#benito x reader

ex!benito can’t celebrate his achievements when it’s not with you

summary: you’ve broken up with benito months ago because he keeps second guessing his love and his work. but then the grammy came - and he realizes that he can’t celebrate his achievements when it’s not with you. he grovels, he begs, and he gets

tags: benito antonio x reader, fem!reader, a little bit angst but fluff in the end, i just wanted to write about bad bunny since i’m in love with him. do request if you want more from him!

prequel here.

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badbunnypr grammy 2026 🏆🏆🏆

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but if you want, could you write a fic where reader (preferably fem but no biggie) & benito announce their relationship at the super bowl?

again, you DONT have to write this <3

ty, ily 💕😩

The Only Thing More Powerful Than Hate Is Love

masterpost

word count: 3.9k

pairing: bad bunny x fem!reader; platonic!pedro pascal x fem!reader

A/N: first, but DEFINITELY not last time posting a bad bunny story (i forgot to add him to my list, I'm for sure accepting requests for him) :) aaaaaah I'm so excited about this!! I did rush it a little bit, but just becasue I needed to get this out since I truly just couldn't hold in my excitement anymore! thank you so much for the request, i really hope you like it and thank you for it being your first request, I'M SO HONOURED!!! here's to the best halftime show ever! (also: this doesn't have a ton of bad bunny x reader moments, but I'm writing more, I promise!)

It was wilder than you had expected. A lot wilder. Louder, more extravagant, and busier than you could’ve ever imagined. The people in the stands kept on shouting remarks you’d understand if you knew a little bit more about American Football. Even the kids who had come with their parents seemed to understand the game, jumping up in joy and excitement when their favourite team made yet another few points.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to survive the large crowd surrounding you on your own. Pedro and your assistant had joined you at one of the back entrances. After saying goodbye and wishing Benito good luck, the three of you were led to your designated seats for the first half of the game. Oh, what you would give to be backstage with the man of the hour, but protocols, and rules, and blah blah blah. He told you it would be fine, you should enjoy the evening not just as a girlfriend, but as a casual viewer as well. But the fact was, you couldn’t be there for your partner, your confidant, your other half.

The pressure of standing on the biggest stage of the nation, performing in his mother tongue in a time of hate, had been heavy on his shoulders the past few days, if not weeks. Spanish, a language taught in most schools on US grounds, yet the people from areas of the American continent that spoke it fluently were being threatened, hated on, and even deported. But that didn’t make him back down. If anything, it fuelled his desire to spread his message, his love for his people. And you admired him for it, like many others. Only that your love ran deeper.

And with that love came fear. Fear of him receiving more hate than he already did, fear of him getting hurt before, during or after his performance. And now you were stuck in one of the seats overlooking the green field, joining thousands of people who were rooting for their favourite teams, while you had been picking at your nails and nervously tapping your feet. You kept on checking your phone to see if Benito had sent you anything, but the screen stayed clear. He was probably even more nervous than you; the last thing on his mind would be to text you something with only a few more minutes until the biggest performance of his life.

No one knew what you were waiting for. The people knew you as an actress getting bigger and bigger, gaining new roles in massive franchises, building up your fan base. No one knew who you went home with every night, who was holding you while you were sleeping, who you had breakfast with, whose home country you had gone to more times than you could count. The man who held 31 concerts in Puerto Rico, that helped recover the nation’s tourism statistics. You had been there for every single performance, most times staying backstage or undercover. Some people managed to get pictures with or of you, rumours spreading like wildfire, but nothing had been confirmed yet. Benito wanted it to be big. Make a statement people wouldn’t forget.

“You’re more nervous than him,” a deep voice from your left spoke into your ear. You turned your head to see Pedro’s eyes, covered by his sunglasses, looking at you, a kind smile curling his lips. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

You shook your head with a smile, “Can you blame me?”

He shook his head, understanding your concern. “Don’t worry about him, he knows what he’s doing.” A comforting arm found its way around your shoulder, squeezing your upper arm to ground you. You leaned into him and nodded.

“I pray,” you mumbled, fixing your hair as you sat back down straight.

You couldn’t focus on the game even if you tried, the thoughts were too loud in your head. Deep breaths, you remembered.

The vibration of your phone brought you back into the present, making you look down into your hand immediately.

‘Going to give Noah my phone now. Remember this one is for you too, te amo querida❤️’

You smiled at Benito’s message, right in front of the picture that decorated your lockscreen of the two of you on a night out that was taken by a friend of yours.

You were quick to reply,

‘Promise I’ll cheer the loudest, make your people proud Beni, I love you‘

One look at the time let you know that it was only 18 minutes until halftime would be called. You knew the schedule, you knew the plan. 380 people dressed as plants, 330 dancers, different celebrities in the casa, while you’d join him for a quick dance break and wait for him once he’d walk out through the tunnel . You just didn’t know what he had planned for the very end.

A nudge to your side made your head perk up.

Your assistant nodded her head to the security guards behind her, “Let’s go.” The time had come. They were prepping to set up everything and get people in their designated places. Thankfully, you had already changed into the white dress you were supposed to be wearing for your chameo.

“God…,” your mumble made the actor behind you chuckle as he joined you, heading towards the stairs. Pedro walked a step quicker and stopped, offering his arm for you to hold and help you walk down, as you were also already wearing heels. The security guards made sure you were able to make your way freely, not getting interrupted by interested people, but you couldn’t help but notice the murmuring around you. Some had grabbed their phones, filming and taking pictures as you were guided down the stands.

