About me — I’m Ren! I’m 22, he/they, transmasc, queer and profiction
Currently writing for — Slashers + Horror characters
Characters — Ben Reilly, Ben Gates, Peter Loew, Johnny Blaze, Dracula, Ash Williams, Patrick Bateman, Hannibal Lecter, Hellboy, the Creature, Pinhead/the Hell Priest, Jason Voorhees & more
Other fandoms I’m in — MCU, DCU, Dune, Star Wars, Alien, Predator, Nosferatu (2024), Frankenstein (2025) and generally a lot of horror films
Rules — I won’t write for real people, female reader, female characters, scat or inflation kinks. That’s it!
Requests — I mostly write gender neutral reader with vague anatomy, but I’m happy to write for male reader, afab or amab reader! I’m a massive dead dove enjoyer, too, so I’m open to writing about most kinks! Just ask! My requests are open!
cw: established relationship, age gap, praise k!nk, k!nk discovery, dom/sub, penetrative sex (vague anatomy described for reader), creampie, creampie eating/come eating, brief mention of firearms
18+ minors dni
Despite his rough exterior and frequently rude attitude towards everyone and everything else, Ash is good to you.
He can be overprotective at times, buying you your first handgun, teaching you how to shoot it, insisting you carry it with you in case of an emergency.
You understand why, of course, though you have yet to run into a Deadite (knock on wood).
But, other than ensuring your physical safety at any given moment, Ash is caring in other ways.
Your relationship started as a simple hookup, so you’re well aware of his high libido long before you start seeing him seriously.
However, the moment he takes you to bed after that blessed first real date, he’s… different.
He takes you on your hands and knees, panting hotly against the nape of your neck, left hand gripping your waist, keeping you steady.
None of this is unfamiliar to you, of course, except for the lack of dirty talk. Instead of his usual dialogue, he’s murmuring praises against your overheated skin.
“So good for me,” he says between thrusts, his voice barely above a whisper.
And, gods, you’re weak for it.
“That’s it,” he sighs, feeling the way your body responds to the praise. “Just like that, baby… take it just like that.”
Your thighs start to tremble, and, mercifully, Ash releases your waist to help push you over the edge.
You swear you see stars.
“Come for me.” He mutters, working you through every last spasm until you’re spent.
He follows soon after, rolling his hips, groaning as he fills you as deeply as he possibly can. He peppers kisses along your shoulder blades as you go limp beneath him, pleasantly exhausted.
“You liked that, huh?” He says, teasing you softly.
You hide your face in the pillows for a beat, flustered.
Suddenly, Ash catches you off guard by pulling out unusually quickly. You can feel his come dripping out of you the moment you’re left empty, clenching around nothing.
You narrow your eyes at him over your shoulder in confusion, but he’s already tossing a pillow onto the floor by the bed and kneeling on it.
“Considering how often you pleasure me,” he begins, quickly adding, “as you should,” before he continues, “I figure I’d better start rewarding you for it.”
Before you can even form a coherent thought, his tongue works its way inside you, cleaning your gaping hole of his own come.
It’s disgusting. It’s not something you’ve ever even thought about. It is addictive.
He wrings another orgasm from you like this, your head buried in the pillows with his buried between your thighs.
Ash may be a selfish asshole to everyone else, but he is anything but selfish with you.
cw: dom/sub, established relationship, afab!reader (still gender neutral, no feminine terms used for reader!), masturbation, vibrators, punishment, oral/cunnilingus, overstimulation
18+ minors dni
It’s late when Johnny finally returns home, skin still flushed red and sizzling from his most recent transformation.
Tonight had been hell for him. A dozen guilty sinners dealt with, a narrow escape from the cops downtown, but now he’s finally home.
He hangs his leather jacket up by the door, kicking off his boots before something catches his attention.
A noise.
A low, distant buzzing.
He rolls his tongue over his teeth in a mixture of satisfaction and disappointment, his jaw clenching.
He has just one rule for you to follow; don’t touch yourself when he isn’t home.
