Harry Styles Imagines

consequences

 or the one where best friend! Harry walks in on something he wasn't ever supposed to see, and it makes it impossible for him to ignore what he's always wanted.

TW: smut!!

That was a bad idea. A really fucking terrible one, she knew that for a fact, but as long as bad decisions went, that one would at least mean she got some release.

As long as the girl found it in herself to actually do more than roll around in this huge bed, preferably sometime before her best friend came home.

She would die before she explained any of this to Harry, simple as that.

I mean, there was no good way to tell your best friend you've decided to try and touch yourself for the first time in his bed. Best case scenario, he would get a good laugh out of her slightly inebriated, jealousy fueled train of thought and she would never be able to look him in the eye ever again.

He could also start seeing her as a stalker, which wouldn't be half as bad as the worst outcome to this mess: that little stunt might be the thing that convinces Harry all those articles online were right and his silly, young best friend is in love with him.

She had always been, but that didn't mean he could ever find out about it

He was the Harry Styles, while Y/N...Y/N was just a silly virgin who got so mad and frustrated over the way he had been all over another one of those perfect girls at the party she smuggled out a bottle of white wine to end up here, about to do this.

Still, it beat crying herself to sleep, right?

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Wrong.

Turned out getting off when she had no clue what she was doing was hard, even with her head spinning from the way her face was smudged into his pillow, her hips rolling at their own accord, humping the thick comforter as if her life depended on it.

"Babe?" for a moment or two, the girl told herself she was hearing things, that her mind had resorted to memories of his voice to try and get her to cum already, but then she heard his steps getting closer "what've yeh got there?" he asked, warm hands touching her back until her whimper made him freeze, finally realizing what was going on.

"Harry.." his name was a plead and an apology rolled into one, tears pricking at the back of her eyes, frustration making her dizzy. "It hurts" that was true, she was winded so tight not even the fact that he was right there made her stop mulling his mattress like a madwoman, her face burning from embarrassment and just sheer need. "make it stop, please. Need yeh to tell me how"

××××××××××

He was trapped in a dream. With fingers pulling at his brown locks with more and more force as each second tackled down, Harry convinced himself that scene, whatever it was, couldn't be real.

There was no way in hell Y/N was begging him for what he thought she was, even if he could see her small hand dipped into her panties, perky bum practically on display now that the one warn out t-shirt of his she always slept in had huddled up on her fussing around.

"Harry? I'm sorry...I...please don't be mad" her words were muffled by the pillows and the tears, her hair sticking out when Y/N craned her neck to get a look at him, and the singer sent out a prayer to whoever was listening that his face wasn't showing where his mind wanted to go.

That was Y/N. His best friend. He felt like a creep for being turned on by how desperate she seemed to be at that moment.

Then again, he had felt like a jerk all night, so what was new? He knew she would be pissed when that girl approached them at the bar, could read it in her eyes even in a dark room, but he let the blond beauty have a go at wooing him anyway.