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.
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.
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!"
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
summary: you were on your way out. your uber was around the corner. but shuri decided to pay you a visit before you could even step out the front door, changing the entire course of your night.
word count: 8.2k
contains: just smut, with a teensey weensey bit of plot! (18+), dom!shuri, sub!reader, fingering (reader receiving), oral (both receiving), praise, strap!shuri, panther!shuri, dirty talk, strap sucking, panty sniffing, size!kink, possessive!shuri, slight mention of blood, creampie, rough sex, overstimulation
note: i was ovulating, i missed shuri, and i was listening to worst behavior on repeat. what can i say? this is my one and only contribution to kinktober. hope youse enjoy. mwah, mwah! xx.
The bass from your Bluetooth speaker still thumped faintly in the background as you twisted your lip gloss shut, and gave yourself one last look in the mirror. You looked good. Black strapless dress hugging your curves, doing wonders for your boobs, hoops glinting in the light, heels strapped up just right. Your phone was buzzing on the counter, a flurry of texts from your group chat hyping you up and exchanging ETAs.
You: Uber will be here in ten, see y’all in a bit.
And then you hit send, keys in hand, halfway to the door when your ears caught the low purr of an engine outside.
Not your Uber.
Something heavier—a sound you’d come to know quite well over the past few months.
When you peeked through the blinds, the culprit crept smoothly into view. An all-black Rolls Royce with windows tinted darker than midnight, and you knew exactly who steered behind the wheel as the car came to a languid stop in front of your home.
You scurried back over to the front door with a stupid grin plastered on your face, and opened it, stepping outside just as the driver's door swung open. Shuri exited the vehicle like she owned the night, composed of nothing but untested confidence.
She wore black slacks, and a leather jacket that hung open just enough to show off the crisp white tee underneath. Her golden Panther necklace rested against her chest, and when she tossed a grin over at you, her grills glinted under the moonlight, making you bite your lip.
But it was the bouquet that lifted a smirk to your lips. Impossibly red roses, with your name written all over them.
She closed the door with a quiet click, her gaze locked on yours from across the driveway. There was a calm fire in her eyes, a steadiness in the way she walked that told you just how much she was sure of herself. It took all the restraint you had not to sprint into her arms, you wouldn't be bested by her mere presence, even though you’d done it shamelessly in the past.
When she reached you, you inhaled deep and held your breath, wanting her cologne to inebriate you.
“Molo, Sphalaphala sam.” She flashed you a full smile now, grills and all, and their blinding sparkle almost blew you back. “These are for you.” (hello, my pretty one.)
“You know I love it when you speak Xhosa.” You giggled, unable to keep yourself from blushing as you accepted the flowers. “Hello to you too, my Panther.”
Shuri let her eyes graze your attire—the tight dress, the excessive amount of cleavage, the brand new Louboutins she’d bought you earlier in the week—and she bit her lip unabashedly. “You look… breathtaking.”
“Thank you,” You grinned, looking up at her with big brown eyes that sparkled under the moonlight. “But what are you doing here? You didn't tell me you were coming.”
This made Shuri laugh, and she dipped her head. “Do I need a reason to want to see you?”
Playfully, you rolled your eyes. “No. But I was on my way out. I have plans–”
“And now, they're changing.” Her words held all the conviction in the world, because of course they did, and luckily for her, you were attracted to her arrogance.
You parted your lips, ready to rebut, just as a black Lexus UX rounded the corner, pulling in right behind Shuri’s car. The headlights cut through the darkness in two clean beams, briefly sweeping across the porch and catching the glint of your earrings before dimming.
“Are you expecting company?” She asked, glancing over her shoulder before turning back to face you, one brow arched.
You took a step down the two porch steps, the wood creaking slightly under your heel, arm outstretched for Shuri to guide you. “That's Raul.”
“Oh.” Her face twitched, her smile slackened, and you watched as she tightened her jaw, her expression morphing into something dramatic. “I was unaware you’d taken an interest in men.”
You could cackle—you almost did. “Shuri, don't be ridiculous. Raul is my Uber driver. And, I’m making him wait, the longer I stand here talking to you.”
A breeze drifted past you, warm as it brushed the hem of your dress against your legs.
Shuri glanced behind her again, giving Raul a sympathetic look. Then she turned back to you, mischief already brewing in her smirk. “Give me a moment.”
You watched curiously from your front porch as she jogged over to the Lexus, shoes soft on the gravel. The motion-activated floodlight by your neighbor’s garage blinked on, backlighting her like she was on a runway. She knocked on the window, and Raul rolled it down skeptically.
For a moment, Shuri just stood there, speaking, gesturing with her hands in that animated way she always did when she was working someone. And then, they were laughing like old friends. Her and Raul. You scoffed quietly in disbelief, the bouquet crushed slightly against your chest. Then, she pulled out her wallet and slipped him a number of bills you couldn’t make out, but it was enough to make Raul smile and nod before pulling off, his taillights bleeding red down the block.
A beat later she was coming back down the driveway, grinning, all of her dazzling diamond grills on display.
“Okay,” She said as she approached you again, more confident than before, like that was even possible. “I took care of Raul.”