On the ground floor again, Pedro was separated from you as he was told to join the other celebrities that would be taken to the field in a few moments, while one other guard walked you to the walkout tunnel. Now you were alone with your assistant, but her being busy on her phone left you alone with your nerves. You looked around, trying to find someone you knew who could offer some distraction, but all you saw were NFL employees and other people’s managers, assistants, as well as guests.

“We’re gonna bring you to the other side of the stage. Afterwards, you walk down the stairs with Stefani,” the security guard stretched his arm out, pointing towards the very end of the field, before motioning back to a place by the wall right at the tunnel, “but towards the end, we’re gonna bring you back here, alright? Someone will get you to bring you here.” He explained as a technician had come up to fix a set of in-ears to your dress, handing them to you, so you could place them into your ears once you needed to.

You nodded in understanding, thanking him and the other man behind you. Even though you had rehearsed your short moments during the halftime show, everything needed to go down smoothly, so the reminder was welcomed. Messing up would be the biggest mistake of your life, and this was not the time to forget positions, steps or places. Not only was half the world watching, but you were supposed to support your partner and help him through one of the biggest events of his career.

You handed your phone over to your assistant as she joined you, walking the sidelines up to the other side of the field, where more dancers, dressed similarly to you, were already waiting. You addressed them with a warm smile and waves, having already met them properly during the rehearsals. The security guard excused himself as he was replaced by another, and a tap on your arm made you turn around.

“We almost forgot this!” One of the stylists exclaimed, holding up a Flor de Maga pin that was supposed to be attached to your dress, slightly differentiating you from the other dancers. She pinned it to the top part of your white dress, patting down any wrinkles before leaving again.

Your eyes fell to the side, where multiple executives and managers were lined up, trying to find a familiar face, when you found a silhouette you were able to recognise.

“Noah!” You called out for Benito’s assistant, who turned around immediately at the sound of your voice. With a bright smile and a hug, he welcomed you.

“Hey, Y/N!” He released you and eyed you carefully, “How’re you doing?”

You shrugged, putting your hands on your back, “I think, alright. Nervous, but alright.”

Noah laughed, “Beni said the same thing. Trust me, it was the right decision not having you in the green room. You wouldn’t have let him out if you’d seen how nervous he was.”

“Was he?” You immediately wondered, the worried sleeper agent in you waking up. “Are you serious?”

His assistant chuckled softly, placing a hand on your shoulder, “He was, but don’t worry. Anyone would be before a show like this. But he’s gonna do great.”

You nodded, gulping as you crossed your arms in front of your chest. Your eyes had drifted up to look around the stadium. Yesterday completely empty seats, now filled with thousands of people and even more watching on their screens all over the world.

“God, I hate this,” you sighed out loud.

“What? You good?” Noah frowned as he glanced over at you.

You shook your head, “I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

But he just continued to smile at you, “Stop worrying. He’s gonna kill it. And you will too.”

You nodded, your lips curling up as your eyes fixed on the middle of the field, where his stage was now being set up. “I know he will,” you softened your voice and took a deep breath. Now it was just a matter of five minutes max until the big show. The actual highlight of tonight’s event.

And those turned out to be the longest five minutes of your life. Watching the stage slowly getting created piece by piece, then the dancers entering the space and getting put into place.

Somewhere in the distance, you caught a glimpse of Pedro’s curls, finding Jessica Alba and Karol G right next to him as they joined the others on the lower part of the casa. Your eyes moved around almost frantically, trying to see if you’d be able to find Benito. He’d be entering from one of the tunnels opposite you, that much you knew, but there was too much movement going around all over the place, making it hard to find anyone specific, especially once the trees had entered the scene. A make-up artist had made his way over to you, touching you up with some bronzer and blush to complement your skin, as well as a hairstylist, adding some spray to make sure the wind wouldn’t cause too much of a commotion.

“Alright, guys!” One of the leading directors of tonight’s performance called out, making you turn back to the crowd of dancers, “Four minutes until we’re taking our places, and you’re on in five. Remember: be quick!”

You took a deep breath and got a comforting shoulder pat from Noah before he disappeared into another crowd, along with your assistant, who wished you good luck and left you in the hands of a different performance director, that was specifically there to guide you.

Then the lights turned off for a short moment. The big screen at the top showed the Apple Music intro for tonight’s halftime show, along with the scenery chosen by no other than your partner himself. You couldn’t help but grin. Remembering how hard he had worked on getting everything right for this moment. Every song chosen wisely, every dancer, every prop, and each piece of his outfit. And that’s when he came into view. The all-white fit, wide shoulders, thanks to the football gear he was wearing underneath. He was getting into place, disappearing within a second in the makeshift maze. Your gaze fixed on the screen again when the music started, making the crowd applaud as they welcomed the halftime show. You put your hands together, clasping them tightly as the applause died down and pressed your lips to your knuckles, quickly thanking whatever higher power there existed to let everything go smoothly and as planned.

Benito’s deep voice echoed through the speaker as he turned around, eyes locked on the camera. His warm eyes filled the screen as he moved through the maze swiftly, stopping at each prop to act  out the scenes that he had rehearsed for so many days.

Next thing you know, he’s on top of the pink coloured makeshift house, celebrities filling the porch of the lower floor. Moving along with the other dancers, singing the words of his high-charted hits.

The floor fell beneath his feet, letting him fall into the comfort of the four walls before he exited again through the ‘front door’. He went on further while other dancers filled the screen, moving along to the songs of his fellow Latin singers, the sound of ‘Gasolina’ making you grin, knowing how many people in their homes would love the mention.

Once he had reached the truck that was placed in the middle of the stage, the director moved his hand to let your group follow him. Your personal director guided you, giving you some last-minute instructions, mainly just going through the right positioning to remind you.