And yet, your bold decision to disobey him has come at the perfect time. The spirit of the rider still isn’t quite satisfied, bubbling up beneath the surface, itching to enact another punishment.
He walks through his apartment, finding you just as he’d expected to, with a white wand vibrator stuffed between your legs.
Wordlessly, he unbuckles his belt, pulling it free of his jeans and dropping it on the ground. The resounding thud finally catches your attention, your head whipping up to meet his expectant gaze.
“What did I say?” He says, keeping his voice carefully low.
You stammer, flustered, fumbling with the vibrator until you find the off button. The glow of the lamp resting on his nightstand illuminates your inner thighs, glistening in a way that lets him know you’ve been at this for a while now.
“What did I say?” He repeats.
“Not to touch myself.” You answer.
He nods.
“And what did you do?”
You stare down at yourself, legs still trembling and parted, avoiding his eyes.
“I touched myself.” You answer, quieter this time.
“How many times?”
Timid now, you begin to close your legs, but a rough, warm palm keeps them spread open.
“Don’t get shy on me now.” He growls. “How many times did you come before I got home?”
You blink up at him for a beat, unsure what your punishment will be if you answer honestly.
“Once.” You answer.
He raises an eyebrow, taking a moment to assess your naked body again. His thumbs part your folds, inspecting the wetness still dribbling out of you.
“I don’t think that’s true.” He says, already sounding a little out of breath. “I think you’ve come at least twice by now. Is that right?”
Chewing your lip now, unable to lie to him again, you nod.
“You know you shouldn’t lie to me, baby.” He sighs. “I’m gonna have to punish you for that.”
You nod again, slower this time.
You trust him to know what you’ll enjoy tonight. He always seems to know what you want better than you know yourself.
You resign yourself to your fate.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
“Coming…!” You nearly choke on the word as your body betrays you yet again, toes curling into the bedsheets.
You’ve been at Johnny’s mercy for at least an hour by now, but it feels like it’s been an eternity.
His mouth works you through your fifth orgasm of the night, suckling at your aching, swollen bud past the point of overstimulation.
His thick, ringed fingers stroke your hips and thighs as he works his tongue inside you, soothing your coltish movements.
The wet smack of his mouth fills the room, his nose bumping against your pelvis before he starts to nuzzle.
He knows your body too well, knows just how to work you right back up to the edge again without lifting a single finger.
And, as you tug at his short, dark hair, pride swells in his chest.
One more, he thinks. And, like the precious thing you are, you give it to him with a scream.
I made this in the span of thirty minutes with Alice In Chains blasting my ears
———-///————
“Can you become the Rider while you’re fucking me?”
Johnny choked on his swallow of beer, the amber liquid dripping from his nose as he coughed, sharp blue eyes rocketing to meet my humored, feigned innocence. An odd question to ask him out of nowhere, especially while we were sitting comfortably outside of our favorite bar on a warm evening. But it was a question that had been swirling around in my sea of thoughts since I’d met him.
He sat his beer down, wiping a hand over his face as he collected himself.
“Er…no, I uh…I don’t think so. I don’t know. I don’t think I want to find out.” He muttered, staring off into nothing as a few shady guys came out of the bar, stumbling and jovial after a drink too many. I watched his eyes settle on them, his jaw ticked with a familiar restraint.
“We need to go.” He grit through his teeth, steam puffing from his lips despite the humid air. I didn’t think twice, following him to his motorcycle and settling in behind him as he revved the engine. I could feel his shoulders tensing under his leather jacket, he was fighting that urge to let him out. I laid my head on his back, listening to his thunderous heartbeat as he tore out of the parking lot.
————/////———-
A few nights later my question got an answer.
Johnny had stopped by my apartment, eyes wild and savaged. Yanked me back into my living room and let himself in. Practically drug me to my room and threw me on my bed…
He grunted, thrusting with deep, quick snaps of his hips as he swallowed my moans with kisses. His left hand had my wrists pinned up above my head, calloused fingers burning my skin as his other hand slid between us.
“God…we needed this so bad, sweetheart…” He growled softly, his breath ragged as he buried his face against my throat.