You stared at her, shifting the flowers from one arm to the other. “Did you seriously just bribe my ride?”
Shuri smirked. “Oh, bribe is such an ugly word. I prefer tipped generously for an early exit.”
You exhaled hard through your nose, barely masking your smile. “My friends are still expecting me, you know.”
“Well, you should call them,” She said quietly, stepping in closer to you. “Tell them something has come up. That you aren't going to make it after all.”
You narrowed your eyes in her direction, warring internally with the smirk threatening to break free. “And you're so convinced that I’m going to choose you, over hot wings and margaritas?”
She let a sly grin climb her features. “Yes.”
A moth fluttered lazily around the porch light, wings casting quick shadows across the railing. You were trying to stand your ground. Or, at least make it seem that way. You wore a stern look, wanting to intimidate, to cast doubt, to make her think you disapproved of her antics.
But you were failing. And Shuri wasn't buying it.
You were definitely going with her.
You were already reaching for your phone in your mind. Already figuring out how you were going to word the apologetic text.
She extended her arm again, and god help you, you took it. “I hate you sometimes,” You muttered, rolling your eyes as she led you toward her car, still playing the reluctant victim.
“That's the thing I love most about you, Sphalaphala sam.” (my pretty one)
•••
“Take off your panties and give them to me.”
You were mid-bite, forking a piece of roasted sea bass onto your tongue, when Shuri said it. For a minute, you thought you'd misheard her, but when you looked across the table, and studied her face, you'd found she was more serious than a heart attack. And expectant.
The restaurant whirred with low chatter and the occasional clink of silverware against porcelain, so thankfully, no one apart from you had heard her vulgar request. She was sitting there, posture relaxed, her wine glass dangling in her fingers as she moved to take another sip.
Her eyes were swallowed black as she stared at you, wearing the faintest little smirk. You hadn't acknowledged her demand, not with a response or reaction, but she was aware you’d heard her, and that was enough ammunition for her to go off of. Shuri was patient, you see, and it was not above her to have you sit here all night until you adhered to her.
Your skin prickled with sudden heat the longer she eyed you. Your neck, collarbones, and the inside of your thighs—arousal blooming too fast to hide.
You cleared your throat, sizing her up a little with your eyes. “This dress is way too tight for me to do that at this table.”
Shuri shrugged, nonchalant “Just try.”
You took that as a challenge, your brow lifting with a seductive curve. Your eyes flicked around the room—scanning, calculating—checking to see if anyone had eyes on your table. The low lighting helped; the ambiance was all moody shadows and murmured conversation, just loud enough to cover the sound of your heartbeat hammering in your chest.
You bit your lip.
Then, you stood. Just for a second, casual and controlled. But on the inside, adrenaline was pumping fast through your veins, and you could feel Shuri’s eyes locked on you, dark and burning with intent.
Your fingers curled discreetly into the fabric of your dress, gripping it just enough to feel the edge of your underwear through it. You exhaled a steady breath, then tugged. Just slightly. Enough to feel the garment start to slide. The hem of your dress shifted as the fabric underneath rolled over your hips, then slipped down your thighs.
You glanced around once more, heart pounding in your throat. There were still no eyes or servers nearby, just the weight of Shuri’s gaze burning into you.
The fabric was bunched in your lap now, caught loose around your knees. You used your hands to guide them the rest of the way, inch by inch until they fell around your ankles.
Your blood roared in your ears, but your face stayed composed.
When you looked up, there she was. Shuri, failing to sit still in her own seat, mouth parted slightly as she moved to bite her fist.
You let your smirk stretch wider.
Then, with the same ease you’d use to pick up a dropped napkin, you leaned down under the table all smooth like it meant nothing.
Finally, you stepped out of your panties.
After balling the damp fabric in your fist, you straightened again with a breathy exhale. And without saying a word, you reached across the table, took Shuri’s hand, and opened her fingers one by one, holding her stare the entire time.
Then you dropped the warm, sticky fabric into her palm.
She let out a broken, disbelieving laugh, wonder lighting up her face as her eyes panned down to the lacey fabric resting in her hand. “That was so fucking perfect, sthandwa.” She breathed.
“Satisfied?” You questioned, meeting her stare with a raised brow as you took a swig from your wine glass, needing to calm your fraying nerves.
“Pleased more so than anything,” She answered, lifting her stuffed hand to her nose.
You watched as she inhaled your wet panties, breathing you in deep with a sigh of contentment. Then, just as slyly as you slipped them off, Shuri slipped them into her jacket pocket, long lashes fluttering at you.
“I won’t be satisfied, until I have you naked and whimpering around me.”
Her words made you squeeze your legs together, the gesture putting pressure on your throbbing clit as you felt your quivering pussy leak onto the seat cushion.
Mischief flashed across your eyes like flares, “I think it's time you get the check, Panther.”
Shuri was flagging your unsuspecting waiter back over to the table soon after, a devious smirk forming onto her mouth.
•••
You’d barely cleared the threshold of the restaurant before Shuri’s hand closed around your wrist, firm and unrelenting as she hurriedly pulled you into the night air. It kissed your skin, the breeze, but it didn't do a damn thing to cool you down.