You reached the other elevated space, where the dancers had gathered to surround the couple that would be officially wedded tonight. You were supposed to stay a little further back. Not having a professional dance background came in handy as you had less to focus on. This was Lady Gaga’s moment, joined by a live band and the other dancers performing as if at a wedding reception.

The official ceremony ended with the newlywed couple kissing, when the sound of a new rendition of ‘Die With A Smile’ filled the stadium, Lady Gaga’s smooth voice ringing through the speakers. She moved effortlessly in her flowy blue dress, complementing the colours of those around her.

You were guided to sit on one of the chairs in the corner until it was your cue to stand up. Joining the elder performers and kids on the sides, you managed to greet them quickly before your eyes locked on the scene in front of you. The couple had moved to the tall wedding cake in the other corner, with some other background dancers joining them.

Right as she finished the last line of the chorus, you were suddenly greeted by your partner, holding his hand out for you to take. So in awe of the musical performance, you were surprised by the action, adding to the scene as the camera was now on you. With a grin, you took it, just like you were supposed to and let him guide you towards the middle of the ‘dance floor’. He couldn’t say anything to you, that much you knew since there was a possibility of his microphone catching any words, but the warm curl of his lips was enough for you. Gliding over the floor, you let him twirl you into position before you came to a halt next to him, and he opened his arms wide.

“¡Mientras uno está vivo, uno debe amar lo más que pueda!” He called out into the microphone. That was your cue to turn towards him, your hand sliding over his chest that was covered by the white suit jacket he had changed into. Benito gazed at you proudly, giving you one of his award-winning smiles before you started to move your hips just like he had taught you all those months ago back in his hometown, where he had taken you dancing.

You held onto your dress, moving it along with your body to accentuate your movements in front of him. After making one 360-degree turn, you placed the back of your hands on his cheeks, his warm hands running down the side of your arms as you locked eyes through his sunglasses, grinning at each other brightly. If it weren’t for him, you would have been much more nervous, but suddenly, with your loving partner right in front of you, the crowd surrounding you, and millions of eyes watching you were left behind. This was a moment he decided to share with you, making his performance all that much more special.

He grabbed your hands on his chest, desperately wanting to interlock your fingers if only you didn’t have a choreography to stick to. Benito held onto your right hand, letting you move around him freely as the acoustic sounds of BAILE INoLVIDABLE filled the stadium. One last meet of your eyes before he let go of your hand gently, and moved on to the little girl right behind you to twirl her as well as he went on with his performance, while you reached your hand out for the girl to take and bring her with you, disappearing into the crowd of dancers again. A director right on the side showed you the way back to the stairs. You let the young girl walk down first before following behind her. She was guided away in the opposite direction from where you were supposed to be heading next.

Your eyes found your assistant already waiting on the sidelines, greeting you with a big grin,

“How incredible was that?!” She screeched as you jumped into her arms, the adrenaline suddenly feeling ten times more intense than before.

“Oh my God,” you breathed out, “did that-”

“We gotta move you further now,” a security guard interrupted your short moment of excitement as he motioned towards the other end of the field, where you had come from originally. Right, next moment. Your assistant joined you as you suddenly started jogging over, passing the multiple cameras swiftly.

The performance carried on behind you as you took your next place. This is where you’d be greeting him right after the mini-concert ended, after the cameras were back on the field, away from the two of you.

“You did it,” your assistant grinned proudly, “And you guys looked AMAZING. I can’t wait to see Twitter’s reaction to this,” she chuckled, making you join her as you shook your head.

“This is insane,” you sighed happily, placing a hand on the space between your chest and stomach, trying to catch your breath after just being in front of a live camera and running up an entire football field.

“You know,” she smirked, nudging your side, “you look great in white.”

“Stop it,” you rolled your eyes with a smile, shaking your head, knowing exactly what she was initiating.

She quickly raised her hands in defence, “Just saying,” but the grin never left her lips.

You got to enjoy the very last part of NUEVAYoL before Ricky Martin's presence filled the screen, making you smile. Oh, how many women are shouting excitedly at their screens right now, you thought to yourself.

Once Benito started to climb one of the power lines, you could feel your heart stopping for a short moment. The climbing wasn’t the problem per se. But the fact that he was jumping and dancing on the tiniest platform known to mankind without a harness did it for you. You knew he had refused to wear anything to secure him up there, sure in his abilities and wanting to create a dynamic and real performance, you shook your head softly, eyeying each one of his movements carefully. A heavy breath of relief left your lips when he was back on the floor. As proud as you were of his achievement, you knew there was a conversation to be held - let’s not get hurt during worldwide-streamed performances.

You didn’t even notice your assistant leaving you for a short moment before she came back rushing to you, a big colourful piece of fabric in her grip.

“Here,” she grinned, opening it and draping it over your shoulders without a warning. She had snatched one of the Puerto Rican flags from the sides, handing it over to you. “Makes you even prettier,” she smiled as she tied the flag around your neck. You giggled, glancing back, watching the red stripes and white star within the blue triangle hang over your back, slightly flowing in the wind.

Just then, the rhythmic beat of DtMF hit your ears, and before you knew it, a tear had already escaped your eye. You didn’t even bother to wipe it away, knowing more were soon to come. Watching Benito jump up in ecstasy as more dancers holding and swinging flags of all the other countries of the American continent joined him happily, echoing his words like a choir.

The crowd that had formed was making their way to the walkout tunnel, where you were already anxiously waiting for him, ready to welcome him with the proudest hug of the century. Your eyes watched him closely as he clearly took in the moment, gazing around the stadium as he led his people towards the end. A security guard made sure they wouldn’t get interrupted just as they reached you.

