1D Tumblr Imagines & Preferences ♫

you wear his clothes

Published by; bringthepaayne

Harry: that flimsy white long sleeve shirt he always wears on stage. you love that shirt on him because when he wears it, you can still make out the outline of his tattoos and you like to run your fingers over them. but he likes it more on you. when he's not wearing it, he's insisting that you do, loving that it's huge on you (like it's your fault he's a bloody giant) and the sleeves go way past your hands and the hem almost covers your butt. when you two hit the beach or the pool, he'll pull it out of nowhere and convince you to wear it like a cover-up, grinning when he can see the bright colour of your bikini underneath. he loves it even more after you two have just had a bit of fun, basking in that after-sex glow, and you'll complain that you're cold so he'll pick it up off the floor and hand it to you. you'll pull it on and he'll just smile, moving closer to run his hands over your outline, visible beneath the fabric of that silly shirt, mouthing at your bare skin until he's got you writhing underneath him again.

Liam: his red, plaid button-up. he has a million, but it's specifically this one that you like wearing, mostly because it's a little worn and it smells like him and the fabric is so soft. and you know what it does to him when you wear his clothes, so you decide to have a little fun. you're home early and he's not supposed to be back for an hour, having texted you saying he was stuck in traffic. you spent the day doing laundry and washed the shirt, so it's super soft and smells like flowers, but there's still that lingering scent of Liam's cologne underneath. once all the clothes are put away, you strip down to your panties and slip Liam's shirt on, adjusting it so it covers up your nipples, not leaving much to the imagination, but that's kind of the point. you're contemplating sending Liam a picture when you hear his key in the lock, so you sit yourself on his side of the bed. "love!" he calls as the door closes and you hear his quick steps to your bedroom. when he sees you, his jaw drops. "well, what do we have here?"

Louis: the suit jacket from x-factor Italy. you stood at the side of the stage, shivering like mad. you were so cold your knees were knocking together, but you couldn't take your eyes off of Louis. the boys were completely killing it (like always) and you couldn't have been more proud of them. you hadn't been feeling well when you got up, and Louis had insisted that you didn't have to come, that you could just relax in the hotel room watching cable, that he'd sing for you later. but you had been defiant and said you were fine, that you had come all this way to see him perform in Italy, so you were going to see him perform in Italy. when they finish and head offstage, Louis instantly makes his way over to you, clucking his tongue at your shaky body. he shucks off his jacket and drapes it around your shoulders, letting you slide your arms through the sleeves and pull it tighter around you. "let's get you back to the hotel, yeah?" he whispers, putting his arm around your shoulders and kissing your forehead.

Niall: the skool sucks sweater. having a boyfriend who's part of an internationally famous boy-band isn't exactly easy, especially when you have to spend a lot of time apart. but Niall makes it so worthwhile when you are together, and even when you're not, and that's what makes it work. this time around, he's been gone for about a month, touring and doing promo and whatnot. you can't join him because your second semester just started and you can't afford to miss any classes, but you still feel connected to Niall. he calls you every morning when you wake up and every night before you go to bed. you two have your ritual of relaying your dreams to each other. and he's left you some of his clothes. the "skool sucks" sweater is your favourite mostly because it's a good cuddly sweater, and also because it makes you think of Niall. and when you skype him that night, still wearing the sweater because you can't bear to take it off, he grins at you. "there's ma girl. how are ya, princess?

Zayn: that red shirt with the buttons. you honestly think it's one of the hottest things he owns, even if it is one of the more simpler ones. you get mesmerized when he wears it, the contrast between the fabric and his skin making your head spin. but when you wake up in his bed the morning after, your head spinning a little, from leftover alcohol and not your intoxicating boyfriend, you spot it lying on his bedroom floor, all the buttons undone, as you had fumbled with them the night before, a memory that sits a little fuzzy in your brain. you can smell bacon wafting through the apartment and Zayn's soft voice crooning out some song by the 1975. without another thought, you pick the shirt up, yank it over your head and pull it down so it just covers your butt, leaving the buttons undone. you head for the kitchen and slide up behind Zayn, wrapping your arms around him and kissing the tattoo at the base of his neck, nipping at his skin until he yelps. "hey!" he yelps and then turns, his jaw dropping. "hey."