venting in lit

Thank you in advance to everyone who takes time to read my work!

[ventingfanfics]

My Masterlist <3

Fluff or Non-smut

Take it Slow

At the Movies

I Love You

Best Girlfriend

Movie Day

Anon Request where reader can’t sleep 

The Party

Don’t Wanna be a Player No More

Don’t Wanna be a Player No More Part 2

Classes

Crush

I’m Here (Like Always)

Better Together

The Order

She Doesn’t Play About Hers

Best Date Ever

If You Are

A Reminder

_______________________________________________

Smut 

Mess the Dress

Anon Request Part 2

Work

Minx 

I’m sorry Queen

The shorts

Summer (Year-Round) Love 

Work

Both (I’m Baby) 

Poetry 

Got it Like That 

Your Panther

Unashamed 

Day Off

Yours

_______________________________________________

Smut leaning

Anon Request 

Academic Sensations

_______________________________________________

Angsty

Angst one-shot

________________________________________________

Scotty

Make a Move

_______________________________________________

Danielle

Danielle (I Am Danielle)

_______________________________________________

Letitia 

Feelings

Feelings 2

_______________________________________________

Jamie Harrison

With Jamie Harrison

_______________________________________________

Series

The Wrong Paper

The Wrong Paper 2

The Wrong Paper 3

The Wrong Paper 4

The Wrong Paper 5

The Wrong Paper 6/Finale 

The Wrong Paper (Epilogue)

_______________________________________________

Riri

Better Boyfriend

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

“Ain’t nobody ever fucked you like this…made you cream like this…” he kissed along her jaw, voice low and filthy. “Nah…they was playin’ wit’ it, wasn’t they baby? Huh? Daddy got you…”

😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩

Whew LAWD!

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

YALL READ SAY MY NAME YET?! 👀👀

[startingsomethin]

MICHAEL JACKSON

birthday message for Brooke Shields

[eatmangoesnekkid]

If you never spent another dollar on skincare, but learned to speak to yourself lovingly when you looked in the mirror, you would see great improvements in your skin, aura, and natural beauty. That is the thesis of the mind-body connection. So many women stand before the mirror and immediately start unconsciously searching for flaws. They pick apart, scrutinize, correct, put down, conceal, talk down to, or compare. If we’re honest, many women spend far more time picking themselves apart than doting upon themselves. Overtime, doing so has a real effect on our bodies. That’s because the body listens to our quietest self-talk. It hears the comments we make under our breath, the expressions we wear on our faces, and the judgments we repeat day after day. Loving self-regard creates a different internal environment and bioluminescence field around our bodies than chronic criticism and negative self-talk. It also changes the quality of our waters, causing us to feel, smell, or taste more attractive overtime. These are the things they never spoke about in our biology classes.

What we see in our faces and bodies often reflect many emotional and physical layers that can be peeled away just from talking to ourselves better. Conscious healthy, affectionate self-talk or what I call “anointing the body” is fertile ground for healthy skin and overall radiance. It softens the face, relaxes the nervous system, changes the way we carry ourselves, and influences how we are perceived by others. No expensive cleanser, toner, serum, or moisturizer can fully compensate for a relationship with one’s body that is rooted in rejection and self-hatred. Likewise, we save on skin products when we say nice things to ourselves (our cells).

In other words, sooner or later we find out that most things we need to get to that next step are free and already inside us. —India Ame’ye

[icaseybaybee]

[blackbarb1e]

pairing: benito martinez x wife!black!fem!reader summary: He said just the tip. cw: 18+ mdni, p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk (lwk) & wtv i wrote

a/n: i use lots of ‘—’ no it’s not ai

Benito had promised just the tip.

That's what he'd whispered against your mouth when he walked through the door, still smelling like the studio—cologne and that particular heat that clung to him after hours of tracking vocals. His hands had found your waist before he even kicked his shoes off, pulling you into his chest while your name fell from his lips like a prayer he'd been holding in all day.

"Mami, los niños—"

"Asleep," you'd told him, your own hands sliding up his arms, feeling the tension knotted in his shoulders. "Been down for an hour."

The groan that rumbled out of him was pure relief. Pure want. He'd pressed his forehead to yours and let out a long breath, his thumbs tracing circles against the fabric of your robe, that thin silk thing you'd thrown on after bath time, after story time, after the long ritual of tucking your babies in and kissing their foreheads and turning on their nightlight.

"Te necesito," he'd murmured. "Te necesito tanto, mami."

And then his mouth found yours, slow at first, like he was tasting you for the first time all over again. But you knew better. You knew that slow burn. You knew the way his hands tightened on your hips, the way his tongue swept past your lips, the way his breathing changed, shallow and hungry.

So when he pulled back and said it—just the tip, just a little, he'd be quick—you'd laughed, soft and knowing, and let him lead you to the bedroom.

Now you're on your back, your honey brown hair fanned across the pillow in waves, twenty inches buss down that cost a pretty penny and makes him go feral every time. His fingers are tangled in it, gripping the nape, tilting your head back so he can lick down your throat.

"Benito—"

"Shh, mami." His voice is rough, wrecked already. He's still half-dressed, jeans undone, shirt hanging open, that tattooed chest on full display. "Déjame cuidarte."

His hand slides down your body, palm hot against your stomach, then lower, past the waistband of your panties. You're already wet—you'd been thinking about him all evening, about the way he'd looked this morning, half-asleep and reaching for you before the kids came stumbling in. And when his fingers find your clit, you gasp, your hips bucking into his touch.

"Ay, Dios mío," he breathes. "Estás tan mojada. Todo para mí?"

"All for you," you manage, and he groans like the words hit him somewhere deep.

He pushes your panties aside, not even bothering to take them off, and you feel the tip of his cock pressing against you. Thick. Hot. That familiar weight that always makes your breath catch.

"Solo la puntita," he promises again, and you almost believe him.

Almost.

Because the second he pushes in, just the head, just a little, his eyes roll back and his hips stutter forward and suddenly it's not just the tip anymore. It's him sinking into you, inch by inch, that thick stretch that has you crying out, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"Benito— you said—"

"Lo sé, lo sé, mami." He's already breathless, already lost. "Pero te sientes tan bien. No pude— ay, coño—"

His hips press forward and he bottoms out, and you both moan together, a harmony of sound that fills the room. "Mmm, shit, Beni—

He starts moving. Slow at first, deep strokes that drag against your walls and make your eyes flutter shut. His forehead rests against yours, his breath hot on your lips, and every thrust is punctuated by a grunt, a whisper, a "puta madre" or an "ay, Dios" that tumbles out of him like he can't help it.

You can feel every inch of him. The way his cock pulses inside you. The way his thighs press against yours. The way his hand finds yours and laces your fingers together, pinning your hand to the mattress.

"Mírame," he commands, and you open your eyes. His are dark, blown wide, locked on yours. "Quiero verte cuando te vengas."

"Then fuck me like you mean it."

The grin that spreads across his face is wicked. "Oh, ¿sí? Así quiere ella?"

He pulls out, and before you can complain, he's flipping you over. Your knees hit the mattress, your chest pressed into the sheets, your ass in the air. You hear him groan behind you—a low, guttural sound that makes your pussy clench around nothing.

