even a second of you with anyone who looks at you like that.”

You smiled, fingers threading through his hair, legs still wrapped around him. “I love you too, Benito. My jealous, possessive, amazing man. No one else could ever compare. Marcus was just a scene. This—” You squeezed around him where he was still inside you. “This is real. Us. Forever.”

He chuckled softly, nuzzling your neck. “Good. Because next time I’m on set with you, I might have to remind that cabrón who you go home to. But right now?” He kissed you again, deeper, already hardening inside you for round two. “I’m not done claiming what’s mine, mi vida. Not even close.”

The night stretched on—slow, lazy kisses turning heated again, his hands exploring every inch of you like he was memorizing it all over. By the time you both collapsed into bed hours later, sweaty and satisfied, wrapped in each other’s arms, the jealousy had burned away into something warmer, stronger.

“Sleep, mi reina,” he murmured against your hair, one arm possessively around your waist. “Tomorrow, we do it all again. But you’re coming home to me. Always.”

And as you drifted off, safe in the circle of his love, you knew he was right. No co-star, no scene, no amount of acting could ever touch what you had with Benito—the man who loved you loud, jealous, and completely.

⸻⸻⸻

Pt.1 and Pt.2 here!

Find my other stories here!

Taglist: @percysley @suns3treading @maisiesthoughts @benitoswifeylol

Summary: When you wanna try something new with your boyfriebd, and he say yes..

Warnings: bisexual!reader, threesome (2 women 1 man), SMUT, +18, mdi, oral sex (f and m receiving), vaginal sex, boyfriend!benito

Saturday arrived hot and lazy in Los Angeles, the sun hitting hard on the backyard pool of their house. Benito woke up early, as always, but today he was different. He couldn’t keep his hands off you for a second. While you were making breakfast in the kitchen, he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, kissing your neck slowly, his hands sliding under the oversized T-shirt you only wore to sleep.

— You look so fucking beautiful today — he murmured in your ear, his voice rough with sleep and desire. — I don’t think I’ll make it until tonight without touching you.

You laughed, turning your face to kiss him, feeling his hands tighten on your waist. All day he was like that: extra touchy, possessive in a loving way. On the couch, watching a movie neither of you paid attention to, he pulled you onto his lap, his hands sliding over your thighs, slowly moving up under your tiny shorts, squeezing your soft skin. In the pool, he pressed you against the edge, kissing you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth while his hands grabbed your ass under the water.

— I love you so fucking much — he said between kisses, his dark eyes locked on yours. — And today I want to fuck you slow, real good, to remind you who makes you come for real before Martina gets here.

Y/n felt her whole body shiver at his words. She responded, running her hands over his chest, lightly scratching his back, pulling him closer. The entire day was a slow, torturous prelude. They had lunch on the balcony, but barely ate — Benito sat her on his lap, feeding her with his fingers, licking the sauce from the corner of her mouth. In the afternoon, in the bedroom, he threw her onto the bed just to kiss every inch of her body, sucking her nipples slowly until she moaned, his hands between her legs, circling her clit without rushing, but always stopping just before she could come.

— Not yet, mi amor — he whispered, smiling against her skin. — I want you soaked and crazy for me when we really fuck.

⸻

Night fell and Martina was only arriving at nine. At seven-thirty, Benito couldn’t take it anymore. He locked the bedroom door, pulled you by the hand and pushed you onto the king-size bed with a playful shove. Clothes came off fast: he took off your shirt, your shorts, your panties, leaving you completely naked. Benito undressed slowly, his dick already hard and throbbing, thick and veiny, the tip shiny with pre-cum. He climbed onto the bed, covering your body with his, kissing you hungrily — tongues tangling, saliva mixing, low moans leaving his mouth while his hands squeezed your breasts, pinching your nipples until they were hard and flushed.

— Fuck, Y/n, you’re already so wet — he groaned, trailing his mouth down your neck, sucking your skin, leaving faint marks. He spread your legs with his knees, positioning himself between them, but didn’t enter yet. Instead, he lowered his face, kissing your stomach, your inner thighs, until he reached your swollen, glistening pussy. He licked slowly, from bottom to top, his flat tongue passing over your swollen clit, tasting you. You arched your back, moaning loudly, your hands in his hair.

— Benito… please… eat me out…

He obeyed, sucking your clit hard, two fingers sliding inside you slowly, curling to hit your G-spot. He ate you like he was starving, his tongue fucking your wet hole, sucking your swollen lips, groaning against your skin. You came like that, trembling, squeezing his head between your thighs, screaming his name as the orgasm ripped through you.

But he didn’t stop. He moved back up, his dick rubbing against your wet pussy, and kissed you again, making you taste yourself on his tongue.

— Now I’m gonna fuck you — he said, pushing into you all at once, slowly, inch by inch, until he was fully buried inside you. You moaned loudly, your nails digging into his back. He started thrusting deep, steady, pulling almost all the way out and slamming back in, his balls hitting your ass. His hands were everywhere: squeezing your breasts, pulling your hair, gripping your waist as he fucked you faster. Then he lay back and you got on top, riding him slowly at first, grinding, his hands on your breasts, squeezing. You came again like that, your body shaking, your pussy clenching his dick like a fist. Benito held back, turning you onto your side, lifting one leg and thrusting deep and slow, kissing your neck the whole time.

— I love you so fucking much — he whispered with every thrust. — This pussy is mine… always gonna be mine.

They fucked for almost an hour, sweaty, moaning, kissing nonstop. Finally, Benito couldn’t hold it anymore. He flipped you onto your back again, your legs on his shoulders, thrusting deep and fast, his dick swelling inside you.

