Cockiness- HARRY STYLES #DirtyImagine

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She took a deep breath against the wall. 

Then another. 

She could hear the music of the movie playing in her room, the dialogue bouncing back and forth. But, it was only a low buzz in her head as her blood rushed in her ears. Her heart pounding.

Another deep breath.

Harry decided to use a few of his off days on tour to visit LA. Get some songwriting done, get some partying done, and one or two tattoos. He usually stayed at hers. He never checked into a hotel by himself.

She remembered asking ‘why’ on one drunken night during his last visit. He only gave a soft smile, a charming smile, before he nuzzled into her neck. She swore she felt the word ‘lonely’ whispered against her skin.

And she never minded.


He was her best friend.

Her mind followed the same line of thought whenever the term came up in her head. She figured not many ‘best friends’ agreed to not talk about the other outside their own close tight-lipped circle of friends. She figured not many ‘best friends’ could name twelve different places in one apartment where they’d fucked like she could with her own.

Or four different places where one tied the other up.

Or two different places where one pinned the other against the wall.

To others, it probably wasn’t a normal friendship. And maybe it wasn’t, but it was theirs. 

Nothing was his. Nothing was hers.

They were the first ones to see the beaming smiles and deep dimples of good news.

They were the first ones to hear the quick gasps and low sniffles of bad.

They were the only ones to feel the heated skin and soft lips of each others deepest fantasies. 

And this was one of them.

She looked down. 

The deep red of her bra and panties didn’t match the red pattern in Harry’s plaid shirt that she wore unbuttoned over it, the same one he’d cut the sleeves off of awhile ago. The black lace along the edges of her lingerie matched the bow in the middle of her bra.

She took a look at her body with a huff. 

Stretchmarks along the brown skin of her hips. Her legs long, but nowhere near toned. And she definitely—

Harry’s loud burst of laughter in the room broke through her criticism and the music of the movie jolted her.

She pushed down the insecurities. It couldn’t be a part of this. She buttoned up his shirt stopping just before her bra.

One more deep breath.

She turned into the room.

His eyes on the television as he sat on her bed. Dimples on full display. He hadn’t turned to her yet.

“You missed when Vivian goes back into that store,” he said. He moved to reach the remote then looked to her. “I could re…wind.”

His last syllable came out breathless. The smile dropped. His eyes on her like nothing else mattered. Like nothing else existed.

She tried to mimic the smirks he’d give her. Tried to add a bit more sway to her hips. Wanted him to want her.


Badly enough to beg.

He swung his legs slowly from the bed to sit up straight on the edge, his feet on the floor. His eyes never left hers. She forced herself to look away from him like she was bored.

She leaned across the bed to reach for the remote, making sure his shirt rose up her body, making sure he could see the red lace covering her backside.

She didn’t look back to him until she turned off the television. Heavy silence falling on both of them.

His eyes had never been more green. She moved to stand between his jean-clad legs. His long fingers going to graze the back of her thighs and up. His large hands cupping her ass with one light squeeze.

He looked up at her. She couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped her as his hands left a burning trail to the hem of his shirt against her.

Her own hands went to his. She moved them down gently. He didn’t question her as her fingers then moved to his hair, rubbing his scalp underneath the wavy curls. His head rocking slightly with her fingers, his eyes half-lidded for a moment.

“We’re going to do something different,” she said, soft with just a hint of order. Testing.

Green eyes still on dark brown. 

“Okay,” Harry said without hesitation.

She didn’t know her heart could beat any faster than it already was. But, it did. She let her smirk fade and her fingers glide down to the nape of his neck.

She looked down at him.

“Undress me,” she said. A little bit more order. “Slowly.”

His hands moved up, almost too quickly. His fingers going to the plastic buttons. The silence so sharp, she could hear them snap open.

The lower he got, the faster he went. Just barely. She wouldn’t even have noticed if she wasn’t paying so much attention to his every move. 

“Didn’t I say slowly?” she said. A bit more soft than she intended.

He paused, looking away from her eyes and to his fingers. His eyebrows furrowing slightly in concentration. Like he was playing a game of chess, putting a puzzle together. 

The shirt opened up after a few more moments. She pushed it off of herself before he could, standing in nothing but the bra and panties she bought herself.

He looked her up and down, eyes moving even slower than his fingers did.

His hands went to her waist, his lips to her stomach to lay a kiss. 

Then another.


She felt herself sigh, her eyes fluttering as one hand went to his hair, the other resting on his shoulder. 

Then she remembered.

She yanked on his hair. He hissed then a low groan rumbled in his chest. Eyes back on her, sharp jaw aimed up.

“Is that undressing me?” she said. Another tug to his curls, another hiss. “Did I say you could kiss me?”


Green eyes burned and his jaw set.

Another tug. He groaned.