"Mira ese culo," he mutters, more to himself than to you. His hands land on your hips, squeezing, kneading. "Dios mío, mami. Este culo me va a matar."

He lines himself up and pushes back in, and the angle is different now, deeper, harder, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. Your mouth falls open, a sharp cry tearing out of you.

"¡Ay, coño!" he growls, picking up the pace. "Así— así— mierda, qué rico—"

The sound of him fucking you fills the room. Wet and rhythmic, skin slapping against skin. You're dripping down your thighs, soaking the sheets, and every time he thrusts you feel it in your throat.

"Beni— right there— fuck—"

"¿Ahí? ¿Ahí te gusta?" He pounds into that spot, relentless. His hand reaches around, fingers finding your clit, circling it in time with his strokes. "Dime. Dime cómo te sientes."

"So good— ahh— so fucking good, Benito—"

"Mmm, sí. Grita mi nombre. Quiero oírlo."

And you do. You scream it when he hits that spot again, your fingers gripping the sheets, your whole body trembling. "Benito! Benito!"

"Así, mami. Así."

He slows down, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, torturously slow. You whimper, pushing back against him, trying to get more, but his hands hold you still.

"Tranquila," he purrs. "Disfrútalo."

He fucks you like that for what feels like forever, deep and slow and deliberate, every stroke hitting places you forgot existed. Your legs start shaking. Your breath comes in gasps. You can hear yourself making sounds you don't recognize—high and desperate.

"Te siento," he whispers, leaning over your back, his mouth against your ear. "Te siento apretándome. Estás cerca, ¿verdad?"

"Yes— yes, Beni, I'm—"

"Ven conmigo. Vamos juntos."

He speeds up again, his thrusts losing rhythm, getting sloppier, needier. His breathing is ragged, his grip bruising, and every word out of his mouth is a curse or a prayer.

"Mierda— te quiero— esta pussy es mía—"

"Yours— fuck— all yours—"

"Dilo otra vez."

"All yours, Benito— ahh— I'm gonna—"

He hits that spot one more time—slap, slap, slap—and you shatter. Your orgasm rips through you like a wave, pulling you under, and you hear yourself screaming his name, a long, breathless "BENITO!" that echoes off the walls.

He follows right behind you, a guttural "¡Ay, coño, mami!" as he buries himself deep and spills into you, hot and thick, his whole body shuddering against yours.

You collapse together, a tangle of limbs and sweaty skin and ragged breaths. He's still inside you, softening, and neither of you moves for a long moment.

Then he kisses your shoulder. Your neck. The curve of your spine.

"Te amo," he murmurs against your skin. "Perdón por la mentira."

You laugh, weak and breathless. "You're not sorry."

"No," he admits, grinning against your back. "No lo siento."

all rights go to @𝐁𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗕𝗔𝗥𝗕𝗜𝗘 . i do not agree with my content to be stolen nor to be translated without my permission.

divs creds : kodaswrld

[theambitiouswoman]

Eat your skincare

Collagen

🥣 Bone broth

🐟 Fish skin

🍗 Chicken skin

🍮 Gelatin

🥚 Egg whites

🍊 Citrus fruits (vitamin C)

🍓 Berries

🥬 Leafy greens

Retinol (Vitamin A)

🍠 Sweet potatoes

🥕 Carrots

🥬 Spinach + kale

🥚 Egg yolks

🧈 Butter or ghee

🥩 Beef liver

Hyaluronic Acid

🥣 Bone broth

🍠 Sweet potatoes

🌱 Soy foods (tofu, edamame)

🥑 Avocado

🎃 Pumpkin seeds

🍋 Citrus fruits

Ceramides

🌾 Wheat germ

🍠 Sweet potatoes

🌱 Soybeans / edamame

🥚 Eggs

Omega 3

🐟 Salmon, sardines

✨ Chia seeds

🌿 Flaxseeds

🌰 Walnuts

🧪 Algae oil

Vitamin C

🥝 Kiwi

🍊 Oranges

🍓 Strawberries

🫑 Bell peppers

🍍 Pineapple

Zinc

🎃 Pumpkin seeds

🦪 Oysters

🫘 Chickpeas, lentils

🌰 Cashews

Niacinamide

🍗 Chicken breast

🐟 Tuna & salmon

🥜 Peanuts

🍄 Mushrooms

🥚 Eggs

🌱 Legumes (beans, lentils)

Antioxidants

🍇 Grapes

🍒 Berries

🍫 Dark chocolate

🍅 Tomatoes

🫐 Blueberries

🍵 Green tea

🥬 Spinach + kale

🥕 Carrots

🌰 Nuts & seeds

✨ Glow Foods

🍍 Pineapple

🥕 Carrots

🍊 Citrus fruits

🍓 Strawberries

🥑 Avocado

🍉 Watermelon

🍯 Raw honey

🫚 Ginger

🧄 Garlic

SPF (Internal sun protection)

🍅 Tomatoes

🍉 Watermelon

🫒 Olive oil

🥕 Carrots

🍊 Oranges

🫐 Blueberries

🐟 Salmon

🌰 Walnuts + chia seeds

🥬 Dark leafy greens

[bdybeni]

Cooking with Benito

Benito (Bad bunny) x reader

CW : fluff

AN: writing this actually make me wanna try the recreate the recipe but my rice turned out too sticky…

Your relationship with Benito was still quite fresh, you had only started dating four months ago but you already loved everything about him, from the way he smiled effortlessly to the way his tongue would glide over his lips when they were too dry. But one of the things that fascinated you the most was his ability to eat so much: if there was food left Benito was always ready to eat it, not wanting to waste even once he was full.

You then felt the urge to fulfill his appetite and decided to cook his favorite dish: arroz con salchichas, a meal he used to eat in Puerto Rico during his childhood. It was quite simple since it was rice with sausages but it was obviously the Caribbean spices that made it special.

You found yourself in the kitchen of your apartment while Benito was still sleeping in your bedroom. Since your relationship was still new, he often spent the night at your place before returning to his busy schedule the next day. The clock hanging above one of the shelves showed 11:04 am, which left you about an hour to cook.

You started by dicing the onions and green peppers into small cubes, then you did the same for the sausages, cutting them into rounds and browning them in a pan where you had previously added some oil. Once they were golden brown you added the spices, salt, and pepper, and then came the moment for the magic ingredient: sazon, a blend of dry spices intended to amplify the taste and color of the dish.

You reached into the small white grocery bag sitting on the counter, the one filled with the fresh supplies you had gathered earlier that morning specifically for this recipe. When you finally found the small foil packet of sazon, you tried to open it carefully, but your fingers were a bit clumsy from the excitement. Suddenly, the packet ripped wide open. A massive cloud of bright orange powder fell into the preparation, coating everything in an orange glow.

Your heart sank at the sight, the dish was going to be incredibly salty and the color was almost radioactive. To minimize the damage, you grabbed a small spoon and frantically tried to scoop out the excess powder before it dissolved. The stress of ruining his favorite meal took over as your mind raced for a fix.

That was when you felt a pair of warm arms wrap firmly around your waist, the heat of his bare chest pressing against your back, still smelling of sleep and comfort.

