Calum Hood Imagines

BGM- When You Touch Me...

Yea not sure what this is

Enjoy

Calum:
Calum's hand was warm as it engulfed yours. His hands were far larger than your own, something that had been pointed out to you on many occasions as if you had never seen your own boyfriend's hands before. This was especially irritating because Calum's hands were probably your favorite part of his body.

His hands were the first things that touched you at that lame house party where you both met. You were swaying to the too loud music that was blasting out of the speakers when someone tapped you on the shoulder. You turned, and saw that wide, sparkling grin and knew you were a goner before he even said anything.

Calum's hands always seemed to be right where you wanted them. He knew when to intertwine his fingers with yours, and when to give you your space. He knew that you liked it when he kept one of his hands resting on your leg while he was driving and that his hands sliding up your shirt late Saturday mornings was one of your favorite ways to be woke up.

You loved the tips of his fingers where the callouses from pressing down the strings of his base were, and how they weren't as soft as the skin of his palms. Calum knew when you wanted his grip to be hard, and when to be soft and his hands moved accordingly, grabbing and caressing whenever needed. The extra tight hand around your waist during a horror movie or in dense crowds, or hand gliding up your skirt after you finally got home from dinner.

You liked the metal bands that he wore around his fingers, and how they made marks across your thighs when he picked you up. His rings were always a bit cooler than his skin, causing you to shiver when they touched the sensitive skin of your neck or hips. You could always feel them digging into you when Calum got a good grip, and you welcomed the cool sting of his rings and the hot bite of his kiss.

It was safe to say that you were pretty well acquainted with Calum's hands. You were well aware that they were different from your own, but you loved them anyway.

...

Calum's eyes twinkled in the soft light of the sunset when he turned his head your way, and you sighed as his beautiful brown irises met yours. In his eyes you could see the silhouette of the cityscape and your own face reflected back as he reached across the middle to pull you over the seat divider and closer to him. You were never close enough to satisfy Calum, even when you were next to each other, alone in his car.

You didn't break eye contact as he unbuckled your seatbelt, and neither did he. His eyes always were one of his best features, no doubt about it. They were soft when it was just the two of you but then developed a slight edge as he pulled you closer. His eyes always betrayed his emotions in that way, like when they lit up at the sight of a happy dog, or suddenly glittered dangerously when someone looked at you the wrong way for too long. You'd seen his eyes well up with tears when his favorite bass cracked after someone accidentally dropped it, but also the first time you told him you loved him.

Love was always so clear to see in Calum's eyes. His eyelids would droop just a little lower so that his unfairly long lashes obscured the edge of his vision. His pupils would dilate a little and then he'd lean in and whisper it to you, "I love you Y/N."

...

Then again, it was pretty unfair to discount Calum's lips from your list of your favorite parts of him. They were velvety soft and smooth, perfectly kissable at any moment.

Calum's lips were pretty all the time, there was no denying that, but you especially loved to watch them as they curled around your name.

His lips caused you to break into goosebumps when they brushed against your bare skin. Sometimes when he held you at night his face would rest against the back of your neck and you'd feel the soft goodnight kiss linger until the early hours of the morning as he laid beside you.

Calum's lips always felt perfect against yours. He was a skilled kisser, something that you discovered early in your relationship and had always been delighted about. He knew to start slow, not to shove his tongue in your mouth or push you too far too fast. He was always patient, sometimes breaking up kisses just to give you more on different parts of your face or body while you giggled.

You couldn't even describe how his giggle made you feel. Seeing his lips pull back into that funny little grin always made a smile go to your own face, and you never could be mad at him when his bottom lip was poking out, a fact he often took advantage of. You often noticed that when he was really concentrating his tongue would poke out the side of his mouth and when he started to get frustrated he'd begin to chew on his bottom lip. It was usually about then that you stepped in and let him know how hot he looked when he was angrily staring at his work and provided a much-needed break.

...

You were in love with his tattoos. There wasn't any way to deny it. Your eyes were drawn to the swirling black ink whenever it was visible to you, and that was practically all the time. You'd find yourself tracing over the delicate letters on his hands or the date across his collarbones. You liked the contrast they provided against his skin and found yourself wondering how one would look bearing your own name.

You had a feeling it wouldn't be long until you'd get to see for yourself.

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