“Muchas gracias,” Benito raised his hand up in the air as he got closer and closer, you already pushing yourself off the wall.

He turned around to the crowd one last time, shouting out the words of the number one song in the world before his eyes found yours. With a wide smile, Benito jogged up to you, the camera moving along with him quickly, making you furrow your brows slightly as you thought this would be the moment they’d cut back to a wide-shot of the stadium. But they stayed on him. Even as he reached you.

“A mi amor,” Benito proudly stated loudly before reaching his right hand out to you, your eyes widening in surprise, while using his left one to rip the microphone off and letting it dangle over his shoulder. Catching you off guard, he pulled you towards him with a quick tug, making you steady yourself with your hands on his chest as he hugged you. Before you could truly realise what he was doing, he spun you to the other side, tipped you lower and placed a loving kiss on your lips. You could only hear the loud cheers in the back from the dancers, almost overpowering the crowd in the stadium. With his mouth pressed onto yours, his big hand on your back, pressing into the flag still draped around you, brought you up to your feet again, letting you lean back and meet his dark, yet warmest eyes you had ever met, looking directly into yours.

“What are you doing?” You wondered out loud, your breathing quick as you still tried to wrap your head around the moment that had just been captured on camera.

“Te amo, cariño,” he grinned, catching his breath as the adrenaline was wearing off slowly. “I love you. So much.”

You giggled shyly, cupping his cheek and letting your thumb brush over his, the rosy tint gently, “I love you too, Beni.” With a smile, you pulled him down, placing another kiss, much softer, onto his lips. He didn’t even try to hide his forming grin as his hands grabbed you tighter and pulled you closer, deepening the kiss even more, letting the crowd fall into the back. He just made history in so many ways.

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yourusername and the whole world cheered🫶🏼

pedropascal absolutely incredible👏🏼 love you both❤️

user1 YES YES YES YES YES

user2 and the whole world cried (happy tears)

user3 I'm so here for this🩷

karolg mamacita🔥

↳ yourusername mommy😮‍💨

user4 we have a new it couple 🔥

user5 abolsutely love it when hot people date hot people

user6 how tf did he manage to make me scream, cry and laugh all within 13 minutes

Jealous!Benito story idea: reader is backstage at one of his concerts and one of the dancers comes up needing help fixing his outfit. She helps a bit, but Benito sees it and we knowww he don’t play that 🌚

MMMHHHH i luh that

18+ , mdni - jealous!bf!benito x black!fem!reader

The roar of the crowd still echoed through the walls backstage, even after Benito had wrapped up his set. Sweat glistened on his skin under the dim lights, his white tank top clinging to his chest as he made his way through the chaos of crew members and dancers cooling down. You were there, leaning against a makeup table, scrolling through your phone while waiting for him to finish up. Being his girl meant these nights were routine—loud, electric, and always ending with you two stealing a quiet moment amid the frenzy.

One of the dancers, Marco, jogged over, his breath heavy from the performance. He was shirtless, his outfit—a pair of tight black pants with intricate straps—looking a little off. One of the buckles had come loose during the choreography, and he fiddled with it, cursing under his breath in Spanish.

"Oye, chica," he said, glancing at you with a quick smile. "You got a second? This thing's killing me."

You looked up, setting your phone down. Marco was harmless, just focused on getting back to form for the next show. "Yeah, sure. What happened?"

He turned, pointing to the side where the strap dangled. "It popped open mid-spin. Can't get it tight enough without help."

You stepped closer, your fingers brushing the leather as you tugged it into place. It was nothing—just a quick fix, your hands steady from years of helping with wardrobe malfunctions at events like this. Marco chuckled. 'Gracias, you're a lifesaver. Benito's lucky to have you around.'

From across the room, Benito's eyes locked on the scene. He paused mid-conversation with his manager, his jaw tightening. You were bent slightly, your curls falling over your shoulder as you worked the buckle, your brown skin was shiny from the body oil you applied hours before and Marco's hand grazed your arm in thanks. It was innocent, but to Benito? Nah. He didn't play that shit. Not with his girl.

He crossed the space in a few long strides, his presence cutting through the chatter like a knife. "¿Qué pasa aquí?" he asked, voice low but edged with that possessive heat you knew too well. (what's happening here ?)

You straightened up, wiping your hands on your jeans. "Just helping Marco with his—"

Marco backed off immediately, hands up. "All good, boss. She fixed it. I'm out." He shot you a nod and vanished into the crowd.

Benito's gaze didn't leave you. He stepped closer, crowding your space, his cologne mixing with the faint scent of his sweat. "You don't need to be touching nobody else, mami. Not like that."

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. "It was a buckle, Benito. Chill."

But he wasn't chilling. His hand slid to your waist, fingers digging in just enough to pull you against him. "Chill? I see some dude getting too close to what's mine. You know how that looks." His voice dropped, breath hot against your ear. "Ven conmigo. Now." (come with me-)

Before you could protest, he was steering you toward the dressing room, the door clicking shut behind you. The room was small—mirrors on one wall, a couch shoved in the corner, his tour jacket tossed over a chair. The bass from the after-party thumped faintly through the walls, but in here, it was just you two.

He backed you against the door, his body pressing flush. "You think I like seeing that?" he murmured, lips brushing your neck. "Mi princessa hermosa, helping another man when you should be all over me." (my beautiful princess-)

Your pulse quickened, heat pooling low in your belly. His jealousy was a fire you loved stoking sometimes—it always led to this, raw and urgent. "You're ridiculous," you breathed, but your hands were already sliding up his arms, feeling the flex of muscle.