"You’re thinking of turning the kitchen into a sunset, Mami," he whispered near your ear, when he saw the orange disaster and your tiny spoon.

"Yeah, very funny Beni, but I was actually trying to make arroz con salchichas but I think... I kinda messed it up," you said as quickly as possible, feeling a wave of disappointment. You wanted everything to be perfect, but now the pan looked like a failed experiment.

But Benito didn't see it that way at all. The simple fact that you remembered it was his favorite meal, that you had gone out in the morning to find the right ingredients and had the intention of cooking it for him meant everything to him.

He gently took the spoon from your hand to set it aside and turned you around in the circle of his thick, tatted arms so you were facing him. He looked down at you with a sleepy smile, his thumb grazing your cheek to wipe away a stray speck of orange powder.

"Don’t be sad, amor," he said, his dark eyes full of affection. "Te levantaste temprano solo para cocinar para mí, es la mejor parte de la receta," He gave you a soft kiss on the forehead before reaching into his sweatpant pocket for his phone to play his playlist of old salsa songs.

"We can save the recipe by adding more water, or something acidic to cut the salt," he murmured, scanning your cabinets with the practiced eye of someone who had watched his mother cook this a thousand times.

While you let him search for a fix and busied yourself getting the rice ready, you caught Benito out of the corner of your eye. He was no longer looking for tomato sauce or lime, instead, he was leaning over the stove, his fingers snatching a couple of sausages directly from the pan. He popped them into his mouth, leaning against the counter with a satisfied hum.

"Babe, are you actually trying to help me or just here to eat all the food before it’s even finished?"

"It’s purely scientific,mami " he replied, his eyes twinkling as he made a show of clicking his tongue against his palate, savoring the spice. "I need to taste it to see if... it needs more seasoning."

"Yeah, but I think there’s clearly enough seasoning in there to flavor the whole neighborhood," you countered, your hands continuing to rinse the rice in a bowl of water to clean it.

"You know, in PR we say el más color, el más corazón," he said, watching as you poured the cloudy water out of the rice before returning to the stove to dump the grains into the pan.

"Didn't you just make that saying up, baby?" you questioned him with a playful, skeptical tone.

"Claro que no! And look, I found the tomato sauce!" he said, pulling you back into his embrace. He guided your hands to pour in a splash of the sauce and a squeeze of lime, the acidity cutting through the sharpness of the sazón. As you stirred, the neon orange mellowed into a much more appetizing reddish-gold.

"Now we need to let it simmer... and it's time to bailaaaaar," the bubbling pot and into the open space of your small kitchen.

"All in the hips, bebé," he whispered with a confident smirk, his large hands sliding down to your waist. He looked like he knew exactly what he was doing.

he whispered, his large hand sliding down to rest firmly on your waist, looking like he completely knew what he was doing. But it was a bit of a mess from the start. You were both laughing as you tried to find the sync of the salsa beat, your feet constantly bumping into his.

"Wait Beni , I’m not even that good at this one ," you admitted trying to focus and not step on him.

"Follow me," Benito said, trying to stand up straight and act like he actually knew how to lead

"Babe, you’re worse than me! You have two right feet," you teased, tripping over his feet for the third time in a row.

"Entonces ambos tendremos dos pies derechos,"he chuckled, stopping the movement to reset himself. "Okay, okay, déjame intentar de nuevo," He took a deep breath, focusing on the rhythm coming from his phone on the counter. He grabbed your hand, lifting it high and attempted a slow, careful spin.

You ended up tangled in his long arms, both of you stumbling toward the fridge with a loud thud. Benito didn't even try to stay serious he leaned his head back and roared with laughter, his grip on your waist tightening so you wouldn't fall.

The salsa was still playing but the dancing was officially over. Benito was still leaning against the fridge, catching his breath as he guided you back toward the stove.

"Enough dancing for today, let’s just eat," you chuckled, watching him as he reached for a fork on the counter.

He didn't need to be told twice. He stabbed a piece of sausage directly from the pan and held it up to your mouth, watching you with a grin. "Try it, we’re definitely better at eating!"

Request are open !

[readinginpink]

Benito x Black Reader

A/N: I love writing fics with Benito being a dad, it’s so cute!! This was a request I hope you all enjoy!

Papi||

“Bebé can you rub my scalp.” You ask Benito as you shut your eyes trying to get more rest while Marlee’s nap is about to end. You had Marlee 3 years ago and she’s an amazing little girl so cute, kind and full of so much energy. Benito met her when she was two and it’s safe to say Marlee loves him just as much as you do if not more.

“Claro que si mi amor,” Benito is spooning you as he starts to lazily give you a scalp massage with one hand while the other rest lightly on the curve of your waist.

Just as your eyes are about to close Marlee burst into the room and jumps onto the bed.

“I’m awake mommy!” She plops down right on top of you and Benito wrapping her tiny arms around you both.

“Veo, veo.” You smile softly as she squeezes between you and Benito. “You’re interrupting time with my man and I.” You playfully roll your eyes as she snickers behind you.

“Cómo dormiste, princesa?” Benito questions her.

“Benny,” you feel Marlee shift her body turning towards Benito and she tries to whisper but bless her heart you can hear every word. “I didn’t really sleep I just pretend after mom closed my door.” She giggles some more as Benito lets out a dramatic gasp.

“Bebé now you’re going to be so sleepy.” Benito says to her sounding so adorable.

“No I won’t! I’m like superwoman! never tired.” You can hear the determination mixed with sass in her voice.

You roll your eyes in fake annoyance then turn over to face them before you can open your mouth to reprimand Marlee she leans up and places a kiss on your forehead pulling away giggling.

“Better be glad you’re cute girl,” you laugh as you pull her close.

“Mommy can me Benny and you go driving today on the big road.” You and Benito both know she means the highway—it’s one of her favorite things at night when the world is quiet all there is are lit up buildings in Atlanta she loves to just ride around. (A/N: Fun fact I literally loved doing this as a kid, I begged my parents all the time.)

