Just a Taste // HS Blurbs

if you only knew

Warnings: kind of ? Mention of sex with someone not reader so just a heads up! Angst

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It hurts.

It hurts to see his hands on someone. It aches in her stomach, knowing that he was going to take the model like girl home when she had been the one to come with him. But partially it was her own fault, because she couldn't tell him how she felt.

They had been best friends for so long, and she wasn't his type. At least, that's what she thinks. His past relationships and hook ups don't resemble her and it hurts to think that these girls don't truly know what type of man they're getting. A man who places cool washcloths on her head when she runs a fever. A man who remembers exactly how she likes her Starbucks order. A man who does any and everything in his power to be the most giving and loving friend to exist. She gets the soft side of him, she gets the cuddles and the movie nights- but she doesn't get him like this.

She doesn't get to feel his large hands on her waist, pulling her into his form so she can feel his length against her ass. She doesn't get to hear his raspy voice thick with arousal, asking if they'd like to take a trip to the bathroom or to his apartment. She doesn't get to feel his lips on her neck while his slightly calloused fingertips drag up her thighs and dip underneath her skirt. It was like a bad car crash and she couldn't look away, though it made her feel violently ill to her stomach.

This bombshell blonde was going to feel Harry's soft mouth suck on her pebbled nipples. She was going to get to feel his breath against her mouth as he thrust into her over and over again, groaning about how tight she was and how good she felt, hear him call her a good girl in the context she had been dying to hear. She would get to feel his teeth on her neck and his thick cock driving into her, his passion, his need. This random girl who didn't know the slightest thing about him was going to get all the affection and touch that Y/N was so desperately craving, but was too terrified to admit to.

Harry was going to come to her house the next morning with traces of this lucky, clueless girl on him. Her kisses on his neck and her smell on his fingers. And he was completely and utterly clueless about how much it pained her.

And Y/N was going to continue to be utterly clueless about how when he closes his eyes, he can only think of her.

If only they could get the words out.