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#mysterio x reader

(I write for many different fandoms and I have a masterlist for *some of* my Venom fics.  I know some people have asked me for one before, so I’ll make one now.  :) )


Venom|Eddie Brock


~SFW Fics~

The Monster [Part 1]

Friendzone Bullshit

Remember Me [Part 1] / Remember Me [Part 2] / Remember Me [Part 3] / Remember Me [Part 4] / Remember Me [Part 6]

Bunking Buddies [Part 1] / Bunking Buddies [Part 2] / Bunking Buddies [Part 3] / Bunking Buddies [Part 4]

Lucid Dreams

Stolen Dance





~NSFW Fics~

Home for the Night


Knight in Black Armor 

Remember Me [Part 5]

Fuck Me Up

The V Card


There’s Another

Venom Sees a Rainbow for the First Time

Venom|Eddie Save the Reader from an Attempted Suicide

Venom|Eddie React to Reader Being Catcalled

Venom|Eddie with a Reader who Always Steals the Covers


Arthur Fleck|Joker


~SFW Fics~



~NSFW Fics~

Date Night

Self Care








Quentin Beck|Mysterio


~SFW Fics~

Deception [Part 1]

~NSFW Fics~

Same Thing


//I know I have wrote many other things, but I am not including them because I hate them.  i.e. Pennywise and Bill Skarsgard fics.  They just make me angry to look back on so if you wanna read them bad enough you can look through my account//

I would like to thank my almost 4k followers for inspiring me everyday to continue writing.  It has been a passion of mine for years and I am so thankful for all the love and support.  All of you mean the world to me.  Thank you all so so much for everything.  I always have my inbox open no matter what so feel free to stop by any time.  (I have over 100 things in there right now so if I don’t respond right away that is why.  I also have 20 things in my drafts that I am currently writing.)  Thank you all so much for everything.  ~ <3

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((I hopped aboard the Mysterio thirst train a long time ago, but now that I finally saw FFH I feel I have the right to write these now.  Be warned that there are minor spoilers included, but I don’t think these spoilers should be news to anyone.  However, if you have no clue who Mysterio is, then you might wanna stay away from this post.))

  1. Getting him to tickle you is going to be quite the task.  Tickling isn’t his go-to if you’re being annoying or something like that, and sometimes tickling him first won’t even trigger his inner ler.  I would say ask for it but THAT might not even work.  It’s a matter of catching him in the right mood and hoping your efforts don’t backfire because you could very easily get hurt trying to get the tickles.  It’s okay, bro.  You’ll get there.
  2. Congrats!  You got him to tickle you!  Quentin has the b e s t ler look one could ever see: his eyebrows raise (one slightly more than the other), the corners of his mouth turn up, and he gets the evilest glint in his eyes. He’ll then stare at you for what seems like forever before winking and clicking his tongue.  You can try running, but you won’t get very far.  He’s an illusionist, what do you expect him to do~?
  3. Quentin could very easily get his hands on you in less than a minute, but he actually loves the thrill of the chase.  He’ll drag it out for as long as possible just to fuck with you because he gets a kick out of your reactions. You’ll see holograms of him, run in circles without even knowing it, and if he’s in a particularly wild mood then hands will emerge from the wall to grab at your sides and knees.  That’s not even the worst part about playing cat-and-mouse with him.  No…it’s the way he taunts you.  Expect to hear things like “I see youuuuu~”, “You’re so powerless, y/n!  What must I do to convince you that I’m in control here~?”, and “You know, I can tell when I’m getting close to you.  You’re so ticklish, it makes my skin tingle.”
  4. If you haven’t guessed it already then I’m here to tell you: he’s BIG INTO ANTICIPATION.  He keeps a firm hold on your body with one arm and lightly drags his fingers along the front of your torso, just enough to get you squirming and possibly giggling.  His lips will be pressed to your ear and he’ll be whispering the meanest things about how sensitive you are because he’s a little shit.
  5. His evil signature trick is constantly switching between gentle soft tickles to devastating torture tickles at random patterns that you can’t predict. You might find yourself blushing and giggling from 45 seconds of scritches between your ribs, and then screaming and laughing from five minutes of rapid-fire squeezing up and down your sides.  His teases will also accompany his tickles and he’ll raise his voice when he has to because he was a theater kid and you can’t tell me otherwise.
  6. “What?  Is this not what you wanted?  Come ooooonnnnn, you had to have at least considered that me tickling you senseless was a possible consequence~”  He’s dramatic as we all know, so he won’t be shutting up anytime soon.  He doesn’t baby talk or anything while teasing, though.  It’s more just constant remarks and observations that will leave you just as flustered as basic tickle teases. But one thing you will be hearing from him a lot is… “Uh oh, did I find a new tickle spot?!”
  7. When he stops switching from gentle to rough and stays at rough, it’s a whole different story.  This is the part where he’ll murmur “tickle tickle tickle~” into your neck, knowing damn well that his beard is a tickle tool. Your knees will go to jelly and he’ll use that to his advantage to take you to the floor.  You end up face down, but his hand is pressed between your tummy and the floor to do nothing but prod and claw, and his other hand will be pinching one of your thighs.  If you happen to glance up, you’ll see him biting his lip excitedly since nothing beats tickling more than one spot at once!
  8. Yall knew this was coming…raspberries.  The power move that all men with facial hair shouldn’t be allowed to do.  The power move that gets us lees crying for mercy within minutes.  Scroll up and take another look at Quentin’s beard if you haven’t already.  That man will latch his mouth into the crook of your neck, over your ribs, into your waist, onto your stomach, on your back, and maybe on your thigh.  Anywhere that’s available for tickles that his hands can’t get is in danger.  Some may argue that this doesn’t seem like something he would do, but think about it.  Quentin is dramatic and wants to be in control at all times.  If he notices that raspberries make his victim weaker than the WiFi signal on a Samsung, then he will raspberry the FUCK out of you and shout taunts at you while doing so.  “God, I just hit the jackpot!  Look at you!”
  9. Don’t think he forgot about your feet because he absolutely did not.  He’ll let your torso go completely and wrap his arm around your ankles, holding your poor feet captive until he’s done.  His fingers will scratch, scribble, and spider along every inch of your soles.  His eyes will gravitate to your face every now and then, especially when he thinks he isn’t tickling you that hard.  How can someone’s feet be so ticklish?!  (Don’t fucking play, Quentin, we all know YOUR feet are ticklish too…)
  10. Aftercare is not his thing so don’t expect him to be all warm and cuddly after he finally lets you go.  At the very most, he’ll stand you back up and ruffle your hair, but then he’ll go about his way like nothing happened.  He will actually think a lot about the session, though, more than he thought he would.  He considers wrecking you even harder one day, ways to get more creative, and possibly using this as torture during a fight.  Would restraining Peter Parker in a tickly illusion break him the way it broke you…?
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Peter Parker x Reader, Quentin Beck x Reader

Summary: Peter just wanted to enjoy his trip to Europe, maybe even confess his feelings to his best friends.But along came a mysterious new hero to ruin those plans. Peter and his class are aged up and in college.

Warnings: Violence in later chapters, manipulation, age gap

Word Count: 2418

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

They pulled up to their hotel in Prague, a vast improvement from the run-down one in Italy. It was the image of luxury, near to the city centre, built-in some historic-looking building. Two doormen opened the gold-framed doors. All the students looked around in awe at the huge marble room. A pianist played, gently adding to the high-class atmosphere.

