“For musical purposes,” he said, his voice a low rasp that went straight to your core.
That was his excuse for everything now. For calling you over at 2 AM. For having you lay back on the expensive leather couch in his home studio—right after you got your hair done. For positioning the expensive Neumann microphone between your spread thighs.
The red recording light was on. It was always on.
Benito—Benny, when you were like this, sweaty and desperate—stood over you, his tattoos stark against his skin in the moody studio lighting. He wasn’t looking at your face. His dark eyes were fixed between your legs, watching the way your pussy glistened, already wet just from the anticipation.
“You know the drill, mi vida,” he murmured, his accent thick. “I need the raw sound. The real thing.”
You whimpered, arching your back. He’d been teasing you for an hour, playing a heavy, throbbing beat that vibrated through the floor and into your bones, telling you to “react naturally” to the rhythm. Your shorts were somewhere on the floor. Your shirt was pushed up, your brown tits bare and aching.
He finally knelt, his hands rough as he hooked your thighs over his shoulders. “Let me get the levels right,” he said, but it was a lie. He buried his face in you without another word.
“fuu—” you choked out as his tongue, thick and relentless, licked a broad stripe from your asshole to your clit. The microphone caught every wet, filthy sound. He ate you out like he was starving, like the taste of your pussy was the only thing that kept him alive. His nose pressed against your clit as his tongue fucked deep into your hole, curling and thrusting.
“Yeah, just like that,” he grunted, pulling back for air, his chin slick with you. “That’s the sound. Open up for me. Let me hear it, amor”
You were babbling, a stream of “ah, ah, Benny—right there, please yes” that he’d definitely sample later. He zeroed in on your clit, sucking the swollen bud hard into his mouth, flicking it with the tip of his tongue until your legs shook around his head and you screamed, your orgasm ripping through you raw and sudden. He didn’t stop, drinking down your juices, lapping at you through the convulsions until you were sobbing, pushing weakly at his head.
“Perfecto” he panted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a cocky smirk on his face. “That first take is always the hottest. But we need more layers.”
Before you could come down, he was unbuckling his jeans, freeing his cock. It was thick, long, veiny, and already leaking. He stroked it slowly, his eyes locked on your wrecked pussy. “You want it, mami ?”
“You know I do,” you whined, still trembling.
“For the track,” he said, lining up the head. “I need the impact sounds.”
He didn’t wait. He shoved into you in one brutal, deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The air punched out of your lungs in a sharp cry. He was so big, stretching you unbearably, filling you up in a way that made you see stars.
“Pinche coño, you’re tight,” he groaned, his hips snapping back before slamming home again. “This… this is the rhythm. This is the beat.” He set a punishing pace, fucking you into the couch with hard, deep strokes that jolted your body. The slap of his skin against yours, the wet, squelching sounds of your pussy taking him—it was all so loud, so obscene. And the microphone was right there, capturing it all.
“Who do you belong to?” he growled, leaning over you, his sweat dripping onto your chest.
“You! Only you, Benny—” you cried out.
“Damn right.” He hooked one of your legs higher, changing the angle, and suddenly he was hitting a spot inside you that made your vision whiten. “Cum for me again. I want it on the track. I want everyone to hear how good I make you feel and never know it’s you.”
His words, the possessive fire in his eyes, the relentless grind of his cock against your G-spot—it broke you. You came with a shattered scream, your pussy clamping down on him in rhythmic pulses. He fucked you through it, his thrusts getting sloppier, more frantic.
“Gonna fill you up,” he grunted, his rhythm stuttering. His head rolled back as he let out some whimpers, his forehead covered in sweat.
With a final, deep drive, he came, a hot flood painting your insides. His groan was long and ragged, right into the mic. He collapsed on you for a second, both of you breathing like you’d run a marathon.
Slowly, he pulled out. The wet, messy sound of his cum leaking out of you made you flustered. He reached over and tapped the mic, a satisfied smile on his face.
“Perfect,” he said, his voice back to that cool, collected producer tone. “That last layer is gonna be crazy on the bridge, princessa.” He leaned down, kissing you roughly, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “Take a shower. I gotta edit this.”
idk if you write smut, but would you write studio smut for benito? if not, you should do just like fluff of benito and reader at the studio and maybe reader doing background vocals or something
OOOO YES (and I mainly write smut lmao)
Pairings: Bad bunny x Black reader
Warnings: Nothing too crazy jst the meat and potatoes pretty vanilla icl, cock warming or whatever BUT IN MY OPINION nothing too crazy. But oh squirt, and kinda public, established relationship, he's not like AS FAMOUS NOW but when he started to begin to blow up is the setting (so ig 2016 lol)
"Benni." you whimpered out, as you felt him push his length in. "T-this isn't professional, do you wanna mess this up?" You questioned, trying to be the bigger person.
He just pushed in deeper, you felt yourself squirm as you tried to push him away with your hand.
Of course this motherfucker didn't care. At all.
He sucked in air through his teeth as your walls fully engulfed him "Deja de correr", he groaned as he angled his hips, setting his foot on a chair, hitting your spot at an angle.
"Fuck, Benni." You gasped as you clasped your hands on your mouth.
"Move. Please."
You begged as he essentially cockwarmed you, "¿Ahora quieres que haga algo? Ay Dios." He rolled his eyes and had the audacity to stay still.
"I hate yo-" you were cut off as he snapped his hips into you and started hammering them into you. You let out a series of squeals, and whimpers.
You desperately whined out a ,"Benni", dragging the "I" like it was a heavy duty bag.
"Fuck, Mami." He whimpered as you pushed back against him, greedily searching for more
"Fuck I'm so close!" You whined. You squealed as he pinched at your clit, you moaned it felt like you were at the gates of heaven. You felt his other hand grab the back of your neck roughly as you both came.
He winced as he pulled out of you. He smirked at your cum dripping out of him, and gave your ass a smack.
You put your jeans back on and fixed your makeup, as his producer came back in the studio.
You fixed your makeup as his hands stayed on your butt as his producer reviewed the song.
tangentwithtanner
andulkaphoto
vaporwave
janainaart
jacobvanloon