Your panties were still in her pocket, and her grip made it clear she had no intention of waiting until you got home.
“Get in,” She ordered, voice electric as she pulled open the door to the backseat.
You stumbled in, blaming the wine, your heels, the way your pulse was still punching at your throat for your clumsiness. Shuri shut the door with a thud, climbing in beside you, and you scooted your thick thighs across the cool leather seats.
“Griot, activate self driving mode.” You heard the low chime of acknowledgment, then the gentle growl of the engine as it came to life. The vehicle eased forward smoothly, gliding into motion like it knew not to disturb what was coming.
And then Shuri was on you.
In the somber, tinted shadows of the spacious backseat, she shoved you onto your back, kissing you like a woman starving. Her body was pressed tight against yours, pinning you to the cool leather as her mouth crashed into yours with hot, urgent ferocity. Your tongues tangled messily, your breathy whines swallowed by her lips, her hunger bleeding into every panting exhale.
The seat beneath you vibrated as the vehicle glided down the street, the occasional sway of the ride adding a reckless, swerving rhythm to her movements.
Shuri broke the kiss, panting desperately as she connected her lips back to your skin, dragging heat down your throat. She paused, stopping to bite your collarbone, the sensation sharp enough to make you gasp before it morphed into a tender lick. Her hands slid down your sides, mapping every curve, every dip, as though she were memorizing you through touch alone.
When her fingers found the edge of your strapless dress, she slowed, glancing up with that look—the one that asked for permission without bothering to hide how badly she wanted it.
You nodded, too fast, too eager, heart racing in your chest like it might leap out. “Yes,” You breathed impatiently.
She bit her lip, a flash of her grills catching the dim light, then tugged the fabric down until your breasts spilled free—warm, heavy, and aching for her mouth.
You moaned when she cupped one, lifting it to her lips. Her mouth closed around your nipple, sucking hard and slow. Your back arched, and a cry slipped out before you could stop it. The way her tongue circled your sensitive bud, then flicked just slightly, had your toes curling as you kicked off your heels.
She moved to the other breast without a word, lavishing it with the same attention, like your body was her altar and she had no intention of leaving any part of it untouched.
“Panther… oh Panther, yes…”
Her lips curled into a grin around your skin, dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “You're so beautiful, laid out for me like this. Like you're ready to beg for more…”
“More…” You whimpered, fingers moving to your chest to toy with your nipples yourself, trying to mimic the way she touched you.
“My impatient girl.”
She began bunching your dress up around your waist, and you shifted, propping yourself up on your elbows to help. It rode high, pooling at your midsection, baring the curve of your thighs and your softness.
Shuri paused.
Smiling. Admiring. Like every inch of your body was a gift you’d bestowed upon her.
“You want to spread these pretty legs for me, Ntomb'am?” (my girl)
She pressed a kiss to your kneecap, sweet and soft, then another along your shin, trailing lower, her mouth a brand on your skin. The smooth glide of the car gave the moment a strange sense of privacy, like nothing else existed beyond these windows and your body beneath hers.
And then, you opened your legs. Revealing everything.
The slick between your thick thighs glistened unmistakably before her, showcasing just how drenched, how sticky, and how ready you were for her. You watched her eyes widen—pupils dilating, jaw slack. She inhaled like your scent was a drug and she’d just caught her first hit.
“Bast…” She whispered, her voice thick with awe and need. Her fingers gripped your knee like she was seeking something to hold onto, eyes glued to the wetness between your legs.
The car turned gently, the movement rocking you both as if the moment itself had a pulse.
And still, Shuri didn't blink. Her muddy eyes were glazed over, her body flexing, like she was ready to worship.
“I need to put my mouth on you,” Shuri grunted, lowering herself as she settled between your thighs, her voice rough with hunger. “Tell me I can.”
Your eyes rolled back automatically, pleasure already coursing through you at just the thought of what was coming. You sprawled out beneath her, back arching slightly, completely at her mercy. “Put your mouth on me, Panther,” You breathed, voice trembling.
She growled, the sound guttural as it rattled through the space between your bodies. The second you gave her permission, she sank lower without hesitation, face inches from your dripping cunt.
You felt her breath first.
A gentle exhale against your wet pussy lips, hot and humid, making your clit twitch under the sensation. Your hips bucked on instinct, chasing more before she’d even touched you. Shuri’s eyes flicked up briefly. They were limitless and blown wide. And then she reached out, sliding one finger through your soaked folds.
She groaned, like just touching you was enough to wreck her.
Her fingertip stroked your clit with practiced pressure, coaxing a moan straight out of your throat. The pleasure hit sharp and sudden, like your nerves had been waiting on it. Your body twitched beneath her, thighs tensing around her head, and she just smiled.
“I love how wet you get for me,” She murmured, all praise and possession. “I could drown in you without even trying.”
And then her tongue was nudging at your fat clit.
She was lapping through your slick like she couldn’t get enough. Her nose brushed your mound, lips parting as she groaned into your pussy like you were her salvation. You whimpered, fingers shooting down to grip her curls, needing something to hold as her tongue worked you open.
