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disjunctBecoming afflicted with possessiveness as a part of your personality is less fun than Mercury thought it’d be.
One of the empaths here told him it’d happened, the one who worked the booths as a fortune teller for their unique from-home talents. He had a new change that couldn’t be seen, and before he broke their table for jackassing around being vague, they called it as frankly as it was— possessiveness. And at first, that was fine. He already doesn’t share anyway, he doesn’t feel threatened by Junko finding interest in anyone else. She’s been all over him since he got here, from downing a glass of vodka to the frankly insane detail she’d go through to mess with him and mess him up.
She’s more attached, not him.
But she’s talking to one of the stunt men she does makeup for and it doesn’t seem right, but he’s pissed off. The kid was being so chummy with her even with her dumb fake smile (he can tell, he can) plastered on her face, acting like she was really interested in his game of cards. She made it known from day one that she intended to climb into the top, to the coveted veteran’s spot, and who knew from there? That meant schmoozing.
It’s funny, but he finds himself grabbing her underneath the shoulders and pulling her off the bench before snatching her at the waist and sarcastically murmuring about ‘what’s taking you so long to get home?’ And she’d tease back with a ‘just avoiding you, sweetie-pie! I was hoping to get back after you fell asleep—‘
Their banter goes on, but he hangs onto that.
—
He dreams about her and the weird card guy, even though he wakes up right next to her in the dead of night. There’s no part of him that wants to appear needy— to her, of all people— but if he spins it as greed and as bothering her, he’ll be more comfortable.
She blinks up at him when he wakes her up.
“I knew I was going to have a rude awakening, but it’s so miserable when it finally happens…” She sat up, bearing her stripes, claws, and fangs in a yawn as she looks over their pajamaed selves, wondering what was so important that she predicted Mercury would wake her up for.
A slight conundrum. You couldn’t spin this as a prank. So he does the next best thing and shoves her down back into the bed and finds where no turtleneck could hide a bite and sinks his teeth in.
—
It’s a little embarrassing to catch on so late.
“Ohhh…” Junko's pointedly not looking at him while she waits through the bite-hickey, in fact, her eyes are all over the place. “You became fae-possessive. Totally Midsummer’s Night Dream. Oh nooo, this is so totally my fault.” Her sweetly mocking personality only aggravated him, so she lets him worsen the bite until he’s satisfied, able to see the bloody bruise in the dark before Junko turns him around.
“Rule of three,” She growls.
“What does that have to do with celebrities dying?” He sneers back.
“For every wicked deed, get repaid times three.” She had changed her voice to that of a witch, a new personality or a simple mockery, like anyone could ever tell. Convenient that he rarely wore a shirt to bed. She points out places on him like a phlebotomist trying to find a vein, taps, and presses her mouth there, teases with her teeth (he was the lucky one with his sharper canines) as he lays there and lets himself get worked up over the attention.
A sore, red bruise is all that's left when Junko slaps it like a job well done. “Two more! Heyyyy, Merc—”
“What?”
“You beat out 7 billion people already,” She finds her next target, at the crook of his neck close to his artery. “Because I’d have the kind of analysis to find a perfect match anywhere in my world. You still think I’d cheat?”
She doesn’t wait for his answer before her lips clamp over his neck, making it harder for him to respond. “Tough to say, pigtails. You get bored of being bored. You’d probably get bored of being faithful, or want me to despair over you, or something—“
Junko snarls at his skin, sinking her teeth in enough to draw blood this time, as if it were a reaction to his words. Her hands grip him tighter with her claws holding him in place. In came that deep, dark voice for when those animal traits came out, making this feel like a wildcat holding their prey in place.
“You fucking clueless…” The wound grows more raw as she picks a place identical to the one on her body and sinks her teeth in sharply there, with pauses to speak.
“You think I, Junko Enoshima… would ever throw out the one thing that can’t bore me?”
It’s literally, truly painful, feeling her as hostile as a tigress— so why was it also so great?
“That’s stupid even for you. So I’ll mark you up so everyone knows who you belong to.” Blood is running down his neck and she takes advantage of it with her naturally long tongue. “So you can feel what someone else’s jealousy feels like.”
He… laughs.
He just laughs.
He laughs, and laughs, and laughs.
He turns her around and slams her on her stomach, knowing that he only succeeded because Junko predicted it and let him, excited by that alone. His teeth find the back of her shoulder where those sleeveless shirts she likes bares this part of her. He licks the spot like he’s cleaning for an incision, and then vigorously bites to hold her in place. It’s deep enough that she can’t move and the pain is nothing short of a joy for her, her clawed hands stretching out and twitching as she sighs in bliss.
