#I GOT A REALLY CUTE TANKTOP!!!! that says for the first time i feel wicked | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hazzasgayvodka · 5 years

Text

like a virgin

in which Harry is dressed like Freddie Mercury, you’re dressed like Madonna, and by the end of the night you have quite the front page scandal unfolding in some frat boy’s bedroom

(the entire idea for Harry dressing like Freddie came from this fucking white tank top thanks enjoy everyone)

You fluff your hair in the mirror once again, adjusting the tulle skirt on your hips and trying to bide your time before someone comes knocking needing to use the bathroom. You can hear the familiar melody line of Hungry Like The Wolf blasting in the living room of the house, Louis Tomlinson’s annual 80s themed Halloween party clearly in full swing. Just as you take out your tube of red lipstick to touch up your lips there’s a knock on the door and you’re rolling your eyes as you unlock it and pull it open.

“Y/n? What are you doing in here?” Your roommate whines, “We’re supposed to be having fun! I’ve been looking for you all night!”

“We’ve only been here an hour.” You shrug, but before you can complain further, she’s grabbing your hand and tugging you to the kitchen.

Suddenly, you’re right in the middle of the party atmosphere, getting jostled and tripped by drunken idiots all dancing to 80s hits they can’t even sing along to. It’s a sea of frat boys dressed like Danny Zuko and you couldn’t be happier when you finally make it to the kitchen and pour yourself another drink.

“The hell is that supposed to be?” Your roommate asks, eyeing your cup of orange Fanta and peach vodka with a rather disgusted face.

“Not sure,” You wince, taking a rather large gulp, “But it’s getting me through this party.”

“Oh, come on Y/n, if you would just let yourself have fun-“

“Wow, wish I could, but sadly the fact that not one person out there dancing to Tainted Love could tell me it’s Soft Cell singing it is kind of ruining the fun aspect for me.” You sigh, leaning against the counter behind you.

“Can you just try not being a music snob for like one night of your life?” She asks, pouring herself a cup of the Halloween punch, “Now hike up your little skirt and pull that shirt down a bit and let’s go play some beer pong.”

You roll your eyes as she quite literally drags you outside to the pool deck where none other than Louis Tomlinson himself is setting up the table for beer pong. Your roommate is nearly drooling just watching him as he laughs along with a group of guys and starts filling up the cups lined up on the table.

“Hey ladies,” He grins, “You wanna play?”

Your roommate eagerly says yes at the same moment that you say no not really and Louis’ attention is suddenly switched to you.

“Awe, what’s up with…Blondie?” He says, clearly unsure of what your costume is.

“Madonna,” You huff, rolling your eyes, “God, it’s not that hard.”

You turn away from the table and walk back across the pool deck to the house without another word to either of them. Maybe you can just find a different bathroom upstairs and wait it out. The night’s still young but your phone is fully charged, and you have a newly downloaded eBook just waiting to be read while you’re laying on some stranger’s bathroom floor.

You trudge up the steps and slip into the first bathroom you come across, closing the door behind you and leaning against the counter. This ought to be alright for a couple hours. You’ve got a full cup of booze and a relatively clean bathroom for a frat house, so you sink down to the ground and lean your back against the porcelain bathtub.

You’re barely four chapters into your eBook when the door is suddenly thrown open and none other than Freddie Mercury bursts through it, looking rather shocked when he comes stumbling in to see you.

“Knock much?” You groan, pulling yourself to your feet and reluctantly shoving your phone back into your clutch.

“Sorry, didn’t think anyone knew about this bathroom,” He shrugs, “Nice Madonna costume by the way, princess.”

You stop dead in your tracks as soon as the words come out of his mouth. You can’t tell if you like him because he’s the only person to know who you’re dressed up as all night or want to smack him for calling you princess.

“You’re not too shabby yourself,” You smirk, “Although, I do believe you’re missing something, usually sits right above your top lip…”

“Yeah, yeah,” He laughs, running a hand through his tousled hair, “Didn’t think the mustache would go over too well with the ladies.”