She licked everywhere—long, slow strokes that gathered every drop you gave her. Her desperation poured through every movement, every sound, like she was trying to memorize your taste with every lick.
Her mouth climbed back up, circling your throbbing clit. The motion was easy at first, then tighter, faster, making you squirm underneath her.
The pleasure hit in waves, rolling, and relentless. Your hips moved of their own accord, grinding up against her mouth, chasing the flick of her tongue like it was the single thing keeping you alive.
Warmth coiled in your belly, tightening with every wet, perfect pass of her tongue, until it felt like your body might break from how good it was. Your thighs quaked around her head as your hands tangled in her hair, holding her exactly where you needed her. You were moaning, barely coherent.
“Please, please, please,” You gasped out in prayer, like Shuri was the goddess Bast herself, and you were begging for absolution.
You cast your eyes down to where she lived between your thighs, and the sight. Oh god. Shuri was devouring you like she needed it to breathe. Her mouth was messy and full, lips sealing over your clit as she sucked. Her tongue moved with purpose, alternating between soft circles and pointed, desperate flicks at your folds that made your breath hitch and your thighs clamp tighter.
“I know you're close, sthandwa, give it over to me.”
Her sweet praises, along with her greedy slurps at your pretty pussy were the driving forces behind your impending orgasm. Shuri was ravishing you with every stroke of her tongue, coaxing that climax nearer and nearer.
You barely registered the shift—the way her hand moved—until you felt the careful press of her finger slipping inside your tight hole. You cried out, hips bucking, as your velvety walls contracted instinctively around the intrusion. The fullness, the depth, the added pressure… it was all so much, and too perfect.
Shuri moaned into your cunt like your body was feeding her. “Your messes are always the prettiest.” She whispered under the weight of reverence. Her finger curled inside of you, assailing your most sensitive spot as you whimpered in pleasure. “Won’t you make me a mess on my tongue?”
Your eyes fluttered shut. Your back arched. You could feel your orgasm building. It was fast and explosive, ready to send a rocket straight through your bones.
Every nerve in your body locked onto the rhythm of her hand, the easy glide of her finger sliding in and out of your throbbing cunt, matched perfectly with her tongue circling your clit in tight patterns.
She was worshipping you, sweet praises spilling from her mouth between strokes.
“So sweet… so fucking perfect… and all mine.”
Your vision blurred. Your hand smacked against the tinted window, and your highs trembled around her shoulders.
Then, the tension snapped.
Your orgasm rippled through your insides, blinding and explosive. Pleasure barrelled into you at lightning speed, frying your nervous system, and you were left sobbing her name, your whole body jerking around her finger. Shuri fucked you through the aftershocks, never removing her mouth from your used clit.
She was smiling against your pussy, drunk on your cum, and still whispering into your folds like you were something holy. “That’s it, my perfect girl, give it all to me… So beautiful…”
You were still pulsing, breath uneven, when the heat between you shifted again. You needed more. You needed her. Your hands slid down to Shuri’s shoulders, fingers pulling her jacket off as you tugged her up from between your thighs. She rose leisurely, mouth and chin coated with your release, and the sight alone made your stomach dip. You didn’t care about the mess on the seat, the way your thighs stuck to the leather, or the passing cars outside the tinted window. You just wanted her close.
The moment her face was level with yours, you kissed her hard. Like you needed her to feel how wrecked she’d left you.
Your head tipped back, pressing into the cool glass of the window, and Shuri moaned into your mouth, the hungry sound causing your empty hole to pulse, needing desperately to be stuffed again. She began grinding against you, as if trying to let you know just how badly she needed you.
Your legs wrapped around her waist as you pulled her closer, tighter, until there was no space left between you.
She was panting into your mouth, practically whining, her hands shaking slightly as they fumbled against her pocket. You felt her shift. Then she pulled back, just barely, her lips brushing yours as she brought your panties back into view.
A wicked grin curled across her face as she dragged the soaked fabric along your pussy, teasing your sensitive skin with it, making you gasp and jolt in her arms.
“Panther…” You whined, biting your lip as your face scrunched up in pleasure.
Shuri lifted the delicate fabric, pressing it to her nose, and she inhaled deeply. “I cannot get enough of you.”
You giggled, breathless, flushed, still vibrating from your orgasm. And she grinned, eyes gleaming, wild with want.
Before either of you could say another word, the car gave a subtle ding, slowing to a stop in front of the glowing high-rise.
“You have arrived at your destination,” Griot informed coolly, the polite voice absurdly calm given what the backseat had just witnessed.
Shuri reached for the door, laughing slyly as she tucked your panties into her back pocket.“Come on,” She said, eyes blown with promise, “we’re not done.”
•••
The elevator doors slid shut behind you, and within seconds, Shuri had you pinned to the mirrored wall, mouths crashing together in a tangle of teeth and tongue. The ride up was far from silent, considering the sounds the two of you were making—ragged breathing, the wet, frantic noise of kissing, and the quiet clink of metal as your fingers fumbled for the buckle of her pants.
You had just begun to undo it when the elevator opened directly into her penthouse.