— I’m gonna come, mi amor… come with me…

Y/n came for the third time, screaming, her body convulsing. Benito came right after, buried deep inside her, spilling hot and thick, groaning her name as the orgasm took over him. They stayed there, breathless, him still inside her, kissing her face slowly, sweaty and happy.

— Fuck… that was perfect — he murmured, pulling out slowly and bringing her to his chest.

They showered together, laughing, soaping each other up, kissing more. They got dressed casually but nicely: Benito in black sweatpants and a fitted white T-shirt, Jade in a short loose dress, no bra, hair down.

⸻

At exactly nine, the doorbell rang. Martina arrived looking gorgeous, in denim shorts and a cropped top, smiling, nervous but excited.

They sat in the living room, low lighting, a bottle of wine on the table. The conversation about boundaries was long, calm, and honest, lasting almost forty minutes.

— Before anything — Benito started, holding Y/n’s hand — we want to make sure everyone’s comfortable. I love Y/n more than anything. This is to add, not to change anything. If at any point someone feels jealous or uncomfortable, we stop immediately. No drama.

You nodded, looking at Martina.

— Exactly. I’m bi, always have been, and Benito knows that. But he’s my man. I want him involved in everything, for the three of us to touch each other. Nothing like just me and you, Martina, if he doesn’t want that. Kisses, touching, everything is welcome, but I want him to fuck me too, and to fuck you if you want. No penetration without condoms, okay? We have protection for everything. And afterward, we talk, maybe sleep together if it feels right, no pressure to repeat.

Martina listened attentively, taking a sip of wine.

— I’m completely comfortable with that. I’ve done something similar before and what matters most is communication. I like kisses, hands everywhere, being touched and touching. I want to suck both of you, I want you both to go down on me, I want to feel both of you at the same time. No pain, no humiliation. I love oral, I love being fucked slow at first and then harder. And I want both of you to kiss me a lot. If it happens that I’m sucking Benito while you eat me out, Y/n, I’m in. No jealousy. I respect what you have. If tomorrow we wake up and just want friendship, that’s fine. No expectations.

Benito nodded, squeezing Y/n’s hand.

— Perfect. I want to see Y/n kissing you, touching you. I want to touch you too, Martina, because you’re beautiful and you’ve got an amazing energy. But I’m gonna be crazy about Y/n the whole time. I want to fuck her in front of you, I want her to suck me while you kiss me. We’ll go slow at first, see how it flows. And I want a lot of kissing. Mouth, body, everywhere.

You smiled, looking at both of them.

— I want both of you touching me at the same time. I want to kiss both of you, feel your hands on my pussy, on my body. I want to go down on Martina while Benito fucks me. I want him to fuck me and to fuck you too. Let’s feel everything together. Good chemistry, no rush. If someone comes fast, we keep going. What matters is everyone feeling good.

They toasted, laughing nervously, and the mood shifted. Martina moved first, kissing Y/n slowly on the lips. Benito watched for a second, his dick already getting hard, then joined in, kissing Y/n’s neck while the two kissed. Hands started exploring: Benito squeezing Y/n’s breasts over her dress, Martina sliding her hand over her thigh. You moaned, pulling Martina closer, your tongue in her mouth.

Benito slowly took off Y/n’s dress, exposing her bare breasts, sucking one nipple while Martina sucked the other. Their hands were everywhere — on Y/n’s pussy, spreading her legs, fingers circling her wet clit. You moaned loudly, one hand in Benito’s hair, the other in Martina’s. The three of them kissed at the same time, tongues touching, mouths meeting in a messy, wet kiss.

Martina moved down, kissing Y/n’s stomach, spreading her legs and licking her pussy slowly, her tongue flat over the clit. Benito kissed you deeply, swallowing your moans, while one of his hands squeezed Martina’s breast. Then you pulled Benito, opening his pants, grabbing his hard dick and sucking slowly, your mouth warm and wet. Martina came up, kissing Benito while you sucked him, her hands on his dick too, stroking along with you.

They shifted: Benito laid you on the bed, spreading your legs and eating your pussy while Martina sat on your face. You devoured Martina’s pussy, your tongue fucking her wet hole, while Benito pushed two fingers inside you and sucked your clit. Moans filled the room — Martina grinding on your face, Benito groaning against you.

Then Benito put on a condom and pushed into Y/n slowly, thrusting deep while Martina kissed Y/n and sucked her breasts. Martina’s hands were on Y/n’s clit, circling fast. Benito fucked hard, watching both of them, completely turned on. He pulled Martina closer, kissing her deeply, then positioned her on all fours beside you. He pushed into Martina slowly, feeling her tight, warm pussy, while you kissed her and sucked her breasts. The thrusts got faster, the sound of skin slapping echoing.

You came first, screaming, your body tightening. Martina came right after, trembling as Benito fucked her. He switched back to you, fucking you hard while Martina sucked your clit at the same time. The three of you were sweaty, moaning, kissing nonstop. Benito went down on Martina while you sucked him, then both of you sucked his dick together, tongues touching along the thick head, saliva dripping.

Finally, Benito fucked Y/n again, from the side, while Martina sat on your face. He came inside you with a rough groan, his body shaking. Martina came again in your mouth. They collapsed on the bed, the three of you tangled together, soft kisses now, hands moving lazily, breathing heavy.

— Fuck… that was insane — Benito murmured, kissing Y/n and then Martina.

You smiled, exhausted and happy, your body marked with bites and touches.

— Perfect. The three of us… insane chemistry.

Martina laughed softly, curled between you.

— I’d do it again someday… if you want.

They stayed there, naked, touching slowly, talking quietly until sleep came, the room smelling of sex and connection. The night had been exactly what they wanted: long, intense, full of kisses, hands everywhere, and shared pleasure.

⸻⸻⸻