#then i'll have done my due diligence and never need to see him again. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dovkss · 9 months

Note

could u do a uni professor aizawa and a student reader where she goes to a cafe that’s not well known sometimes and orders something and sits in the corner and just breaks down once in a while late at night (the cafe is 24/7). And on one of those nights her professor (aizawa) comes in and takes to her and tells her to let it all out on him and pretend she doesn’t know him. ❤️❤️

A+

word count: 2k

summary: he usually hates his students. what makes you so different?

warning: 18+; taboo relationships; teacher x student; masturbation; manipulation; age gap; kidnapping; noncon touching; strict professor aizawa; determined izuku

a/n: my hubbyyyy ! wanted to try a new writing format now that I’m back :) enjoy my luvvies <3 i'll proofread in the morning as alwaysss

Yandere! Professor Aizawa couldn't care any less about his students.

He is solely there to make sure they pass and keep it pushing.

But he doesn't make it easy for them either.

He's known on campus for having ridiculously high standards for his students, therefore he's a tough grader.

So when you showed up, you were no different from his other students.

Anxious whenever you stepped into his class. Worried that you'd maybe fail or do something he wouldn't approve of.

You made sure to not step out of line in any way. You'd never ask questions when you needed to, scared of being degraded. There were times when you even had to use the restroom but held it because you knew that if you stepped out for even a second, you'd miss plenty of information that he wouldn't be willing to repeat just for you.

His obsession (unbeknownst to him) began when he noticed that you often visited the cafe he did.

A small cafe that barely anybody he knew personally went to. It was a cozy, dimly lit cafe that nestled in a quiet corner of the city.

It was nearly always empty, with only a few patrons scattered about, absorbed in their own conversations and treats.

Most importantly; none of his students went there.

He purposely avoided going to places he knew his students went to in order to avoid small talk. He found it to be stress inducing.

It also gave him some peace and quiet. A chance for him to relax on the weekends.

Every Sunday, he would go in, order the same coffee, and sit down in the same corner booth by the same window. Usually fixated on a small notebook filled with incomprehensible scribbles.

His unruly black hair would be up in a ponytail, strands falling messily in front of his eyes.

Every Sunday, you would come in, order the same tea, and sit down in the booth across from him.

From what he saw, you never noticed him. Once your head was in your laptop, it never came out.

Whenever he would walk by your booth, he would see clearly what you were so focused on.

You were studying the material for his class.

He was surprised since majority of this students turn in work only a couple hours before the due date every Monday morning.

He hated rushed work.

But you took time out of your weekend to actually get things done.

He respected it.

Not long after, the sight of you became... delicate to him.

During tests he gave the class, he would sit behind his desk, appearing to be busy with a stack of papers.

His attention wasn't on the papers.

It was on you.

His diligent, hard-working student that sat in the middle of the classroom.

His favorite pastime was pretending to grade assignments when in reality he would steal glances at you. Gawking of your cuteness.

The way you bit your lip in concentration, or the subtle tap of your pen against the desk when deep in thought, he couldn't forget whenever you'd glance up at the clock and a hint of worry would cross your face as you realized time ticked away.—it all fascinated him.

So imagine how much he hated putting in your final grade for that test; A D.

That next Sunday at the cafe, you sat alone at the booth again. This time, you were just resting your head on your hand, forcing yourself to eat a whole bunch of pastries in an attempt to make yourself feel better.

Your hands trembled as you clutched the sheet of paper with the big D in the top corner in red ink.

Tears welled in your eyes, blurring the harsh feedback on the test you'd received not too long ago. The harsh reality of your impending failure in Professor Aizawa's class weighed heavily on your shoulders.

You bit your lip to stifle a sob, your breaths coming in uneven bursts. As the tears streamed down your cheeks, you barely noticed the figure approaching the table you were sitting at. It was none other than Professor Aizawa himself.