“…We?” I murmured, brows furrowed as I weakly opened my eyes. He raised his head, eyes glowing with a familiar orange. In a split second, his face gave way to the other half of him. I squinted, gasping as a different kind of heat filled my stomach. The Rider tilted his head, hollow eyes picking me apart.
His touch was hot, not enough to burn me. I was too high in ecstasy to care or question. The burning skull got closer, flames licking at my skin. His jaw opened, a monstrous rasp escaping as he thrusted, almost as if to experiment what he could do with me. I moaned weakly, breathing in the hot air that surrounded me. He thrusted again, harder. Then faster, deeper. I arched my back into him, feeling the heat lick my inner walls. I cried out, finishing with my legs around him and my fingers digging into his jacket.
“…Nice job,” I heard Johnny murmur against my skin.
He slid away from me, hand releasing my wrists as he lowered his head between my legs.
Despite the slight burning from the Rider, I felt fine. Fine enough to feel Johnny’s nose brush my heat and send me into another spiral that left me clutching his hair as I cried out for him.
———-////——-
“So what was that all about?” I asked him as I ran my fingers through his hair, his head now on my chest as we were tangled in my blankets.
“…I just. Had this need to find you.”
“What like you missed me?”
“It wasn’t me, honey…” he murmured.
I stilled. Then realization flooded my face as my stomach twisted with a new kind of heat.
This could not be a one time thing. I’d make sure of it.
This song and dance is so familiar to Peter, he’s almost grown bored of it.
He finds a pretty thing at the bar, picks them up, takes them back to his apartment and has his way with them. He gives them the cold shoulder in the morning and doesn’t call them back. Rinse and repeat!
You should be no different.
He jokes with you at the bar, orders you a drink or two, resting a hand on your lower back as he walks you the two blocks back to his apartment.
It’s all so familiar by this point, so easy, he doesn’t think twice before you’re both undressing.
He works his tongue into your mouth, licking over your teeth, your gums, your palate, until you’re both breathless.
But, as you part, your hands pull at his undershirt, coaxing him into removing the fabric until you can explore his bare chest freely.
Then, the world seems to spin.
He’s too drunk to resist when you push him back onto the bed, an ugly snort escaping him in almost delirious surprise.
No one’s ever done that to him before.
You follow him down, climbing between his legs and pinning him to the mattress when he attempts to rise. He blinks up at you, brow furrowed despite the smile still spread across his face.
And, with one hand still holding him down, your mouth finds the side of his neck.
You peck at first, chaste and sweet. Then, you lips purse and you find suction, branding him with a faint hickey, then a deeper one, and more down his throat.
He’s panting beneath you in the span of just a few minutes, muscles tense as he struggles not to writhe.
So, with him blissfully distracted, you take the opportunity to sink your teeth into his flushed skin.
The second you do, he panics, startled, hands fisting into the bedsheets. But once you release him to bite down again a little lower, he moans.
His hips roll up against your own, his hand spanning the nape of your neck to hold you close as he submits to your ministrations.
“Yes,” he whispers. “Yes, yes, yes…”
You cover nearly every inch of his neck in bites, kisses and bruises, tongue laving over your masterpiece.
He whimpers when your dull teeth find his collarbone, head tossed back as he finds his release, still utterly untouched.
You pull back, holding eye contact with him while he catches his breath, looking winded and confused.
Not allowing him a moment of respite, you palm at him through his boxers, the damp, sticky fabric clinging to his overheated skin.
“Please,” he begs, eyes falling shut again, shaking his head from side to side. “Oh, god, please.”
But his body betrays him, refusing to soften just yet.
By the time you’re finished with him, his ego is as bruised as his neck, leaving you to comfort him with sweet nothings until he falls asleep.
And, despite how much as he hates himself for indulging in something so emasculating, he makes you coffee the morning after.
Who knows? After this, he might even call you back.
cw: college professor/student, implied age gap, dom/sub, semi-public sex, praise k!nk, objectification k!nk
18+ minors dni
Ben knows that, as a college professor, the worst thing he could possibly do is to fool around with one of his students.