“This is absolutely insane.” She said, admiring the detailed granite tiles.

“Speak for yourself, I’m home.” Flash said arrogantly.

Keep reading

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Cat and Mouse | Ch. 3

1 2


Pairing: Dark!Mysterio x Reader

Rating: 18+

Synopsis: You found out who Mysterio really is behind closed doors. You’ve learned how dangerous a man seeking revenge can be when you get in his way. He’s a predator, and you’re meant to be the prey. But maybe you don’t have to play his game.

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, swearing


You’ve never been a normal person. You work for S.H.I.E.L.D. of all fucking places. You attended your own gravesite. You watched your family mourn your death outside their living room window. You were snapped and your family didn’t believe it. So you don’t have a family anymore.

But you do know what normalcy can feel like, the comfort of the mundane. How good it felt the first time you went to the grocery store and bought the soda you liked because you could afford it, because you were living on your own. The spectacular boringness of waving to the mail carrier dropping off packages in your name.

Maybe what your normal is, isn’t normal for others. Meeting superheroes, doing the administrative work of calculating civilian deaths and infrastructure damage and wether or not avengers should be held criminally accountable. But you do it every day, and you get paid to do it. Just like your neighbor gets paid to run a radio show. You both are different but have a sense of what normal means to you.

And this? This is nowhere near fucking normal.

You’re sitting in an Italian restaurant, across the table from Quentin Beck. Not even an hour ago he was chasing you in a maze as foreplay. Yet here you are, the both of you.

“What are you thinking you want?” He asks, thumbing through the menu, “I’m thinking I want spaghetti.”

You look at him, bewildered. You don’t know what he’s playing at, if this is part of the game. He looks at you from over the top of laminate pages. “I’m going to order for you if you don’t pick something.”

“Why?” Is all you ask. You want to know about a million things. Why you? Why this? Why dinner? Why?

“Because I don’t like eating alone? What do you mean why?”

“Why am I here with you, Quentin?” You ask, quietly so as not to disturb the family near you celebrating their daughter’s birthday. “Why am I alive right now? Where do you get off on this?”

Before he can answer, a waiter in his twenties comes to the table.

“Hello, my name is Louis and I’ll be your server for tonight. What can I get you to drink?”

“Water, please.” You reply.

“I’ll have a Coke.” Quentin says. When Louis leaves to fetch the drinks, he answers you finally. “Killing is time consuming. I get bored of it. And I do actually like you, Y/N. ” Anger begins to slowly seethe inside you as he answers so nonchalantly.

Louis returns, placing your drinks on the table. You wonder if he wonders wether you two are together, or if he hears the tail ends of conversations and tries to put two and two together.

“Are you ready to order?” He asks. He turns to you, ladies first.

“We’ll both have the spaghetti, please.” You say to get him away, and once Louis writes it down he does just that. Quentin looks irked that you ordered for the both of you. But you don’t give him room to grumble about it.

“If you actually like me,” You say bitterly, the anger growing more intense, “Maybe try acting like it.”

“Do you really want to do this?” He asks. “What makes you think you have a say?” You reach a boiling point.

“I’m not doing this hot and cold, Quentin. You want a good girl? You want to earn my compliance? This is a two-way street. You wanna fuck the mean out of me? Learn to be fucking nice first.” He can only balk at you, and you know it’s because you’re in public. You lean forward and say lowly, “You’re a fraud and a murderer, Quentin. If the only kindness you can offer is when you’re pretending you’re a superhero then I may as well kill myself right now and save your drones the trouble.” A quiet shuffle gives you pause.

“Um…. your spaghettis, M’am.” Louis mumbles, realizing he interrupted something serious. You smile at him politely and thank him when he sets the plates down. You’ll remember to tip him a shit ton.

“I liked you, Quentin. At least, I liked who I thought you were. So maybe I’m stuck underneath you right now. But don’t think for one second that I’m okay with what you’ve done, or that I’ll ever forget about it. You’re a coward hiding in a chameleon’s skin. Fuck me all you want but I don’t go down that easily.”

“You’re just a man, Quentin Beck. Without your precious technology you’re just as naked as I am.” You stay your fork into the pasta and twirl a large bite for yourself. It feels good to insult him.

“Are you done?” Is all he asks. He’s visibly enraged, jaw clenched. Maybe others couldn’t pick it up as easily but you can see it plain as day. Good. It’s nice to get under his skin. You don’t care what it’s going to earn you later.

“For now.” You say, shoveling another bite into your mouth.

“You might be able to take me, Quentin Beck. But you’re never going to have me.”


What can I say? I feel like the reader, a SHIELD agent, would have a lot more flame than the average person. Keep an eye out for the next chapter, we’ll see how Quentin takes this.

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Cat and Mouse | Ch. 2



Pairing: Dark!Quentin Beck x Female Reader

Rating: 18+

Synopsis: You found out who Mysterio really is behind closed doors. You’re about to learn just how dangerous a man seeking revenge can be when you get in his way. He’s a predator on the hunt. And you’re the prey.

Warnings: explicit sex, unreality and use of illusions, restrained sex, dubcon, Dark!Mysterio, predator/prey sexual dynamics, (almost) choking,

It’s still dark all around you but you don’t stop running, not even to familiarize yourself with newest illusion. You just keep fucking running hoping to get some distance between you and Quentin Beck. You wonder if it’s pointless to try and hide, he can probably see you right now, waiting in the shadows for the perfect moment to pounce on you. You think you’re in the maze he showed in the display, but who knows anymore. Certainly not you. You’re turning endless corners, praying and hoping you don’t end up in a dead end. You can hear Quentin treading behind you, but you don’t know where or how far behind you he is.

It scares you to think he’s so capable of acting like a sweet and loving man and completely destroying your sense of reality moments later. You believed in Mysterio. In Quentin Beck. You cried when he retold the story of him losing his wife, his family. Of how powerless he felt to save them because of one unexpected final Elemental. You fucking cried of real sadness while he shed crocodile tears for a family that never existed in the first place.

It’s only been a few minutes but it feels like an eternity navigating this dumb fucking maze. You can’t see barely anything, let alone if you’re going the right way. So far you haven’t fucked up, and you take solace in that.

But then you hear it: multiple sets of footsteps. He’s using the illusion technology to find you. There could be dozens of Mysterios hunting you right now. You continue to navigate, listening hard for approaching steps as you run tiptoe. There are only two turns in the corridor you’re in and you pick the wrong one, falling into a body of water. What the hell even is this outside of the illusion? You swim around trying to find your way out and drink some along the way. It tastes clean, making you wonder if it’s a natural body of water or if it’s a pool of some sort. You realize the only way out is through the way you tumbled in and swim to it.

It’s hard to get to because of the depth of the water, but you manage to climb up into the maze again. You’re sopping wet, but hydrated and somewhat cleaner than before. Count your blessings, you suppose. Not a moment too soon are you so sure you’ve been punished for prematurely celebrating. It’s only seconds later when you feel him behind you.

“Found you.” Quentin says in a song-song tone, mere feet away. But just as he’s about to grab you, you dart into the other turn of the corridor, wet feet slapping against the ground. He’s close behind you, not quite running but not quite walking either. “I love a good chase!” He yells, with just a hint of exertion behind his tone. He’s working hard to keep up with you, clearly preferring hunting you down slowly to running up behind you now. You wonder if it’s part of his foreplay, if he needs to do this to get off.