It was him. His appearance was difference, you almost didn't recognize him. You couldn't tell if it was from the fact that you sat so far away from him majority of the time, maybe you just weren't used to seeing him up close.

You'd never seen him with his hair out of his face either. The scar under his right eye made him look more intimidating than he already was. But he was still handsome.

"May I sit down?" he asked softly, his voice more comforting than you'd ever heard it in class.

You nodded, unable to trust your own voice. You quickly wiped your tears with the back of your hand and tried to hide the crumpled test paper, but it was too late. He'd already seen why you were in so much distress.

He settled into the chair across from your, his eyes fixed on your face. He was still very intense, but the way he spoke, you could tell that he was being nice.

"I thought you could use some company."

You attempted to smile, but it came out as a quiver of your lips. "Professor Aizawa, I... I don't know what to do. I'm on the verge of failing your class."

He leaned forward, his gaze unwavering. "Failing is a part of learning, darling," he said, his voice carrying some tenderness. "It doesn't define your worth."

You nodded, your tears subsiding slightly as his words offered a glimmer of hope. "I'm just so embarrassed..." you admitted, your voice trembling.

He leaned back, his arms in his lap. He contemplated on reaching out and gently placing a hand on yours. He needed to know if your skin was warm and soft. "Don't be," he said. "I believe in your potential more than you know. You just need to focus on how you're going to rise from the defeat."

You looked into his eyes, your heart fluttering as you saw a depth of emotion you'd never expected to see from the man.

That vulnerable moment seemed to draw the two of you closer.

Whenever you struggled with any assignments, you wouldn't hesitate to approach Professor Aizawa for help.

Surprisingly,, he offered to tutor you outside of class hours. Your first study date being at the cafe of course.

Opposed from his usual style of teaching in the classroom, with you he would patiently explain the work until you were able to grasp it.

Weeks went by and the tutoring sessions became a regular occurrence. Aizawa's hard exterior cracked more little by little with every meeting.

You found yourself not only excelling in his class but also developing a bond with him.

Soon enough boundaries were broken between student and teacher when you found the interactions not stopping at academic matters.

You both shared interests in books, music, art, food. And naps.

One evening, after another successful session of studying, he suggested you both go to a local jazz club to unwind.

You agreed with a smile on your face.

He was thrilled at the thought of spending more time with you.

His little secret.

Sometimes he believed he was way too old to be crushing on some girl. Let alone a student of his.

But those thoughts didn't threaten to bother his mind when he was watching you. Nor when he was in his bed at night, his cock in his hand, pumping up and down to the thought of ruining you.

Fucking his load back into you when it leaks out while making you ride his big cock.

That's why he loved to sleep.

He loved to dream.

One afternoon, as you both strolled through a park, the leaves crunching beneath their feet, Aizawa finally acknowledged the truth he had been avoiding.

He'd fallen in love with you.

He knew what he was admitting to was wrong. He swore to himself that his students would never be anything more than just his students.

Why did you have to come into his life and ruin that?

But he couldn't lie to himself any longer.

You both sat on a bench, engrossed in an adorable conversation about your pet guinea pig back at home.

Unbeknownst to you, a male classmate, who'd been had been harboring a secret crush on you for some time, was watching you.

He was a little bit of a nerd, you couldn't lie. You had no interest in him, so you rejected him as politely as you could. He often watched you from afar, admiring your dedication and kindness.

Today, curiosity had gotten the better of him. He'd seen you and Aizawa from a distance, and unable to control his urge to know more, he approached you two, unaware of the true nature of your relationship with the older man.

"Hey!" Midoriya called out with a friendly smile, causing both you and Aizawa to look up in surprise.

Your cheeks flushed slightly as you greeted him awakrdly, "Hi, Deku. What brings you here?"

His smile widened as he approached. "I was just passing by and saw you."