And yet, you make it impossible to resist.
It starts small, at first. Your grades slip, you need extra help, so you naturally start meeting with him after class. All business as usual.
But that quickly progresses to you bringing him food during your free periods, then talking with him about things other than history, asking him about himself in a way that feels less than professional.
And the worst part is that he can’t say no to you, because he’s already in too deep.
The look on your face when he explains something to you, when you start making sense of his teachings, is like reverence.
You make him feel wanted. Needed, even. It’s intoxicating.
And the fact you’re cute is an added bonus!
So his hands start to linger when he’s tutoring you one-on-one, leaning in just a little too close and keeping his voice lower than necessary.
He expects you to pull back at least a little, to consider that what you’re both doing is wrong, but you never do.
Even when he traces soothing patterns into your thighs with his thick fingers, you don’t say a word.
Well, save for “please.”
He loves how well behaved you are so early on, cooing at you while he sits you on his lap right there in the empty lecture hall.
The way you light up when he praises you… he can’t get enough.
You take it like you were made for it, such a perfect little thing for him to use when the stress of work grows too much.
Out of all the artefacts and knickknacks he’s collected over the years, you are undoubtedly his favourite desk decor.
cw: daddy k!nk, k!nk exploration/discovery, age gap, Ben’s chronic back pain, penetrative sex (vague anatomy described for reader, as always!), creampie
18+ minors dni
The first time he heard the word leave your lips was, expectedly, in reference to your own father. Daddy issues and all that, he supposed.
It hadn’t been a serious conversation, just a vague chat about your family life in the early days of you being a couple.
And yet, for reasons he can never fully understand, the next time he hears you say it is when he is inside you.
“Daddy,” you sigh, and the way the word escapes you mid-pleasure sounds so natural he almost misses it entirely.
He slows to a stop, wide eyed above you, warmth rising to his cheeks. A confusing cocktail of emotions bubble up inside him as he wordlessly watches you stiffen in shock.
Then, the shame takes ahold of you.
It had been a slip of the tongue, of course. An accident.
… right?
You shrivel up, mortified, hiding your face in your hands to escape his gaze. Ordinarily he would find this cute, but you seem sincerely embarrassed in a way he’s never seen before.
“Hey, don’t do that,” he says softly, prying your hands away from your face with a gentle grip. “It’s alright. I don’t mind.”
You blink at him owlishly, expecting him to make a joke to lighten the mood, but he doesn’t. He looks a little winded himself, even.
Is it possible that, somehow, you might both share this taboo desire…?
“I shouldn’t be calling you daddy,” you breathe, struggling to speak. “I mean, you are old enough to be my father. I shouldn’t say it.”
But your words do something unexpected to Ben. Instead of the timid response you’ve grown used to every time you mention your age gap, he sucks in a sharp breath. He throbs inside you.
All sense of self control leaves your body just like that.
He scans your expression before he starts to roll his hips again, thrusting deeply. He can feel you quiver around him in response, the tension in the room thickening.
“Say it again,” he says, knowing he won’t be able to last much longer.
You chew your lip, legs curling around his waist to keep him close, holding eye contact with him as you speak.
“Daddy,” you whisper, and that’s all it takes.
He curses under his breath above you, resting his forehead against your own as he empties himself inside you completely.
Gradually, his curses turn into praise, his heavy body pinning you to the mattress. You run a hand up and down his back knowingly, already thinking about the massage you’ll give him in a few minutes time.
He kisses your cheek warmly before you turn your head, pressing your lips to his.
“Should I call you daddy more often, then?” You tease as you part, warming his length even as it softens, feeling utterly whole like this.
“Please, Doll,” he begs, chuckling breathlessly. “I don’t think my heart could take it.”
