Imagine:

spider boy promises — spider-man!midoriya izuku x reader

synopsis: you’re spider-man’s neighbor, his friend. but there’s still secrets between the two of you, ones he refuses to share and ones you’re too scared to ask about in fear of him leaving. so they sit between you, festering and threatening to spill over. patched up and kept at bay by promises that might be left unfulfilled. PART 1 HERE

content warnings: mentions of blood/injuries, angst

wc: 1.3k

author’s note: part 2 of spider boy!!! thanks for all the love <3 and yes there will be a part 3!!!

You hold his hand until he falls asleep, brush away his tears. You cannot bring yourself to let go of even long after his breathing has evened out, after his face has melted to a more peaceful expression. His furrowed eyebrows smoothed out, lips almost tilted into a smile.

Midoriya started sleeping over more often, especially on days when he was not out patrolling and coming back to his quiet apartment bloody and bruised, patching himself up because he did not want to worry you. Even though you had insisted you did not mind, that you wanted to help him.

When you wake up, he is usually gone. In his place, you find a new spider sketch on your kitchen table. You had started a small collection, hanging them up on your fridge with the unused magnets that had been waiting for a purpose ever since you had moved in.

Knowing he would be gone in the morning meant you stared at him until sleep made your eyes heavy and took him away from you.

You fight it off as long as you can. But when the morning sun shines in your eyes and wakes you up, you realize your bed is still warm. And his hand is still in yours.

“You stayed?” You asked before you even opened your eyes. Maybe this was a dream. A cruel dream where you were both free to stay under the covers all day, away from harm and the burdens of being a busy student and beloved vigilante.

“Yeah,” he replied. “It’s Saturday.”

You opened your eyes at that. Saturday.

On Saturdays, Midoriya hardly went out. Police presence tended to be stronger, and he only went out if he was continuing something, following a lead, or if there was an emergency. That much he had shared with you, that much you knew.

Selfishly, you loved Saturdays.

He smiled at you when your eyes met his. “Is it okay that I stayed?”

You nodded.

His smile faltered, and he reached up to poke your cheek. “Promise?”

You smiled at his action. “Promise.”

You realized you had never lied to him before. Could he say the same about you?

The morning was spent inside, in pajamas, avoiding your phones and reminders of upcoming assignments. Moony slept on Midoriya’s lap all through breakfast, and as you made pancakes for the both of you, you could hear him quietly cooing over her, whispering what a good cat she was.

Really. It was impossible for you not to develop feelings for him. You angrily flipped a pancake, exhaling through your nose strongly. This would be easier if your feelings were nonexistent.

He was no better later in the day, during your TV show catch-up time. Moony was off somewhere napping, so he seemed to seek a replacement. Something to do with his hands. An arm wrapped around your shoulder, a hand reaching for yours. His fingers idly traced your knuckles, intertwining with yours over and over. His eyes never left the TV screen.

You were a mess. You could feel your palms starting to sweat, but Midoriya either did not notice or chose not to mention it. So you melted into his touch, leaning onto his chest and watching the TV show you watched together, letting him play with your hand.

By the third episode, you had your head in his lap and he was braiding your hair.

“Your hair smells nice,” he said from above you. You could hear the smile in his voice.

“Thanks.”

He hummed a response. You let your eyes close, the TV serving as the perfect background noise to pair with the soothing motions of Midoriya braiding your hair. You let sleep overtake you this time, welcomed it. He would be there when you woke up.

——— * * * ———

When you woke up a few hours later, you knew something is off.

You were in the same exact position, but the room was darker, the lights never turned on. You turned, adjusting yourself until you were facing the ceiling and Midoriya.

He was wearing his suit, mask still on. “Midoriya?” you asked. Patting his thigh frantically when he did not respond. “Midoriya?”

You sat up, the hand that was resting in your hair falling limp into his lap. You grabbed his shoulders and shook him a little, a lump forming in your throat and your eyes becoming blurry with tears. “Midoriya wake up. Midoriya Izuku wake the fu—” you break off with a startled gasp when he stirs, groaning.

“Y/N?”

“Thank god,” you said, pulling him forward and hugging him. “You scared me, you little shit.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling off his mask, nuzzling his face into your neck, and wrapping his arms around you to tighten the hug. “Got back really tired.”

You sighed, idly running a hand through his hair. “You’re okay?”

You felt him nod, and then could actually feel him smile into your skin. “Did you use the full name card on me?”

You tugged at his hair, earning a surprised yelp. “It worked, didn’t it?”

He laughed, pulling away. Your smile fell the second you saw his face.

There were tear steaks cutting through a thin layer of dirt, and you watch as another falls and trails down his cheek. You wiped the other away and smiled sadly at him. “Need help getting to your place?”

He shook his head. “I’m okay.”

Liar. You had to bite your lip to prevent yourself from saying it. You forced another smile and stood up. “Okay, then you can shower here. Chance for you to use my shampoo since you like it so much.”