And then it finally happens. You hit a dead end, and turn to see he’s blocking the only way out. Jesus fuck, Quentin is smiling like he’s about to devour you whole, with a gut-churning sexual glean in his eyes at the same time. You begin to cry, silently as he takes a step towards you. You back away, until you’re flat against the wall and then he’s right up against you. He leans in close to your face, and when you raise your hand up to strike him he grabs it tightly and turns you so your chest is against the wall, twisting your arm behind you. You squirm against his grip, but you’re just too weak to be able to get it loose.

“Now,” Quentin grunts, twisting your arm further to stop your squirming, “Good girls don’t have to be pliant. In fact, I don’t want you to be pliant. Not immediately of course.” You yelp in pain and he groans deeply, taking pleasure in your hurt. Quentin leans in close to you, forcing you to bear most of his weight. The armor presses into your wet clothes with an uncomfortable chill.

“I prefer this. You, fighting me. It makes it all the more worth it when I fuck it out of you every time.” A shiver rolls up your spine as his lips brush your ear as he adds, “And let me tell you, honey, I cannot wait to unravel you.”

You fight against him again with a more urgent panic, jerking around harder this time as adrenaline courses through you. You manage to get your arm loose from his grip and you elbow him in the ribs, hard. Quentin reels backwards in the pain but he’s also laughing, darkly and in no way cheerful. You run, you run and you don’t look back. You get three turns in when two mysterios grab you unexpectedly, and they take you forcefully by the wrists and pin you against the nearest wall. They’re twice as strong as Quentin is, though not nearly as dangerous. You swallow hard as he appears in front of you, not seeming too angry at the fact you tried to crack his ribs. You realize now that the elbowing has probably only encouraged him.

“That was fun.” He smirks, rubbing the spot where you had gotten him. “But now it’s my turn.”

Quentin takes this moment to look at you, scared and disheveled, before your shirt is torn away along with your bra, and you’re left topless and defenseless in front of him. He’s rubbing his cock through his suit, eyes dark with lust at your state. A lion appreciating its kill.

You let out a defeated and humiliated little sob as the two mysterios lift you higher against the wall by your wrists and your biceps so Quentin can tear your pants off, leaving you in your underwear. Your crotch is face level to him now, the two mysterios hovering as they keep you restrained. He pushes his face into your panties, and inhales your scent with a dark groan. It’s humiliating, and yet it feels titillating all the same.

Having had enough of smelling you, he pulls your underwear to the side unceremoniously to push his face in further, licking into you. You try to close your legs to stop him but his clones grab each of your knees and force them apart, and when you squirm more Quentin licks deeper and harder, clearly more turned on the more you resist.

“Please, stop…” You cry, unable to get away from his mouth. Your vocal protests do the same to egg him on and you realize this is a situation where you can’t win but you just. Can’t. Stop. Fighting. You haven’t stopped fighting against the mysterios, and they’re so much stronger than you, and you’re still weak from the running. But you don’t want to give up. Even when you can feel your body acclimating to Quentin’s mouth, your entire being softening to feel what’s being done to you. Your own body, betraying your terror. You think he knows it, too. He works harder and swirls his tongue around your clit, wanting to you to climax, needing you to climax.

You can’t stop fighting because you know part of you lies this. Even with how much you’d have preferred never knowing Quentin this way, of wanting to go back to when he would just take you to dinner in whatever country you were in, he feels good working his tongue on you. You’re horrified of who he really is, but part of you is drawn to him still. You’re disgusted by it. You hope it’s some sort of sick survival instinct and not just you. You hope.

You can feel yourself getting close to orgasm, reluctantly but all the same. You know you’d be enjoying this if it weren’t in the depths of his illusions, if you were back in his hotel room. If you were being eaten out like a fucking human being instead of a sexual meal for a dangerous predator. If Quentin Beck was really Mysterio.

He fucks you with his tongue as you climax, hard. He doesn’t stop until your legs are shaking and you’re whimpering and thrashing against him from overstimulation, and only because he can’t wait to finish off himself.

He waves his hand and you’re lowered enough that he can reach you, grab your hips and have the Mysterios support your legs for him. He starts fingering you, and though he starts with only one finger he’s clearly impatient to fuck you and it’s not long before he’s using two and three to stretch you to take his cock. You feel shame at the slickness he’s able to use from your own body and the sounds as he pumps in and out of you, but there’s nothing you can do about it now.

The entire time he touches you he’s grinning, and humming to himself triumphantly. You’re a conquest to him. A prize he has taken or a piece of meat he’s appreciating. He uses his thumb to circle your clit, still sensitive, and you let out a overstimulated whine in response.

“God,” Quentin groans, fingering you faster, “I hope you sound like that when I’m inside you.” You cum again, shaking harder with it being so soon after the first orgasm. He starts pulling off parts of his suit, getting his cock out and rolling on a condom. At least he’s not trying to get your pregnant, you think. He’s hard already, and though you try not to look you realize he’s on the bigger side and if you don’t relax right the fuck now you’re going to get hurt. No matter how fucked up this is you’re going to have to take it, no matter how fucked up you are for wanting to take it.

“I can’t wait until you’re begging for my cock, honey.” He says, rubbing the head of his dick on your clit, against your vagina. “Until I own you and you don’t want anything else besides me.”

“Quentin please don’t, please—“ You try to beg, despite knowing its likely useless. He pushes inside you and doesn’t stop until he’s buried his cock to the base and he lets out a deep moan, dropping his head against your shoulder. A human at last. You let out a gasp, in shock from the sudden change in pressure inside you. The stretch makes you ache, the warmth inside you unpleasantly comfortable and betraying the atmosphere. It breaks you a little, knowing what you must look like. Getting fucked by a fake superhero in a fake, dark maze while his fake clones hold you up for him. The only thing real right now is your two bodies, pressed together. Reality at last.

He sets a quick and unforgiving pace, fucking you hard into the wall behind you. The grit digs into your back uncomfortable and you fight against him again in protest. Quentin isn’t having it, and he grabs your throat in response to force you to look at him.

“Tell me you’re a good girl.” He says, hips snapping into you. “Tell me who you belong to.” He squeezes your throat as a threat to say the right answer and a tear threatens to fall on your cheek with the shake.

“I’m your good girl Quentin.” You whimper, body strung out and breaking. “I’m yours.”

He moans again, louder. “That’s right. You’re fucking mine now.” He fucks you even harder, clearly chasing his own release supplied by your words.

“I’m going to break you until you’re nothing but fucking putty in my hands. Understand?” He’s close, you can tell. He’s trying hard to get just the right rhythm to cum. He reaches for your breasts and pinches one of your nipples to get you to answer.

“Yes, sir.” You yelp, twitching and arching away from the pain. It puts him over his limit and he cums with a guttural groan, stilling deep inside you. He just sits there for a minute, breathing heavily and you can feel his cock idling inside you. It’s a horrible and primal feeling, one of being marked and being used.

When he regains his composure minutes later, he slides out of you and the Mysterios drop you to the ground without ceremony. Once Quentin gets tucked back into his suit, he picks you up onto your feet. You feel so disgusting as he strokes your cheek sweetly, and smiles, “Yeah, that’s a good girl.”

While you stand there, arms crossed to shield your chest and shoulders haunched to protect yourself, you watch him change into the Mysterio character, just like that. He smiles at you sweetly, and your soul twinges at its near genuineness, aching for comfort after this ordeal. He claps his hands cheerfully, and puts an arm around you like he didn’t just obliterate your sense of reality and fuck you in a digital maze.