You both hurried out, hustling through the dark, barely able to keep your hands off each other. You tripped over a low step, bumped into a lamp, nearly knocked it over as you laughed breathlessly against her mouth.
Your hands fisted the front of her shirt, dragging your nails down hard enough for her to feel it through the expensive fabric. The gesture was a warning. A promise. And then, with a snarl caught in your throat, you ripped it open, your nails slicing through the material with a satisfying rippp!
Her chest heaved, black sports bra stretching across her toned, sweat-kissed abs, and your gaze devoured her. You didn’t wait. You didn’t ask. You shoved her—hard—onto the mattress, the impact bouncing through the frame as she hit the bed, a surprised breath catching in her throat.
Shuri barely had time to smirk before you were crawling on her, not a damn thing casual about the heat in her eyes as she watched you with her bottom lip tugged between her grills.
You dragged your tongue slowly down the length of her abs, feeling every dip and divot under your mouth. The taste of sweat, skin, her—flooded your senses, making your thighs clench automatically. Your fingers went back to her belt as you slid down lower, finishing what you’d started on the ride up here.
One strong tug and it clanged against the hardwood floor. And then you yanked her pants down, her boxers too, with them exposing her pretty, creamy pussy to the air.
You sat up to take her in.
There she was, just asking for you to take a taste. Her pussy was glistening, and you could see the need in her, the heat radiating from between her thighs.
When your eyes shot to her, you weren’t at all shocked by the sight that you found. Shuri was laying there with her arms tucked casually behind her head, pretending to be unbothered, but her jaw was twitching, her chest rising a little too fast, and her eyes were pitch black and locked on your salivating mouth.
“May I, Panther?” You asked sweetly, your words dripping with need.
She raised her brows. “Only if I get to taste you too.”
You blinked, caught by surprise, until her grin turned menacing, and you realized what she was asking.
“Come sit that needy little cunt on my face, sthandwa.”
A smile curled across your lips. You were delighted, and didn't need to be told twice.
You sat up, letting her shift further onto the bed, watching as she laid flat, arms still behind her head like she owned the moment. Once you’d fully peeled your dress off, and she was settled, you climbed on top, turned around, and hovered over her mouth, watching as some of your slick drizzled onto her awaiting tongue. Her breath brushed your folds as you positioned yourself above her. And then you slapped your fat pussy down onto her face.
Shuri groaned in satisfaction, bracing her arms around your thighs, and pulled you close. At the same time, you lowered your lips to her cunt, moaning out the moment her juices filled your mouth.
You didn't waste a second, not when she was so wet, and so ready. You spread her lips with your fingers, exposing her sensitive clit more so you could suck. Her flavor was still as addicting as the first time you had a hit. Sweet and sticky, exactly how you liked her. You licked her cunt with ferocity, allowing your tongue to glide in and out of her aching entrance.
Your entire face was soaked, and at the same time, Shuri was devouring you from behind.
Her tongue was everywhere, deep and forceful, rolling around your clit before plunging inside you without warning. All of her grunts and groans were swallowed up by your messy pussy, her hands gripping your legs as she pulled you down harder onto her mouth, grinding your cunt into her face like she wanted to drown in it. Her lips sealed around your jumping bud with a hungry slurp that made your hips stutter, your moans vibrating right into her center as you kept licking.
In this moment, the two of you were entirely consumed by greed.
You could tell Shuri was on the edge, so you sucked harder, feeling her thighs twitch as your tongue absorbed everything that she leaked for you. Her moans mixed with yours, the sounds bouncing off the walls of her penthouse bedroom, building a steady pace as bodies rocked, and mouths moved.
Shuri cursed as you lapped at her core, a string of words you didn't understand, and her hips began to stiffen against your face.
The strain was building, and that familiar tightness began to spread. You could feel it in your gut, a tension band winding so tight you thought you might come just from the sound of Shuri alone.
Beneath you, she was a force.
Her mouth kept drinking you in, tongue moving with vigor against your nub of sensitive nerves. She was clasping your perspiring thighs, fingers digging into your flesh as a means to both taste more of you, and steady her own spasming body.
You hadn't stopped either. You stayed locked onto her, lips wrapped around her slippery folds, as you teasingly dipped a finger inside of her. The more noise she made, the more it edged you closer. It was all so maddening, the way her hips jerked against your face, the way she breathed your name.
“Come for me, sthandwa,” Shuri growled against your pussy, her words muffled and wet, tongue circling your core with hard, punishing swirls. “Make a big, pretty mess all over my face.”
You were gasping, bracing yourself for your second orgasm to flood your mind and body, emitting only the sounds of somber, broken cries.
“Yes! Panther– I– Yesss…”
All of your bones rattled, as you came with a sharp shriek, legs trembling. Your hips bucked, but she held you down, kept licking, kept emptying your hole with her mouth, sucking until the orgasm tore you apart. You felt the cum trickling down your inner thighs, spilling right into her mouth, and she drank you in eagerly.
At the same time, you felt Shuri tense underneath you. Her breath caught, and her hips locked. She grunted in her chest as her first climax of the night slammed into her, almost knocking her lights out. You didn't let up on her though, because she hadn't extended the same courtesy to you. You sucked her through it, your own pussy getting wetter and wetter every time she twitched in your hold, making her take every unapologetic stroke she gave you.
