𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 🐇 ／ ⋆ ۪ imagine genji getting jealous because he catches other men checking you out.
genji hated the way other men looked at you.
it wasn’t your fault—he knew that. you could just be standing there, minding your own, and still they’d find something to stare at. the curve of your smile, the way your eyes lit up when you laughed, the softness in your voice when you spoke.
it disgusted him.
not because of you—never because of you—but because they didn’t deserve to see you like that.
they didn’t deserve to want you.
he should’ve been the only one.
you were his.
his to love, to protect, to hold late at night when the world got too loud. and yet, some guy with a cheap smile and wandering eyes had the audacity to look at you like you were free for the taking.
he felt it then. that sharp pang in his chest. jealousy, ugly and hot and too real. it curled low in his stomach, twisted around his ribs.
he stayed quiet, for the most part. but his hand found yours, fingers lacing a little tighter than usual.
and when you looked up at him, brows raised like what’s up?, he just gave you this small smile. soft, but a little tense.
“nothing,” he said. “just... don’t like the way they’re looking at you.”
you laughed, brushing it off like it was nothing, but he meant it.
they didn’t get to look at you like that.
only he did.