"Ridiculous?" He nipped at your jaw, then captured your mouth in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue, demanding. His hands roamed, one cupping your ass, the other tangling in your curls to tilt your head back. "Te voy a mostrar who's ridiculous." (I'm gonna show you-)

He spun you around, pressing your front to the door, his hips grinding against your ass. You could feel him hardening through his pants, thick and insistent. "These jeans," he growled, popping the button open with ease. "Off. Now."

You complied, shimmying them down your thighs, kicking them aside. His fingers hooked into your panties next, yanking them down roughly. Cool air hit your skin, but his body heat chased it away as he dropped to his knees behind you.

"Benito—" Your words cut off in a gasp as his hands spread your cheeks, his tongue diving in without warning. He licked a slow, firm stripe up your pussy, tasting you like he was starved. "Fuuuck," you moaned, palms flat against the wood.

He hummed against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine. His mouth worked you over—sucking on your clit, tongue thrusting inside, lapping at your wetness like it was the best thing he'd tasted all night. "This is mine," he said between licks, voice muffled. "Solo mía." (only mine)

Your legs trembled, knees buckling as pleasure built fast. He knew exactly how to unravel you, alternating between soft flicks and hard sucks until you were grinding back against his face. "Benito, please…"

He stood abruptly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You heard the zipper of his pants, then the rustle of fabric. His cock sprang free, hot and heavy as he notched it at your entrance. "You want it? Beg for it, baby."

You arched your back, pushing against him. "Fuck me. Make me yours."

With a grunt, he thrust in, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. You cried out, the stretch burning sweet as he filled you completely. He didn't give you time to adjust—his hips snapped forward, pounding into you with jealous rhythm, each slap of skin echoing in the room.

"That's it," he panted, one hand gripping your hip, the other reaching around to rub your clit. "Take this dick. Feel how much I need you." His thrusts were deep, relentless, hitting that spot inside that made stars burst behind your eyes.

You braced against the door, moans spilling free as he fucked you harder. Sweat slicked your skin, your breasts bouncing with every drive. "Benito… oh god, yes."

He leaned over you, chest to your back, lips at your ear. "Dime que eres mía." (tell me that you're mine)

"I'm yours," you gasped, clenching around him. "All yours."

His pace faltered for a second, a low groan escaping as he chased his release. "Good girl. Cum for me, mami. Let me feel it."

The pressure snapped, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. You shuddered, walls pulsing around his cock, milking him as you came with a broken cry. He followed seconds later, thrusting deep one last time, spilling hot inside you with a curse in Spanish—"Joder, sí."

He stayed buried for a moment, both of you breathing ragged, his arms wrapping around your waist to hold you up. Then he pulled out slowly, turning you to face him. His eyes softened, thumb brushing your cheek. "No more helping dancers, yeah?"

You laughed breathlessly, pulling him down for a kiss. "Only if you say please."

He smirked, that possessive glint still there. "Deal. But next time, it's my outfit you fix."

translated spanish.

your lips hovered against the mic, bentio’s palms slithering up the sides of your leg . the lyrics of the song you were taught to sing fell from your lips , he had chosen you specially to sing some adlibs on an upcoming song . your voice was slick , your moans were music alone & he knew the melody all too well .

you stood, blindfolded and stripped down to your panties , lost in the feeling of his bulge underneath the rich fabric of his pants, pressed up against your ass . you rested your hands on top of his , feeling the softness of his knuckles and the large rings he was wearing on his fingers .

benito shakes one hand away, dipping his fingers into your panties , his breath thick with desire against your neck . he gets exactly what he wants from you by rubbing your clit, “ be loud for me ? please mami ? ”

you oblige him as he keeps a steady pace , knowing you love what he’s doing with the way your knees start to buckle , breathing hitched and caught in your throat . he grinds into you , burying two fingers inside, leaving his thumb to trace circles in the spot you loved the most .

“ ah fuck ,” you whine, bringing a hand behind his head, letting him kiss at your neck now . your fingers intertwined in his soft black curls , “ just like that . ” you shiver , a water fall coming onto benito’s fingers . you falling apart in his hands , staggering moans filling the recorded tracks . one of his favorite touches to his songs .

and it doesn’t stop there , for the next few hours of very much needed & worthwhile studio time benito spends his time bullying his heavy cock into you , his laps of nut dripping down your thigh making you feel warm and slippery , your moans making the perfect transition to incoherent babbles . just what he needed . he suck’s and kisses on your neck whispering i love you’s & thank you’s to his pretty good luck charm .

BF MATERIAL BLURBS — BENITO ANTONIO MARTINEZ OCASIO

warnings. none just fluff (don’t really know why there’s a mature content label but ig)

NIGHTS IN W/ HIM

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

You walk into the living room already in your nightly attire wearing a sheet mask with your hair clipped up. The sight makes Benito look up from his phone, he freezes for just a second with a smirk spreading across his face.

“Qué es esto?” he asks softly, voice low and amused.

What’s this?

You grin, tilting your head.

“Skin care night.”

Benito sets his phone down and leans back into the couch cushions. His eyes tracing your movements as you saunter closer. His hands slide naturally to your waist the second you drape yourself over his lap.

“Está bien pues.”

alright fine.

You smirk whileholding his sheet mask packet in your hand.

“Time for your pampering.”

He doesn’t argue. He just holds you gently at the waist, his thumbs brushing softly over your hips while watching every small movement you make as you unfold the mask. His eyes follow you, warm and slow, almost like he’s memorizing every detail of you.

“Te ves linda así, toda concentrada.” he says quietly, his voice low and sultry…

You look cute like this, so concentrated.