She leaned into him. “Did I say you could kiss me?” she repeated.

“No.” His voice deep, complete gravel in that one syllable.

She let go of him, taking a step back.

“Stand up,” she said. 

He did. 

She gestured for him to stand a few feet from the bed while she sat down on it, crossing her legs.

“Since you don’t seem to know what undressing is,” she said. A small smirk popped onto his face. “Take off your shirt.”

He didn’t hesitate. His hands grabbed the back of the collar of his shirt, forward, and off quickly. Necklaces falling back down to his chest. The shirt tossed to the side. 

She took in his broad shoulders, the birds on his chest, the butterfly on his hard stomach. She took a deep breath.

“Take off your pants,” she said. She thought about using ‘trousers’ for him, but she figured he knew what she meant. 

Fingers started to unbuckle his belt. His eyes held hers, almost to the point of intimidation. She refused to look away like she normally would have. 

He did a short shimmy out of his tight jeans, a bright smile flashing on his face for a moment. She couldn’t help but return it. Then he straightened. Hands behind his back, feet together. 

She took in the rest of him. Tattoo at his ankles, light hair running up his calves, sparse at his thighs.

And she could see he was harder than she expected under his boxer briefs. 

She stood. “Come here.”

He moved over to her and she pushed him down to sit. Her heart drummed. And she wondered if there was any way to get him to get his eyes off of hers.

She leaned to him, her lips against his ear.

“No touching,” she said.

She stood between his legs. Her thumbs hooked into the fabric of her panties and she pulled them down. Harry’s hand gripped the sheets on her bed as he took a deep breath. She pulled the straps of her bra down, unhooked it, and let it fall. 

He looked up at her like he was in awe. Then his eyes followed one of her hands as it trailed down her body. Between her breasts, down her stomach, to her heat.

His knuckles were red now as gripped the sheets harder. His eyes trailed back up. She rubbed herself slowly as she moved even closer. 

With the way he looked at her, like it was taking all his willpower not to grab her and fuck her against the wall, and her fingers against her core, she felt even more heat stir in the pit of her stomach.

“Is this how you want to touch me, Harry?” she said low.

He nodded.

“I can’t hear you.”

A pause.

“Yes,” he breathed out. His jaw setting again.

She smirked down at him. He would do what she asked it seemed, but it looked like she would have to work to get him to beg.


She moved her hand away, back to his hair. Her lips moving to his. Rough.

His hands went to her back, gripping her hard. She smiled into the kiss before biting lightly on his bottom lip. She pulled away from his lips slightly.

“Hmm, you really can’t seem to follow directions,” she said against him. She pushed him back against the bed. The shove so unexpected that he fell back. “Move to the center of the bed.”

He did.

She turned away, starting to go to her dresser for her scarves before deciding against it. She went to his suitcase to rummage through the folded clothes.

“What are you doing?” he said. She could hear an edge of humor to his tone. She would make sure she didn’t hear it again tonight.

She pulled out the two long sleeves to the shirt she had on earlier. He sometimes liked to use them as headbands, she would make better use of them.

Her hand grabbed his wrist. She tied it to one of the many bars at the head of her bed. Tight.

She moved onto the bed, straddled his chest. Her heat against skin. She felt the growl in his chest more than she heard it. She grabbed his other wrist and started to tie it.

“I’m going to teach you what happens to little boys when they can’t keep their hands,” she knotted the sleeve, “to themselves.”

His eyes flashed at the words ‘little boys.’ She knew he didn’t like it.

She smirked again, her body moving down his slightly before leaning in like she was going to kiss him. She held his eyes this time. Her hands now back to his hair. His breathing getting quicker. He looked away first, green going to her full lips. 

He leaned up to kiss her. She pulled away just before he could. Her fingers pulling his hair again, lighter this time.

Her lips went to his jaw.

His neck. She sucked against his skin. He tensed after a sharp intake of breath. His eyes closing.

His chest. A love bite left right between the birds. A light scrape of her teeth against one nipple, her hand scratching past the other. He hissed, his body jerking slightly.

His stomach. Sharp nails against the butterfly, soft lips reaching his v-line, moving to the trail of hair. Her eyes went to the ‘Might as well…’ tattoo. She smiled against his skin. His stomach clenching again as she kissed the fabric over his cock. Her hand following her lips.

Another intake of breath. Sharper.

She looked up at him. He looked down at her. His chest flushed. His stomach tensing. His hands grasping at nothing in their restraints.

She freed him. Her tongue immediately creating a wet trail along the vein of his cock. Precum slipping against her tongue. She felt his hips jerk slightly. Her hand wrapped around his thick length. Her mouth then taking in only the head. Once. Twice. Three times.

A moan jumped out of him. She heard her bed creak as Harry tried to move his hands roughly.