I have more drafts I’m working on currently, but finding time to juggle my fanfic drafts and my Tumblr drafts has been hard lately. Plus I want to branch out and write for some other characters soon 👀
Begging and frothing at the mouth for a spider noir X male/gn reader fic where spider saves reader from a dangerous situation (that the spider very much told them not to get involved in) and reader being brat tamed PLEASE and thank you 🙂↕️
tamed
Ben Reilly/gn!reader
cw: established relationship, secret identity unrevealed, dom/sub, brat taming, punishments, spanking, fingering (reader’s anatomy is very vague, as always)
18+ minors dni
He really, really wishes you would just listen to him
Ben had been worried, his eyes obscured by the white lenses of his mask, when he saw you, his partner, in the crowd.
Mobsters had robbed a bank on the same street you happen to work, his fear of losing you distracting him from the fight at hand.
And yet, despite his warnings to the entire crowd to stay back, there you are interfering, antagonising one of the mobsters and just narrowly avoiding being beat to death before he swoops in. He nearly has a heart attack mid-fight.
Once the criminals are tied up and left for the cops to find, he wordlessly lifts you into his arms and carries you away from the scene, swinging you to a nearby rooftop as you scream and curse.
Ahh, right. Most people are not a fan of heights. Somehow, he always manages to forget that.
As he settles you down, he steadies you, his worry and frustration bubbling up and steadily building to their boiling point until, suddenly, he just can’t hold back any longer.
“You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” He reprimands, his voice purposefully low. “What were you thinking?”
You blink at him owlishly, feeling like a scolded child. From your perspective, a masked man you don’t know is shouting at you like you’re his loved one.
“Do I know you…?” You ask naturally, still taken aback.
He stops mid-tirade, his gloved hands pausing midair in a failed gesture of emphasis. You can see the cogs turning in his head.
“No.” He answers, panicked before he reaches out to cup your jaw, petting the scrape you received from hitting the concrete when he yanked you to safety. “I just hate to see a pretty thing like you hurt for no good reason.”
Having been momentarily softened by his touch, you regain your senses, narrowing your eyes at him.
“I’m a grown adult. I can handle myself.” You bite back, pulling away from his oddly soothing hands.
Despite being unable to see his eyes through his thick lenses, a shiver travels up the length of your spine, feeling his wandering gaze burning into your skin.
“Is that so?” He drawls, back straightening as he appears to inspect you from head to toe.
“Yes.” You answer quickly, defensively as he begins to circle you like a vulture.
“And you aren’t even going to thank me for saving your life…?” He continues expectantly.
You frown at the thought, recognising the truth in his words. Stubbornly, you ignore his point.
“Why should I?” You shrug, watching as he steps behind you.
The clouded grey sky overhead suddenly feels suffocating, like you’ve been tossed under a giant blanket, struggling to breathe but still impossibly comfortable. The chill air burns your lungs as you inhale deeply, exhaling as your tongue goes dry.
“Maybe I oughta force an apology out of you, then.” He prompts, giving the control over to you despite the palpable hunger behind his words.
Any rational person would take the out; play it off like a joke, demand to be returned to the city street below and get back to your average day of work before anyone notices you’re missing.
You swallow thickly.
You are not a rational person.
“Make me.” The words leave you like a sigh, feeling so right despite the claustrophobic atmosphere, despite the possible danger ahead.
The Spider’s hands are on your waist before you even see him move, and all at once your world is tipped on its side.
He takes a seat on the edge of the roof, wordlessly tugging fabric down your legs until your backside is bare, manoeuvring you like an object as he bends you over his knee.
He can’t believe he’s really doing this. Even as plain old Ben, he’s never done this with you, never hurt you. But, darn it, he wants to.
He couldn’t stop himself now even if he tried.
Leather both dulls and amplifies the sting as he strikes you, making contact with your trembling flesh as you bite your own knuckles to remain quiet.
He winds his hand back and hits again, and again, and again until strings of drool coat your chin and your own hand.
You make muffled noises of pleasure as his spanking is interspersed with curious, ungloved fingers dipping into you, then out, then back in again.
He fills you with two thick digits, curling until you see stars, sobbing freely as he lands another painful strike on your abused backside.
“Apologise.” He grunts, his voice thickened with desire.
You writhe on his lap, hot tears slipping down your cheeks as you press back against his hand for more.
