gn but make it ✨lipgloss✨
Your lipgloss smells like dessert.
There’s a certain sweetness to the formula that makes the product smell like cake, with a hint of lemon sugar and frosting, and it makes you want to lick your lips often from the way it smells under your nose.
You find yourself often licking the product clean from your pout, only to apply more a few minutes later while you subconsciously lap up the shine tinting your lips.
Getting ready to go out now, you still find yourself snacking on the lipgloss
“I like that shade,” Megumi says, running a palm through his hair. “Compliments your undertone.”
You snort, “thanks Romeo.” You cap the lipgloss off and find yourself soon there after licking your lips, you hum and open it again and move to apply some more. “Who’s teaching you about undertones? Who’s telling you these things?”
He rolls his eyes, “I pay attention when you talk, you know. I don’t tune you out.”
“Fair,” you giggle. You find yourself licking your lips again, and he quirks a brow.
“You hungry or something?”
“No, it’s just…” You extend the tube out to him, starting to twist off the cap, “here, smell my lipgloss,” You say, furrowing your brows.
There’s not a god watching over you that could’ve prepared you for Megumi to lean down so close to your face, and take a whiff in.
He leans down to sniff your lips.
Your cut off by the action of the Fushiguro Megumi leaning down to sniff the plushness of your lips, the heat of his face bouncing back to yours, before pulling back with a shrug, “smells like lemon loaf.”
“You just. Like. Sniffed my lips?” You begin, not able to fight the smirk off your face. “Like. No hesitation? No thought?”
“You told me to smell your lipgloss,” he defends, but he does smile softly at his own actions. “I was just being an obedient boyfriend.”
This causes you to laugh at his continued nonchalance, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his chest, “you’re stupid.”
“You’re stupid,” he says back, wrapping his own arms around you. You squeeze him softly before looking back up at him, only ducking away when he makes a move to playfully pinch your lip. “It is a pretty gloss though.”
“Yeah,” you agree. Then, you grin and wiggle your eyebrows, “wanna taste it?”
“You’re feral,” he sighs, but when you pucker your lips out to kiss, he leans down and gives you one happily, a large hand coming up to gently grip your chin and hold you steady. The act has you mewling softly against him, arms tossing around his neck.
When he moves to pull away, you trail the kisses down his chin and neck, leaving sheen kiss marks in your wake. You hear him hum, “does taste like lemon loaf.”