She took in as much of him as she could for a moment, holding him at the base of his cock before moving to graze lightly at his balls. 

Her eyes were still on him as he bit his bottom lip. A muffled moan. He lifted his head slightly to get a better look, his cheeks flushed, before he slammed his head back into the pillows.

Her mouth took in only the tip of him. Again and again and again. Then as much of him as she could. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

She could tell he was trying not to thrust into her mouth. The veins in his neck. The red flush that now reached his chest. The muscles of his arms bulging. But, she wanted him to lose control.

As she took him deep into her mouth, she scraped a finger just behind his balls. He lifted off the sheets for a moment. Deeper into her mouth. She held him there for several moments before moving again, moaning.

“Fuck,” he breathed out then bit his lip again. Trying to hold it in. But, the groans started up. He was getting close. Her hand moved away from his balls, moving up his stomach. Her nails digging into his tattoo again.

He called out her name. Her hand scratched back down to him, holding the base of him again. She let him fall from her lips with a pop.

“Yes, babe?” she said like she’d been caught stealing a cookie.

He only tried to catch his breath. His eyes shut tight. She only watched him try to calm himself. Chest moving up and down, restrained arms only relaxing slightly. 

He still hadn’t answered. She licked the head of his cock. He hissed.

“I want you.” He sounded like he was in pain.

“You want me?” she said against his skin. “I’m right here.” Her hand moving up and down his wet shaft slightly.

He groaned. “I want to taste you.” Voice deep, heady, strained. And it went straight to her core.

She let out a small breath. She sat up on her knees, moving to straddle him again. She let her nails rake softly up and down his chest.

“You want to taste me?” she asked, trying to feign nonchalance. “Why should I let you taste me?”

His eyes finally opened, burning into hers. She’d never seen green more feral than just then.

“I need to taste you,” he said low.

She knew what he was trying to do. He didn’t want to come yet. She knew that if she hopped up on him right then, it wouldn’t take long for him to come apart. And that’s what she wanted. But, she did want this too.

She moved up slowly on her knees until her heat was just over his upper chest. One hand trailed down until she pushed one finger inside of her, in and out. She moved up even more until she was hovered over him. Two fingers. In and out. Her free hand going to hold on to the bars of her bed as let herself get lost in the feeling. In and out.

Her stomach stirred, her heart raced ever faster. She moaned softly. The headboard shifted underneath her hand. She opened her eyes and looked down to see Harry’s sharp eyes on her. Hands once again pulling at the restraints, reaching for air.

“Taste me,” she said.

Her fingers left her. He opened his mouth. Green eyes on her as he sucked on her fingers. His cheeks hollowing out. His lips plump as they tried to follow her fingers as she pulled them away slowly.

She lowered herself just as slow, her heart battering her ribs. But, when he lifted his head up. She moved up again. He groaned, it rumbled in his chest, a few rough pulls to the sleeves around his wrists.

Her body lowered all the way this time.

He moaned against her. His eyes closing as his tongue lapped her up. A starving man faced with a feast.

Both of her hands went to the headboard now. Her fingers gripped the bars as her body started to ride him. Long, wet lines spelling her name, his name against her. A kiss, a suck to her clit then back again. 

She couldn’t hold in her moans as well as he could. They bounced around the room, bounced between the two of them. 

He flicked his tongue over and over. Faster and faster. His own moans vibrating against her like he couldn’t get enough. Her hands went to his hair. Heat swarmed all around her, a pressure building, ready to snap.

She did. Pleasure hitting her in waves as she shook over him. She gasped out, gripping his hair even tighter. She could barely breathe. He kept tasting her as she calmed. He looked at her as her body trembled. The same look of awe as before.

She caught her breath then moved back to straddle his chest again. He licked his lips. She nearly came again at the sight.

Lips, red and parted. Cheeks, red and flushed. Both wet with her. Eyes half-lidded, his arms no longer pulling against their restraints. He looked spent. He looked fucked.

And fuck if she didn’t need him inside her right then. 

But, she still wanted him to beg.

Her fingers went to his cheeks to wipe herself off of him. She planted a light kiss to his lips, tasting herself there before she slid her body lower.

She slid her wet folds against his cock, teasing him. Back and forth. Never pushing inside. Back and forth.

A loud moan broke through him. Her bed creaking at a rough pull again. His chest heaved as she kept up the motion up. His eyes shut again, tighter.

“What should I do to you next, Harry?” she moaned herself. She tried to push down the pleasure spiking up in her again.

He mumbled.

“What,” she breathed, “what was that, baby?”

His eyes opened. “Fuck me,” he let out.

She nearly paused instead she moved slower. “You’re gonna have to ask a bit nicer than that.”

She kept moving, even slower.


“Please,” he groaned, pulling on his restraints, moving underneath her. “Please fuck me. Please, baby, please fuck me.”

