One Direction Preferences

He's Your Tutor

Louis: As he sets down the heavy book he had been carrying with one arm, you jump in your seat. He stops to glare at you. “It didn’t even make a noise,” he points out. “You startled me,” you retorted quickly, opening the book for him. He rolls his eyes and joins you at the table. “Alright I’m Louis, who are you?” You can’t believe how disengaged the ‘best tutor in the world’ is. You’re about to leave, but his hand settles on your thigh, freezing you in your spot. “I’m sorry, babe, you’re really hot,” he says. “Can’t fall for my students, right?”

Niall: “Spanish, eh?” he grumbles, stealing your paper to skim through it. “Easy,” he says confidently, giving the paper back to you. “Okay, tell me how to say ‘I love you’.” Niall quirks a brow, giving you a deadpanned look. “Really, babe?” he asks, kissing you to assure you’re not offended. “Te amo, (Y/N),” he says, his minty breath blowing onto your puckered lips. Your face gets hot, feeling oblivious to the library-goers around you. “Well I feel dumb,” you reply, lightheaded. He smiles, eyes still on your lips. “But you’re learning, dummy.”

Liam: “Math?” Liam scratches the top of his head with his middle finger, symbolizing that he absolutely hates it. Liam would rather be at cross country practice, busting his ass in the cold, over helping you. “It’s Pre-Calc, Liam,” you correct him quickly. “And I know you have the highest grade in the class, so just help me.” Liam’s brow furrows, processing your words. Suddenly he’s in your air space, lust clouding his eyes, and towering over you. “Don’t tell me what to do,” he growls. “I’m the tutor.” Just like that, sex in the empty library happens.

Zayn: You’re paired with the worst tutor ever. He may be helpful, but he’s definitely moving too fast for your learning pace. “Wait, what’s the definition again?” Zayn sighs deeply, closing his eyes to maintain his breathing. He reopens them to yell, “Are you that slow?!” You quickly reply, “Yes! And you seem like you’re in a hurry to leave, so just go!” He groans and stands up, but not before grabbing your wrist and pulling you out the door. “We need to take this to my room, now.”

Harry: “Je suis corné,” he whispers in your ear before kissing it. You pull away, rubbing your ear against your shoulder and giggling. “What does that mean?” you ask, reaching for your book to look up what Harry’s mumbling about in French. “Look it up,” he replies, wrapping his arms around your waist once again. “You’re the tutor!” He chuckles, kissing your neck. “I said, I’m horny, because I am,” he says bluntly. “Can we take a study break for five minutes?” He pushes you on to say yes, which you eventually do, making him a happy tutor.