“Let’s go get dinner, shall we?”


And that’s chapter 2! This is as far as I had saved up on my computer. Please by all means send me concrit and how you feel about this writing! I really only get the writing bug when I’m extremely tired so my sentence structure is quite poor, but rest assured I’ll edit tomorrow when I’m more awake.

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Okay but... mean but sweet daddy Mob!Quentin Beck? Prettyyyy pweeaseee

Oh yes… OH YES!

  • Mean but sweet huh?
  • Okay but imagine getting into a heated argument with Quentin
  • And it gets to a point where you two are just fucking it out of your system;
  • Because lowkey, hate sex with mob!Quentin sounds incredible…
  • Can you imagine how wild he’d be after you called him out on his bullshit and called him arrogant?
  • He’d have your hands pinned down on the bed, his body in between your legs and he’d just fucking you like you’re nothing but a toy
  • “God, you are such a bratty bitch.” he’d say, pounding into you and making you moan while he furrows his eyebrows as he speeds up into you.
  • You’d manage to flip the two of you over, in a fit of rage, and ride him at your own pace.
  • “Sometimes I think I’m more of a man than you’ll ever be.” you spat at him, riding his cock and moaning at how good he felt
  • Your words would bruise his ego, but you felt so good around him that he could barely open his mouth to sass you back without moaning out loud.
  • He’d let you have your fun for a while, then he’d flip you back and he’d turn you around and lift your hips up and push your face into the bed
  • A part of you loved how easily he could throw you around and use your body
  • He’d push into you from behind and moan at how good you felt; warm and wet, just for him
  • “You’ve been running that pretty little mouth all day, now what huh? Can’t even talk, can you?” he’d ask while hearing you moan and whimper; unable to form coherent sentences to sass back at him.
  • And as soon as he feels you clenching around him and hears you getting louder, he’d pull out and watch you squirm and whine for him
  • “Aww what is it, Princess? Need my cock don’t you, you greedy little whore?”
  • You’d get over the denial and turn around to face him and push him back down on his back.
  • “Oh i don’t need you.” you speak, bitterly; climbing on top of him again and sliding down on his cock. “You’re not a necessity Quentin, you’re just an option.”
  • You ride him, slowly; feeling all of him and moaning at how full you feel with him snug inside of you.
  • And judging by the strong grip he has on your waist, you can tell he’s getting more and more pissed.
  • Because one thing mob!Quentin hates more than anything, is feeling useless. Especially to his girl.
  • He grips your waist and pushes you off him and onto the bed again
  • He pins you down by your throat; his large hand wrapped around your neck and squeezing just enough to keep you wanting more.
  • He looks you dead in the eyes
  • “So you think you don’t need me, babygirl?” he asked, aware of the wild look in your eyes which he likes so much.
  • “Answer me.” he’s suddenly calm again, and he hates it when you don’t listen so he gently smacks your cheek. “I said, answer me!” he asks, more sternly this time.
  • “No.” you reply, smirking because you know you’re driving him crazy.
  • He chuckles, darkly. And pushes in you again, making you moan.
  • “But I bet I feel better than your pretty little fingers and your toys, don’t I?”
  • You could only moan in response
  • “Admit it baby, you need me.” he whispered in your ear, between grunts and moans
  • But you can’t focus on anything other than his body and how good he makes you feel. In that moment, if someone asked what your name was, you surely wouldn’t know.
  • And Quentin can see it in your eyes, the desperation and the pleading look
  • He hears it soon after.
  • please…please…please
  • “Please what? Tell me you need me, you little brat.” he spoke again
  • And he moves his hand from your neck and grips your jaw; parting your lips and spitting in your mouth.
  • “Come on, babygirl. Tell me.” he whispers against your swollen lips while he pounds into you fast enough to make you lose your mind, but slow enough to make you beg for it
  • “Fuck! Daddy please…please i need you…please.” you beg and he chuckles right next to your ear.
  • “Good girl.”
  • He smacks your thigh and finally makes you cum violently after messing with you for a long while.
  • You’re shaking and trembling after you two are done, but since you’ve got your pride on, you try to push him away and get out of his bed
  • But he grabs you and pulls you into him again.
  • And just like that, he’d go from a wild animal in bed to the loving man you knew
  • “Hey baby, don’t go.” he’d say softly. “You’re shaking, come here I’ll take care of you.” he’d spoon you from behind, pulling you under the covers, and he’d push his face into your neck
  • His hands caressing your thighs and up and down your arm gently while he kisses your shoulder and the side of your face.
  • “It’s okay baby, I’m right here. I’m sorry if I hurt you. I’m sorry for everything I said, I didn’t mean any of it.”
  • Yeah you misbehaved sometimes, but he loved you more than anything. You were everything to him. You had him wrapped around your finger, he’d drop to his knees and place the world at your feet if you ever just asked for it.
  • He’d placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, which he smacked earlier while in the moment
  • Eventually you’d stop trembling and you’d instinctively make yourself comfortable in his arms
  • “I’m sorry too.” you’d apologize, sheepishly
  • “Are we done fighting now, honey?” he’d ask, kissing your neck.
  • And you’d nod.
  • “Mind telling me what we were fighting about in the first place?” he’d ask again, knowing damn well that he fucked you so good that you wouldn’t remember.
  • “I forgot.”
  • He’d chuckle and wrap his arms tighter around you.
  • “You want a bath, princess?” he’d ask, pushing his face into your neck again.
  • And you’d nod again.
  • He’d chuckle and give you a kiss on the forehead.
  • “Wait here, baby. I’ll come and get you in a bit.” he’d leave the bed after giving you and quick kiss and making sure you’re warm enough under the covers
  • You’d watch him walk into the bathroom, in all his naked glory and you’d smile to yourself
  • Quentin sure was a mean man, but he was also the one you felt the safest with.

a/n: i want one

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Cat and Mouse | Ch. 1

Pairing: Dark!Quentin Beck x Female Reader

Synopsis: You found out who Mysterio really is behind closed doors. You’re about to learn just how dangerous a man seeking revenge can be when you get in his way. He’s a predator on the hunt. And you’re the prey.

Warnings: Unreality and use of illusions, graphic depictions of (illusioned) death, one unsettling monster, dubcon, Dark!Mysterio, predator/prey sexual dynamics, general violence


The way Quentin Beck regards you now is a cat to a mouse. Like a cat, he keeps picking you up and slamming you back down, blow after blow after blow, to stun you over and over again. Unlike a cat, he’s sadistic. There is no pleasure behind a cat’s capture of a mouse. It is basic nature. Every part of this torture, all of it, is derived from a sick sense of entertainment at your expense.

He was once the sweet widower who kissed the top of your head and accidentally called you his wife’s name one night and never forgave himself. He used to whisk you away to restaurants when S.H.I.E.L.D. paperwork got boring and your administrative duties weighed heavily on your shoulders. But not now. You wonder if he ever actually had been. If the sweetness was ever real or if he hated pretending to be so every second. At this point, hours and hours into illusions, you’d wish he’d just use his hands and finally finish you off. An ending to the glorious story.

A giant, skinless beast has been chasing after you, feet pattering on the ground. You’re not sure what it’s supposed to be, but its build is vaguely humanlike. The limbs are long, spindly and slender likes spider. The way it moves, as if it’s not meant to be on all fours, it’s hindquarters raised. It snarls as it pursues you, a gaping maw with teeth like nails gaining proximity to your body. It makes horrific screeching sounds, a haunting call for blood.

