cal blurbs

mk, imagine being a single mom and having calum as a long time friend. him being around your son so much that he might as well of been his father. but anyway, you invite calum over to have dinner and binge watch the simpsons and while you’re boiling the pasta you overhear them. calum coaxing the eight month old to blurt his name. his extensive fingers secured around the baby’s torso and across his back. their wide eyes shooting over calum’s handsome features. “c'mon bub, you can do it”. then he’d proceed to coo his name exaggerating the ‘a’ and elongating the ‘l’. then after extensive practice your son would rev and bumble until his lips quivered. finally, a breathy and energetic, “daddy!” would slur from behind the slobber. calum’s eyes going wide and deciding whether to celebrate or hide in embarrassment. he’d quickly decide to take your son and guide his hands into a clapping motion just accepting it. later on while you two were situated on the couch and your son was in his play pen, calum would turn with half chewed food in his mouth, “so is it ok if i’m daddy?”

knowing calum, he'd be really against forcing his bad habits onto you. he'd always usher you away from his cigarette smoke and try to limit his drinking when he had you around. you felt too much like a kid, so when you took up cigarettes against his persistence he would truthfully be kind of offended because he loved you too much to watch you wither away like him. then the new year rolled around and he didn't like waking up with a hangover and cigarette stench on his breath. he then took the opportunity to do away with the cigs and actually put a lock on the booze cabinet. when you whined to him he would look down and kind of stagger into a hug and press the words, "for you" into your hair.

so being calum's precious companion that was light on pda and generally reserved would have its perks. for example, the first time he witnessed you throwing it back at a friend's party he'd go slack. not to sure how he feels about this new confidence, but definitely proud and speechless. your hips just doing their thing and your ass finding the spotlight. calum would want so badly to keep it for his eyes only, but he didn't want to ruin his girl's vibe. rather he sat back unnoticed and shamelessly let his semi graduate to full hard on. coming back to him after the song had ended and sliding back into your reserved seat on his lap, knowing you have so many ways of surprising him.

cal would likely be a sleepy boy at home, and a heavy one at that. his precious lips twitching each hour of the night so subtly. you’d drag out the case of sharpies and carefully choose a few different shades and hues. uncapping them and slowly etching new swirls and pictures onto calum’s golden brown skin. filling in the thin outlines and your heart races when he shifts in his sleep. looking over at the clock and it flashes back with an alarming 3:43 am. you’d have a full on gallery of new “tattoos” for him to see. then once you lift the covers off of his legs to get a cheeky little secret ink job in, he’d groan and painfully pry his eyes open. you would hold your breath, green sharpie in hand, almost afraid. calum would just check out his fresh sleeve and nod in his groggy state. he would seem even high, with his red squinted eyes and pursed grin that challenged his pillowy cheeks. most likely plotting either revenge or possibly even his next permanent tattoo, more permanent than sharpie.

- little boy calum taking up cooking classes at a very young age - addicted to cooking shows - the target of unnecessary harassment at school when they find out his administration for the culinary art - his beautiful hands always crafting up things in the kitchen - occasional baking -studying hard on the knowledge of food and its historical value as well - basically having an all access index of knowledge about what can be done with any ingredient - his tummy always staying a little pudgy, but he can live with that - even when he meets you in a high school course of culinary arts, he isn't ashamed for one second - you being overshadowed by his vast superiority - humming while he chopped vegetables - you'd invite him to study group just to watch him prep the snacks - him trusting you as an assistant, even though you were a bit clueless at times - taking the career seriously and always being critical on himself - being spoon fed a new recipe of his for reassurance - an assortment of music playing each time he cooked - blaming him for your gain of quite a few noticeable pounds within the first year of being official - never having to really order takeout, unless he wasn't feeling it at all - HOLIDAYSSYY - you being proud when he gets up in the ranks and recognition for his rather tasteful talent - talk of maybe even starting a local restaurant - if you had kids, they would always know to ask daddy for the food -living in a house heated by the oven, with warm colors and pleasant aromatic surprises according to the season - being happy regardless because calum in general was never one to disappoint