Aizawa couldn't hide his annoyance. He had been enjoying a moment with you only for another student of his to come and ruin it. He shoud be more worried that he's being seen with you outside of class, but he was more bothered that the green-haired kid couldn't take a hint.

Nevertheless, he maintained his stoic demeanor.

You tried to defuse the tension by coming up with a lie. "Yeah, I was walking in the park and saw Professor Aizawa so I decided that instead of waiting till Monday, I could ask a question for an upcoming assignment..."

Aizawa nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly. You were a terrible liar.

Midoriya took a seat beside you. "Oh, you could've asked me too, y'know! Do you still have my number?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much you should reveal. "Um, no, Deku-"

Aizawa's irritation grew, and he decided to steer the conversation "Midoriya," he started, "Shouldn't you be studying for that retake? You wouldn't want to have an F in my class, would you?"

Midoriya's eyes widened and he shook his head, bowing a few times. "Of course not, Sir! I'll be sure to not disappoint you!"

He excused himself, leaving you and Aizawa alone once more, but not after handing you a piece of paper with his number on it.

Aizawa knew he needed to act sooner than later.

Beneath his calm exterior, a dark obsession was slowly taking hold of his heart.

Aizawa’s initial admiration turned into something much more sinister when he found himself becoming possessive of you, unable to bear the thought of you being with anyone else.

He began to watch your every move, studying your interactions with other students and teachers.

With time, his actions became more extreme. He started to manipulate situations to ensure that he was always the one by your side.

Asking you to stay after class, keeping you out for longer than you’d hoped.

Out of seemingly nowhere, his obsession reached its peak.

The thought of you being away from him any longer, he finally made the decision to keep you.

He snuck into your dorm, his heart pounding as he’d never don’t anything like this before. But he trusted himself.

He didn’t pay to watch those kidnapping tutorial videos for nothing.

He picked the locked carefully and silently entered your room.

You were sleeping peacefully. He touched your hand and you were so warm.

Just like he expected.

His hands went up to caress your cheek, then you stirred. Your eyes fluttering open, only to be met with the sight of your professor looming over you.

Fear gripped your heart as you realized the danger you were in. You tried to scream, but he swiftly covered your mouth, his grip firm and unyielding.

He whispered in your ear, his voice dripping with affection.

“I really wish I could love you the normal way. But you’re gonna have to get used to… whatever this is.

“Now behave and I’ll let you keep that A+.”

You wished that was the least of your worries.

#yandere aizawa #yandere shota aizawa #yandere aizawa shouta #yandere eraserhead #yandere shouta aizawa #yandere bnha #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere my hero academia #yandere mha #bnha headcannons #yandere headcanons #yandere

233 notes · View notes

sunlightandsuffering · 7 months

Note

ME BISH MEEE

I LOVE THIS ASK IT MADE ME LAUGH LOL!! Here it is tho, it was longer before and I had to rewrite this part, i'm not sure if it's as good as it was originally but i'll never know bc I can never read it again 😭😭 but hopefully y'all like it!!

“Erennn,” Mikasa whines from the booth, demanding his attention and Armin shoots him a meaningful look, god he’s so easy to manipulate. It’s barely been ten minutes since they’ve barricaded her in, demanding that she finish at least two cups of water, a mission she’s currently dawdling at. “‘Min you can’t be that easy, she’s a master manipulator.” “Erennnnnn,” she wails again from behind him and Eren sighs.

“But she seems so upset, are you sure she’s okay?” “She’s fine,” Eren tells him, taking another swig of his beer just as his phone goes off in his other hand. He checks it out of pure curiosity because who the fuck is texting him at this hour that isn’t at the club with him right now. Of course, it’s Mikasa.

And as his eyes slip over the wall of text he almost drops the phone because it’s so filthy, so explicit he might just have to wash her mouth out with soap for the message. “Mikasa,” he chastises her, quick to power down the phone before Armin can see.

Her little head pops up from behind the booth where she’s splayed across the plush red leather, and she sends him a mischievous smirk.