You laugh softly while pressing the cold mask to his forehead. He leans back just enough to let you do it letting out a soft hum of approval.

“ay que frío” he murmurs.

Its so cold.

“Shhh, just hold still benito.” you tease while smoothing it he sheet mask over his cheeks.

He doesn’t argue or talk back. His hands just tighten slightly at your waist holding you close. His eyes flicking to yours every time you brush your fingers along his jaw.

“No puedo evitar admirarte preciosa. ” he whispers.

I can’t help but admire you.

Your cheeks flush red under the sheet mask before tilting your head down to meet his gaze.

“Que ridículo.” you murmur.

You’re ridiculous.

He smirks while leaning in just a little, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder through the fabric of the mask.

“Qué encantadora eres..”

How charming you are…

Then he rests his forehead lightly against yours while his fingers are still on your waist

“Si seguimos así, voy a tener que pelear por cada pedazo de tu atención.”

If we keep like this, I’ll have to fight for every bit of your attention.

You laugh, squirming a little over his lap.

“Oh really? You think you can handle me?”

“Claro,” he murmurs, smirk widening.

Of course.

You press closer, brushing the mask lightly over his nose again, and he just chuckles, his hands still at your waist, leaning back like he’s completely fine letting you boss him around.

“Eres imposible,” you say, grinning.

You’re impossible.

“Y te encanta.” he whispers with a damn smirk on his face.

And you love it.

GROCERY SHOPPING DATE

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

You didn’t think grocery shopping could ever feel romantic, but with Benito even the most normal things turn into something else.

He pushes the cart slowly, one hand on the handle, (hella giving papiii behavior 😭) the other finding you every few seconds your waist, your back, or your arm like he can’t help himself and MUST have you at arms length always.

You stop in front of the cereal aisle, scanning.

“This one ,” you decide, grabbing a box.

Benito squints at it like it offended him personally.

“Mi amor…” he starts, shaking his head.

“Eso sabe a cartón.”

This one tastes like cardboard.

You laugh. “It does not!”

He steps closer, his voice dropping dramatically.

“Te lo juro. Eso no es cereal… es un crimen.”

I swear, that’s not cereal… that’s a crime.

You nudge him. “Oh my god stop being dramatic.”

He smirks, then tosses it into the cart anyway.

“Está bien.” he says with a shrug.

“Si a ti te gusta, lo compramos.” he murmurs.

If you like it, we’ll buy it.

Then he adds, his voice a lot softer.

“Me gusta consentirte mami.”

I like spoiling you.

Your cheeks warm. “Ay que encantador eres.”

How charming you are.

He grins.

“Qué? Eres mi novia.”

What? You’re my girlfriend.

His hand slips around your waist, pulling you just a little closer as you walk down the aisles.

“Y me encanta estar contigo. hasta estando aquí, comprando cereal que sabe a carton.”

And I love being with you… even here, buying cereal that tastes like cardboard.

LAZY MORNINGS w this fine ass man.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

The morning is slow, sunlight spilling through the curtains in warm stripes across the bed. You try to slip out quietly, trying your best to be careful and to not wake him up.

You barely move before Benito’s arm wraps around your waist, firm and sure while pulling you back against him.

“Benito,” you laugh softly, “I have to get up.”

He groans into your shoulder, voice rough with sleep.

“No.”

“Yes.”

He kisses the back of your neck, slow, lingering, like he has nowhere to be.

“Cinco minutos más, mi vida,” he murmurs.

five more minutes.

“I need water.”

He hums, amused, tightening his hold.

“Yo te traigo agua después.”

I’ll bring you water later

“You always say that.”

Benito lifts his head slightly, eyes half-open and his hair all messy looking extremely fine for someone who just woke up.

“Porque siempre funciona.” he whispers.

Cause it always works.

You sigh dramatically. “I have things to do.”

He pulls you closer until your back is fully against his chest, his hand resting on your stomach.

his voice then drops like 10 billion decibels and suddenly you have nothing to do or worry about on this lovely morning.

“Te extraño incluso cuando estás aquí” he murmurs.

I miss you even when you’re here.

Your breath catches.

He presses another kiss to your shoulder. a lot softer.

“Me gustas demasiado,” he admits quietly.

I like you too much.

You smile, giving into his sensual behavior. “ay amor.”

He lazily chuckles.

“Déjame tenerte un ratito más,” he whispers.

Let me have you a little longer.

You pause, then sink back into him.

“Fine. Five minutes.”

His smile turns smug against your skin.

“Lo sabía.” he murmurs.

I knew it.

YESS AND THANK YOU BADDIE

Bad Bunny x girlfriend!reader. word count: 2.7k

summary. Benito can't sleep the night before his new album comes out.

warnings & tags. fem!reader. established relationship. fluff. a little bit angsty but nothing too serious. panic attacks. mentions of DtMF. words in spanish. english isn't my first language.

a/n. hii! so i watched recently one of benito's interviews where he said that the night before DtMF dropped he woke up feeling anxious, so i thought i could do smth w that. hope you like it 🤍🐸 Credits to the owners of the dividers! masterlist

Benito was one of those people who put every part of themselves into what they loved.

When he cooked —something he loved doing whenever he could— he made an effort to get every detail perfect, just the way you liked it and the way he liked it. When he played dominoes with his friends and family, he did whatever it took to give his all and make the game especially incredible.

So it was no surprise that when he made new music, he tried to make every detail, every melody, every lyric perfect.

Debí Tirar Más Fotos was his most precious album. It was a part of him he had never fully shown his fans. Part of him was nervous, thinking maybe it wouldn't be good enough, but another part reassured him that it would go well, that his fans would recognize the dedication behind all that work and appreciate it deeply.