Eventually, your muscles gave out, and your body shrugged against hers.
You couldn’t say the same for Shuri, though.
Your cheek had landed gracefully against her stomach, your breaths shaky, eyes barely open as you tried to make sense of reality. But, before you could fully recover, Shuri’s hands grabbed your waist and she flipped you onto your back, using no effort at all.
Your head hit the mattress, eyes wide as you blinked up at her, heart racing.
Shuri hovered above you, her toned body glistening with sweat. You watched her secure her strap into place, waiting for the member to materialize like you knew it would. Her lips were parted, swollen from kissing, and she ran her tongue lazily across them, catching every trace of you she hadn’t already swallowed. When the thick, girthy length settled near her pelvis, your stomach flipped.
“Are you finished?” She asked, almost like she was challenging you again. She stroked her dick idly, wrapping your panties—that you previously thought to be discarded—around her fist as she did. Her eyes fluttered shut for half a second, moaning at the sensation she was creating for herself. “Or can my needy girl go another round?”
You just smirked at her, your pussy pulsating between your legs as she tugged you closer to her by your ankle.
•••
You rose to your knees at the edge of the mattress, eyes fixed on the thick length strapped to Shuri’s hips. It curved slightly upward, sleek, and purple, and pulsing. The sight of it made your mouth water. You leaned in, kissed the tip once, then let your lips part, tongue tracing the underside with slow intention before taking her in deeper.
Shuri hissed through her teeth, her hands resting heavy on the back of your neck. “Fuck…”
You bobbed your head, slurping her dick in the sloppiest way, tongue swiveling around the tip as you eased her further down your throat. The silicone was warm to touch, and slightly textured, designed to mimic the real thing—but better. Shuri could feel it, all of it, every flick, every suck, every wet noise you made around her.
You pulled back, spit dribbling from your lips as you looked up at her through teary eyes.
Her head tipped back as her fingers tightened in your hair. “Shit… keep… going, just like th–”
But before she could finish the sentence, she let out a sharp gasp and jerked her hips back, dragging the strap out of your used throat with a loud, wet pop.
“Stop.” Her voice crackled slightly as she searched for the breath in her lungs. She looked at you through wild eyes, her pupils blown out with lust. “Lay down.”
She gripped your jaw, thumb brushing over your spit-slicked lips. “You know how I like you.”
Your heart kicked into overdrive, and you nodded, pushing yourself backwards with shaky legs, the weight of her gaze hammering into your chest. You laid down flat, spine arching as you positioned yourself exactly how you knew she wanted you: legs open, knees bent, arms above your head.
You were completely exposed for her, and your body ached for her hands and mouth, burning under their absence the longer she stood there, looming over you.
Shuri pressed her knee into the bed, climbing in after you, and settling between your legs like a puzzle piece. She ran a hand up your inner thigh, fingers wading through your drenched folds as her strap pressed hot and heavy against your entrance.
“Are you ready for me, sthandwa?” Her tone had dipped into something dangerous, rolling like thunder before the strike.
You were sooo fucking ready.
Shuri prodded at your clit with the tip of her strap, sliding the long member up and through your wetness, coating herself in your creamy release. She held your stare, her lips parting in sync with your own as she eased into you sweetly, bottoming out with the first thrust.
“Oh god–” You cried, your back arching off the bed as a wave of ecstasy washed through your system, coating every single one of your nerve endings.
She stretched you wide around her throbbing cock. It burned a little, but you reveled in the sting, and the entrancing sensation of being stuffed full. Her breath was hot and shaky against your skin, and you could feel the muscles in her back flex with restraint. She growled into your ear, sounding wrecked, as she leaned down to bury her face in the crook of your neck.
“Can I m-move?” She was sort of hoarse, voice gravelly and desperate.
She was barely holding it together, trembling inside your tight, dripping heat. It made your core clench around her just knowing she was this close to losing control. You smiled wickedly, turned on beyond belief by how undone she already was.
“Mhmm,” You whimpered, grazing your long nails languidly down her spine. “Take me, Panther.”
That was the only consent she needed as she pulled out for half a second, then rutted back into your depths with a guttural sigh. “Bast, you're so fucking tight, sthandwa.”
Her thrusts started out slower than you wanted, but you knew your Panther, and you knew this was just her warming you up. She was always gentle before she plundered your insides, giving you a false sense of security.
“You're stretching me so good with that big dick, Panther.”
Then, without warning, Shuri’s languid strokes turned rapid, unrelenting, and immobilizing. She was fucking you so deep, you felt her in your stomach, the pressure causing your eyes to roll back into your skull. Her thrusts were rhythmic, each slap of her skin against yours reverberating around her room. She kept her body flush to yours, nuzzling her head beneath your chin as she rocked into you.
Her mouth was right up against your ear when she growled, and you felt it more than you heard it. It was the most primal sound, rumbling out of her chest in the sexiest way. The sound shook you to your core.