“We haven’t made any headway on our list Eren.” “Shut up,” he smarts back, turning to Armin before he can question too much, “She’s doing fine, she’s being a fucking brat actually.

“Hey,” Mikasa pouts, affronted and Eren cuts her off before she can say anything too incriminating. Distracting her instead with her arch nemesis: the water glass. “How is drinking your water going Miki?” She shuts up, but him and Armin both watch as she begrudgingly takes a sip of the mostly full glass of water. Like a little gremlin her hand comes up to snatch the cup from the table, before disappearing to bring it down to where she’s lying on the booth. She makes an overexaggerated noise of disgust as she sips on it and Eren sighs.

He turns back to Armin, gesturing towards his pain in the ass of a roommate, “See, brat.”

“I think you’re being too harsh on her Eren.” “You baby her too much.” “Erennn,” she goes back to whining his name dramatically, wanting his attention. “Drink your water Mikasa,” he directs and he hears her sit up for another swig. She makes a disgusted face before flopping back to her beloved booth where she’s borderline napping at this point.

“It tastes awful, why do I have to drink this?” “Because I just had to rescue you from the girl’s bathroom where you were puking your guts up, you need hydration.” “You’re so mean.” “Yeah, well that’s what two hand grenades and absolutely no water gets you.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” she mumbles to herself, her hands drawing imaginary shapes in the air as she lies on the booth.

“I’m sure it did,” Eren patronizes her.

She glares at him, popping up from her booth to slump over onto the table, “If I drink both of these will you let me go dance?” “I’ll consider it.” “I’m gonna go,” Armin tells them, setting his now empty glass down, “I think i’ve done my due diligence.” He leans over, pressing a quick kiss against Mikasa’s temple and she preens at the attention. “You say that,” Eren grumbles, “But you’re not the one who’s gonna have to deal with getting her home.” Armin laughs, giving him a gentle pat to the arm, “Well that’s your job as her roommate Eren.” “Not what I signed up for.” His phone buzzes in his hand and he looks over at Mikasa and she’s looking away, a secretive smile on her lips. God she’s ridiculous, even more so when he reads the text.

You should come over later.

“Mikasa,” Eren replies aloud as Armin disappears, “Baby we live together.” She scowls at the reminder, “Wrong person.”

Oh what a fucking brat. “Don’t make me come over there.” “Hah,” she scoffs, “I’d like to see you try, my big bad roommate will stop you.”

“Oh my god,” he whispers to himself, he cannot believe that this is how he’s spending his night. Abruptly, he turns back to the crowd, still barricading Mikasa in from the corner of the booth. And suddenly there’s a call, Mikasa’s sweet little face popping up on his phone and he sighs as he picks up, “Baby what’s up?”

“I miss you,” she mumbles, tearful now and Eren sighs, “Miki I’m right here.”

“There’s this guy ‘Ren and he won’t let me leave, he’s scaring me, I want you.”

Eren struggles to repress his smile now as she goes on, because really it’s not funny, she’s borderline crying into his ear because she’s scared that some big scary guy is trying to take her away.

17 notes · View notes

muffindaddystyles · 3 years

Text

Hearth.

A/N: I dunno if I've got any desi/brown/poc readers but if you're reading this I love you so much and you (us) deserve the same validation and representation others get.

Here's a blurb as to what it feels like celebrating Eid with Harry! Enjoy!

Warning: none — just loads of fluff.

More Inspos, Masterlist, Let's Talk

The night's pretty with murky clouds and thick layer of moon's brightness as Y/N cleans her flat, from scrubbing her Persian rugs to deep cleansing her vases back from her homeland. The flame evaporating from her candles scented like springs of Kashmir, flickers from her blowing sheer curtains due to the zephyr flurring outside.