“Awe, that’s too bad,” You shrug, “It’s kind of a deal breaker for me.”

You watch his face unravel as his suave façade cracks and his mouth drops open. You can’t help but chuckle to yourself as you continue on your way out of the bathroom and close the door behind you, not daring to turn around again and snag a quick glance at him one last time. He’s still in your head as you descend the stairs, his extremely tight white jeans and matching tank top with that signature yellow Freddie Mercury jacket over his broad shoulders. His hair is far too long to suit his costume, but you can’t say much yourself with your overly teased excuse for Madonna’s signature messy look.

Almost right on cue, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun starts up as you come to stand in the living room once again before pushing your way to the kitchen to refill your cup. It’s when you’re picking up the now nearly empty bottle of peach vodka that your roommate reappears, her arm now hooked around Louis’ waist.

“Y/n! There you are! You literally disappeared, I thought you went home!” She shouts over the music, grabbing a hard soda out of the cooler at your feet.

“Nope, just been hanging around here.” You lie, shrugging your shoulders.

“Wicked costume!” One of Louis’ friends shout, joining you in the kitchen, “Marilyn Monroe, right?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, it’s nearly a reflex. Marilyn Monroe? This is an eighties party and you’re dressed in black, nearly head to toe.

“No way Niall, Marilyn Monroe is the one flashing in the white dress,” Another girl speaks up, “She’s obviously Cher.”

“Oh, piss off Addison.”

You’re just about to fill up your drink and get the hell out of here when yet another voice speaks up from behind you, a voice that happens to belong to quite the pair of bright white skinny jeans.

“Guys, she’s Madonna.” He laughs, settling the debate.

“Oh, that’s cute, Madonna and Mick Jagger.” Addison grins, gesturing to the two of you stood side by side.

You turn to look at him at the same time that he looks at you, both of you chuckling. God his eyes are green, can eyes even be that green? Are those contacts? Did Freddie have green eyes?

“I’m actually Freddie Mercury,” He nods, spinning on his heel to show off his insanely tight pants, “But it is cute, isn’t it?” He smirks, throwing his arm around you.

You grab his hand and start to remove it from your shoulders, sending him a glare, “Not really, we didn’t come together or anything-“

“It’s adorable, you guys look so good together.” Addison drawls on, cutting you off and clearly not listening to a word you said.

“Don’t we? It was my idea for the costumes,” Freddie laughs, squeezing your shoulder, “Wasn’t it, sweetheart?”

“Mhm.” You hum, rolling your eyes and detaching him from you.

He reaches for you again as you exit the kitchen, deciding that a drink isn’t as important as getting as far away from mister Freddie Mercury as you can. You can’t decide what it is about him that rubs you the wrong way, or maybe precisely the right way. You can’t quite think straight with the butterflies in your stomach and the peach vodka in your system.

You decide to head outside to escape the pumping 80s music in the living room and end up sat on the steps leading right up to the door. It’s chilly outside, nearly perfect fall weather where it’s just cold enough to need a jacket. Just as soon as you’ve made yourself comfortable and taken out your phone to continue your reading, the front door swings open and Freddie is joining you on the steps with a cup in each hand.

“Thought you’d be out here,” He smiles, passing you a drink and then shrugging off his jacket, “Here, it’s cold.”

You want to drag his jacket off your shoulders and throw it right back in his lap but suddenly his biceps are on display along with quite the assortment of tattoos across his chest and down his left arm. God, you hope he never puts the damn yellow thing back on.

“Are you reading? At a party?” He asks, suddenly snapping you back to reality.

“That I am,” You nod, glancing at the drink in your hand, “Are you trying to roofie me?”

“More like get you to loosen up a bit, princess,” He chuckles, taking the cup out of your hand and replacing it with his, “There, have mine.”

“What is it?” You ask, swirling the red liquid.

“Hawaiian Punch, vodka, and orange juice,” He says, taking a sip himself, “Also known as a poor man’s hurricane.”

You nod your head, gingerly taking a sip while he digs in his pants pocket and produces a lighter. He grabs the joint from behind his ear that you didn’t notice before and places it between his teeth. He tries to light the end of it three times, but the wind is relentless.

