upon discovering MEGUMI'S abs you can't help but giggle and press kisses all over the toned muscle
the third time you giggle in the span of two minutes, megumi finally gives up pretending he doesn’t notice.
at first he had been confused by it. the soft bursts of laughter muffled somewhere against him, the way your shoulders shook slightly where you were half sprawled over his torso. now, though, he knows exactly why you’re giggling and that knowledge does absolutely nothing to help the heat creeping up his neck.
megumi exhales slowly through his nose and shifts a little on the bed, trying (without much success) to tug you away from where you’ve buried yourself under his shirt.
the room around you is quiet in that lazy, late-afternoon way. golden light spills through the window, warming the sheets and casting soft shadows across the cluttered space— two pairs of sneakers half kicked off near the door, cricket of bugs and calls of birds drifting through the slightly open window.
megumi is lying against the headboard with a comic open in his hands.
now the comic is mostly forgotten, tilted awkwardly in one hand while his other arm rests uncertainly across your back. because several minutes earlier, while you had been kissing him and shifting closer, you’d accidentally brushed your hand across the solid plane of his abdomen.
you had paused, then immediately ducked under his shirt. before megumi could even process what was happening, your cheek had been pressed right against his stomach.
and you had been giggling ever since.
now your face is nestled comfortably against the firm muscle of his abdomen, his shirt pulled up just enough for you to fit underneath. your cheek rests against warm skin, and every time he breathes you feel the subtle rise and fall beneath you.
the scent around him is warm and familiar; his citrus shampoo lingers faintly in his hair, clean and sharp. underneath that is the softer smell of laundry detergent clinging to his shirt, and beneath that, faint but distinctly him — is his natural warmth, sun-warmed skin and something quiet and grounding that makes your chest feel too full. you inhale like someone hoarding oxygen. another giggle escapes you.
megumi’s fingers twitch against the page of his comic. “…are you going to come out?” he mutters finally, voice low and carefully neutral.
your reply comes immediately, muffled by cotton and skin. “no.”
the cheeky tone in your voice makes his eyebrow twitch even though you can’t see it. he sighs, the sound long-suffering, though his hand unconsciously settles a little more firmly on your back. “you’ve been under there for ten minutes.”
you only nuzzle closer in response, rubbing your cheek lightly against the toned muscle beneath his ribs like an overly affectionate cat. megumi’s shoulders tense. you try to kick your feet behind you in delight, but his legs shifts automatically to rest over the back of your thighs, holding you still without really thinking about it.
“don’t start moving around,” he says quietly.
“i wasn’t—” you giggle again.
megumi stares at the ceiling for a moment, clearly reconsidering every life choice that led to this moment. he tries to focus back on his comic. the page blurs almost instantly. under his shirt, you press your nose lightly against his stomach, breathing him in again like you’re committing the scent to memory. then, very deliberately— you tilt your head slightly and press a soft kiss to the warm skin beneath his shirt.
for half a second there is silence, then megumi squeaks. actually squeaks!
the sound is so sudden and high that it startles even him, his entire body jolting as the comic slips straight out of his hands and flops uselessly against his chest.
“stop that!” he blurts, voice cracking a little as his hands immediately grab at the hem of his shirt, trying to shove your head back out from underneath it.
you only laugh, the sound muffled against his stomach. the muscle under your cheek tightens when he tries to push you away, his abdomen flexing in an involuntary reaction that only makes you giggle harder.
instead of retreating, you press another quick kiss there. megumi inhales sharply. “hey—!”
he tries again to nudge your head away, but the movement is clumsy and hesitant, like he’s too flustered to figure out what to actually do with you. you feel the muscle jump again under your lips. so you kiss it once more.
“please… stop,” megumi mutters, and now his voice is quieter, the words slipping out in a soft, strained whine that wavers somewhere between embarrassed and defeated.
that only makes you smile. you press one last affectionate kiss to his stomach before finally sliding out from under his shirt, blinking up at him like someone who has done absolutely nothing wrong. your hands never leave his hips. megumi immediately covers his face with both hands. you can still see the tips of his ears though. they are completely red. the sight makes laughter bubble right out of you.
megumi sighs deeply from behind his hands. “it’s not funny,” he mutters, voice muffled against his palms. “you’re a fucking menace.”
you push yourself up slightly, shifting so you’re sitting more properly over his waist before gently grabbing his wrists. “lemme see.”
he groans softly as you pull his hands away anyway. his face is bright red, color spread across his cheeks and nose, the flush still burning all the way up to his ears. you can’t help it. you lean down and press a kiss to his beetroot-colored cheek.
“you’re so cute, ’gumi,” you murmur fondly, pinching his cheek lightly between your fingers and tugging just a little.
his brows knit together instantly. “don’t call me that.” you grin, completely unapologetic. “stop.” he mutters again, though this time the protest lacks any real force behind it.
for a moment you just look at him; warmth spreading through your chest in a way that feels almost too big for your ribs. megumi glances away, clearly still recovering from the assault of affection. you smile softly.
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