“Yes baby…after we all take a nap.” You laugh as she groans. Benito winks at you then proceeds to lean over and place kisses on both yours and Marlee’s head.

~~~

Marlee is once again knocked out sleep snoring in the back seat once Benito pulls into the driveway. The ride was amazing as always. Marlee so exited talking up a storm, as you and Benito entertain her with conversation or singing over dramatically from the songs blasting from the car speaker.

You turn your head in Benito’s direction as he parks you immediately get to business. “So rock paper scissors for who wakes up Marlee?” He laughs softly and grabs your hand just for comfort.

“I’ll get her mi amor.” He brings your hand up to place a soft kiss then giving you a reassuring squeeze.

“You’re the best.” You mean that with your whole heart. You believe sometimes that if you blink too hard you’ll wake up and realize Benito was never real. This man fell from heaven and right into your lap, you couldn’t ask for a better man he is so loving to your daughter and treats you like a queen.

Once you both get out you open the door opposite of Marlee’s to grab her toys in the back seat as Benito begins to unbuckle her. She stirs in her sleep whining softly waking up after he picks her up but she rest her head on his arm.

“Lo Siento princesa.” He rubs her back kissing her cheek. “No tienes que caminar, te llevaré”

“Gracias papi.” You immediately tell once that word leaves Marlee’s mouth Benito’s heart sores. A wide grin is on his face in seconds as he holds her a little tighter.

Later that night in bed after Marlee is put to sleep Benito brings you close to him by your waist and says “she called me “papi” baby.” The grin on his face is downright adorable. You kiss his lips softly and as you’re drifting towards sleep he whispers one last thing to you—“I can’t wait until we have more kids.” Then he place a hand on your stomach, and you just laugh softly in agreement then snuggle into his chest letting sleep take over.

*request open*

[iheartwhre]

PUHLEASEEE write benito get his hair pulled and played with during sex it drives him crazyyy and also a really vocal partner she calls him papi and whatnot (sorry this is kinda basic!!)

GAP AD au Bad Bunny

f x m smut ! car sex ! creampie !

➺authors note: i feel like the start is a tad bit wordy but i hope you enjoy it <3

The studio lights dimmed as the director called for a break. Sweat glistened on everyone’s skin after another intense take of the GAP ad campaign. Bad Bunny had a Western inspired shoot and you were one of the background dancers, dressed in fitted jeans that hugged your hips and thighs perfectly, paired with a cropped white tank that showed just enough midriff. The set pieces surrounded you: a mechanical horse on one side, a glossy vintage Rolls Royce convertible in the center, and Benito in his white tee, light wash baggy jeans, backwards blue cap, and silver chains.

The director clapped his hands, addressing the crew, “Alright, everyone. Take five. Drink water, catch your breath.” Dancers nodded, grabbing bottles and stretching. You stayed near the edge, towel draped over your neck, eyes following Benito.

You noticed him off to the side, near the mechanical horse prop, half turned, one hand tugging at the waistband of his jeans. The denim had ridden up awkwardly after all the movement, pulling tight across his thighs and the obvious bulge in front. He shifted his weight, fingers hooking into the belt loops, trying to adjust without making it obvious, but the fabric was clinging in all the wrong places from the sweat and constant hip work.

You stepped closer, keeping your voice low and teasing. “Those jeans giving you trouble after all that dancing?”

He looked up, surprised, then broke into a soft shy smile. “Yeah… they fit perfect on camera, but right now? They’re trying to kill me.” His eyes flicked over you, analyzing your fitted jeans and the way your shirt clung to your chest.

You smiled warmly, stepping into his space. “Here, I can help.” Your fingers brushed his belt buckle, giving the leather a gentle tug to loosen it just enough. The back of your hand grazed the warm skin of his lower stomach, and you felt him tense. “Better?”

“Much better,” he murmured, voice dropping. His gaze lingered on your face, then dropped to your lips for a second before returning to your eyes. “You’ve been doing great out there. Got me forgetting my own steps sometimes.”

You laughed softly, trying to play it cool even though your stomach fluttered. “High praise coming from you. I’ve been a fan for years. But don’t worry, Im not going to turn into a complete fangirl on set.”

He chuckled, turning around, and leaning casually against the mechanical horse prop. “I’m flattered muñeca. Don’t hold back on me. What’s your name?” When you told him, he repeated it back slowly. “Pretty. Suits you. So… you always this good at fixing a man’s jeans, or am I getting special treatment?”

“Only when the man looks like he’s about to lose a fight with his own pants,” you teased back, eyes sparkling. “And only if he says ‘joder-fuck’ under his breath. It’s kind of cute.”

His grin widened “Cute, huh? I can do a lot better than cute.” He tilted his head, studying your features. “Those jeans look good on you… I was supposed to be focused on the camera.”

Your cheeks warmed, switching smoothly into Spanish. “¿Ah sí? Entonces no deberías haber estado mirándome tanto, papi.” -Then you shouldn't have been looking at me so much

He raised an eyebrow, clearly liking the word. “Papi? Cuidado throwing that around. Might make me want to keep you after the break.” His voice lowered, more intimate.

The flirting built slowly and natural. He asked about your dance background, complimented the way you hit every beat like it was second nature. You teased him about the backwards cap, and he shot back that your smile was the real distraction. The conversation flowed with English mixed with Spanish light teasing that turned heavier: him murmuring how your lips looked soft and you admitting the chains on his chest were distracting in the best way possible. By the end of the break, your pulse was racing, you felt your underwear soaked beneath the tight jeans, thighs pressing together.

Then the director called everyone back. “Reset! We’re going again!”

You got into position, body already tingling. The music started, and when your cue hit, you moved to the center while Benito lip synced. His eyes subtly locked on your body the entire time watching every roll of your hips, every arch of your back. Your jeans rubbed against you with every move, the friction making you feel more heated.

By the time the director yelled “Cut! That’s a wrap,” you were aching, core pulsing with need.

The crew started packing up, laughing and chatting. Benito moved through the group, thanking everyone personally. “Muchas gracias, de verdad. -Thank you, really- You all made this look incredible. Please rest, eat something good, you guys deserve it.”

You were zipping your bag when he appeared beside you, close enough that his warmth radiated. “Hey… you got a minute?”

Your heart skipped. “For you? Always.”

He smiled, eyes tracing your face. “You were amazing out there. Your face was so focused once the music started.” His gaze dropped to your lips, then slowly dragged down your body, over your chest, the curve of your waist, the way your jeans hugged your thighs. “I’m sorry, I can’t stop looking. You’re really talented y eres tan hermosa.”-and you're so beautiful

You swallowed, heat rushing through you. “You keep talking to me like that and I might not want to leave the set.”

He glanced around, the crew was thinning, props being moved, and he tilted his head toward the Rolls Royce still parked under the soft lights, top down, backseat shadowed and inviting. “Then don’t. Come sit with me in the car for a bit. Set’s clearing out. It’ll be just us.”

It felt natural, the car tucked off to the side, half hidden now that the main lights were off. You followed him. He slid into the backseat first, then pulled you in after, guiding you to straddle his lap. The moment the door clicked shut, his hands were on your hips, pulling you closer against the hard line of his cock already straining through his jeans.

“I’ve been thinking about this since you helped me with my pants,” he murmured leaning against your mouth before kissing you deep and slow. His hand slid behind your back, feeling your warm skin.

