Harry Styles Dirty Imagines

Waking Up Beside You

A/N: I apologize in advance for the weird letters in certain words (as below) but it's so wattpad doesn't blacklist the story due to the curse words :) enjoy!
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Harry was fuckëd. He was absolutely, truly, entirely fuckëd.

He doesn't know how or why his mind had decided to conjure up such a thoroughly detailed dream, but it had, and as soon as his eyes snapped open, he knew he was in deep shît.

Harry remembers the dream with vivid precision (he doesn't think he'll ever be able to forget it), and what a dream it had been. In his slumbering subconscious he had managed to create quite the explicit vision which had started off as harmless, but then had escalated to terminal sexual heights.

It had begun as a simple movie night with Y/N, cuddled up in the king-sized bed with Pitch Perfect playing on the flat screen across the room. Small whispers and giddy giggles were exchanged between the two, Harry murmuring stupid knock-knock jokes to Y/N every now and then just to watch her roll her eyes.

Even with the annoyed attitude she displayed, he knew she secretly adored his cheesy puns and blatant punch-lines.

"Okay, okay," Harry snorted a laugh, going over another joke in his mind, knowing he had a winner, "why did no one bother to look for Nemo after he went missing?"

Y/N peeked up at him from where her head was nuzzled into his chest, doing her best to fight off an endearing smile.
Harry didn't pay it much thought when she flipped her body over onto his, sliding down to rest in between his legs. He was so caught up in his joke and she seemed so relaxed and at ease that he really didn't expect things to drastically change at any minute. He was wrong.

Y/N set her palms down against his knees, gathering the fabric of his flannel pajama pants in her hands and lightly tugging.

"Why?" She asked, glancing up at him. Harry momentarily forgot how to speak, the intense, suggestive gaze she pinned onto him not matching up with the nonchalant tone of her mellow voice.

A tiny, almost ominous smile twitched at the edges of Y/N's rosy lips, her fists giving another tug at the plaid fabric of his loose pants. The waistband hung low on his hips and he could see the edge of his happy trail start to expand underneath the cloth and an odd simmering sensation clawed down his abdomen.

Harry's punch line had completely slipped from his train of thought, every nerve concentrating wholly on Y/N's rough touch. He lets out a few words that sound like he has a reed pipe lodged in his throat, the way she slowly begins to crawl up his legs and sides making any comprehendible sentence dissolve in his mouth before it got the chance to be spoken.

She has made it up to his upper body, her legs resting on either side of his hips. She settles herself comfortably onto him and Harry lets out a high squeak, the sudden pressure on his groin seeming to set off a chain reaction of euphoric bombs inside his veins.

"What–" His words are sharply cut off as Y/N quickly finishes pulling his pants down his thighs, right along with his underwear. Her fingers wrap around his semi-hard, giving him a cruel squeeze.

A surprised yawp straggles from his throat, her touch ghostly and light on his tense, aroused cöck.

And right then, at that crucial moment, he had jerked awake.

Harry gradually begins to come to his senses, his body unknotting itself from alarm and slumping back into the plushness of the mattress. Everything around him is coming into sharp focus now and he can see the grey, misty sunlight seeping in through the sheer beige curtains of his and Y/N's room, washing the entire area in a muted, silvery light. He slowly turns his head, his eyes drifting onto the quietly snoring lump next to him.