“Fuck rules of three.” His hand is heavily pinning her back to the bed. “I want more.”
One of the empaths here told him it’d happened, the one who worked the booths as a fortune teller for their unique from-home talents. He had a new change that couldn’t be seen, and before he broke their table for jackassing around being vague, they called it as frankly as it was— possessiveness. And at first, that was fine. He already doesn’t share anyway, he doesn’t feel threatened by Junko finding interest in anyone else. She’s been all over him since he got here, from downing a glass of vodka to the frankly insane detail she’d go through to mess with him and mess him up.
She’s more attached, not him.
But she’s talking to one of the stunt men she does makeup for and it doesn’t seem right, but he’s pissed off. The kid was being so chummy with her even with her dumb fake smile (he can tell, he can) plastered on her face, acting like she was really interested in his game of cards. She made it known from day one that she intended to climb into the top, to the coveted veteran’s spot, and who knew from there? That meant schmoozing.
It’s funny, but he finds himself grabbing her underneath the shoulders and pulling her off the bench before snatching her at the waist and sarcastically murmuring about ‘what’s taking you so long to get home?’ And she’d tease back with a ‘just avoiding you, sweetie-pie! I was hoping to get back after you fell asleep—‘
Their banter goes on, but he hangs onto that.
—
He dreams about her and the weird card guy, even though he wakes up right next to her in the dead of night. There’s no part of him that wants to appear needy— to her, of all people— but if he spins it as greed and as bothering her, he’ll be more comfortable.
She blinks up at him when he wakes her up.
“I knew I was going to have a rude awakening, but it’s so miserable when it finally happens…” She sat up, bearing her stripes, claws, and fangs in a yawn as she looks over their pajamaed selves, wondering what was so important that she predicted Mercury would wake her up for.
A slight conundrum. You couldn’t spin this as a prank. So he does the next best thing and shoves her down back into the bed and finds where no turtleneck could hide a bite and sinks his teeth in.
—
It’s a little embarrassing to catch on so late.
“Ohhh…” Junko's pointedly not looking at him while she waits through the bite-hickey, in fact, her eyes are all over the place. “You became fae-possessive. Totally Midsummer’s Night Dream. Oh nooo, this is so totally my fault.” Her sweetly mocking personality only aggravated him, so she lets him worsen the bite until he’s satisfied, able to see the bloody bruise in the dark before Junko turns him around.
“Rule of three,” She growls.
“What does that have to do with celebrities dying?” He sneers back.
“For every wicked deed, get repaid times three.” She had changed her voice to that of a witch, a new personality or a simple mockery, like anyone could ever tell. Convenient that he rarely wore a shirt to bed. She points out places on him like a phlebotomist trying to find a vein, taps, and presses her mouth there, teases with her teeth (he was the lucky one with his sharper canines) as he lays there and lets himself get worked up over the attention.
A sore, red bruise is all that's left when Junko slaps it like a job well done. “Two more! Heyyyy, Merc—”
“What?”
“You beat out 7 billion people already,” She finds her next target, at the crook of his neck close to his artery. “Because I’d have the kind of analysis to find a perfect match anywhere in my world. You still think I’d cheat?”
She doesn’t wait for his answer before her lips clamp over his neck, making it harder for him to respond. “Tough to say, pigtails. You get bored of being bored. You’d probably get bored of being faithful, or want me to despair over you, or something—“
Junko snarls at his skin, sinking her teeth in enough to draw blood this time, as if it were a reaction to his words. Her hands grip him tighter with her claws holding him in place. In came that deep, dark voice for when those animal traits came out, making this feel like a wildcat holding their prey in place.
“You fucking clueless…” The wound grows more raw as she picks a place identical to the one on her body and sinks her teeth in sharply there, with pauses to speak.
“You think I, Junko Enoshima… would ever throw out the one thing that can’t bore me?”
It’s literally, truly painful, feeling her as hostile as a tigress— so why was it also so great?
“That’s stupid even for you. So I’ll mark you up so everyone knows who you belong to.” Blood is running down his neck and she takes advantage of it with her naturally long tongue. “So you can feel what someone else’s jealousy feels like.”
He… laughs.
He just laughs.
He laughs, and laughs, and laughs.
He turns her around and slams her on her stomach, knowing that he only succeeded because Junko predicted it and let him, excited by that alone. His teeth find the back of her shoulder where those sleeveless shirts she likes bares this part of her. He licks the spot like he’s cleaning for an incision, and then vigorously bites to hold her in place. It’s deep enough that she can’t move and the pain is nothing short of a joy for her, her clawed hands stretching out and twitching as she sighs in bliss.
“Fuck rules of three.” His hand is heavily pinning her back to the bed. “I want more.”