Shuri wasn't just making love to you. She was claiming you—body, breath, and soul—staking her territory inside your cunt with every rigorous stroke.
“Mine,” She grunted between thrusts, her lips brushing a wet, open mouth kiss to your jaw. “You're mine, do you hear me?”
You couldn't speak, and you could barely think, the only thought bouncing around your brain being the desire to comply, to adhere to her every demand. Because yes, you were hers. You belonged to Shuri, wholeheartedly.
The way she filled you, the way she fucked you senseless was sensational. It birthed a sense of pride in your chest, knowing that you were the only one who witnessed this animalistic side of her, knowing that your pussy was the only thing to pull it out of her.
Your nails scraped down her back the deeper she tunneled, leaving angry, red marks in your wake, her supple skin splitting just enough to draw shallow lines of blood. And just as fast as they appeared, you watched in awe, as the scratches healed themselves, fading slowly beneath your fingertips like they were never there to begin with.
Her body practically purred with resilience, like it wanted to be torn apart and rebuilt just to keep going for you.
Shuri pushed up on her arms, sweat dripping down her temples, her biceps caging you in as her golden Panther necklace swung forward with every dive into your creamy walls, splashing your wetness.
This was your favorite part.
When she fixed her eyes on yours, their rich brown shade no longer recognizable. They were focused—ravenous as she plowed your pussy.
She was panting, snapping her hips forward with brutal force. “You like when I take what’s mine?”
“Yes, Panther,” You moaned, strangling the member she had buried inside you with your clenching hole. “Take this pussy, baby!”
Shuri’s mouth hovered a breath above yours, warm air kissing your already sizzling skin. “You feel how deep I am?”
“Ooh, fuck… Panther.” You twitched under her, your clit jumping as she pressed into you. “So deep…”
You moaned her name again and again, unable to hold back your broken whines. The way she controlled each of your breaths with her skillful thrusts was driving you closer and closer to the edge. You were clawing at her back, the sheets, practically anything you could get your hands on as she fucked you stupid, your doe eyes welling with euphoric tears.
Shuri pulled one of your hard nipples between her lips, nibbling on the bud, watching your face contort. All the while she drilled you still, stretching your messy pussy with her oversized length. She lifted your leg, throwing it over her shoulder in one swift motion so she could dig further, harder, faster, knocking into your g-spot like your wails were her prize for fucking you so well.
“T-Too deep,” You cried, struggling to bar her thrusts that just kept coming. “T-Too m-much.”
Shuri wasn't having it. “Move your hand.” She slapped your fingers away immediately, her voice turning stern. “I decide when it's too much. Now be the good girl I know that you are, and take me, yes?”
“Yes, P-Panther.”
She hadn't stopped. You didn't think she ever would, not that you'd wanted her to. You were too far gone to care, high in the clouds as you waited for the impending rush of pleasure to whisk you away. Your throat was raw from all the screaming, lips shining with spit—yours, hers—you didn't know. Didn't care.
You just wanted to come. And you would lay there, let her wreck you until she decided you'd earned your release. You wanted to please her, let her use your body however she saw fit, and then she–
…Pulled out? She pulled out. Sharp and sudden, the emptiness making you whine, your body trembling and aching from the sudden absence.
“Flip over,” Shuri growled as she stroked her slippery member in her fist. Then she spit on the head, lathering her saliva with your juices that already existed there.
You licked your lips, eyes transfixed by her actions, and you found yourself daydreaming, wanting to deep throat her dick once more, just so you could taste yourself all over her.
But Shuri snapped her finger, breaking your trance. “On your stomach. Ngoku.” (now.)
You obeyed immediately, heart pounding, heat flashing through your veins like fire. You turned over, sensitive nipples rubbing against the cool sheets, your ass arching up for her on command. The air hit your soaked cunt, and you whimpered from the exposure.
Fuck, you were so needy.
Behind you, you heard her moaning as she squeezed her strap, moving in closer to position herself back at your greedy entrance. Shuri slapped it against your ass once. Twice. Then she smoothed it through your folds, gliding into you moments later, and you screeched.
•••
“Take it, sthandwa…” Shuri grunted from behind you, dragging her strap in and out of your soaked, overstimulated cunt. “All of it, beautiful. That's it, doing s-so well.”
You couldn’t respond, not with words anyway. Your eyes were blown wide, unfocused, your hair tangled and damp against your cheeks. Drool pooled from the corner of your mouth, stringing down onto her pillow as your face pressed deeper into the plush cotton. The fabric stuck to your skin, warm and wet from spit and sweat, muffling your broken cries as Shuri rocked into you with relentless precision.
You were gone, floating somewhere between pain and pleasure, conscious thought long behind you. Each thrust shook through your entire body, your arms limp, your knees barely holding beneath you. Her strap had doubled in size sometime in the last ten minutes—a feature Shuri had conveniently forgotten to mention—and now it filled you past your limit. You were spent. Ruined—by the only person you would allow.
“Bast, you're squeezing me so good.” Her fingers were bruising as they indented your hips, and she pulled your ass back onto her cock again and again. The angle was brutal and perfect at the same time, hitting that buried bundle of nerves with each thrust like she’d mapped your body. “I’m so proud of you, I knew you could take me… no matter how big.”