“M’sorry.” You mumble pathetically, your voice quiet and wet. “Thank… thank you for saving me…”
And, for the first time since he was a teenager, Ben nearly comes in his pants. He resists the urge to, but only just barely.
Refocusing on you, he works the pads of his fingers into that spongey spot inside you until you can hardly breathe.
“So good for me.” He mutters proudly, his wrist aching now, continuing to plunge his digits into you as your toes curl in your shoes. “Come.” He orders softly. “You’ve earned it.”
And you obey, making a filthy mess of his trousers as you grind yourself against his thigh like a bad dog.
By the time he slides his fingers out of you, he knows he needs to do this with you again.
And, with the last ebbs of euphoria slackening your aching body, you’ve never felt less sorry in your life.
i'm LOVING these noir fics! i'm so happy my favorite spider is getting some recognition 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤
Tysm!!! I absolutely agree, I’m really glad he got his own show and that it turned out so well! I’m not a big comic book person, but his character was so alluring in Spider-Verse
I think in general we need more older superheroes in media, because a weathered old DILF will always be hot to me <3
Ben has always had an interest in photography, but now he’s gained a new muse; you.
It starts out innocently enough. He takes photos of you when you go out on dates, usually outside the movie theatre or when you go on a stroll through the park, always moments of domestic bliss.
You don’t mind. It’s romantic, even! He wants to memorise something as mundane as you drinking your morning coffee? What’s the harm!
But, gradually, he becomes fixated on using his camera, his focus squarely on your body from behind that sinful lense.
And, during sex, you notice that familiar glint in his eye that alerts you to exactly what he’s thinking; ‘this would make for a good picture.’
You both hate and love that you wind up indulging this fantasy of his.
He snaps pictures of you while you’re still breathless, laying there on the bed, the sheets tousled around you after hours of fun.
You shoot him an unimpressed look when the flash pulls you out of your post-orgasmic haze, but he looks reinvigorated in a way you’ve never seen before.
He instructs you as he steps around the bed, searching for just the right angle as he reaches out with a free hand, moving your bare leg an inch to the left.
And, just as quickly as you were annoyed, you begin to understand the appeal of it all.
Using the same tender touch he used to pleasure you just moments ago, he guides your body into different poses, silent one minute and praising you the next.
“There we go.” He mutters, speaking to himself as though you aren’t even there. “So pretty.”
It’s all far more erotic than you were expecting, being treated more like a decoration than a human being.
“That’s it, doll. Look up at me, just like that…” He trails off as he snaps another photo, finally noticing how pliant you’re being, how worked up he’s gotten you.
ur doing gods work with these spider-noir fics. truly. beautiful work !!
Aww tysm!!! I’m glad people are liking them! Making this account was a way for me to continue writing during a block I’ve been having, and all this support has given me a lot more motivation
These Noir drabbles have been completely self-indulgent, so I’m super happy to see other people getting enjoyment from my writing ^^
cw: established relationship, age gap, bondage, k!nk exploration, bottom!reader (anatomy not described), coming inside
18+ minors dni
Ben knows you have a… thing about his powers.
You’ve expressed your attraction towards the Spider plenty of times before, but that’s not what he’s lingering on. No, he knows you have some kind of sick fascination with his webs.
Whenever you hold hands, your thumb travels up his inner wrist to tease at the hole where his web fluid secretes, tempting him to act.
And, late one night, the Spider safety tucked away in the briefcase under the bed you’re both currently getting heated on, he decides now is as good a time as ever.
With a sudden movement, he pins your wrists above your head, taking a moment to admire your stunned expression, noting your blown pupils before he shoots out dark grey web, pinning your hands to the headboard.
Expectedly, you love it. Though, he didn’t quite anticipate the begging that follows.
“Please, please, please.” You gasp, your lower half writhing, legs curling around his waist.
And what kind of man would he be if he denied his lover when they’re in need…?
He doesn’t even bother undressing, just unbuckles his belt and pulls his length out of his trousers, stripping you down as you remain helpless beneath him.