The other hand slowly made its way underneath your crop top, rubbing your breast until your areola poked out, thumbs teasing your nipples and gently pinching it.

You moaned softly, grinding down on him. “Benito… I’ve been wet since the break. These jeans are killing me right now.”

He groaned, helping you shimmy the tight jeans off of you and your soaked underwear down your thighs. You kicked them off one leg, leaving them dangling from your ankle. He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, freeing himself, thick cock springing up heavy and slightly twitching, already leaking at the tip. Still straddling him, you wrapped your hand around member, stroking slowly, watching his eyes flutter.

“Coño, mero así,” -Fuck, just like that, he breathed.

You stopped, lifting your hips up as you lined him up and sank down slowly, taking him inch by thick inch until he was as deep as you could take him, inside your tight soaked heat. The stretch was perfect, it burned so good, you felt yourself pulsing against him. “Papi… you feel so fucking good,” you whimpered, starting to roll your hips in slow, deep circles.

Benito’s head tipped back against the seat, a low groan escaping. “Mierda… tan apretada. -Shit, you’re so tight- Ride me, baby. Just like that.”

You picked up the pace, bouncing on his cock, the wet sounds of skin meeting skin filling the car. One hand rested on his chest while the other began sliding up into his hair. First, you reached for the backwards blue cap still on his head. With a playful little tug, you pulled it off and tossed it onto the seat beside you. Your fingers then brushed through his dark curls, gently pushing them back from his forehead, fixing the slightly messy strands damp with sweat. The soft texture felt perfect under your fingertips. Only then did your fingers thread deeper into his hair, tugging gently at first.

“Mierda mami,” he gasped, eyes half closed, his voice sounding more desperate. “Harder, mami. Fuck, you feel so good and warm inside.”

You smiled lazily, loving the reaction, and tugged again, harder this time while you rode him deeper, grinding your clit against his pelvis with every downstroke. You moaned “Te gusta, papi? Like when I play with your hair while I fuck you? Who would’ve thought you could get so desperate and loud for me.”

He moaned louder, hands gripping your ass tight and smacking your cheek, guiding your hips faster. “Si... No pares por favor. -Don’t stop please- It’s so good mami, you’re gonna make me cum.”

Your hand stayed tangled in his hair, continuing to tug on it. The other hand made its way from his chest, to his shoulder, and to his neck, gently grasping your hand around it. As you bounced harder, your boobs were also bouncing underneath your shirt. “Papi… you’re so deep inside of me now…filling me up so good. I’m so wet for you..can you feel it?”

“I feel you dripping all over my thighs mama,” he moaned out, thrusting up to meet every bounce. He leaned forward, sucking a mark onto your neck while moving his hand down your thigh, his thumb found your clit, rubbing small circles. “Come on, mami. I want to feel this pretty pussy cum on my dick.”

The combination of his thick cock hitting deep, his thumb on your clit, and the way he moaned every time you pulled his hair, made you sensitive all over. You felt close, your walls clenching around him as you cried out, “Papi—fuck, I’m gonna cum, I-I’m gonna cu— Fuck!” You cried out, repeating yourself breathlessly while your insides tingle against his cock.

Benito's grip on your hips tightened, his voice rough and commanding against your ear. "That's it... cum for me, mami. Be a good girl and cum all over papi's cock."

The words pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm rolled through you slow and intense, starting deep in your core and spreading outward in warm, pulsing waves. Your thighs trembled, walls squeezing him tight as you moaned his name, riding him through every ripple. The sensitivity made every small movement feel electric. Your skin flushed hot, nipples brushing against the fabric of your shirt with every shallow breath.

Benito followed right after you, groaning your name into the curve of your neck as he spilled his cum deep inside you. His hips stuttered, pressing up as far as he could while he filled you up, pulse after pulse. You kept moving slowly on him, lazy rolls of your hips, milking every last drop while your fingers stayed tangled in his hair, slowly removing your fingers. He shuddered hard beneath you, a broken groan escaping every time you pulled a little harder.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the car were your heavy breathing and the sound of the few studio lights being on. You stayed seated on him, still connected, his cock twitching softly inside your sensitive pussy.

Eventually, Benito pulled you down into a slow, sweet kiss, his hands stroking soothing circles along your bare back. "I never had someone pull on my hair or hold my neck while we fucked," he murmured against your lips, voice soft and husky. He brushed a damp strand of hair from your face, eyes relaxed. "You're dangerous, you know that?"

You laughed softly, still full of him, and pressed a lingering kiss to his jaw. "Good. It means I get to do it again sometime."

He grinned,"Yeah... next time we're not doing this in a prop car. My place." His nodded while his thumb traced your lower lip.

[1-800-teax]

Hair Theory

Benito Ocasio x Black!Reader

Summary: Benito’s reaction to a few hairstyles you’ve worn.

—

Head Wraps

Being prone to fashionable scarves himself, he’s obsessed with how you incorporate a piece of fabric into your hair.

He’s aware of the significance behind certain hairstyles you do, the ancestral history in the cornrows you wear. But there something about seeing you with a simple head wrap that makes him swoon.

Whether you incorporate the accessory with your natural hair or braids, he loves it all. Some of his favorite outfits of yours being a simple sundress or even just some shorts with one of his shirts and you throw on a head scarf (sometimes his that he has tucked into his closet) and you both spend the day down in the streets of San Juan.

—

Pixie Cut

You had been talking of cutting your hair for months before you actually committed. It’s not that your hair was damaged or you needed to cut it, you just wanted to.

Benito knew the day would come sooner or later when you would eventually bite the bullet and go for it. He just wasn’t expecting you to go way shorter than the pictures you had showed him before hand.

And he can’t deny how well it suits you. The way the short hair frames you face, highlights your cheekbones and the curls add a significant level of whimsy that he can only manage a winded, “¿Estás tratando de matarme, mami?” You trying to kill me, mami?

The sight of you with this new haircut, figuratively and literally knocking the wind out of him.

—

Flower Accessories

Watching you express yourself through you’re hair is one of Benito’s favorite things about you. He’s seen you do a lot of hairstyles but watching you step outside to pick flowers from your precious garden makes his heart skip a beat.

Seeing you elevate a simple hairstyle or outfit with just a few well placed flowers reminds him of back home in Puerto Rico. The wild beauty of the accessories against your glowing skin makes him crave being under the warm sun and feeling the cool Puerto Rican waters splash against his feet with you at his side.

[bamb11i]

Summary: You’re convinced Benito forgot about Valentine’s day because of how busy he was for past few months.

Warnings: None, Pure fluff. Google translate Spanish

Valentine’s day feels louder when you’re alone.

Not in a dramatic, crying on the kitchen floor way just the kind where every notification buzz makes your shoulders lift a little before they fall again. The kind where the city outside your window keeps moving and you don’t.

Benito had warned you.

”Super bowl rehearsals, amor… then Argentina… It’s crazy right now."

You understood. You always did. You loved how hard he worked, loved watching your man become a storm people traveled continents to stand inside. But understanding didn’t stop the small ache sitting behind your ribs tonight.

His last text had come hours ago:

boarding now. call you later?

No heart. No teasing voice note. No feliz san valentín bebé. So you told yourself not to expect anything.

You ordered takeout you didn’t really want, let some rom-com play in the background, and tried not to think about couples posting roses and candlelight dinners and hands intertwined across tables.