It’s been chasing you since the beginning, but Quentin gave you a head start, or so he called it. But he also threw in a myriad of horrifying illusions to slow you down, to add to the terror. You, at one point, watched Peter Parker bleed out from multiple gunshot wounds, face pale and pink around his eyes, which were full of tears and terror. His young little voice trembling and raw. The stench of iron assaulted your senses, and you threw up at least once trying to convince yourself it wasn’t real.

It wasn’t until the monster caught up with you and tore him apart with its teeth that you were able to start running again. Away from his screams. Away from the ripping sound. That was an eternity ago, you think. You stink of bile and blood. Your feet, long ago rid of their shoes, are blistered from running. It’s getting harder to breathe from the dehydration and panting.

“Are you getting tired, Y/N?” Quentin echoes from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. He chuckles softly, adding “Don’t let it catch you!” in a teasing tone. “We wouldn’t want the fun to end so soon.”

The tunnel you’re in is infinite, dark and wet and lit by white fluorescent bulbs maybe thirty feet apart and mounted along the wall. They aren’t buzzing, no comforting white noise to keep you sane. There are no exits or openings. It smells of mold and death. Part of you wants to just stop moving, maybe let the illusion completely and utterly destroy you. Another part wants you to keep running, the threat of a predator apparent.

It is gaining on you with every second. You can hear it’s weird, chittering respiration, you can smell the sickly-sweet breath it’s heaving onto your neck. When it moves a wet glistening sound emits from its joints.

You know you won’t be able to keep running at this pace, with your knees wobbling and muscles tired. You hope to whatever god is out there that you can keep going just a little longer.

“Why don’t we shake things up a little, huh?” He laughs, voice echoing through the tunnel.

The lights shut out. You trip over yourself in the darkness and collapse. Stupid. Clumsy. You flail desperately to get away from the monster that had been so close to killing you but the creature is gone. Maybe forever. It’s dead silent now. You can hear your pulse roaring in your ears.

A hand strokes the back of your hair, almost sweetly. Is it him? Is it real? Is anything real?

You’re too panicked to turn around, trying to catch your breath between swallowing spit to wet your throat. It’s too dry. It’s sticking. And it’s going to make you sick if you don’t drink something soon. You don’t want to throw up again.

“Poor, poor Y/N.” Quentin echoes, faux pity ever present in his tone. “So smart. So gullible.” The hand petting your hair grabs it by the fistful and yanks it, pulling you to the ground as you desperately scramble against the grip. It’s difficult with your legs being so weak from running so long. “Everything was almost perfect. And now I have to see that you make sure it still is.”

When you grab up against his hand to ease the pain in your scalp there’s nothing there. It’s gone just as sudden as it manifested. The loss of an upward force leaves you flailing on the ground, propped up on your elbow. You have to get him to see you. You finally break apart from the panic to hoarsely whisper into the darkness.

“Quentin…” You rasp, words catching in your throat multiple times. “Please, I’ll do anything.” It’s getting harder and harder to breathe. You gag once and try to keep from vomiting.

A circle of Mysterios surround you, each of them getting down on one knee. Every single one has a fishbowl clouding their face, and you don’t know which, if any, is the real Quentin.

“Oh,” They all say, with varying delay, “I know, honey.”

You let out a soft sob and one of them grabs your chin, but you don’t think it’s him.

“You’re going to be doing anything I want, when I want it soon enough.” Quentin says, voice behind you. “Or I’ll leave you here to rot. Let you get ripped apart by the monster in the tunnel, or maybe I’ll have sweet little Peter Parker miraculously rise from the dead and show you what your guts look like on the outside.”

Quentin speaks like he’s planning rather than threatening. You have no way to know what he’s capable of, but he may as well be.

“Do you want to die in here, Y/N?” He asks.

“No.” You whisper, in a little voice broken with tears.

Another Mysterio from your left grabs your face and forces you to look at him. This one is Quentin, you’re sure of it.

“How about you address me with a little more respect, huh?” The fishbowl dissolves and you’re forced to look him in the eyes. The same blue eyes that you wiped tears from just days ago. Were those fake too?

“No, Sir.” You respond, tears welling up. He still has you by your face, pinching your cheeks forward. He smiles victoriously and eases his grip on you.

His thumb slides over your bottom lip and you realize with a sudden anxiety that anything he wants entails a much, much more intimate demand. You brace yourself.

“Now, are you gonna be a good girl for me? Or are you going to die today?” He asks you, voice soft and dangerous. He’s looking at your mouth with a rather sinful glean.

“I’ll be a good girl, Quentin.” You manage to say. It feels dirty coming from your mouth. A white flag. He smiles at you, closed lips, and cups your cheek.

“That’s right.” He affirms. “But you’re not going to be a just any good girl. You’re going to be my good girl.”

“Yes… sir.” You whisper. You want to curl into a ball and die. You’re terrified by the thought of what he’s like sexually if he’s a fucking sadist on the daily like this. You wonder if maybe being gutted by a fake 17 year old is a better ending. You wonder how long he would have loved you as a widower or if he would have done this to you the first chance he got anyways. No use in pondering further now.

“Perfect.” He says, picking you up by the arm rather roughly. “It’s time for your first role. We’re going to play a game.” A little hologram lights up the darkness, a maze of some sort.

“You’re going to hide and run away from me. The point of this game for you is to not get caught.” A little blue figure hides, and when a green Mysterio rounds the corner, it runs to a new hiding spot.

“But if I catch you,” He says, as the virtual mysterio catches the virtual you, “I take you where you stand.” The Mysterio has you pinned against a wall, and it’s clear to you that what happens if he catches you is going to be damning.

“You have 60 seconds before I start looking.” He says, and the hologram becomes a timer counting down from one minute. You take a deep breath, and start running.


That’s the end of chapter 1! I’ve had this sitting on my desktop for months and figured I can post it now that the x reader tag for Quentin is dead now. I may update, who knows? I got time on my hands.

Edit: I fixed a bunch of continuity and grammar errors! I was tired as hell last night so forgive me.

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Quentin Beck|Mysterio x Spider-Girl!Reader

Prompt:  the reader and Mysterio are enemies.  Mysterio is in love with the reader, but she thinks he is just playing a game with her.  (Spider-Girl is a legal adult and has the last name Parker)

warning: minor smut and smut, nsfw 

word count: 2,655


You stood in front of him again.  He was stuck to the wall, limbs unable to move.  You had him right where you wanted him.  It was like a game between the two of you.  It was like he longed to be caught.  This was always the same.  You two would fight, he would get caught, you’d stick him to the wall, then you’d taunt each other for hours.  Flirting, sometimes touching each other.  

“Spider-Girl, long time no see,” Mysterio smiled at you.  You rolled your eyes under your mask, “It’s been like a day.”  He could not get his smile off his face, “Feels like years when I am away from you.”  You scoffed at him.  You inched closer to him, “You realize we’re enemies, right?  You’re the bad guy and I’m the good guy?”  He attempted to shrug his shoulders, but he was unable to move, “You say enemies, I say friends.  Possibly even lovers.”  You walked over to the wall he was stuck to and leaned beside him.  His eyes followed everything you did.  He was amazed by you.  He was in love with you.  You smiled at him under your mask, “You don’t even know me.”  

“That’s a lie,” you thought.  He did know you.  He was actually fairly close to you outside of the suit.  He was always at your work.  He would always be in your department with you.