ridiculously hot summer days with calum was a blessing, him in minimal clothing. taking up water activities and spending the warm nights pressing his bare sun kissed skin on yours. then come fourth of july and you drag him into the festivities to heighten the experience. even if he wasn’t american, you wouldn’t miss out. the majority of the day spent at an amusement park where he’d slip in pda while waiting in those brutal lines. applying sunscreen onto him once you hit the beach and getting creative with the thick white cream on his back without his knowledge (*cough* dicks *cough*). laying out on the shoreline where high tide would threaten your toes and the firework show was prepped across the way. drinking a few beers and playing a very somber playlist that complimented the little picnic. digging around in sand and playing some sports of choice. then once the sun began to sink there would be plenty of food and driftwood became a small bonfire of sorts. smores being a must, allowing the marshmallows to burn to a fine black crisp and then getting calum's squishy cheeks plastered in the assortment of mallow and melted chocolate. laughing uncontrollably when he attempts to lap away the pesky remains with his tongue stubbornly. calum’s cheeks would be rosy red and his skin slick and hot to the touch. breaths slowed down from the helluva day, but his heart still thumped. you’d turn into your bag and pull out some sparklers, immediately watching calum perk up. he’d pull out his lighter and gladly light them up and prance around like an idiot while simultaneously waving a miniature american flag. somehow reinvigorated by this pleasure. stopping in his tracks when that piercing whistle faintly rocketed in the distance, and a distinct cannon of sound released color into the deep indigo sky. you'd tow him onto the blanket, those mexican ones he seems to like, and hold his hand loosely. both of your eyes reflecting the display of light that littered the night. the drum of fireworks resonating until it stilled. then calum would carefully slump onto his back and you'd rest your head on his little tummy. rising and falling for a solid twenty minutes. then you took the initiative and hauled him back into the car and put out the fire. taking all of your things and slipping with ease into the cooled leather seats. sand crusting skin and sea salt drying in hair. you driving and calum dozing in the passenger seat, curls softly blown by the beloved ac. you sporting a dope smile as you drove your lover boy home after an unforgettable fourth of july. smoke hanging in the sky, and sirens wailing far off. not your concern, because everything you had was perfect.

could you just see calum as the nurturing type. an eager mold of pure compliance and patience that would listen to you mutter nonsense until you literally put yourself to sleep. his touch always supportive and never too present. going out of his way often to benefit you, since it was the most he could do. him never really being ashamed of touching the sensitive side of himself. like letting you paint his nails and going to poetry cafes. when he was having his own time he’d be an idiot, but always have you under his wing somehow. having calum as sort of co-pilot that saved you from self destruction, never letting you drift back into old ways. even if it caused him the slightest of stress he always wanted something new for you to enjoy with him. the dates where it was just eating silently or using him as a pillow while you read. he just understood and didn’t disrespect the moment. even during the more upbeat times he always pays such a subtle attention to your state and general mood to ensure that you were actually fine. calum just seems like he could be that safety pin holding the seams together even if it still leaks sometimes.

alright, so calum being the beautiful golden brown boy he is would flaunt his skin all summer long. more so for you, but he blamed the overbearing heat. nights spent in would consist of him jacking up the air just so you'd snuggle with him. both equipped with your own pint of ice cream and movies of choice. his sticky hot skin somehow being a relief with your body pressed into his. then eventually the expected would fall into place. you'd claim your spot on his lap and the cold air blowing from the vents pelted your exposed skin. his lips already growing substantially puffy against the harsh and hungry make out. the stray curls atop his head pushed and ruffled. for the next ten minutes thats all it was. on the tail end of june, crickets rioting, everything too hot. you found yourself heaped over calum just enjoying the middle ground he offered with his own heat against the ac. nothing more, just the feeling of his tongue slicking over your lips and his mouth working yours just right. because you could both agree that sex would mean things getting even hotter, so save for fall or winter perhaps.

hear me out....calum in boxers at 7 am with bleary eyes fighting to stay open as he cradles a bowl of cereal and spoons big bites with an adorable little slurp. watching cartoon reruns and just snickering at all the jokes appropriated for adults rather than the intended audience age. then you walk in still not detached from your blanket cocoon, feet jittering on the cold tile as you seek refuge on the couch next to calum. then just caving in and forcing him to accommodate you so you both can sit in the blue washed room with jimmy neutron wasting your morning unashamedly.

why do i feel like calum would love to involve food into foreplay. especially any sweets or candies he can suck on and use against you later. like just lapping his tongue over the sticky trail of melted sugar from his lollipop. grazing his teeth over where the jolly rancher had just been, sucking faintly. getting a high on the sappy saliva that is warmed by your responsive body, quivering under him. setting the treats on sensitive parts of your body that he promised to pleasure. kissing with an open mouth and swirling his tongue numbly across the skin that held the most sugar. chocolate drizzle applied lightly and he is sure to be nice and slow while trailing upwards. then once he's cleaned you up he'd just mumble into your neck that he was ready for the main course. the naughty boy just loved having dessert before dinner.