The last few days had been a nightmare for Benito.

Despite loving his work and giving everything he had, he had a tendency to leave everything for the last minute. Sometimes unintentionally, sometimes on purpose. But it had happened again, so this last week had been spent working every minute and every hour of the day, leaving him maybe 4 or 3 hours of sleep.

His day consisted of waking up earlier than he wanted to admit, running to the kitchen where he would find you with a smile and a coffee waiting for him. He would tell you he loved you in murmurs while pressing his chest against your back. He wished he could spend more time with you, but it wasn't possible no matter how hard he tried.

You spent at least 30 minutes together in the morning. Benito rushed around the house between outfit changes and his coffee, which always spilled a few drops because he walked so fast.

You always scolded him, rolling your eyes. Still, he would walk up to you and say “Perdóname, mami. Tú sabe' que yo te amo.” (Forgive me, mami. You know I love you) with a sly smile, leaving quick kisses on your lips before grabbing a napkin to clean his mess.

Some days you accompanied him to the studio. You gave ideas that sometimes worked and sometimes didn't. On those days, he got excited. There were few days when you were free to spend time with him even while he worked, but when you did, Benito got more excited than he admitted.

He spent hours with his coworkers and friends writing and recording, but in other moments he came over to you. Sometimes he sat on the couch and pulled you onto his lap, leaving caresses and squeezes on your thighs. Other times he hugged you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaving wet kisses on your neck and cheek.

“Let me know when you get tired y te dejo en la casa, mami.” (and I'll take you home, mami) he said every time you accompanied him to the studio.

When he saw you blinking more than usual, he made sure to stop for a moment to take you home. He knew he was short on time to release his album, but he would never let his girl feel uncomfortable or unable to do something because of him. Never.

However, those busy days had finally ended. That same day, hours before releasing the album, he had finished his new project.

Before sleeping, he had talked to you. He told you in whispers, lying in your shared bed, how excited he was. Lying like little kids again, with a sheet over your heads, confessing small secrets you might not have told each other before. Between laughter, caresses, and kisses, you both fell asleep. You rested with your head on his chest, while he held you with both arms around your body, as if he didn't want you to go too far while you slept.

It didn't feel like much time had passed since you closed your eyes when you felt your head hit the pillow in a sudden movement. Blinking quickly, you noticed Benito sitting up, his chest rising faster than normal.

“Beni?” you whispered, not knowing what was happening. You pushed yourself up on your elbows, getting closer to him but not touching him yet.

Benito placed both hands over his face, dragging them up into his hair and leaving them there. His chest kept moving rapidly. Worried, you placed your hand on his bare back, noticing it was covered in sweat.

“Hey” you said softly, bringing your hand to his cheek, trying to gently guide his face toward you, but not applying enough pressure in case that wasn't what he wanted.

He removed his hands from his head and pointed at his chest, trying to say he couldn't breathe well, that his heart was beating much faster than normal. You understood immediately because it wasn't the first time.

“It's okay, baby.” you whispered into his ear, leaving a soft kiss there.

You tried to get out of bed to open the windows. In moments like this, you had learned that the best thing for him was to let the air circulate, to help him feel like he could breathe better. However, you knew he needed you close. So it wasn't surprising when he grabbed your wrist —between uneven breaths— when you moved a few centimeters too far.

“I'm going to open the windows quickly and I'll be right back, I'm not going anywhere. Lo prometo, amor.” (I promise, love) you said, caressing his hand gently. Only then did he calm down enough to let you go.

You quickly walked to the windows, opening them as much as you could; the streetlights and moonlight entered, illuminating the room a bit more. Then you opened the bathroom door and the bedroom door before returning to the bed.

That was when you could finally see his face completely. There were tears on his cheeks, and his cheeks were redder than usual, something that happened when he was overheated or feeling something intensely. His lips were also redder from biting them. One of his hands pressed against his chest, right over his heart.

“No-No puedo...” (I-I can't...) he tried to say while staring at the mattress.

“¿No puedes qué, Beni? Tell me, love, I'm right here.” (Can't what, Beni?) you said, sitting in front of him, placing your hands on his thighs because you didn't want to invade his space completely.

“No puedo subirlo...” (I can't drop it...) he finally said after a few seconds of silence and doubtful glances. “I can't do it.”

That was when you truly understood what it was all about.

“No le va a gustar. No va a ser suficiente.” (They're not going to like it. It's not going to be enough.)

Benito spoke nonstop while shaking his head. You felt your heart break into tiny pieces seeing the tears falling from his eyes.

You knew the connection he had with this album. With his country, with his family, with every moment he had lived. It was his most precious work.

“Beni...” you tried to speak, but your voice cracked on its own.

“Se siente horrible porque sé que personas seguirán criticando sin siquiera saber quién soy. Pero quizás esto no es para mí, quizás es demasiado y lo que estoy por lanzar no será suficiente.” (It feels horrible because I know people will keep criticizing without even knowing who I am. But maybe this isn't for me, maybe it's too much and what I'm about to release won't be enough.) he said in Spanish, feeling safer in that language. Even then, his voice broke every few seconds, as if he couldn't let it all out without falling apart.

Benito kept breathing fast, as if each inhale cost him more than the last. His fingers trembled slightly as he wiped his tears with the inside of his wrist.

“It's just... I don't know, mami,” he murmured softly, almost embarrassed to hear himself. “Siento que... que no va a ser suficiente. Que... que la gente va a pensar que estoy... que estoy bajando, ¿me entiende'? Que ya no soy el mismo.” (I feel like... like it's not going to be enough. That... that people are going to think I'm... that I'm going downhill, you know? That I'm not the same anymore)

He shook his head again, pressing his lips together until they turned even redder.