7pm in Puerto Rico. 8pm in Argentina.

You did the math automatically then stopped yourself. He was busy. Exhausted. Probably asleep between flights. Still… your phone stayed in your hand waiting for any sign from him.

By around 9pm you’d convinced yourself to shower and go to bed early. The least thing you could do to make yourself feel better was your self care routine, tying your hair up and letting warm water quiet your thoughts.

The apartment was dark when you stepped back out, wrapped in a soft oversized shirt of his. The faded tour one you stole permanently.

And that’s when you noticed it. The balcony curtains were open. You were almost certain you’d closed them. A soft gold glow spilled into the living room from outside, flickering gently.

You froze

“…Hello?”

Nothing.

Your heart knocked once, hard, before you moved forward slowly, bare feet silent on the floor. The moment you pulled the curtain aside, your breath left you.

The balcony was covered in tiny warm lights, draped along the railing and overhead like a constellation pulled close enough to touch. Actual rose petals scattered across the tiles, a narrow path leading to the small table you normally used for coffee.

Exept now it held two plates, steam still curling into the air, and a single vinyl record spinning softly on a portable player. You recognized the song instantly one he only played late at night when he thought you were half asleep. And sitting there, elbows on knees, head bowed like he’d been waiting forever…

Was Benito.

You didn’t realize you’d whispered his name until he looked up. That slow grin the one that always felt private even when millions knew it spread across his face.

“Tú tardas demasiado en bañarte” he murmured.

You stared with jaw almost on the floor. “You… you’re in Argentina.”

He shook his head, standing, opening his arms a little. “I almost was in Argentina.”

You crossed the room in two quick steps and collided into him, hands gripping his hoodie as if he might vanish. He laughed softly into your hair, holding you tight, warm and real and smelling like airport and his cologne and something unmistakably him.

“Benito what about your show tomorrow?-”

“Mañana,” he said simply against your temple. “Everything is tomorrow. Tonight is you.”

You pulled back, eyes scanning his face like proof. “You flew here just for tonight?”

He lifted one shoulder, almost shy despite the grandness of it. “I knew you’d say it’s okay if i missed it. So i couldn’t miss it.”

Your throat tightened and heart clenched with warm feeling only he could pull from you.

“You didn’t text me,” You accused weakly.

“Because you know me,” he said, nudging your nose with his. “If i text, I ruin the surprise.”

You looked past him again. The lights, the food, the song. “You did all this?”

“I had some help,” he admitted. “But the idea… fue mía.”

He guided you to the table, pulling out your chair with exaggerated gentleman seriousness that made you laugh breathlessly.

“Wait,” you said suddenly, grabbing his sleeve before sitting. “What time did you land?”

He checked his watch. “Forty minutes ago.”

“Benito-”

“Tranquilla,” he chuckled. “I slept on the plane.”

“You hate sleeping on planes.” You argued with a soft smile on your face at how dedicated he was.

“I hate not being with you more.”

The sentence hung there, simple and heavy.

You sat slowly, warmth spreading through your chest as he took the seat across from you. The lights reflected softly in his eyes, softer than stage lights ever made them.

“Happy valentine’s day, Te amo más que a todo en este mundo.” He said, finally.

The words you’d convinced yourself you didn’t need somehow felt enormous now.

“I love you too. So much.” you whispered back.

Dinner blurred between teasing and quiet moments. His hand reaching across the table to steal from your plate, your foot brushing his under the table until he caught your ankle and kept it there, thumb absentmindedly tracing slow circles.

The song ended, another started, and eventually you moved to sit beside him instead of across, sharing the chair because neither of you wanted distance.

“You were sad earlier,” he said softly, not a question.

You leaned your head on his shoulder. “…a little.”

“Because you thought i forgot.”

You nodded once.

His fingers tilted your chin up gently. “I could forget a lyric before i forget you.”

You huffed a quiet laugh. “You forget lyrics all the time.”

“Exacto,” he smirked. “That’s how serious this is.”

Your hand rested against his chest, feeling his heartbeat steadier than crowds ever allowed. “You didn’t have to fly across the world for me.”

“I wanted to,” he corrected. Then, quieter: “Everything around me is loud. Contigo it’s quiet.”

The way he said it not dramatic, just honest made your eyes sting. You tried to deflect it.

“This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done.”

“Mentira,” he said, leaning closer, voice dropping. “i’m cute all the time. You just don’t tell anyone.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t move away, your noses brushing.

“You’re tired,” you murmured.

“A little,” he admitted. “Pero te extrañé más que el cansancio que tengo.”

His forehead rested against yours, fingers sliding along your jaw, slow and absentminded, like he was memorizing you again.

For a moment neither of you spoke just breathing the same air, the music low behind you.

“Stay awake with me a bit longer,” you whispered.

He smiled, eyes half-lidded. “For you? Siempre.”

You curled into his side, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you against him. The city noise below felt distant, softened by the cocoon of lights and his warmth.

“What time is your flight?” you asked.

“Early,” he said, not specifying.

You sighed but smiled anyway. “Worth it?”

He kissed the top of your head, lingering there.

“Cada kilómetro.”

And later, when the lights dimmed and conversation dissolved into comfortable silence, you realized Valentine’s day hadn’t been forgotten at all.

It had just been waiting at your door, carrying jet lag and roses and the kind of love that crossed oceans without asking for anything else in return.

[blackbarb1e]

pairing: benito martinez x black!fem!reader. summary: when you give benito attitude but it turns him on. cw: 18+ mdni, lowkey playboy!benny, oral (mainly fem! receiving), crampie, unprotected sex

a/n: because y’all were so patient with me 🥹

You and Benito had been vibing all night at this lowkey spot in San Juan, the kind of place where the reggaeton bumps heavy and the air smells like salt from the ocean mixing with weed smoke. Your Fulani braids were swinging as you moved, the intricate patterns catching the dim lights, a few loose curls framing your deep brown face. You were feelin' yourself in that tight crop top and low waisted jeans that hugged your thick hips and ass just right. Benito couldn't keep his eyes off you, his tattooed hand restin' on your thigh under the table, but tonight, you weren't havin' it. Not fully, anyway.

See, Benito had been actin' extra, flirtin' with the waitress a lil' too much, laughin' at her jokes like they were the funniest shit ever. You rolled your eyes hard when you caught him, crossin' your arms over your chest. "What the hell, Benito? You think I'm blind or somethin'?" you snapped, your voice cuttin' through the music. Your friends back home had warned you about these players, but you thought Benito was different. Or at least, you hoped.

He leaned back in his chair, that signature smirk playin' on his lips, his gold chain glintin' under the club lights. "Mami, chill. It's nothin', just talkin'. You know you're the only one I want." His voice was low, that spanish accent makin' it sound smooth, but you weren't buyin' it. You shoved his hand off your thigh and stood up, grabbin' your phone from the table. "Nah, I'm good. Handle your business then." Your attitude was poppin' off, sharp and unfiltered, the way women do when they're done playin'.

Benito's eyes darkened, watchin' you sway away toward the bathroom, your braids bouncin' with each step. But instead of gettin' mad, somethin' else stirred in him. That fire in you, the way you talked back without fear—it turned him the fuck on. He adjusted himself in his jeans, feelin' his cock twitch at the thought of pinnin' you down and wipin' that sass right outta your pretty mouth. He paid the tab quick and followed you out the back door, the night air hittin' y'all like a wave.

