Harry Styles Imagines

45|vacation *

"Well it's done, so c'mon," Y/n says as she pulls herself up to sitting. "Let's get up now since we're awake."

Harry lifts his arm of his eyes, looking up at Y/n as she starts to climb out of the bed. He lets his eyes rove over her body, taking in her plush curves, and his gaze settles on the small daffodil tattoo on her right hip—his absolute favourite tattoo of hers. And because of it, he'd adopted a new pet name for her —daffodil. He uses it sparingly though, as a treat of sorts, knowing what it does to her every time the nickname falls from his lips. He especially knows the effect the name has on her when he calls her that with his head buried between her thighs.

With a mischievous grin, he suddenly takes hold of Y/n's hips, pulling her down onto his lap and making her squeal in the process.

"What do you think you're doing, mister?" She playfully scolds him, and yet she indulges him anyway, straddling his lap.

"We don't have to get up right this minute, y'know," Harry says. "If I remember correctly, our reservations aren't until 11. We still have some time to...enjoy each other." He caresses Y/n's hips as he says this, and despite her urge to stick to their scheduled plans, she feels her body shiver at the suggestion.

"How do I know you won't keep me hostage here in bed with you even after you get some?" Y/n asks, her breath hitching when Harry presses a searing kiss on her jaw.

"I won't keep you long, love," he replies, his voice husky as he sprinkles kisses down the length of Y/n's neck. "Just enough to work up an appetite."

Y/n swears under her breath, Harry's words sending a familiar sensual burn straight to her tummy. He'd always had a way with words, hadn't he?

Y/n indulges him then, bringing her lips to his for a sweet kiss. Harry hums against her, both of his hands falling onto Y/n's thighs. And then he squeezes them, making Y/n gasp—giving him perfect access to her pretty mouth, which he opens with his to advance their kiss. Y/n whimpers against him, just like Harry knows she would, and he loves the sound, wants to hear it again.

One of his hands moves from her thigh to the area between, and he can already feel the heat radiating between her legs. But he wouldn't be himself if he didn't tease her first. Y/n squirms on top of him as he stubbornly keeps his hand several centimeters away from her heat. And Harry can tell it's driving her crazy not to beg him to touch her. By the look in her eyes, she definitely wants to, but it's clear she's waiting for Harry to do it on his own.

Harry smirks at her. "What do you want, baby?" he prods her, and Y/n practically melts at his words.

"Y-you know what I want, Harry," she says. She tries to shift closer to Harry's hand, but he simply moves it further back, making her whine.

"You have to tell me, baby. Tell me what you want or I won't know," Harry says before nibbling at Y/n's ear. She whines again, before grabbing Harry's hand in hers and pulling it closer, positioning his fingers over the fabric of her underwear.

"Naughty girl," he says, but he relents, rubbing Y/n through her panties. "Wanted you to use your words."

Y/n moans helplessly, grinding against Harry's fingers, desperate to feel some sort of friction. "T-touch me," she stutters out. "Move the panties and touch me. Please, Harry,"

"Good girl," Harry grants Y/n's wish, sliding her panties aside and sliding a finger into her folds. "How's this?" He asks her, pressing another delicate kiss on her shoulder.