You couldn't see, your vision blurred white at the edges. You could only feel. Every pulse of her strap, every time it twitched inside you. Every wet slap of her hips against your ass. And you could hear. You listened to the obscene, sopping wet sounds of Shuri fucking your cum right back into your heat with her oversized member.
You’d taken thick before. You knew girth. But this?
This was something otherworldly.
It hurt, but it felt too good for you to want her to stop. So you let her keep fucking you, stretching you wider as your creamy pussy swallowed every single inch of her dick.
“Keep fucking me like that, Panther,” You managed to breathe out. The words were muffled by the wet sheets underneath you, but you knew she'd heard you.
“Like this?”
“Yesssss… use my p-pussy. Fuck me… pleeease!”
“You know I love when you beg for me like that. Bast, look at you. You're so desperate for it, aren't you?”
You nodded against the pillows, “Mhmm! Slut me out, Panther.”
Your words excited her, and her thrusts picked up, becoming impossibly faster, like she was chasing something feral within herself. Your breasts jolted forward, as she continued her brutal rhythm, making your cunt cry for more. You were already trembling, already on the edge, and she knew it, that’s what made her more determined.
Your legs were jelly beneath you, shaking from effort, overstimulation twisting every nerve raw. You could feel her behind you, chest heaving, hot breath hitting your back in staccato bursts between every ragged moan. Shuri was a mess, whining and growling, saying your name like it was the only thing she could form.
The bed creaked beneath you both, loud and angry, screaming in protest with every movement. The headboard slammed repeatedly into the wall, the impact shaking the entire frame and leaving a growing dent in the drywall, but neither of you cared. Not even a little.
You reached up to grip the headboard, desperate for something to ground you, anything to relieve the pressure building in your depths, but it only amplified it. Your thighs quaked. Your breath hitched, and it felt like you were splitting in two around her throbbing dick.
“W-wait–” You cried out, though you didn’t even know if you meant it.
But Shuri didn't stop.
“Wait for what?” She panted, her words coated in lust. She punctuated her sentence with a long, deliberate stroke that made you sob into the pillow. “Surely you don’t want me to stop, sthandwa?”
Her hand slid around your hip, guiding you back onto her cock with even more force.
“You’re strong enough to take all of me, right?” She cooed, in that cruelly sweet tone that made your walls flutter around her. “You’ve been doing so, so good. I know you can adjust to my size. Do it for me, won’t you, pretty? Just… until I come.”
You couldn’t disobey her. Not when she spoke to you like that. Not when your body belonged to her this completely.
So you held on. You took it. You let her pound you with thrusts so punishing they made your eyes water as you choked on your bubbling spit. Your nerves were sparking. Your mind was unraveling. Your body was sore all over, clenching, pulsing, burning for relief, and when she bottomed out, you clenched around her involuntarily.
That sparked a flare inside her.
Behind you, you heard her choke on a moan as her rhythm faltered. “F-fuck… just like—oh, squeeze me just like that sthandwa, I’m going to–”
“Do it inside m-me, Panther,” You moaned, begging her to finish within you, needing to feel the warmth of her seed to send yourself over the edge.
And she did.
Shuri pumped one last forceful thrust back into you. Deep. Final. Filling. And she cried out your name, allowing her strap to spit her cum into your accepting hole. She held herself buried inside you as her orgasm swallowed her up, just rutting and twitching in pleasure.
The warmth of her cum drizzling into you catapulted you into your own climax, and it struck your system like lightning. Your vision was completely shattered as your cunt heaved around her, milking her through her bone rattling rapture.
The two of you were a chorus of moans, cries and gasps as your bodies succumbed to pure bliss. You were lost in it, riding it out together.
Even as the tension drained from your limbs, even as your breath slowed, Shuri kept moving inside of you, fucking you through it all the while, and you refused to stop her. Luckily, her movements were more tender now, all loving and docile.
She was worshipping your hole with her strap, making sure both sets of cum—hers and your own—stayed painted on your overused walls.
Finally, she stilled, chest pressed to your back, her lips brushing against your spine in a silent thank-you. She eased her cum-cover strap out of you, careful not to be too harsh, and you sighed at the emptiness.
“I–” She began to say something…
But was cut off by a loud CRACK!
The bed gave a final groan and then collapsed, the legs buckling, the frame slamming into the floor with a heavy crash that knocked the wind out of both of you.
For a beat, there was silence.
But then, you couldn't hold your laughter any longer.
You both dissolved into it, tangled up in each other, surrounded by ruined sheets, splintered wood, and the wreckage of everything you’d just survived.
She rolled onto her side, breathless, but still smiling. “This bed was made of pure Vibranium, you know.”
“So?”
She chuckled beside you, shaking her head. “So… it was supposed to be indestructible. Clearly, I severely underestimated your strength, sthandwa.”
“Uh-uh, don't try to blame me,” You scolded, amusement guiding your words. “You was the one damn near throwing my soul through the wall just now, I don't know what you thought was gonna happen.”
Shuri just smirked, eyes twinkling up at you, “Totally worth it.”
