getting possessive over nerdjo
finding out that some girl has been trying to hookup with your boyfriend—or at least keeps flirting with him in his intro to classical mechanics class and even though satoru’s tried many, many times to tell her to please stop because he’s got a girlfriend, she won’t, just giggles and touches his arm and bats her lashes. and look, you’re not proud of it but you can be a jealous mother fucker—especially when someone is trying to touch something that’s been yours for a long, long time. so when you and satoru are kissing in his dorm, you in his lap, his moans breathy and mouth chasing yours like a needy puppy, you can’t help but pull back.
“what’s going on—“ he breathes out, blinking up at you, flushed and panting, shirtless, glasses crooked on his nose. and you just smile, small—but wicked. “one sec toru,” you say and he blinks as you reach over, grab your lipstick tube from his bedside table and pop off the cap. it’s a pretty shade of maroon that always makes him blush when he looks at your lips. you smile, wicked and wide, armed with lipstick and his breath stutters.
“w-wait y/n what’re you—?” but you’re already leaning forward and he squirms under you as you drag the lipstick over his chest. “what’re you doing—?” he gasps and you just span a hand over his stomach and keep him steady and his stomach knots at that, heat shooting down to his gut. and when you’re done, you pull back, grab his phone and snap a picture.
“what’s—“ satoru breathes, looking up at you, and you type something and then there’s a soft ding sound of a message being sent. and when you flip his phone around to show him, it’s the instagram of the girl who’s been bugging him and you’ve sent a single photo to her—satoru under you, lipstick drawn over his pale chest and stomach forming two clear, distinct words—HE’S MINE. satoru goes bright pink at the text, and you toss the phone away and he swallows as he looks up at you, heart thundering, pounding at the way you’ve so clearly marked him, the way you’ve said he belongs to you, and it does funny thighs to his stomach. “think she’ll get the message now?” you whisper as you lean down, wicked gleam in your eye and body pressed down against his and fuck he is so in love with you.
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