She feels content, at peace waiting for Harry who promised that he'll be at her place by 11. He always comes an hour early helping her in setting the table before the iftari, they've been doing it together since the start of ramdan until today when he texted her he's busy along with a sad smiley.

It was fun. He fasted with her once or twice and would make sure she's hydrated enough once they break it, his love for rooh-afzah (it's a drink red in color made from essence of roses and some sweet herbs) will never fail to make her giggle as he'd demand for more after gulping two glasses already.

Then showing her his tummy along with his food pregnant jokes.

Her classes are online so it gave her time to experiment some cooking. They'd make samosas together and she always had an urge to hold back her cooes as his tongue used to poke out in concentration everytime his diligent fingers folded the samosa sheets skillfully.

"Did a pretty go'job here, innit?" He'd grin raising it like a summat trophy.

The moment he used to leave her flat (ofcourse after giving a tight hug before doing so) they both missed eachother terribly, y/n doesn't like the way her home falls into an abyss without his presence.

He's like a sunshine that warms her insides up.

The whistle of kettle and several raps of knocks on her door drags her from her fond memories of them together, she slings her feet down from the coffee table rushing to open it.

"Angel."

Harry says breathlessly prolly because he climbed three flight of stairs to get to her or that he's utterly flustered.

Her eyes remain struck at the thingies piled in his arms, a box of chocolates, many brown bags and stems of freshly blood ripped roses tucked between his knuckles.

He bought all of these gifts for her.

To make her feel like home.

To be her home.

What the fuck, nobody has ever done that for her —-- she just mighty cry.

Her mouths gupples like a fish too overwhelmed to react her emotions out and he gives her a sweet smile kicking the door shut with his feet -- gestures her to wait when she almost jumps like a cub to hug him and puts everything on the sofa knowing the things inside them's too delicate.

"C'mere, baby." He grins and she doesn't waste a moment falling in his embrace. Her cheeks smashes against his taught chest and she fists the hem of his shirt smiling too hard for her own sake as he sways them with his own rosy cheek squished against her temple.

"I love you so much, thank you." She murmurs gazing up at him with glinting eyes -- arms still lopped around his waist and his chin doubles adorably as he gives her his signature bunny grin kissing the tip of her nose, "Love you too bubba ... don't want ya homesick, at alllll."

The aggressive whistle of kettle parts them away, "Cuppa cha? Then we'll unwrap these pleasanteris." She points at the paper bags.

He nods flopping onto the floor cushions beside the large oak window of the balcony where they could bathe in moonlight.

"Thank you." He quips, kissing her fingertips while slipping his fingers under the handle of mug and takes it from her as she sits infront of him. He admires her for a second —- fawning over how she's looking so soft and cuddle-able wearing a baggy mauve kurta and some mismatched shalwar.

The tearing open of the stuffing tissue brings him back to focus --- this, he wanted to see this happiness dance over her features as she clutches the ethnic traditional dress he bought for her infront of her and when lifts it down he's met by overly excited eyes.

It's ethereal with golden details, handmade wire work and sheer fabric.

"It's gorgeous, pups." She squeezes his hand and he takes the sip of his cha smiling against the rim of the mug shyly, "Wasn't s' sure -- Sarah helped me in collecting stuff." Sarah's Y/N's bestfriend who was the only desi/brown in her filming class.

"No wonder she was being a lil sneak." Y/N chuckles already rummaging for what comes next.

He wanted to make sure he gets her everything they do traditionally in her culture and ate Sara's ears off to help him buy the most special thing and it's right there creating sweet noise when they touch eachother, dangling from her fingers.

"Churiyan .... " She whispers bitting down a smile. She loves glass bangles. Their colourfulness cheers her mood up and she'd always go with her Nani a night prior eid to select the most flamboyant pair of them from a bazar (market).

"This -— " She gestures to the gifts scattered around them, " —-- all of this and you, means alot to me." She sighs giving him a wet smile and he smoothes his thumb against her cheek like she's the most fragile thing to exist.