His usual slow, sensual pace is abandoned in favour of something deeper, more worshipful, like he’s trying to carve into you and make a home for himself there, your bodies meeting with a dull thud.
Your sweet noises drive him crazy, leaving him too flushed to even look at you, his eyes trained on the slope of your collarbones. He feels like a teenager again, somehow. If he doesn’t try to distract himself, he’ll come undone.
But your back curves into such a pretty arch, and you feel so good wrapped around him, and you’re behaving more wantonly than he’s ever seen you before.
So, when you curse under your breath and warn him that you’re getting close, he slows his pace right down and focuses all his attention on your pleasure first.
Surrendering to the feeling, he holds eye contact with you as he works you over the edge, watching as ecstasy morphs your features into something truly beautiful, all for him.
As he anticipated, it barely takes him another roll of his hips before he’s following your lead, coming undone as he slumps forward, spilling deep inside you.
You chase his lips as he pants, kissing him with more tenderness than he knows how to handle. The moment is simultaneously picture perfect and far from it, the scent of sex lingering in the air, sweat glistening on flushed skin.
He pulls at the web coating your wrists, freeing you before you reach up to lazily loop your arms around his shoulders.
“I think you liked that as much as I did.” You murmur, affectionately teasing him as you rest your foreheads together.
He nods solemnly in agreement, his heart still beating like a drum in his chest.
“We might have a problem on our hands.” He chuckles wryly, though the glint in his eye tells you he means it.
This is far from the last time your wrists will be bound.
Ben doesn’t usually have company on nights like this, glued to his familiar seat at the bar, talking about everything and nothing all at once to anyone who will listen.
But tonight, he had the bad idea of picking up a pretty young thing; you.
He drinks as he rambles on and on about his latest case, pausing to flick the ash from his cigarette into the half-full dish on the hardwood countertop.
A ghostly white plume of smoke escapes him as he exhales, licking his lips before he takes another hit, the scent suffocating and yet so enticing.
He knows how he must look right now. In his fifties, the hard lines of his face darkened by the bright lights overhead, someone so much younger than him clinging to his arm like a needy thing.
And yet, he can’t get enough of it.
You’re pressed against his side, head on his shoulder, your gaze never leaving him as you study his profile. He isn’t used to the attention, struggling not to fluster.
He takes another sip of his bourbon, hoping for some liquid courage, before his heavy-lidded gaze settles on you.
“Want a smoke?” He asks, simply to have something to say, speaking more casually than he feels.
You nod, lifting your head as he takes another drag, his hand curling around the nape of your neck to hold you still as he blows smoke into your open mouth.
It’s horribly intimate, especially in public, but neither of you find it in your hearts to care.
Instead, as you savour his secondhand smoke, you press your lips to the shell of his ear, whispering to him as you rest a hand on his thigh.
He listens, barely stifling a groan as you tell him every single thing you’re planning to do to him the moment you leave the bar together.
cw: power imbalance, boss/employee, fingering (reader receiving)
18+ minors dni
Being Ben Reilly’s assistant has proven more rewarding than you ever anticipated.
Your usual routine of fetching him coffee or whiskey, scheduling in clients and helping on the odd case when Janet and Robbie’s hands are full, has shifted.
Now, whenever the work load becomes too much for him, he calls you into his office and you do whatever he asks of you.
More often than not, that’s limited to sitting on his lap, kissing his neck and keeping him company while he drinks or smokes.
That by itself is inappropriate for an employee and their boss to be doing during work hours, but you’ve done more than just that.
On occasion, his hands will roam along your thighs, groping, slipping under the fabric to work his fingers inside you. He never says much when he gets in this mood, too focused on the feeling of you, on the muffled noises you make, his own breathing heavy as he licks the shell of your ear.
The few times he has spoken to you when he’s pleasuring you, he never fails to say one thing;
“So good for me, doll.”
Ben is such a lonely man, so touch-starved, constantly drowning himself in liquor to ease the ache in his heart. But, when you’re sat on his lap, letting him trace soothing shapes onto your warm skin, you know he’s satisfied.