“I would love to know you if you’d let me,” he teased you.  You shook your head at him.  You began to walk away, “Those should wear off in a couple hours, you know the drill.”  You stopped.  You turned to look at Quentin.  He looked amazed by you.  “Don’t do this, Parker.  You can’t fall in love with a villain,” you told yourself.  You knew it was too late.  You knew your feelings for him.  They were becoming increasingly hard to hide.  You walked back to him, raising your mask to your nose.  His eyes widened.  You pressed your lips to his.  His cheeks were pink.  You pulled away from him, “Don’t read too much into that.”  He licked his lips, “I’m totally reading into it.”  

You smirked at him.  Quentin bit his lip, “You’re really just going to play with my feelings and leave?”  You placed a hand on his cheek.  You ran your hand to his chest.  He groaned silently, “You’ve never touched me this much.”  You leaned into his neck, placing your lips to it.  You began to bite and suck at his neck.  He let out a deep breath, “Oh my God.”  You pulled away, leaving a deep purple hickey on his neck.  He looked at you deeply.  He wanted to reach for you, but he was stuck in place.  He hated feeling out of control.  You began to walk away again.  “Wait,” he stopped you, “You’re gonna get me all turned on and just leave?”  You smiled to yourself.  You shot a web at his crotch.  He moaned.  “Just some webs?  Wow,” he rolled his eyes.  The webs you shot at him began to vibrate.  Quentin began silently moaning, “Wh-what did you just put on me?”  You chuckled, “That should get you off just in time for the webs to be gone.”  He gritted his teeth at you, “I’d rather you be over here doing it yourself.”  You waved at him, “Too bad.”  With that you left. 


It was the next day.  You thought about Quentin.  You thought about how you played this game with him constantly and he had no idea who you were.  You thought about the big bruise he left on your face yesterday during your brawl.  You had told your boss that you had ran into your door frame.  It did not make sense, but it kept him from asking too many questions.  

You were working on a serum to help rats regrow limbs.  Nothing had been a success yet, but you had not given up yet.  Your boss, Dr. Connors, entered your area.  “Miss Parker?  You have a guest,” he led Quentin in.  You felt your heart rate speed up.  Quentin smiled at you, “Hey, Y/N.”  His smiled was different than it had been last night.  He was different here.  He did not flirt with you here like he did there.  He was subtle here.  You could not tell which was the real him.  

“Hi, Quin.  How’s it going,” you continued with your work.  “I need some advice,” he leaned his body against your back.  You blushed at him.  “Y/N, you’d consider us friends, right?  And friends can talk to friends about their personal stuff, right,” Quentin asked.  You nodded, “Of course, Quin.”  “So, you’re a girl.  If a guy flirts with you and shows obvious signs that he is into you, then you kiss him, is that a sign you like him?  Because I don’t know how else to take it,” he questioned you.  You felt your heart sink.  He was talking about you.  You stuttered, “Well ev-every girl is different.  If it was me, that would be a definite sign.”  

“What happened to your face, Y/N,” Quentin changed the subject.  “I ran into my door frame last night.  Y’know, I was a little tipsy.  Accidents happen,” you laughed to yourself.  Quentin took your face in his hands, “Hmp.  You must’ve hit it pretty hard.”  You laughed awkwardly, “L-Looks like you had an interesting night.  Is that a hickey on your neck?”  Quentin’s expression suddenly became that of a lovesick man.  “Oh, God.  You have no idea.  Since I can trust you, we can talk about it,” Quentin bit his lip.  You smiled at him.  You enjoyed seeing him happy.  “So, I was out with Spider-Girl last night.  And my God, does that girl get me going.  I think I am in love with her, Y/N.  Like for real.  She just makes me feel things I have never felt for anyone before,” he was serious.  You giggled, “You don’t even know who she is.”  Quentin stared at you deeply, “I know that.”  It was like he was trying to tell you something.  It was almost as if he knew.  But that was ridiculous.  

“So, tell me more about her,” you smiled.  Quentin went on to talk about all his time with Spider-Girl and why he was in love with her.


It was later that night.  You stood in the building where Quentin normally came to fight you.  He was later than normal.  You felt your arm hairs stand up and you began stretching, preparing yourself for your fight with him.  You heard his feet land on the ground lightly.  “Alright, Beck.  Let’s go ahead and get this started,” you turned to see him holding flowers.  Your cheeks flooded with heat.  You stood completely still.  

“I know it’s you,” Quentin spoke softly, “I saw the bruise on your face today.  I saw your lips.  I had been questioning it for months.  I knew I had to leave something on you to confirm my suspicions.”  He seemed disappointed, but relieved.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you avoided confirming yourself to him.  He smiled, “That’s what I thought you’d say.  You can’t let your enemy know who you are.  Come on, Y/N.  We don’t have to keep fighting.”  He began walking towards you.  You held your hand out as if to threaten him with your webs.  That did not stop him, he continued.  “Q-Quen- I mean, Mysterio!  Stop.  You know I will use them,” you were shaking mildly.  You backed up with every step he took.  “I don’t want to hurt you!  You know that.  You heard everything I said about you today, you know I’m in love with you.”  You shook your head, “You have no idea who I am, Mysterio!  And it needs to stay that way!”  Your back ran into the wall.  He was directly in front of you now.  You looked up at him, his body towered over you.  He placed his hand on your cheek, rubbing it with his thumb.  “I love you, Y/N,” he spoke softly.  

This was it.  Should you finally show him?  Everything he had said was sincere.  You knew how he felt.  But this could come and bite you in the butt one day.  He wouldn’t do that.  You trusted him.  

You grabbed your mask and ripped it from your face.  You looked up at him.  He smiled with relief, “I knew it.”  “I felt like if I told you… you would see me dif-” “Shhhh.  I would never see you different.  You mean everything to me,” he pressed his lips to yours.  You ran your fingers through his hair.  He had you pinned against the wall.  The tension between the two of you had your Spidey Sense going crazy.  He was biting his lip and staring into your soul.  You were longing for him, but this felt wrong to you.  You thought about how if circumstances were different you would have went for him long ago.  

He was so close.  Things were different when he was the one in control.  You were used to his hands being down, you being the one in control was the norm for you.  This felt odd, but pleasurable.  He ran his hand down the side of your body, trying to bring your attention to him.  You were lost in thought.  “Quentin,” you began, “You have no idea how long I have been wanting to tell you about this.  About me.  I wanted to be with you for so long, but I knew from how you talked about Spider-Girl at work that if I had ever tried anything you would have shot me down.  It was so hard to know the man you wanted was in love with you, but he didn’t know it was you.”  Quentin smiled at you, “But things are different now.  We can have whatever kind of relationship you want.”  You blushed under his gaze, “I… I…”  You could not get any words out.  You were so aroused and embarrassed all at once that you did not know how you felt or what you wanted.  