He watches her in a tad confusion when she stands up with a giggly squeal putting everything away and comes back with a tube of henna in her hand.

"It's chand raat t'night 'cos tommorrow is eid -- usually I spend it with Sarah and we apply henna to eachother, we're horrible at it honestly but now she isn't here 'm gonna bite yours ears —-" He cuts her off. Ushering her to sit back on her spot. He couldn't be more glad to spend all of his time with her whether it's just watching her make designs on her hand with henna.

"Your cha's waftin'." He shakes his head bringing it to her lips, "It's hot." She tells him drawing a circle on her palm and filling it with beautiful darkness of henna.

"Okie then ... " He blows at the hot beverage to cool it down and again brings it to her lips, "Now." He croons softly to her. She holds his wrist taking a sip from it -- he tucks the strand of her hair back and she smiles up at him making him chuckle when she takes a huge sigh as if her soul just woke up.

"What do we d'tommorrow?" He asks. Knowing most of the time they went to Zayn's house on Eids his mother used to fill the whole table with delicious dishes and the whole day was spent having fun.

"We do nothing but have loads of nice time -- I already made a dessert 'cos I know I'll be too lazy in the mornin', and invited your friends if that's okay?" She glances up at him done with her left palm.

"Perfect then," He nods, "D'ya need help with the other one?" He asks grabbing her right hand and the tube of henna from her.

"Yes, please." She shows him her hand covered with with henna and since it's wet she could do one thing wait or let him do it. The second options sounds more good.

"Not on me if it gets messed up." He warns her nonchalantly following the same pattern of her left hand. Stealing glances of her attractive face every now and then, dotting her moles with his intense gaze, he just thinks her brown eyes look more intricate – it's specks as if the forests soil on the first rains when they dilate with her racing heartbeat.

They're like an open book to him and at the same time mysteriously dark that he feels like burning a match to melt in them.

"You did it way better than me," She snorts examining it closely and turns the other way round to lay down on the carpeted floor and rest her head in his lap. He wipes his own hands watching the dark henna leaving a swipe of color on his fingertips.

He pets her hair, dimples milking into his cheeks when she raises her both hands infront of him -- blocking the moonlight that's falling on her, "When I was small I always used to end up getting it on my face and lemme tell ya. Having a yellow blotch isn't even a tiny bit fascinating on the only day you could dress up fancy."

His chest rumbles with giggles and he brings her hands closer to her lips blowing raspberries at them to get them dry early.

Comfortable silence envelopes them in to the point where they could hear crickets singing outside and moonlight sparkling on their skin —- she breaks it cuddling up into his chest.

"I really appreciate this, Harry." Her voice hushed whisper and her cherry stained lips couldn't resist but to patch kisses where his heart lays and she could sense it kicking a pace, "The fact that you did so much just for me -- is beyond my thought. I really feel like home." He let her speak. Squeezing her shoulders to convey the fierceness of his emotions he holds for her. His silken lips pressed to her temple and his eyelids flutters with each spurt of breath she inhales.

"I'll keep making you feel like home, till the day you'll allow me." Today. He for actually felt that his home was never a building or the luxurious furniture adorned inside it, but her. It's always gonna be her.

Because the moment he gets lost in those eyes all he come across is their shared laughter, their moments spent on this balcony right outside sipping onto their chas and watching the city wake up infront of their eyes, going to places he has never been to before, doing things he never thought he'd do in hundered years —- he isn't a big fan of spices but he still pretends like a big boi infront of her while eating pani puri she's oh so obsessed with.

The times she was never embarrassed to introduce him to her community or her friends, and getting soaked into rains even though they could've just used his car, having days planned to make him try new desi dishes, going to buy candles of many scent and shapes with him but then never feeling like leaving the store until he warns her that he'll throw her on his shoulder infront of everyone.