“Bloody jesus,” He huffs, stuffing his lighter under his shirt and leaning his head down to light the end of it, fully concealed beneath his tanktop, “There we go.”

He takes in a long drag and shoves his lighter back in his pocket, breathing the smoke away from you but the wind whips it right back in your direction.

“Fuck, sorry,” He laughs, holding the joint out to you, “You smoke?”

You don’t answer, taking the joint from his hand in silence and perching it between your lips. You can feel his eyes on you as you take in a drag and try your hardest not to cough and give him a reason to make fun.

“So, Madonna,” He smirks, stealing the joint back from you, “Why come to a party if you’re just gonna read in the bathroom?”

“Roommate dragged me,” You sigh, opting for another drink of his concoction instead, “She’s got the hots for Louis Tomlinson.”

“And you’ve got the hots for…” He pauses, grabbing your phone to look at the title of the book you’re reading, “Ooh, Logan Mountstuart.” He teases.

You snatch your phone back from him and stuff it in your clutch, snapping it closed, “I do not have the hots for Logan Mountstuart, but I can promise you he’s more interesting than everyone at this party combined.”

“Is that so?” He smirks, balancing the joint between his teeth and leaning in closer to you, “You don’t find me interesting, sweetheart?”

“I believe annoying is more the word,” You sigh, pulling yourself back to your feet, “And with the lack of mustache, might as well thrown in underwhelming while you’re at it.”

“Where are you-“

“This has been fun, really, but I should go find my roommate,” You say quickly, cutting him off and tossing his jacket back to him, “Thanks for the drink.”

You jog back up the steps and slip inside, trying to clear your head. You don’t do this, get all hot and bothered and flustered by terrible flirty excuses for men. He brought you a drink, threw his jacket on your shoulders and called you sweetheart, get it together. No matter how hard you try, the image of his biceps in that sinful white tank top is all you can picture. Goddammit, Freddie. God, you don’t even know his name.

“Are you coming to join us?” Your roommate grins excitedly as you enter the makeshift dancefloor of the living room.

“Something like that,” You chuckle, shaking your head to try and rid your thoughts of him, “What are you-“

You’re cut off as the music switches abruptly and everyone in the living room stops for a split second. Suddenly, someone’s grabbing your hand and spinning you towards them, landing you right against their chest.

“Are you gonna take me home tonight?” He sings along to the track, meeting your eyes, “Ah down beside your red firelight-“

“Freddie.” You warn, pushing away from him.

“Harry,” He grins, shaking his head, “My name’s Harry.”

“Well Harry,” You smirk, detaching yourself from him, “I thought I was pretty clear that the mustache was a deal breaker.”

“Babe, if I may,” He challenges, grabbing your hand to stop you, “Last time I checked, Madonna was a blonde.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes as he grins obnoxiously, the dimples popping in his cheeks as he wraps his arms around your lower back and holds you to him.

“So, what do you say sweetheart?” He laughs, “You gonna take me home tonight?”

“I don’t know, princess,” You mock, “You gonna make me feel like a virgin?”

“God, I hope so.” He breathes, finally cupping your face and smashing his lips onto yours.

You’re suddenly a stumbling mess of grabby hands and feverish lips as he grabs your hips and walks the both of you to the stairs. He’s following you up them with increasing desperation, his lips still working against yours until you reach the top and he pulls away for a split second.

“You know that song by Van Halen?” He grins, his hands suddenly moving south and grabbing your ass, “Jump, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes as you jump into his arms and wrap your legs around his waist. His hands are firmly planted on your ass, holding you up as you get to work on sponging your lips down the side of his neck. He sucks in a breath as he kicks open the first door you come to, closing it behind you and finally meeting your lips again.

“You are driving me insane, woman.” He growls, capturing your lips with his as he lays your back against the bed and climbs on top of you.

You can’t even be bothered with focusing on kissing him right now when the hem of his distractingly tight tank top is right there in front of you. Suddenly your fingers are grabbing it and dragging his shirt off of him before tossing it to the floor.

