One Direction | Preferences

You're On Your Period And Things Get Heated

You’re On Your Period And Things Get Heated

A/N: I quite enjoyed writing this ;) Feedback would rock my world.

Niall: “Niall?” He hums into your mouth, fingers curling gently into your shoulder as he leans in further, knees pressing into your hips. “Niall,” you repeat, tugging on his hair lightly to try and get his attention, and his fingers are just brushing over the bottom of your bra as he pulls back, blinking his eyelids open, “Yeah?” “I’m on my period.” He opens his mouth, and then closes it again, exhaling through his teeth, “Crap.” You laugh, twirling a piece of his air in your fingertips, but you’re interrupted by his lips nudging against yours again. “Doesn’t mean I can’t do this,” he breathes, and you can’t help but shiver at his low tone, “N – No, it doesn’t.”

Harry: The bottom of Harry’s hand is pressing into your hip, his actions clear in meaning as his tongue curls with yours, other hand tangled in your hair. “Harry,” you mumble as he pulls back, pressing warm, slow kisses along your throat, and geez, sometimes you hate being a girl. “Mmm?” He hums against your jugular, the sound vibrating against your skin, and your fingers dig into his back. “Harry, stop, please.” He pulls back almost immediately, eyes wide and concerned as the command falls from your lips. “I just… girly problems.” He blinks, batting long eyelashes, and you really, really hate everything to do with being a girl right now. “As in…?” “I’m on my period.” “Oh.” He sighs, “Oh.” “Sorry.” He grins, shaking his head and pressing one last kiss to your mouth, “Not your fault, babe, not your fault at all.”

Liam: You don’t really want to stop. Why would you? Liam’s warm and strong and pressing up against you, kissing your pink lips over and over again, but when his fingers begin to fumble with the button of your jeans, you can’t really let this go any further, resting a gentle hand on his wrist, and he stops instantly, hand moving back up to your ribcage. “Liam?” “Period?” He mumbles against your jaw, and you can’t help but laugh, “How did you know?” You can feel his eyelashes brushing your cheek as he laughs, bending a bit as his palms slip down around your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling you up so he’s carrying you against his chest, walking slowly into the lounge room. “I know everything.” “You do not.” He grins at you, “You’d be surprised.”

Louis: Louis’ mouth wanders over your collarbones, pressing idle kisses as his fingers trace over your knee that’s pulled up, his body warm and comfy as he rests on top of you, supporting his weight with one arm. “(Y/N?)” You struggle getting the word out, as his lips have found the corner of your neck and his tongue’s just darted out before he nips at your skin gently, “Yeah?” “How far are you going to let this go before you stop me?” “I’m sorry?” He pulls his head up, smiling at you, “I’ve got four sisters. I know when you’re on your period.” “I - ” You stammer over words for a second, before sighing and relaxing into the mattress, “Sorry. I was about to stop you.” He shakes his head, “No worries, babe.” His nose nudges your cheek one last time before beginning to sit up, but you grab his arm at the last minute, “Hang on, can we just… lie here?” He grins, settling back down, “Of course.”

Zayn: As soon as Zayn moans you know you’ve let it go too far, you’ve indulged both him and yourself too much, but the sound is low and guttural, and it’s almost physically painful to pull back, shrinking into the wall a back as a signal for him to stop. As seen as he feels you retreat his eyes are blinking open, the brown almost completely swallowed by black, his pupils blown wide. “Everything okay?” he asks, voice rough and gravelly, and you curse everything and anything. “I’m on my period. I’m really sorry.” He noticeably slumps against you, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he sighs, “Oh.” “Sorry.” He smiles, soft and warm, brushing his nose against yours, “It’s not your fault, darling. Don’t worry about it. I can last a week. I’ve done four months of tour, I can do a week.” “Thanks.” He grins, pressing a kiss to your mouth, “No problem.”