You were leanin' against the wall outside, scrollin' through your phone, when he cornered you. His body pressed close, one hand on the wall above your head, the other grippin' your waist. "¿Dónde crees que vas, reina? You think you can just walk away from me like that?" He was breathin' heavy, his lips brushin' your ear, that cologne of his—somethin' musky and woodsy—fillin' your senses.

You pushed at his chest, but not too hard. "Back up, Benito. I'm not in the mood for your games." Your voice was steady, but your heart was racin'. He was too close, too intense, and damn if it didn't make your pussy throb a little despite yourself.

He chuckled low, his hand slidin' down to squeeze your ass firm. "That attitude, mami… it's makin' me hard as fuck. You keep talkin' shit, and I'ma have to fuck it right outta you." His words hit you like a slap, bold and raw, and before you could fire back, his mouth crashed onto yours. The kiss was aggressive, his tongue pushin' in deep, tastin' like rum and desire. You bit his lip in response, drawin' a groan from him, but you didn't pull away.

Next thing you know, he's draggin' you to his car parked nearby, his grip tight on your wrist. "Get in," he growled, openin' the door. You slid into the passenger seat, your braids fallin' over your shoulder as you shot him a glare. "You trippin' if you think this gon' fix shit." But your body's betrayin' you, thighs pressin' together as he peels out toward his place up in the hills.

The drive was tense, silent except for the low hum of his own old tracks playin' from the speakers—ironic as hell. Your phone buzzed in your hand, one of your girls from back home callin' to check on you. You ignored it, but it kept goin', vibratin' against your palm. Benito glanced over, his jaw tight. "Answer it if you want, but don't act like you ain't feelin' this."

By the time y'all pulled up to his sleek modern crib overlookin' the city, the attitude was still simmerin', but so was the heat between your legs. He yanked you out the car and through the front door, kickin' it shut behind him. No sooner had the lock clicked than he spun you around, pinnin' you against the wall in the foyer. His hands were everywhere—yankin' your crop top up over your head, exposin' your full tits in that lacy black bra. "Look at you, all feisty, solo mia, mami," he murmured, his mouth latchin' onto your neck, suckin' hard enough to leave a mark on your brown skin.

You arched into him despite yourself, hands fistin' his shirt. "Fuck you, Benito," you hissed, but it came out breathy, needier than you intended. He laughed against your skin, grindin' his hard cock against your thigh through his jeans. "That's the plan, baby. Gon' fuck that mean mouth quiet."

He scooped you up like you weighed nothin', your legs wrappin' around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom. The room was dim, lit by the city glow comin' through the floor-to-ceiling windows, his king-sized bed waitin' like an invitation. He tossed you down onto the soft sheets, your braids fanin' out around your head like a crown. You propped up on your elbows, glarin' at him as he stripped off his shirt, revealin' those inked-up abs and the trail of hair leadin' down to his bulge.

"You gon' just stand there, or what?" you taunted, knowin' it would push him. And it did. Benito's eyes flashed, and he was on you in seconds, kneelin' between your legs as he ripped open your jeans. "Keep talkin', see what happens." His fingers hooked into your panties, pullin' them down rough, exposin' your bare pussy, already slick from the tension.

He didn't waste time. His mouth dove in, tongue flat and hot against your clit, lappin' up your wetness like he was starved. You gasped, hips buckin' up, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of beggin'. "That all you got?" you shot out, voice shakin' a bit. Benito growled, the vibration shootin' straight through you, and he sucked your clit hard, two fingers plungin' into your tight pussy without warnin'. He curled them just right, hittin' that spot that made your toes curl, your full lips partin' in a moan you couldn't hold back.

Your phone buzzed again on the nightstand—another call from your homegirl, probably worried 'cause you hadn't hit her back. You reached for it, but Benito snatched it first, tossin' it aside. "Ignore that shit," he muttered, his free hand pinnin' your thigh down as he finger-fucked you deeper, his tongue flickin' relentless.

But the calls kept comin', the ringtone cuttin' through your moans. On the third one, Benito pulled back, his chin shiny with your juices, and grabbed the phone. He answered it mid-ring, holdin' it to his ear while his other hand kept strokin' your pussy slow and teasin'. "Stop callin' on her phone. She gettin' fucked tonight." His voice was casual, like he was orderin' food, that accent makin' it sound even dirtier. You heard your friend's shocked gasp on the other end before he hung up, smirkin' down at you. "Now, where were we?"

You were too far gone to be mad, your body on fire as he shed his jeans, his thick cock springin' free—veiny, big, and rock hard for you. He stroked it once, eyes locked on yours. "Turn over, ass up. Time to shut that attitude down." You flipped onto your stomach, archin' your back, presentin' your round ass to him, the cheeks jigglin' slightly as you wiggled in anticipation.

Benito slapped your ass hard, the sting makin' you yelp, then he was there, rubbin' the head of his cock along your wet slit. "You want this, don't you? Say it." You shook your head, stubborn even now. "Make me." That did it. He thrust in deep with one brutal stroke, stretchin' your pussy wide around his girth. You cried out, grippin' the sheets, the fullness overwhelmin' as he bottomed out, his balls slappin' against your clit.

"Fuck, you're tight," he groaned, hands grippin' your hips as he started poundin' into you, no mercy. Each thrust was hard, deliberate, his cock draggin' against your walls, hittin' deep enough to make your eyes roll back. Your braids swung with every slam, stickin' to your sweaty neck as you pushed back against him, meetin' his rhythm despite the sass still lingerin' on your tongue.

"Talk shit now, mami," he taunted, one hand tanglin' in your braids, pullin' your head back so he could lean down and bite your shoulder. You moaned loud, the pain mixin' with pleasure, your pussy clenchin' around him. "Benito… shit, harder." The attitude was crackin', slippin' away with every rough pump of his hips.

Your phone lit up again—texts this time, your friends blowin' up the group chat, probably freakin' out after that call. Benito saw it and laughed, reachin' over to silence it without slowin' down. "They jealous, baby. Let 'em know you're mine tonight." He flipped you onto your back then, hookin' your legs over his shoulders, foldin' you in half as he drove back in. This angle had him hittin' even deeper, his cock rubbin' your g-spot on every stroke, your tits bouncin' with the force.

You clawed at his back, nails diggin' into his skin, leavin' red trails on his tattoos. "Don't stop… fuck, I'm close." He grinned, sweat drippin' from his brow onto your chest. "Cum for me, reina. Squeeze this polla." His thumb found your clit, circlin' fast as he fucked you senseless, the room fillin' with the wet sounds of your pussy takin' him and your shared moans.

The orgasm hit you like a freight train, your walls flutterin' and gushin' around his cock, juices soakin' the sheets. You screamed his name, body shakin', but he didn't let up—kept thrustin' through it, chasin' his own release. "That's it, good girl. Now take this cum." With a final deep grunt, he buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsatin' as he filled your pussy up, hot spurts paintin' your insides white.

He collapsed on top of you, both y'all pantin', his weight pressin' you into the mattress. After a minute, he rolled off, pullin' you into his side, his hand idly tracin' the curves of your body. Your phone buzzed one last time, but you just laughed, turnin' it face down. The attitude? Fucked right out. For now, anyway.

But Benito wasn't done. As you caught your breath, he kissed your forehead, then trailed down to your lips. "You feel better now, mami?" You smirked, runnin' your fingers through his damp hair. "Maybe. But don't think this means you off the hook for that waitress shit." He chuckled, his hand slidin' between your thighs again, findin' you still slick. "Round two then? Gon' make sure you can't even think about attitude."