That was all she needed.

She grabbed the base of him again. Gliding him into her, letting him fill her.

They both moaned, loud as it ripped from them almost in unison. 

She stayed there for several moments, clenching. Afraid that she was already going to fall apart. Her hands moved to Harry’s lower stomach and she could feel it quivering every few seconds.

“Please,” he said. “Please move.” He bit his lip for a moment. “Please, please, please.” His voice so low then that she barely heard his pleas.

She wanted to test him now. “As long as you don’t come until I tell you to.” Another breath. “Okay?”

She started to ride him before he even answered.

“Okay,” he groaned.

And she kept riding him. Arching her back. Moving up and down. Figure eights. Back and forth. Circles. He would thrust up into her, matching her rhythms. She would clench around him again. And again. 

She felt a winding inside of her again, another pressure ready to explode. She didn’t want to yet. 

So she moved a bit slower.

“Do I feel good?” she moaned.

Up and down. Up and down.

His eyes closed. He groaned. She felt it all over.

“Yes,” he said. Over and over.

A little faster. Another figure eight. Another.

“How good do I feel?” 

A harsh breath escaped him. 

“So fucking good,” he groaned. Another deep breath. “So fucking good, baby.” Voice a little lower.

Harry only attempted to go a bit faster. Just a bit.

“Please, please, please,” he said. Soft moans coming out like a mantra, like a hymn, like begging. 

“Please what, Harry?” she breathed. Pressure building as he managed to get deeper and deeper with each stroke.

“Untie me, untie me.” His voice rough. But still pleading with her. Like he was in pain and she had the only remedy.

She nodded even though his eyes were shut.

“Hold on,” she started, a moan cutting her off. “Hold on to the bars until I say.”

She didn’t wait for an answer, but he did as he was told quickly.

She let him slip from her so she could reach the sleeves easier. They both gasped from the loss. Harry’s head hitting his pillows over and over as she untied the first. She waited to see if he would disobey.

He didn’t. His jaw only clenching.

Her hands untied the other and he held on like it was the only thing keeping him from falling. And maybe it was.

She grabbed onto his length again, lining him up with her. He looked up to her after the moment went on. 

Then she slammed down onto him.

She cried out. He cut off his loud groan with another bite to his lip. The pressure inside her only twisted tighter.

So she moved up again. Paused. Slammed down.


And again.

His teeth were clenched, veins in his neck bulged, the muscles in his arms strained, but he didn’t let go.

But, she was about to.

She leaned her body against him. His chest rising and falling under her. Her lips to his ear.


She blinked. She was on her back. Harry’s arms around her waist before moving down to her hips. He slammed into her over and over.

Faster and faster.

As deep as he could, angling her hips up roughly. She was sure her imprint would be in the mattress afterward.

Her hands reached out for anything, anything, to hold onto.

His eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his fingers embedded into her hips. A thumb going to rub her clit. His skin slamming into hers and her cries following echoed in the room.

The pressure built and built in her before she fell. Even harder.

“Harry, fuck,” she cried. “Please, please, please.” Her turn to plea.

His body lowered onto hers, still fucking her, still slamming against her. The cool metal of his necklaces between both of them. His hands going to cradle her curls. His head going to the crook in her neck. His lips, his breath, against her skin.

She clawed at his back, unable to control her trembles. He groaned, a gasp. The aftershocks coursing through her as he started to shake too.

He was still holding on. Still. Barely.

“Please,” he whispered. A low groan that she felt rumble in his chest against her breasts. “Please.”

That’s when she remembered.

Her trembling fingers went to his damp hair. “Look at me,” she said breathlessly.

His head moved until his forehead was just an inch from hers. His eyes taking a moment to open up. 

She could feel him shaking, holding on. Thrusts losing their rhythm, trying to send her to her brink again. Trying to avoid his own. Trying not to disobey.

“Come for me,” she said softly.

And he did.

His grip on her tightened. Hard jaw angled up. Veins along his neck. His mouth opened, letting out another groan. His thrusts wilder. He shook. He trembled. All against her as he spilled inside of her.

His head fell back into the crook of her neck as his thrusts slowed. Trembles of his own aftershocks shaking both of them. They both had to catch their breath for a minute.

A few.

She felt Harry smirk against her skin. But it faded when he finally looked at her. His eyes roaming her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, her lips. Like he’d just found something precious.

He kissed her. The kiss passionate, heating her up all over again, before it turned rough, needy. 

His teeth pulled lightly on her bottom lip before he pulled away only slightly.

She wanted to kiss him again. Needed to. She started to move her head up. And he leaned away only slightly. 

The smirk back again, the same kind she’d tried to copy earlier.

Realization dawned on her.

He gave a light tug to her hair. His eyes darted between hers before he spoke up, his voice pure gravel:

“This isn’t fucking over.”

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