You pressed your lips to his.  He kissed you passionately.  You took his bottom  lip between your teeth.  Quentin rested his forehead on yours, “Where is this going, Y/N?”   You felt your cheeks grow a deep red under him.  “It’ll go wherever you want it to, Quin,” you whispered.  He smiled at you, “If you say so.”  Quentin crashed his mouth into yours, his tongue venturing it’s way into your mouth.  Your tongues intertwined.  He gripped your breast in his hand causing you to let out a quiet moan.  He pulled away from you, breathing heavy, “Take your clothes off.”  He began to undress in front of you.  Your eyes went to the floor, you were embarrassed to see him naked.  You hit the spider in the middle of your chest to loosen your suit.  You began to remove your suit in front of him when you saw his clothes hit the floor.  He got undressed so fast you couldn’t even compete.  You stood in front of him still in your underwear.  He was completely naked, his penis staring you in the face.  He admired you, “God, you look gorgeous.”  You smiled, “Thanks.”  He pinned you against the wall, his erect penis rested against your stomach.  You groaned.  He smirked at you, “You like that, don’t you?”  You nodded.  He began to kiss and nip at your neck.  You ran your fingers through his hair, slightly tugging at it in your arousal.  He reached his hands around your back, unstrapping your bra.  You dropped it to the floor.  He stared at your exposed breasts.  His hand ventured up your side, stopping at your breast.  He pinched at your hard nipples causing you to moan loudly.  He smiled, “Oh, so you like that?  I can do so much more than that.”  He placed his mouth on your nipple and bit down.  You leaned your head back in ecstasy, “Quin, holy fuck.”  His tongue flicked at your nipple between his teeth.  

Quentin ran his hand down the front of your underwear.  His mouth opened in awe, “So wet and warm already?  Am I really do this to you, Y/N?”  You nodded at him.  He licked his lips.  He tugged at the elastic around your waist, “Take these off for me, would you?”  You did as he asked and removed your panties, stepping out of them as they fell around your ankles.  He growled with pleasure, “That’s better.”  His fingers found their way back to your warmth.  He began making tight circles on your clit.  You threw your head back calling out to him.  Your legs became shaky and weak.  You could feel your legs about to give out as could he.  He picked you up, you wrapped your legs around him instinctively.  The under belly of his cock rested at your opening.  He grinded himself against your opening, groaning at the sensation.  You ran your fingers up his chest sending goose bumps across every part of his body.  You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, placing your lips against his ear, “Quin, I don’t know how much longer I can wait.”  You breathing was heavy in anticipation.  “I would do anything for you, Y/N,” he groaned into your ear.  

You leaned back against the wall giving him access to you.  He positioned himself at your opening, looking you in the eyes.  He entered you slowly, making sure you could feel every inch of him.  You called out to him, your fingers digging into the back of his neck.  He slammed his hole body into you, picking up speed.  This was the closest you two had ever been.   Your breasts were pressed against his chest, his prickly chest hairs grazing you with each of his movements.  He huffed deep breaths in your ear, his chin resting on the space between your shoulder and your neck.  You both were sweating, your skin practically sticking together.  His hair was falling down in strands in front of his face.  His cock was hitting you in all the right places causing your walls to tighten around him.  He moaned in your ear, “Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good wrapped around my cock like this.”  You could feel yourself growing tighter around him, your orgasm approaching.  “Qu-Quentin, I-I’m about to finish,” you moaned to him.  You could feel him smile into your neck.  He began to kiss your neck, “Good, baby.”  He began pounding into you more aggressive than before.  Your orgasm ripped through you.  You called out to him, your eyes squeezing tight as your walls became tighter then ever before.  He moaned your name as you clenched around him.   He spilled inside of you, not stopping his pace.  He rode the waves of both of your climaxes.  

He held you in place for a moment, stopping his movements.  He kissed your cheek softly, “I’ve never been this close to you.  This… this is so important to me.  I love you.”  He became kind and gentle suddenly.  It was a giant shift compared to he man who had been ravishing you before.  You kissed him gently.  He pulled out of you, resting his forehead against yours.   He cupped your face in his hands, kissing you on the nose.  You ran your fingers through his hair, “That was amazing, Quin.”  He did not want to let you go, he loved being close to you.  He wanted to be this close to you forever.  “It was perfect,” he muttered, “I never want this moment to end.”  He brushed his lips against yours.  

“You should come stay with me tonight,” Quentin proposed.  You smiled, “Maybe I will.”  He slowly helped you to the ground and the two of you began getting your loose articles.  You both began getting dressed again.  


// Thank you for reading!  If you liked what you read, I will happily add you to the tag list :)  Hope you enjoyed! \


/ @buckyshattergirl / @pinejayy​ / @princessplantasaurus / @gottalovebroody ~ @charmed-asylum​ / @citrussaurus / @hehybrid666 / @givemelifeorgiveme / @dragonqueenfk / @scarletpines / @givemelifeorgiveme /

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an early thirsty thursday post because i’ll be traveling tomorrow. kind of got swept and obsessed reading works for him and thought i would take my shot. 
a subtle sugar!daddy au. technically it’s already modern, but no superheros in this verse. 

basically 2.7k+ of not knowing what i want to do with this idea.

Fist pressed against his cheek, he browsed over the sight before him, taking it all in without considering really any details. Fighting a smirk, he cocked an eyebrow.

“I’m not feeling the color. Change it for the other one.”

To be frank, he had no particular preferences for color, design, texture or any of that shit–though, he did have a weakness for anything with a pretty pink flare to it, the color of innocence that he loved to bathe you in with all the frills and fluff. However, it didn’t mean that he wasn’t fond of other colors that you drape yourself in, but he had a specific reason as to why he voiced that particular opinion of his. 

You were his baby girl. 

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Does anyone still want Quentin Beck/Reader things?

Words: 1,140
Pairing: Quentin Beck/Reader
Plot: Post Civil War, Quentin’s attempts to adjust to his new life leave him feeling drained, and it’s starting to effect his marriage
Content warning: Some language, brief descriptions that may trigger the feeling of depression. Exactly one (1) mouth kiss
Notes: Originally written as Quentin/self insert OC, just rearranged the pronouns to make it an x-reader fic, so some areas might still have “she” “her” “Veronica” or weird grammar if I missed them in the editing process. Quentin may seem OOC? I really just wanted to try my hand at a genuine Quentin Beck hurt/comfort fic and I’m pretty happy with the results.

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Regarding my last post

I’m sorry to say but my ‘very important’ exams are going on right now and the last paper is on 23rd of March.

Till then I’ll not be posting anything and would probably be inactive for the whole month.

Please understand and don’t unfollow me :(

The day my exams get over is the day I post the JakeG fanfic. This is a promise to all.

Until then, goodbye. I’ll see you again at 23rd! I love you all and thank you so much for reading my fics and liking them!

[Especially that Loki one that thing really blew up huh, ilysm :) ]

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hi!! so I uhh, adore the way you write Quentin beck?? I might be a bit late on this train, but your writing is just so beautiful and flows so well. I legit adore all your ficlets!! I was wondering if you had any headcanons for him?? maybe when he’s not scheming, like what his hobbies are or what type of pet he’d have or idk stuff like that. thank you!!💞💞 have an amazing day hun xx

Hiiii! Thank you so much, love! So everything has been pretty COA lately and I have missed my scheming fishbowl man, so sure!

