𝙜𝙖𝙥 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙙𝙨 [finn wolfhard imagines]

𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨

My eyes are glued on the boy in front of me. Completely fixated on his face, unable to look away even if I tried. I take my time to examine his features, complemented by the glow of the colorful lights in my room, and the soft indie music playing in the background. We had been making out, but now we seem to be too busy looking at each other to continue.

Every detail of every feature of him is flawless. Looking at him is like watching my favorite movie, or listening to my favorite song. I could do it endlessly for the rest of my natural life and never get bored. In fact, I would probably be happier with that than doing anything else.

His skin is almost inhumanly smooth. There isn't a single blemish or imperfection anywhere on him, except for one small indent on his chin. My mind gets fixated on the scar. I remember him telling me the story of how he got it, from doing a cartwheel. It's adorable, I've never seen such a perfect scar.

Freckles very faintly cover his cheekbones. Those cheekbones themselves are something I could write an entire new chapter about. The small brown dots of pigment on his face compliment him perfectly. They suit him better than freckles on any other person ever could.

His nose has freckles too. Not to mention, his nose is perfect. It looks different from any angle, which is what I love about it. If you look at it from the front, it's small and round. But from the side, you can tell that it has a geometrically perfect slope. It matches the angularness of his cheekbones and jaw, yet makes him look softer. Especially when he laughs and it scrunches up.

I can feel his eyes on me, doing the same thing I'm doing. Staring at my face purposelessly, taking all of me in. I would be self-conscious, but I'm too busy being enamored by him to care.

And his jaw. His goddamn jawline. It's the prettiest thing I've ever seen. It could probably cut glass. You couldn't make it up. I literally have no words, that's how much I love his jaw.

The only thing more perfect about him than his jaw is his lips. His fucking lips. They're the dreamiest shade of pink. They taste sweet, and comforting. They're pillowy, almost naturally swollen, which makes them ideal for kissing. Which reminds me that we were just in the middle of a makeout session.

I slowly lean in until my lips make contact with his. He hungrily kisses back, the sensation overwhelming both of our bodies in an instant. His hands tease my waist, holding me softly enough that it almost tickles my skin. 

My tongue slips into his mouth, making contact with his. We gently stroke them together as we kiss, fueling the fires building in our cores. As we kiss, I nonchalantly climb into his lap, wrapping my legs around his waist. We're closer than ever as we make out, which turns me on like nothing else can.

There's nothing less than perfect about the rest of him, too. Not just his face. His hands, his arms, his neck, his chest, his torso... I could keep going but I think you get the point. Every feature of his long, pale body is breathtaking to me. The little angular curves of his sharp collarbones, similar to his chiseled face. His long, skinny hands with those perfect fingers. The feeling of them touching my skin is like a drug. That v shape above where his legs start, right below his narrow waist, is a fucking masterpiece. I shouldn't even be thinking about that because I might get too carried away. There's not a single flaw anywhere on him.

I'll never be able to fully process how much I adore him. Every part of him all comes together to make the most perfect human being I'll ever have the pleasure to know. And his physicality doesn't even come close to his personality. I couldn't describe his personality in words if I tried. It's just something I've grown to adore on a level that might be beyond me. 

Our kissing slows down again, since we've both ran out of breath. My hands rest comfortably behind his neck, holding myself in the perfect position to observe him again. His eyes catch mine, pulling me down into the rabbithole I get lost in every time my eyes meet his. As I look into them, I get even more engulfed in the boy in front of me. 

His eyes. His piercing brown eyes are my favorite part of him. They are framed perfectly by his sharp, powerful eyebrows and his adorable eyelashes. If I stared into his irises for long enough, it could probably put me into a coma. Honestly, the little flecks of gold that take shape around his pitch black pupils are hypnotizing. The texture inside his eyes is my favorite thing about him. The insides of his eyes reflect his soul, flawless in all the curves and ingredients. I'm just aimlessly describing them to myself in my mind as I get lost in them, trying to grapple on how I could put their beauty into a verbal form.

After a bit, I see his lips curl up into a smile. I mirror him, also grinning like an idiot. We both got so wrapped up in each other that I think we forgot about reality. But that's what I love about being with him, we can both just escape real life when we're together. It's like nothing else that I could ever experience with anybody else. It's pure happiness.

He's my happiness.