- a disarray of scattered arrangements, maps and brochures all over his desk. - pulling out his bucket hats and cargo shorts - restraining from bursting into happy giggles when he sees your reaction to the whole trip idea - overpacking to the max (cuz he’s gonna be naked anyway, heck) - preparing the hottest mixtapes for the road trip there - you two looking like such a stereotypical hippie duo in the old rabbit with your rustic antique decor - crawling along the asphalt at 45 mph in the dead of the night, knees pulled to your chest as calum drove - taking loads of grainy and shallow pictures while you were high - setting up camp on an offroad site that didn’t have much to offer, but all the popular sites were too mainstream and polluted - near death trying to set the poles for the tent - wearing his shirts and underwear basically the whole trip (once again this man likes being exposed) - music playing at allll times - surreal sunsets spent on the forest floor your fingers digging into calum’s hair and ghosting over his scalp while he slept so sweetly - hot sticky skin, kicking off blankets, skin pressing intimately on occasions with no intent of sex - ghost stories by flashlight - you freaking when you realize calum drank all the coffee AND tea you had packed - pulling out the good ole fishing poles and calum whips out his withered bucket hat and rain boots - cheesin real hard with fish he caught and then releasing with a pout - calum peeing on trees like nobody’s business - you screaming when you see a centipede on his shoe and him nearly falling into the lake - him scaring you with “poison ivy!” or dead bugs - pulling off a decent bonfire and laying on sleeping bags and calling each other nerds - calum’s lush lips being smothered in smores, graham crackers crumbs absolutely everywhere - not being able to stargaze because calum is too busy telling you puns - you getting moody in the morning and deciding to have tent sex to get rid of the tension - hiking and listening to music and enjoying your view of calum’s back, because everything about him was beautiful godammit - slowly dragging around and just spending a few hours in silence picking flowers and looking for cool rocks - spending one day completely nude and playing some games inside the tent while it rained - making out at 4 in the morning but being interrupted by a hellish noise outside and you both just hug and cower in fear - “lions, tigers, and bears. beb im scared” - hesitantly packing back up to go home - the sun just starting to set as you finish loading the car - rough sex on the hood of the car before you leave your little resort - getting all sweaty and just heaving into the car to finally leave - playing ispy for 6 minutes before you both run dry - reading a book and just laying your head in his lap while he drove carefully just for you - his cute yawns, stale breath, and smoked wood scented outfit being a new personal favorite - already planning the next trip - pulling up to the luxury home and feeling out of place already, taking the next few days to readjust - him still wanting to be close to you and nothing else for a bit (not social media or his mates surprisingly) - joking about becoming nomads or mountain people - being in love with your best friend and just leaning into his side knowing that wherever you guys went, you two could never fall out

being home on a wednesday night and realizing that you had been too caught up in reading to cook. instead, resorting to the trusty pinned number on your cork-board on your apartment wall. college had been, quite frankly, harsh. pizza from the local place was a bit too pricey for your liking and it turned out to be a monthly luxury. what really helped was when pizza delivery boy calum who was also a fellow student came around this time. dressed in his black and blue uniform the little visor holding back his entourage or precious curls, pizza box in hand. you showed to the door with baggy plaid bottoms and a mustard yellow sweatshirt and your cheeks just flamed when all he offered was a giddy smile. taking the pizza and handing the money over and slipping in an extra dollar onto the tip (just for looking so damn good at 10:53 pm). then he starts coming around more often, memorizing your address, thanks to you. after you cheekily ask for him personally in the request box. you finally learning from experience and starting to actually match when you answer for him, and one time he'll just give you a pizza on the house with a note inside the box in nearly illegible scratch. reading, "if you're going to start dressing up for me, i might as well give you a reason and take you out this weekend for something other than pizza (please, i am pizza'd out)". followed by a number, thankfully not just domino's hotline anymore. then progressing to eat the usual wednesday pizza. mind still on calum, your very own pizza delivery boy.

we all know calum is more intact with the party animal side of him, and is not shy about drinking. then when you two somehow end up being a mild hit, he learns that you aren’t compatible with the highly social side. having social anxiety and all that lovely jazz, yikes. sadly leading you to an intolerance of a whole side of him, so he starts going out less and tries to make a compromise because he wants you two to work out so damn much. even if he has give up nights with the boys and that whole careless side of him. thankfully thats not all thats to him and he sobers up to be a cute bean who lives life for you. still getting freaky, with your permission of course. nah but really, calum would sacrifice for his girl, even if growing up was scary.

typically calum was wiped out after long hazed days. his flushed brown skin hot to the touch from not only his internal warmth, but the day’s sun. inconsistent bouts of soft snoring and he’d shift every half hour. then there was you who suffered the inability to find comfort. everything was too stiff, the covers felt rough, your mind weighed heavily. sleep never came easy and it took a toll on not only you, but for others who had to deal with the consequences. you didn’t want to wake calum, because lord knows he needs his sleep. one hour slowly drifted into two and you rotated, agitatedly, toward calum’s back. hesitantly reaching out with a clammy hand to press a feather light stroke onto his skin rippled with various muscles. your breaths falling in time with his, and by mistake he stirs awake. slowly unfurling and turning to you with his eyes struggling to remain open. his lips drawn into the smallest of frowns because you look so utterly defeated and burdened by the lack of sleep. with experience he crosses his arm over you and begins to gently sweep the tips of his fingers across your shoulder blades. his toothpaste breath fanning over your cheek as you aid him in the attempt of getting you to sleep by nuzzling into his other arm. blinking quickly until it becomes tiring and then calum sealing the case with weak murmurs of a song he particularly remembers that you used to play when trying to sleep.