Going to Turkish markets together. He's a bread lover and so all this time he doesn't feel like leaving the shops filled with different kiln and tandoori breads. Eating Simit and drinking black tea in the amardu cups sitting outside the cafe –- he likes it with cheese while she might sound bland she just likes a bit of butter.

Them deciding for hours and hours which Persian rug to buy -- but never buying it apologising to the shop keeper.

Giving eachother head massages from the organic rosemary Morrocon oil that one of her friend gifted her, (Y/N) thinks she's one hell of a masseuse but Harry thinks otherwise —- though he would never ever break her heart so it's better keeping it a secret.

His nose creates a purring sound while he sleeps leaning against the wall, he doesn't even remember when he fell into the deep slumber with his large hand still wrapped around her wrist in a protective manner to keep her from moving.

It's cute.

Though when she stirs to regain consciousness with the birds chirping outside she feels remorseful finding him sleeping in such an uncomfy position just because of her and he wakes up with a loud wheeze —- blinking rapidly to see what just happened only to visibly relax back when she shushes him gently.

"Baby .... shit." He grogs out, knuckling at his eyes pointing at her jaw which's covered into a orangish streak, "Don't tell me." She groans bumping her head against his bicep.

A moment later they burst into fits of hoarse giggles and chuckles. She'd try to suck in air to not to snort and would do it nonetheless driving them more into belly aching laughter.

"Eid Mubarak, I guess?" He cackles loudly. Dimple coveting in to his velvet of skin. Rubs the tip of his nose against her's affectionately and swoons her in his arms to hug her warmly.

"Now -— go 'n dress up, c'mon." He cups the nape of her neck playing with the baby hair there and she whines smushing her face against his chest, "No. Lemme sleep some more."

"Heyyy none of that, c'mon sleepy girl you'll regret it later." He boops her nose smiling down at her fondly and she grumbles mumbling something in between you're so annoying or you're being so much like my mum.

He waits for her laying on the sofa with his arms folded and eyes closed. Prolly took a mini version of nap only to perk his head up grabbing the back of sofa when she returns with wet hair, soft clean face and lips tinted cherry wearing the dress and bangles he bought for her.

An enchantress from head to toe, he wouldn't even complain if she bewitches him.

He needs someone to pinch his bum because he thinks his eyelids might have struck. He takes a dramatic breather mischievously, pupils dilated cutesly and heart shaped lips parted with the sweet loving words in praise of her beauty burning at the tip of his tongue.

His fawning gives her butterflies. Expanding her chest with warmth and she does a three-sixty when he spindles his nimble in the air demanding her to show herself from every angle.

Her head falls back. An echo of happy giggles resonating in the room when he smacks his hand against his chest and flops into heaps of sofa cushions.

"You're fuckin' beautiful, a total knockout." He walks towards her with his hands spread open and takes her's to kiss the inside of her palms, "So are you." Her voice small with shyness. He sits on her on sofa and stays beside her with his chin perched upon his knuckles staring at her like she hung the moon -- as if she's a prayer come true.

"Did you get me ready to d'nothing?" She turns towards him. The curled up fringes kissing the apples of her cheeks same as his fingertips are dying to do so.

"I might sound selfish but it was a trap to get you ready early so I could admire you till everyone squeeze between us ... " He smirks and she huffs sinking deeper into the sofa throwing her limbs in air and his breath hitches when her bangles clanks together producing a beautiful noise.

"Harry!!" She whines.

"Okie, time to fill some grumpy kitten's tummy." He announces standing up to head to kitchen and she shakes her head with a silly smile trailing behind him.

All she knows is that. This Eid she'll have the best time of her life, as she could already feel his energy and love radiating in every corner of her home.

@harryforvogue idk why but everytime I'd sit to write this blurb you'd pop in my mind, hope so you're not hiccuping wildly.

#harry styles imagines #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x y/n imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shots #harry styles blurb #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles dirty imagines #harry x reader

130 notes · View notes