One Direction Preferences

He does your nails

Zayn: "I bet you I can do a better job than they’d do at the salon," he teased watching you grab your purse. You were going to get your nails done and Zayn’s comment made you laugh. You paused and pursed your lips, thinking about it for a moment. "Is that a real bet I smell?" You hedged and he nodded. "Loser buys the winner dinner?" You asked sitting back down on the couch. Zayn saw your nails when you came back from the salon and he knew that he could do just as good of a job. He grabbed your kit from under the coffee table and spread all the polishes around. "I get to pick," he smirked, picking up a bottle of bright red nail polish. Zayn loved when your fingers were red, he thought it was sexy. Very carefully and semi clumsily, he moved the nail file around each nail, gently shaping them. "It doesn’t hurt," you said touched by his slow, tender movements. He filed each nail with the same delicate precision regardless if it was painful or not. He shook the bottle like he’d seen you do so many times and set to work. His brush strokes were careful and even, his painters hand coming out. He spent time on each nail, making sure the coats were even before he did a second coat. He wiped up his smudges with his nail, so that his thumb was streaked with the bright red liquid. He let them dry for a minute and rubbed your shoulders while you waited, his strong hands kneading the tension there. He had won this bet hands down already. He did a top coat then blew on them to get them to dry faster. "What do you think?" He said proudly, sitting back from his master piece. You studied them, wildly impressed by his skill. "Where do you want to go to dinner?" He laughed, pressing a smacking kiss to your lips.

Niall: "Uh….babe?" he said hesitantly, staring down at the bottle of black nail polish in his hands. "How do I do this?" You sighed, exasperated. "Open the lid," you patronized and he tickled your sides as he laughed. "No way, is that how I open it?" he asked sarcastically twisting off the top and letting the smell of acetone fill the air. "I hate the smell of this stuff," he grumbled. You held your hands out to him, your fingers wiggling. How you got Niall to agree to this you had no idea, but you were kind of excited. You watched your strong, guitar playing boyfriend bite his lip in concentration as he took your hand in his. He gently swiped up your nail, a thick black glob of paint sitting on top of your pinky. He spread it out, making it as even as he could. He was awful at this, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him but he looked so adorable with his furrowed brow as he did your nails. "I’m shit at this he mumbled as he finished your first hand. He did a better job the left hand and he grinned, satisfied with his paint job. "Two coats, baby," you said kissing the tip of his nose. He frowned and stuck his tongue out at you. "You like seeing me suffer," he moaned, moving back to your right hand. His fingers were careful but more confident now as he added a second later. "You look cute," you teased watching his cheeks flush. He finished both hands and sat back, eyeing your fingers. They looked kind of hot like that, he thought and he couldn’t help but imagine them sliding down his smooth, pale skin as he did wicked things to you. "How long do they take to dry?" He asked watching you blow your cool breath on them. "Not too much longer, why?" He smirked and picked you up, draping you over his shoulder. "Cause I’ve got plans for you baby," he heard your slight gasp and grinned carrying you up the stairs.

Liam: "Do yo have the top coat?" Liam hollered from the living room. He would never tell a soul, but he loved doing your nails for you. He thought it was sort of intimate and sweet. He took care and massaged your hands, kissing the tip of each finger and the knuckle. He loved your hands, they were so tiny and cute and the fact that he got to paint them up made him grin. "Yes, Mr. Payne," you said smirking as you sat down. His eyes darkened just the slightest bit and he licked his lips. "That," he purred, nipping at your wrist, "is for later." You felt your breathing quicken but Liam got on with it, slipping into his manicure mode. He’d watched you get them done enough that he knew exactly what he was doing. He moved with skill and grace as he buffed each nail and shaped them. He had made you swear that when he first started doing this, you’d never tell a soul. True to your word, you had not. "Your color, madam?" he asked waving his hand at the bottles he had lined up. You tried to suppress your laughter as you selected a color. You selected a pink color, one that you knew Liam liked on you, and presented to him. "I think this will do," you said batting your eyes lashes on him. His eyes got darker, the way they always did when he was turned on. He didn’t comment, just went to work on painting your nails. He finished each coat and did the clear coat, leaning down and blowing on them, his eyes on your face. "When these are dry," he said huskily, his mouth only inches from your skin, "I’m going to tell you exactly what I want you to do with those hands of yours,” you blushed, knowing exactly what he meant. You swallowed thickly and added your own breath to the process to speed it up. Once they were finished drying, Liam knocked all the stuff to the floor and sat you on the table. With very detailed instructions, Liam told you exactly what he wanted you to do with those pretty pink fingers of yours. 

Louis: "This is so boring," he muttered, watching you paint a streak of blue over your pinky nail. You looked up and raised your brows to him. He was sitting in the corner, studying you. "You paint them then," you said dropping the brush back into the bottle and shoving it at him. "I don’t know what I’m doing," he said, his lips pulling into a light smile. He grabbed the bottle and rolled it around in his hands. "Just do what I did," you shrugged. He knelt before you  taking your hand in his and you swallowed, the image stirring up a lot of thoughts in your head. He smirked, squeezing our thigh. "Soon, baby," he said answering your unspoken question. Louis painted your nails in the way in which he did everything else: quickly. He didn’t do a bad job, you had to admit. You watched him as he went, his strokes quick and impatient. Some areas were lighter than others but over all you were impressed by his ability. "Two coats," you said when he finished with your last finger. He didn’t say anything but this time he went slower. His free hand ran across your palm, tracing each delicate line of your palm. He pressed his lips to the center and you felt your face heat. "I love your hands," he said softly. He pressed his to yours so they were palm to palm and measured them. His fingers were longer than yours and his palm wider, but you couldn’t look away from his hand pressed to yours. "So tiny, so cute," he murmured, pressed his lips to your knuckles before he went back to painting like nothing had ever happened.  You never knew when Louis would become sweet and tender, and he always seemed to do it when you were off guard. He finished while you were lost in your thoughts and he pressed a kiss to your nose. "What do you think?" He asked, his left hand holding yours. The question meant something more and you both knew that. "I think," you said wrapping our fingers around his, "that you’re a keeper."

Harry: "So what’s this coat for?" Harry asked holding up a bottle of clear liquid. "That’s the base coat, it helps the nail polish stay on longer." He nodded, the small bottle disappearing in his hands. "Ah," he said like he understood. He twisted the top of and stroked some on each nail, his long fingers wrapped around your hand. He sat cross legged in front of you, his knees bumping into yours. His hair was still damp from the shower you’d taken together and his cheeks were still flushed. Rain slammed against the windows and Harry sang along to the song in the background. You studied him, the way his brown hair fell in his face and the way his green eyes softened when they met yours. "Now what?" he asked screwing the lid back on. "We pick a color," you gestured to the bag beside him and he rummaged through. "Gray okay?" He asked, holding up a bottle. You nodded and he set to work again, his soft voice and soft hands lulling you into relaxation. "No sleeping," he teased, his finger tapping your nose. You couldn’t help it, it felt so wonderful. "Okay, okay," you straightened up as he continued. His fingers would lazily stroke over the pulse in your wrist or your forearm and you knew he was going it on purpose. "Harry," you bit out when his finger grazed your inner thigh. "Whoops," he said innocently. Even though the smirk he sent you was not. He put the top coat on like you instructed him too and then he sat back. "What do we do while we wait for them to dry?" he asked, watching you blow on each nail. You shrugged, "Watch tv I guess." He shook his head. "That’s boring," he grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap until you straddled him. "I have a better idea in mind," he said huskily as he pressed his lips to your jaw.