Preferences/Imagines w/ one direction.

Some preferences/imagines with One Direction for you ;) I'd be happy if you would leave some feedback - thank you !

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60. Lipstick Stains

60# Lipstick Stains

Note- idk man, just enjoy

Louis: He swore under his breath, watching your tongue poke out past dark red painted lips and wickedly white teeth that should be biting down on his skin and pushing back against his own mouth. “Forget dinner,” he growls, pulling you in and pushing his lips against yours. When his mouth opens against yours he tastes the bitter taste of lipstick and the sweet taste of your mouth that makes him want to stay there for ages. He wants to seal his mouth over yours until the color is rubbed off and your lips and forced red on their own, but the color is so appealing that he only groans and moves to push his lips against your neck, peering up to see dark red lips dropped open and your chin tilted back.

Harry: Black dress and heels lie on the floor, covers tossed aside, along with your tangled hair as he ducks in to press his bitten-red lips to your jaw, your neck, your bare shoulders. His mouth and hot and wet and his words are filthy as he whispers against the skin of your ears. His eyes are drawn to your lips again, the color obvious and daunting, the color your lips are after he’s put them to work with his own, so effortlessly. “C’mon then,” he mumbles, tearing off his own dress shirt and already tugging at the waistband of his trousers. He presses his mouth to yours in a hungry and sinfully hot kiss, before dropping his head back to the bed, “let’s put that pretty mouth to work, hmm?

Niall: His eyes stayed glued to your mouth the whole night, watching the way your lips formed words, the way your tongue swept across the expanse of your lower lip, his doing the same instinctively. When asked what he was staring at, he took your face in between his palms, slotting his lips against yours to see if your lips tasted as devilishly sweet with that bloody color painted across them. They did. His mind was a blur of your mouth and tongue and smell and taste and when he refocused on what was happening, there were lipstick marks down the skin of his torso and at the top of his waistline. He shivered and tilted your chin up to get one last look at the color, surging in for a kiss once more.

Zayn: “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he sighed, watching from the bed as you slid the lipstick across your bottom lip, rubbing your lips together before repeating the act. When you finished, setting the lipstick down and readjusting your sweater over your torso, asking if you looked okay. “Jesus,” Zayn choked out, tugging you in, hands on hips and hot, heavy breath hovering over your face. As you began to protest that you’ll have to redo your lipstick, he pushed his lips against yours, pulling you impossibly closer, murmuring, “plenty of time for that later, want your mouth on me, want you.”

Liam: “Baby,” he whined, words breathy as they leaked from his lips, reaching out in your direction, eyeing your mouth, your skin, your hair. When you hummed back to his call, he let his eyes close just slightly, “c’mere.” When you turn away from the mirror, your lips making a soft smacking noise when you move them together. “Christ,” he began, “kiss me, please?” he pleaded sitting up then and beckoning you forward with begging eyes and pouted lips. Smirking, you sauntered over to him, stepping between his legs and letting out soft breath over his own mouth. “oh baby, please,” and then your mouth was on his.

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