And just like that, he was hard again, rollin' you under him. This time, he took it slower at first, slidin' into your cum-filled pussy with a groan. "So wet for me… toda mia." You wrapped your legs around him, pullin' him deeper, your braids tanglin' on the pillow as you kissed him sloppy. The phone stayed quiet now, your friends probably gossipin' among themselves, but you didn't care. Benito's cock was stretchin' you again, buildin' that fire slow.

He picked up pace, hips snappin' as he fucked you missionary style, eyes never leavin' yours. "Tell me te gusta esta polla." You bit your lip, holdin' out for a second before givin' in. "Yeah… love it. Fuck me, Benito." Satisfied, he went harder, one hand squeezin' your tit, pinchin' the nipple till you whined.

Y'all switched positions after you came again, you ridin' him reverse cowgirl so he could watch your ass bounce on his lap. Your Fulani braids whipped as you ground down, takin' every inch, your pussy grippin' him tight. "Damn, baby, you ridin' like a pro," he slapped your ass, the sound echoin'. You looked back over your shoulder, smirkin'. "Learned from the best."

He sat up then, pullin' you back against his chest, his arms wrappin' around you as he thrust up into your pussy from below. One hand on your clit, the other tuggin' your braids like reins. "Cum with me this time," he whispered hot in your ear, and you did—both of y'all shakin' as he unloaded deep inside you again, your juices mixin' with his cum, drippin' down your thighs.

Hours passed like that, y'all tangled in sheets, fuckin' in every way—doggy on the floor, you suckin' his cock till he was beggin', him eatin' your pussy till your legs gave out. By dawn, the attitude was long gone, replaced by lazy kisses and whispers. Your phone? Finally silent. Long forgotten on his desk.

all rights go to @𝐁𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗕𝗔𝗥𝗕𝗜𝗘 . i do not agree with my content to be stolen nor to be translated without my permission.

div creds: kodaswrld.

[wetheurban]

How lucky we are to experience boring, ordinary, uneventful days. Somewhere in the world, that kind of safety is unimaginable.

[cocotropic2]

❕

[biologicalstepfather]

If you know who Emmett Till is please reblog.

I’m trying to prove a point to my dad.

[1-800-teax]

Self Care Sundays

Benito Ocasio x Black!Reader

—

The house is quiet, basked in the warm essence of your favorite vanilla candle. Benito had been in the studio all morning - a quick session he promised and sealed with a kiss to your forehead.

Hours had passed, you had a late morning, a brunch plate of whatever looked appetizing enough to eat without the work of cooking and you even had time to divulge in an everything shower before Benito came home.

Freshly washed, blow dried and rolled hair. A smooth sugar wax and you even decided to try a new turmeric body scrub you had gotten the other day.

The whipped shea butter glides across your skin as you massage it in, stopping only to slip on the lacy pink two piece pajama set you had been set from Victoria’s Secret.

This is your favorite part of the week - when you’re able to decompress and reset yourself.

It’s Benito’s favorite too.

—

“Mi corazón.” Benito’s voice travels from the front of the apartment. You can hear his shoes being kicked off and his bag hitting the counter (it drives you crazy, he knows it).

“Bedroom.” You call back, already hearing his footsteps heading your direction.

A deep growl of pleasure is pulled from his throat when he steps into the room, “Mierda...hueles bien, mami.” Shit…you smell good.

You smile at the compliment and practically melt into his arms that wrap around you from behind. He’s careful around the rollers in your hair (aka he’s been cussed at more times than one).

“How was the studio?” You ask, placing you hands over his and feeling the warmth from his body.

“Ah, no es bueno. Me sigo quedando atascado en esta letra.” He explains, with a frustrated exhale. His hands unwrap from you in favor of running a hand through his slightly overgrown hair. He’s been stealing your cotton headbands a lot lately. However, looking at how nicely it frames his face when it pushes back his curls, you’re not all that bothered. Ah, not good. I keep getting stuck on this lyric.

You hum as you listen, sympathetically. Benito has a creative process when he’s making music, often shutting down his social medias and truly just regrounding himself. You know the right lyrics will come to him, it always does.

“Sounds like you need a bit of R&R.” You suggest, spinning around to look into his eyes.

“R&R?” He repeats, his head tilting adorably paired with the words rolling in his accent. You chuckle with a nod.

“Rest and relaxation. Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll make us some tea?”

His shoulders visibly relax at just the thought of unwinding, “Eres un ángel.” You’re an angel.

You send him off in the direction of the bathroom with a chuckle and a kiss to his cheek with the promise of more when he’s done.

—

By the time Benito comes out of the shower, all fresh and smelling of the new Lavender and Eucalyptus body wash you bought, you’re not surprised.

The green tea you made sits inside the porcelain tea cups you had bought at target the other day. Beside them you have laid out a few options for face masks. You had done one before you got in the shower earlier, so now you are wearing the ‘24 karat gold’ hydrating under eye masks.

Benito falls on the plush couch with a content sigh, his body melting into the soft cushions.

Although, you enjoyed the time to yourself this morning, you carved time in his arms more. You’re already moving closer, ready to settle beside him when his arms comes out to redirect you to straddle his lap.

His hands are so much larger than yours, and are already molding to the side of your hips. Your bodies always fit perfectly with each other.

It’s quiet. His head is tipped back and the only giveaway you have that isn’t asleep is the way his face contorts when you massage a particularly pleasurable part of his scalp.

You both don’t know when this routine started, but it’s quickly became an essential.

You’ve also learnt, Benito lets you do whatever you want in this state.

He’s completely relaxing and at ease. His hands roaming up and down your back and hips, meanwhile you use him as your personal beauty doll.

You move from scalp messages to a fuzzy pink headband with hearts. Then comes the hydrating sheet mask, which you leave on for a while.

“¿Beso?” You want to giggle at how soft he sounds asking for a kiss.

You can’t deny him though, even though you already laid the wet sheet mask down.

Your lips connect in a soft peck, no more than 5 seconds before you’re pulling back and he’s groaning at the lost of contact.

“¿Estás tratando de matarme? Necesito más, mi corazón.” Are you trying to kill me? I need more, my heart.

“You’re dramatic.” You giggle, but relent anyway. Being careful, you caress the sides of his face and place a few pecks against his lips.

After a while, you remove the sheet mask and tap the product into his skin before laying on the ‘24 karat gold’ hydrating under eye masks.

A content sigh leaves your lips as you allow yourself to rest your head on his shoulder. Fully melting into him at this point - it’s now you’re grateful you decided to place a scarf over your hair rollers.

You could never resist a good cuddle in his arms, he makes you feels safe.

A lot of people know Bad Bunny but you know Benito.

His warm palm pushes under the threshold of your lacy top to travel up and down the length of your spine. His head lolls to the side and presses to the side of yours half nuzzled into his neck.

You’re not sure when you fell asleep, but you couldn’t help it. A clean house, a nice bath, a warm tea, and being in the arms of the person that makes you feel loved and protected.

Despite being tired himself, Benito is still awake long after you have fallen asleep. His mind couldn’t rest, too busy thinking about the lyrics that don’t sit right with him.

He thinks about it for a while. It’s only when he’s spreading the soft throw blanket you had draped over the couch on top of the both of you that the lyrics click into place.

En las noches ya ni puedo dormir In the nights I can't even sleep

Lo que hago es soñarte What I do is dream with you

No, no te puedo olvidar No, I cannot forget you

No, no te puedo borrar No, I cannot erase you

Tú me enseñaste a querer You taught me to want

[inmyheadimobsessed]

i need to find the most attention grabbing, toe curling, gaggy fiyeraba fic ever