  • A foodie. Likes eating out a lot, so expect lots of meals out, and often. It also leads to a lot of adventurous times between you (great food, weird food, bad food) and has helped to create some of his favourite memories with you. 
  • He’s very ambitious (clearly) so he’s definitely a workaholic. He can be grumpy because of it since he gets almost obsessive with whatever he’s working on. It usually takes careful coaxing from you to finally make him stop, but chances are if you’re fighting, it’s because of his work. 
  • Can be pretty possessive. If you’re out and about likes to have his arm around your waist, his fingers occasionally tugging on the loops of your jeans or just the flesh of your hip to keep you close. Will whisper sweet nothings into your ear if he sees you get flustered by it. 
  • Will 100% tease the living hell out of you. In general, has a silver tongue and is not afraid to use it to get his way. 
  • Definitely enjoys bragging which also includes you. Like mentioned above, he’s ambitious, so the idea of you achieving your goals is pleasing to him because it appeals to his driven nature and because it makes you happy. 
  • Hates surprises but enjoys surprising you. Expect spontaneous everything because he gets bored pretty easily. It also has nothing to do with his control-freak ways. Nope. :)
  • Absolutely vicious in an argument. Good luck winning even the smallest of arguments against him. He has counters for your counters and then some. 
  • Enjoys working out so goes to the gym on a semi-regular basis. Both because he’s vain but also because he believes staying on top form and healthy. 
  • Grumpy in the morning but can and will wake up early if necessary. Prefers the night though (especially when working) because the world is quiet and he can focus on work in peace. 
  • Not a pet person but if he had to choose then a cat. They require less maintenance (especially when he’s busy working) and many give off that similar bastard energy he’s known for. 
  • Likes it when you sit in his lap. Just the weight of you, against him, his arms around you. Perfect. Also easy access to your neck and ear. ;)
  • Likes keeping you in suspense. Will he kiss you? Will he not? Touch, no touch? He indulges in little games often, and if you play along? All the better. The price at the end is always worth it, and all the sweeter if he has to work for it. 
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Pairing: Quentin Beck x Reader

Chapter summary: You meet your dorm roommate on moving day at MIT. His name is Quentin Beck, and you can already feel yourself falling for him. Little do you know, he’s thinking about you too.

Series summary: The outlaw known to the world as Mysterio has a past, something that hurt him besides Tony Stark. You’re part of that past.

Author’s Note: Most of the first chapter is just character establishment; smut will come later in the story. I would also like to give a HUGE LOVING SHOUTOUT to @sammyslonglostshoe​ for helping me come up with the idea for this series in the first place

Warning(s): wet dream, masturbation (f), drug use (weed)


Originally posted by flawlassmami


Originally posted by p-pikachu

Keep reading

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Spoilers for Spider-Man: Far From Home

I know the Quentin Beck/Mysterio love has died down, but I wrote him anyway.

Warnings: None


Originally posted by supercanaries

London was in flames.

Not really, but with the way the news reported it, it might as well be.

You watched the footage with disinterest, the TV background noise as you worked around your house. Padding around in your socks around your sparse furnishings, you spent your day off from work…working. Your desk—the dining room table—was carefully arranged with papers, scribbled notes, and books.

The news shifted through the day as conflicting reports cluttered up the reporters’ desks. You clicked through the different news channels until you were sure the news wouldn’t report anything else.

The whole thing, since the appearance of the first creature in Mexico, gave you a bitter taste in your mouth. After what the Avengers had accomplished against Thanos, it seemed unlikely that Earth, of all places, would get attacked so soon.

You shunted the unease aside.

You didn’t notice evening arrive until your stomach growled. Checking the clock, you were surprised to discover it was after ten. No wonder you were hungry.

As you raided the fridge for dinner, the doorbell jingled.

Frowning, you glanced at the time again. As you went to the door, you reached under the table adjacent to the stairs and withdrew the Glock you had strapped to its underside. Coming alongside the door, you peered through the window framing it, the pistol gripped in both hands.

A chill coursed through you.

You lowered the gun and opened the door. “Quentin.”

Quentin Beck, in the flesh. That disarming smile pulled at his lips but didn’t stick. “Are you gonna shoot me?”

“I haven’t decided.”

He laughed, immediately groaning, and stepped past you. “Then I’m coming in. Bathroom?”

“To the right.”

The bathroom door shut. Water sprayed in the sink. Just over the sound, you heard a rattle, like pills in a bottle.

Of all the people in the world, Quentin was the last person you expected in your house. Tempered by suspicion—old habits die hard—your surprise dissipated by the time Quentin emerged from the bathroom.

“Long time no see,” he said, smile lopsided. “How long’s it been?”

“Why are you here, Quentin?”

“Seven years by my count. I really should have kept in touch. Can I get some water?” He limped forward, looking for the kitchen.

Watching him warily, you led him into the meticulous space and poured him a glass. He sucked it down greedily, hardly pausing to catch his breath. In the harsh light, he looked harrowed, blue-green eyes dulled, dark circles beneath them.

“Answer my question,” you said quietly.

Setting down the glass, Quentin met your gaze. “Can I sit? I really—”


Laughing lightly, he shrugged, palms up. “I need your help.”

“What could the great Quentin Beck need my help for?”

He held up a finger, his humor vanishing. “Your sarcasm is not appreciated right now. Not today.”

Blinking, you scrutinized his face again, reading the wear there. A hunted look beneath the sudden aggravation. Even at a distance, he smelled musty, like stale sweat from being on an airplane, his hair greasy as though he hadn’t had a chance to shower.

The pieces clicked.

“London was you.”

He stared at you. “God, the way you do that.” He nodded.

“That was the stupidest stunt you’ve ever pulled,” you said.

The muscle in his jaw twitched. “At least I tried.”

“It was a waste.”

“You’re one to talk!” He jabbed a finger at you. “How dare you lecture me when you’re wasting your own talent here?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Look around you! Nobody gives a shit about anyone who isn’t a goddamn superhero.” He leaned in, lips curling into a snarl. “No one cares about you.”

Anger surged through you. “And what have you accomplished? Stark Industries owns your tech. The world thinks you’re dead. Your stunt will only make people suspicious of superheroes now.”

“I have contingencies. You’re one of them.”

You laughed, a harsh sound. “Why? Why bother when a teenager can hand you your own ass?”

“Tony Stark—”

“This isn’t about Tony Stark! It’s never been about him!”


“No.” Shaking your head, you asked, “How can you ask for my help when you won’t even be upfront about your goal?”

Quentin’s lips pressed into a thin line, his head visibly shaking. You stared into his infuriated eyes, wondering briefly how you had ever come to gaze upon them again.

“If the world can listen to Tony Stark,” he hissed, “then they should listen to me.”

At last. You knew it to be the truth, but you needed Quentin to hear it. To hear its ludicrous grandiosity. “You’re too ambitious.”

“No, you’re not ambitious enough!”

You drew back, the words stinging. “You do not know the limits of my ambition,” you seethed. Tightening your mental fist on the vortex inside you, you turned away from him. “You can stay the night. Tomorrow, you leave.”

In bed, you tossed and turned, struggling to find calm. Emotions churning within you, you stared at the ceiling, Quentin’s words echoing in your ears. Who was he to say you were not ambitious enough? Quentin, whose ambition sowed the seeds of its own destruction?

And yet.

That made you sit up in bed, legs tangled in the sheets. The goddamn bastard was right. You had let yourself fade into obscurity, working with a team that took collective credit when you were doing all the work yourself. It was you tricking the hearts and minds of consumers. And for what? Shitty software apps you didn’t even use?

Before you realized it, you were out of your bed and out the door.

Left to his own devices, Quentin had found sheets to lie under on the couch. You found him on his back, staring up at the ceiling fan. His gaze shifted to you when he realized you were standing there. He remained motionless, as though you were a skittish deer, easily startled.

Your arms crossed, you looked at him, gnawing on the inside of your cheek. As the seconds ticked by, an understanding, ecstatic smile slowly dawned on his face.

Decision time.

“You play by my rules,” you declared.


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