Giggling at this point, you draw in a breath when his large hands cover your tits, still trapped in your bra and thin excuse for a shirt. He drags your sheer blouse off of you in one swift movement, quickly followed by your bra that he unhooks with a practiced flick of his fingers, leaving all of your stacked necklaces sitting around your neck and resting between your breasts.

“Fast or slow?” He pants, throwing your bra over his shoulder, “How do you like it, darling?”

“Is that really a question?” You ask, brushing your hair out of your face while Harry’s eyes settle on your now bare chest, marveling in the sight of your tits, your nipples already hard and ready for his tongue.

“Yeah,” He sighs thoughtfully, “Not going to be able to do this slowly.”

Without warning, he picks you up and flips you over, your cheek now pressed against the mattress as he grabs you by your thighs and yanks your ass into the air. You gasp in surprise as his hands reach around to your front, manipulating your nipples as his teeth graze over your ear.

“Are you good sweetheart?” He asks and you can hear the smirk in his voice as his fingers delve under your tulle skirt and run up the center of your stocking-clad, now soaking heat, “Christ, yeah, you’re good.” He hisses, his voice cracking and you smile broadly knowing that he’s just as good as you are now.

He nudges your ankles apart with his knee, flipping your skirt over your ass and exposing your panties as he yanks your stockings down your legs. He returns his left hand to your tits, his right hand tracing your clit from behind, sending you squirming and arching your back even further. Looking at his left hand, you’re even more aroused when your eyes land on the cross tattooed just under his thumb.

He slides one finger under the end of your panties, easing the cloth out of your slit and replacing it with his thumb. You nearly jump out of your skin when his cold fingers press against you and you hear him laughing as he sticks his thumb in his mouth to warm it up first before putting it right back where it was.

“Better?” He asks, groaning as his thumb slips into you, “God, you’re soaking darling.”

“Mhm.” You murmur, moving your hips slowly to slide yourself up and down his thumb until he removes it.

“Want something a little better than my thumb, love?” He asks, leaning over your back and biting the back of your shoulder.

You suck in a breath as you hear his ungodly white pants being unzipped and you start to turn around, but he quickly puts his hand on your ass to hold you still, “Oh, don’t move sweetheart, I’m really enjoying this view.” He smirks, playfully smacking your ass and making you whimper.

“This view?” You ask innocently, biting your lip and swiveling your hips.

“Yes darling, that would be the one.”

You hear the crinkle of the metallic packet being ripped open and you know he’s already rolling on the condom. Suddenly, disappointment is bubbling up in you.

“Damn,” You smirk, looking at him over your shoulder, “I thought you’d want a taste.”

“Don’t say things like that,” He groans, “I’m so close to exploding already.”

“Well come on then Freddie,” You tease, flipping yourself over, “Don’t stop me now.”

“Oh, fuck me.” He breathes, yanking your skirt and your underwear down in one swift movement.

You don’t expect the sudden abrasiveness and if you were good before you don’t know what you are now as he grabs your calves and pulls you down to him, bending your legs at the knee and throwing them over his shoulders.

Suddenly his lips are exactly where you need them, lapping up your arousal and the sound of it alone would be enough to get you off. Your hands reach out to grab his hair as you bury your face into your shoulder, biting your lip to stifle your moans.

“There you go darling, get a good fistful.” He laughs, looking up to see you already writhing.

“Oh, fuck off.” You groan, wrapping your legs around his neck playfully.

“Careful there,” He smirks, “I’m not at all opposed to asphyxiation sweetheart.”

“Would you please stop talking and put your mouth to better use?” You chuckle, grabbing him by his hair once again and leading his mouth to where you need him.

“Fine,” He sighs, “But if I blow my whole load in my pants it is entirely your fault.”

He laughs against you, the reverberation making you squirm and the coil in your stomach tighten. You gasp, pulling his hair roughly and he moans, grunting against you as he sucks on your clit. You’re wound so tight, any minute now you’re going to reach your limit and bust, but before you can he’s pulling away from you with a slick mouth and darkened eyes.