“And I... I tried, really. I put everything into it. Everything I had. But... I don't know if that's enough.”

You, who knew him better than anyone, didn't contradict him immediately. You didn't say “of course it is” because you knew he couldn't receive that in this state. What he needed was to feel seen, not corrected.

You moved closer, slowly, like approaching a frightened little animal you didn't want to scare. You placed your hand over his, the one pressing his chest.

“Beni... mírame un momento, amor.” (Look at me for a moment, love)

He took his time. He blinked several times, struggling to focus, but eventually lifted his gaze. His eyes were shiny, wet, and vulnerable in a way only you had ever seen.

“You don't have to be enough for everyone.” you said softly, careful not to startle him. “You just have to be you. And you... you always give more than you have. Siempre.” (Always)

Benito swallowed hard, lowering his gaze again.

“Pero... ¿y si no les gusta? ¿Y si piensan que... que estoy hablando mierda? ¿Y si...?” (But... what if they don't like it? What if they think... that I'm talking shit? What if...?)

His voice broke. It literally cracked on the last word. That was when you leaned in closer —knowing it was the right moment— until your knees touched his. You cupped his face gently with both hands, as if he were made of glass.

“Mi amor... tú no haces música pa' gustarle a todo el mundo (My love... you don't make music to please everyone). You make music to say what you feel. And that... that has always been what makes you great.”

He closed his eyes, as if your words hurt him and healed him at the same time.

“Pero tengo miedo,” (But I'm scared) he confessed softly, almost inaudible. “Tengo miedo, mami. No quiero fallar.” (I'm scared, mami. I don't want to fail)

You spoke the way he did in interviews when he was honest: without embellishment, without ego, without a fake persona.

“It's okay to be scared,” you whispered, resting your forehead against his. “Pero no estás solo. Estoy aquí. Estoy contigo (But you're not alone. I'm here. I'm with you). And you're not going to fail, because you made this with your heart. And when you do something with your heart... it always reaches people.”

Benito let out a soft sob, one of those he tried to hold back but couldn't. He grabbed your waist and pulled you toward him, hiding his face in your neck as if he needed to disappear there for a moment.

“Quédate aquí... por favor,” (Stay here... please) he murmured against your skin. “No te vayas.” (Don't go)

“Ni loca me voy,” (I'm not going anywhere) you replied, running your fingers through his hair. “Breathe with me, okay? Poquito a poquito.” (Little by little)

And there, while he tried to follow your breathing, you held him. You didn't force him to calm down. You simply stayed with him, and that, for him, was enough to begin settling.

Benito kept breathing against your neck, still trembling a little, but no longer with the desperation that had woken you. Your fingers moved slowly along his nape, in small circles, just the way he liked when he was on the edge.

You felt his chest begin to slow down, even though his hands still clung to your waist as if afraid you might disappear if he loosened his grip.

“Yo sé que tú tienes miedo,” (I know you're scared,) you whispered, staying still, letting your voice remain steady. “y está bien. No tienes que ser fuerte ahora mismo. Al menos no conmigo.” (and it's okay. You don't have to be strong right now. At least not with me)

Benito didn't answer. He only pressed his forehead deeper into your collarbone, as if he needed to feel you to believe you.

“Listen to me” you murmured, stroking his sweat-damp hair. “You made this album with love, with your story, with your truth, and people feel that and always have. It doesn't matter if there are critics, it doesn't matter if someone doesn't understand it. What you do... touches people. And that isn't measured in numbers or comments.” 

He swallowed hard, and even though you couldn't see him, you knew he had closed his eyes.

“Y si mañana te despiertas y todavía tienes miedo” (And if tomorrow you wake up and you're still scared) you added, “yo voy a estar aquí. Para recordártelo cada vez que necesites escucharlo, Ben.” (I'll be here. To remind you every time you need to hear it, Ben)

Benito lifted his head just enough to look at you. His eyes were still shiny, but the panic was gone. Now there was only exhaustion and a deep, vulnerable affection he rarely showed.

“Thank you” he murmured, with that soft voice he only used with you. “De verdad... gracias, mami.” (Really... thank you, mami.)

You wiped a tear from his cheek with your thumb, gently, not wanting to hurt him.

“No tienes que agradecerme nada,” (You don't have to thank me for anything) you replied. “Yo estoy aquí porque te amo. Y porque tú también estarías aquí si fuera al revés.” (I'm here because I love you. And because you'd be here too if it were the other way around)

He nodded slowly, as if your words settled something inside him. Then he let himself fall back onto the bed, pulling you with him without letting go. You settled on his chest, feeling his breathing finally find a calmer rhythm.

His hands, once tense, now rested on your back with more ease and security.

“Quédate así,” (Stay like this) he whispered. “Don't move, please, baby.”

“I'm not moving, love.” you said, closing your eyes as you continued to stroke his bare chest with slow movements. “Duerme. Yo te tengo.” (Sleep. I've got you)

And for the first time that night, he let his body surrender. His breathing deepened, and you felt his chest rise and fall beneath your cheek, steadier each time.

Before you fell asleep too, you leaned in just enough to whisper something else, knowing he might not fully hear it, but that it would stay somewhere inside him anyway.

“Tú eres suficiente, papi. You always have been.” (You are enough, papi)

The room fell silent, illuminated only by the faint light from the street coming through the open window. And that was how the night ended. With him holding onto you and you protecting him with your calm. Just two people breathing together, finding peace in each other.