smile ; kise ryouta x reader

smile.

Kise is a model, trained to smile for the cameras, the crowds, with his perfect white teeth and clear blue eyes that embody the sky. That's why she loves the early mornings, when he smiles for her and her only, soft and small. She loves the splash of golden against the white pillows and white sheets, blue eyes cracking open slowly and focusing on her.

The whispered "Good morning" that really means "I love you," and the smile that follows when she whispers back "Morning," which really means "I love you too."

She loves the way his hair, always brushed and perfect and soft, is messy and tangled, the way he stays still and lets her brush her fingers through the bright golden locks, tangles coming apart at her touch. She loves the way he closes his eyes, letting himself relax into the bed, relax into her touch.

She loves the way his blue eyes open once more, the way her reflexion is painted onto his pretty eyes. She loves his eyes, and she bends down to kiss them when Kise closes his eyes and she ends up kissing his eyelids, but that's alright; she loves his eyelids, too.

She loves the way his smile would be soft, not forced. His smile is always a little too big, a little too forced, a little too happy. But in here, in this place where it's only them and the pristine clean sheets draped over them, his smile becomes a bit smaller, a bit more natural, and a bit softer. She loves the way the corners of his mouth is quirked up, in the Kise-way that she is now so familiar with.

She loves the way his soft hand would eventually find her own, and the way they wrap their fingers around each other. She loves that the soft-looking hand is covered with callouses, from handling the orange-brown balls for many, many hours. She loves his perfect fingernails, trimmed to be round and smooth, with clear manicure he wears to protect them that nobody ever notices.

She loves the way that, when she crawls in between his arms, he kisses the back of her hands and let her get comfortable, comfortable enough that sleep tries to lull her back into the drowsy darkness. She loves the way his stomach muscles would shift against her back. She loves the way Kise whispers sweet nothings in her left ear, pressing kisses onto her scalp.

She loves the way that he whispers her name, deep affection barely concealed in his voice, mixed in with happiness and everything else she feels whenever she looks at him. "[name]," he says, no silly 'cchi's at the end of her name. It was her name ― and only her name, nothing else. He didn't have to add the cchi to show the respect he held for her.

She loves the way that she would turn her head a bit to the left, shifting her body so her lips could reach his, though almost barely, and she loves the way he pushes up and meets her lips with his own. She loves his soft lips and the way they move against hers, and she loves the way his tongue goes in and out of her mouth, as if he is teasing her. She loves it, and she doesn't mind. On a final lick, she catches a fleeting taste of his tongue; sweet and short, but the taste lingers in her mouth and she can imagine his tongue resting on her own.

She loves the way Kise looks at her ― his eyes are crystal blue and big and soft and radiating emotions that she can't describe with words (because she feels them herself), his eyebrows are relaxed and the soft curve of his lips showing her that he would be here rather than anywhere else in the world.

She loves the way Kise loves her, and she loves him right back.

[name] is a usually stoic person, and she'd trained herself to conceal most of her emotions since she was young, with a tight-lipped frown, [hair colour] locks tight into a bun, and [eye colour] eyes that seem to pierce into one's soul. That's why he loves the way she smiles for him, insignificantly soft but meaningful, her [hair colour] hair out of its usual bun and splattered across the white bed, [eye colour] eyes soft as she looks into his own.

He whispers a "Good morning" that means "I love you," and he loves the way she whispers "Morning" back. He loves the way it really means "I love you too."

He loves the way she pushes back her hair to keep it away from her mouth. He loves the way she flips the strands of [hair colour] back, instead of neatly pressing it behind her ears. He loves the way she allows his hands to brush her hair aside to make way for a morning peck on the cheeks. He loves the way she relaxes into his touch, his hands.

He loves the way she bends down to kiss his eyes, but he closes them and she ends up kissing his eyelids instead. But that's alright, because he loves the feel of her soft [lip colour] lips against his skin. He loves the way she smiles against his skin, soft and sure, and however insignificant this smile must be to her, it means the world to him. He loves the way she detaches herself from his skin and pauses for a moment before drawing back.

He loves the way she smiles; he doesn't see that smile often, because she chooses to save it for when it's only the two of them, only them, with their white sheets and white pillows and yellow and [hair colour] clashing and mixing together to become one.

He loves the way that, when his hands wander to find hers, she brings it closer unknowingly, and the way she holds onto him like he holds onto her; desperate and needy, as if he is her lifeline to reality. He loves it because she's the part of his life that grounds him down to reality. He loves her soft hands, her thin nimble fingers, and he thinks he must be the luckiest man alive, because her hands are those of a goddess's.

He loves the way she crawls into his arms, and he shifts his own body for her to be comfortable. He loves the way she blushes as he presses his lips against the back of her hands, loves the way she snuggles in closer and tries to hide her face inside the white sheets, but her neck is still flushed red and she doesn't know that. He loves the warmth she emits, and darkness pulls at him constantly, trying to make him sleep. He loves the way she fits right into his body, like the two of them were meant to be one person, but he doesn't mind. He doesn't mind because he has her right next to him.

He loves the way she stills as he presses little kisses against the back of her head, into her scalp. He likes the fact that it's like he's marking her his, only his, even though it doesn't matter because it's only the two of them in their room.

He loves the way her already red face becomes darker in colour when he slowly whispers her name. "[name]," he says, and she shifts back just a bit more, as if she's hiding inside him. He finds it cute. He loves the way she mumbles something back, something she thinks he can't hear: "Ryouta." But he hears her alright and he smiles against her skin, pausing before calling her name again, and it's like Marco Polo, except [name] and Ryouta replaces the two words.

He loves the way she turns her head just a little bit, but he's trapped her tight in his arms that she can't turn far enough to reach him. And he pushes himself up just a little bit and pushes his lips against hers gently in a sweet kiss. He loves her soft lips that slides beneath his. He loves the way her mouth opens a bit, even without his teeth nagging her bottom lips, and since he can't pass up this chance, he pushes her tongue between her plump lips, teasing her. And he knows that she loves it. He also loves, absolutely loves, the taste of her mouth on his tongue ― minty and sweet at the same time.

He loves the way she looks at her. Her eyes, clear and [eye colour] and all beautiful and telling him things that she doesn't say out loud, are piercing into his skin, into his soul, leaving him vulnerable and weak to her, and he doesn't mind it. Her eyes are softer than usual, and her posture is relaxed, unlike the stiff way she sits, the rigid way she stands. And her lips are curled up into a small, satisfied smile. He loves the way she doesn't say it, but she conveys it ― she loves being here with him, just the two of them on a bed too big for two and a bit small for two, latched onto another.

He loves the way [name] loves him, and he loves her right back.