About me — I’m Ren, 22, he/they, transmasc, queer and profiction
Fandoms — MCU, DCU, ATSV, Demon Slayer, Deadpool, Frankenstein (2025), Nosferatu (2024), Star Wars, Dune & more
Characters — Ben Reilly, Peter Parker, Wade Wilson, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Frankenstein’s Creature, Count Orlok, Darth Vader, Anakin Skywalker, Paul Atreides & more
Requests — I won’t write for real people, female reader, female characters, scat or inflation kinks. All other kinks, characters or ideas are welcome and my requests are open!
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.