The second you heard the shower turn on you opened your Spider-News tab and started scrolling, looking for any clues. It had become a horrible habit, but you could not help it. Your search was unsuccessful, though. There was no breaking news for you to discover, no sighting of Spider-Man at all that day.

So where the hell was he going?

——— * * * ———

You asked him three days later, when you found him curled up outside your bedroom door with Moony on a Tuesday morning. After making sure he was okay you scolded him for scaring you, and he was so ashamed he refused to meet your gaze.

“Didn’t wanna wake you up,” he yawned. He was not hurt, but the bags under his eyes were more defined. “Moony kept me company.” An unhelpful meow from Moony, which you ignored. She spoiled him too much.

He insisted on making you breakfast before you left for class, and knowing he would keep insisting if you did not back down, you let him. You kept a watchful eye on him as he made your eggs, making sure he was wincing with certain movements or limping. But he looked perfectly fine.

“Where’d you go?”

His back was turned away from you, so you could not see his expression. You were not sure if you preferred that.

“Out patrolling,” he said, turning the stove off and moving your eggs to a plate. “Following a lead.”

He sat down and ate with you, refusing to meet your gaze.

“Why can’t you tell me?” If you were going to ask, might as well push as much as you could.

“I want to,” he said, setting down his fork and finally looking up. His eyes were dull with weariness. None of the bright energy usually in them to be seen. “But it’s too dangerous right now.”

“Are you being safe?” you said, trying hard to keep your voice from shaking.

He nodded. “Promise.”

Was he lying again?

“Okay. I trust you.”

Did you?

You stayed awake as long as you could that night, but you never heard him come back to his apartment, and he was not outside your bedroom door when you woke up the next morning either. You scrabbled to get dressed and rushed to the library, but every step you took away from your apartment filled your stomach with more and more dread.

He was not at your usual spot at the library. And you knew he would not be waiting in your kitchen when you got back.

So where the hell was he?

masterlist

daps up the dash before going to sleep on it

girls be like “im shy” then want you to choke them while kissing.

Just came to drop this here:

Katsuki with disabled reader having to do with the legals or feet. I can't stand for long periods of time, and I have awful balance. Ill randomly start falling over due to my disability. I feel like Kats would hold an arm around my waist to keep me steady or let me sit in his lap if he had the only seat/pick me up. Maybe he'd tell people to fuck off if they looked at me wrong/ as if I was weird.

All that's in my brain rn

thanks for sharing, love!! i think you’re right.

for a long time i’ve held the belief that, of all bnha characters, katsuki is one who i could see being able to handle having a disabled partner long term. the truth is not everyone can, but i can see kats doing quite well.

most of the time he just does what needs to be done without really batting an eye because he cares for you. and in his opinion, anyone who doesn’t like that can fuck right off. sometimes it weighs on him, but that’s normal, i think.

ALL OF THEM. EVERY SINGLE ONE. FAIRYTOPIA BINGE, FAIRY SECRET, PEARL PRINCESS. ESP THE UNICORN ONE.

hello

Hello hello! How are you today? :)

you can have my last chicken nugget

*cracks knuckles* okay let’s try this

kentohours -> sugurei

it’s still me!! your favorite leigh!!

rbs are appreciated!! <3

Tattooartist!Sukuna who is so used to being ogled by girls that he’s on the verge of putting his 2 weeks’ notice in. He knows he’s hot, muscular, breathtaking even (like some girl said while sitting on the studio chair and trying to get in his pants), but people piss him off, both men and women. He wishes he could just ink them up and never see them again.

And when he sees you staring at him from across the room he’s sure you’re about to say the same shit every other girl has said in the past three years he worked at the studio. But he’s utterly surprised when, instead, you turn around and close the door behind you.

He waits for you to come back, because you do have a tattoo appointment, but you don’t. That’s why he presses his ear against his door to listen to you trying to reschedule your appointment when there’s another tattoo artist instead.

He gets out and leans on the door, making himself visible, and when the girl at the reception asks you why you want to reschedule you look at him while saying “I just don’t think he’s professional enough to make what I’m looking for.”

And now you’re pissing him off, because he’s good at what he does and he knows it. So he comes closer to you, trying to intimidate you with his height, and slowly challenges you saying how he will get your stencil done for free. If you don’t like it he will personally pay for your tattoo, no matter the price. You accept the challenge, tattoos are super expensive these days, what do you really have to lose?

And that’s how you find yourself in his bedroom getting pounded from the back, your fresh tattoo on your spinal column.

“Thought you said I wasn’t professional enough, mh baby?” He whispers in your ear. “Looks like you enjoyed the tattoo, yeah?”

Between moans you manage to slightly turn around and kiss him on the lips. While you’re still close to his face you smirk.

“Looks like you’re enjoying it more than me.”

You feel his dick jump at your provocative tone, and he picks up his pace while standing back up. He slaps your ass, hard, earning himself a squeal before feeling your pussy cream on his dick.

“Fuck yes I do.”

requiem

giving head to a guy you actually like is such a joy, seriously

it’s like “thank you for making me laugh, i hope you like your tip at the back of my throat”