“Alright, enough of that,” He says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “I want to be inside you, like now.”

Before you can hardly comprehend his words, he’s flipping you back onto your stomach and yanking your ass back into the air. With one hand, he guides himself into you while the other one rests on your hip and you can’t believe how big he is. Every time he feels like too much, you grip the hand on your hip, and he pauses until the pressure ceases, allowing him to glide further into you.

“God, you feel so good,” You sigh, arching your back, “Now stay still.”

As soon as the words come out of your mouth you can tell Harry is confused. Stay still? Usually this is about the time that he starts really moving. You slide yourself off of his cock, swiveling your hips before pushing back onto him and filling yourself as deep as you can. Quickly, you’re on the same page again.

He places both hands on your hips, not to guide you but rather to steady himself because you’re moving at a rather tortuous pace and goddammit if you’re not the warmest, tightest cunt he’s ever been in. You continue your hip swaying movements, quickening the pace as you start to bounce back and forth on him.

“Bleeding hell,” He sputters, his fingers suddenly digging into your hips, “Just like that babygirl, god, just like that.”

The pace isn’t quite touching what you want though, so you slow back down, dragging yourself almost fully off him before sinking back down all in one fluid movement. He’s almost shaking, gritting his teeth in defiance of letting go this early as you continue your twisting pace of sliding his cock along your walls nice and slow before slamming back onto him.

“Fucking hell,” He swears under his breath, grabbing your hips and holding them in place, “Alright, it’s my turn.”

Suddenly he’s pumping in and out of you as quickly as he can. He wraps your messy teased hair around his fist and yanks your head back, arching your back even more than it already was. Your throat is nearly constricted as he holds you like that, his free hand rolling your nipple between his fingers and making you gasp for air. He’s hitting that perfect spot and hissing out swear words and you can feel yourself starting to tip over the edge, your walls convulsing around him. You reach down to massage your clit, but he swats your hand away, doing it himself.

“I got you sweetheart.” He breathes, wrapping your hair even tighter around his fist.

You let out a whimper as you feel the coil inside your stomach burst and suddenly your vision is white and speckled with stars. The stars are shattering as he continues, his pace becoming more frantic and less measured. His name is pouring from your mouth in shrill cries and suddenly the hand that was massaging your clit is cupped around your lips, muffling your moans as you ride out your orgasm. He’s almost there, you can tell, his breath puffing out in ragged heaves as he continues to slam into you. You grab his hand and take it away from your mouth, instead taking his fingers past your lips and swirling your tongue around them, one at a time, tasting yourself on them. It’s all he needs to come undone, letting out a long string of swears as he collapses over your back, allowing his weight to rest on you for a few minutes while he’s still deeply embedded inside you.

As he withdraws and disposes of the condom, you slide your bra back on followed by your tulle skirt. He’s smirking at you as you slide your shirt back on, untucking all of your necklaces from underneath.

“What?” You ask, quirking an eyebrow up at him.

“Nothing,” He shrugs, pulling back on his boxers, “It’s just kind of funny.”

“What’s kind of funny?” You huff, walking over to stand in front of him with your hands on your hips.

“Well,” He laughs, “We’ve got quite the front-page scandal on our hands here, don’t we? I mean Madonna and Freddie Mercury, in bed together?”

“How do you feel about Madonna and Freddie leaving a party together?” You smirk, hoping he catches your drift.

You quirk your eyebrow up at him as he throws his tank top over his head and as he’s stretching his arms back through it, his eyes light up and you know that he’s caught on.

“Oh, why I think it’s a lovely idea as long as Madonna is paying the cab fare,” He smirks, tossing you his yellow jacket once again as he reaches for the door.

“Woah, woah, woah-“

“I’m joking, miss material girl,” He teases, throwing his arm over your shoulders, “Now let’s get out of here before we accidentally win best couple’s costume.”

#im so sorry #I got way too carried away with this one #yikes this is what Monday night is all about #harry #harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #writing #one direction smut #one direction #one direction fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles preference

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