🌟 Rini🌟20+🌟He/They🌟 🌟Currently in Blue Exorcist(mephisto) hell🌟 JJK,CSM,Bleach,Naruto,Gundam witch,Dungeon Meshi,Yakuza etc. 🌟I forgot how tumblr but I’m trying again🌟🌟Feel free to inbox or dm me!
➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: A little something that has been staring at me for a while lol
➳❥ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: humour, heavily suggestive, talks of kinks: breeding, power dynamics, restrains
➳❥ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1.2k
➳❥ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: Denial at it’s finest after taking the BDSM test and being gobblesmack by the results. Who else to make you see the truth besides Shunsui?
𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
At this point, all of Seireitei could hear your whines and protests as you endlessly stomped your feet against the polished wooden floor of your quarters, clenching into fists at your sides as you glared down at the offending screen of your denreishinki.
“This shit’s fucking rigged!” you whined even loudly, and ready to throw yourself on the floor.
And to your demise, your fellow Captain, your longtime comrade—and, most annoyingly, your smug bastard of a boyfriend—sat leisurely across the room, his haori loosely draped over his shoulders while he continuously observed you with a stupid smirk. His deep brown eyes gleaming with amusement, hat tilted just enough to let you see the barely restrained laughter threatening to spill from his lips.
“Ah, now, now, my dear,” he drawled, stretching his long legs out in front of him, arms resting behind his head as he reclined further against the cushions. “What exactly has got you so worked up?” He knew. Of course, he knew. You’d been ranting about it for the past ten minutes, throwing a fit that any of your subordinates would have been terrified to witness. But Shunsui? No, he was eating this up.
You shoved your denreishinki toward him like a weapon, thrusting it into his face. “Look at this nonsense! This—this absolute slander!”
Lazily he plucked the device from your hand and scanning the results with a slow hum. “Mm. 100% brat, 100% submissive, 100% rope bunny, 99% degradee, 98% prey, 98% breedable…oho~.” His grin widened as he lifted his gaze to meet yours, mirth dancing in his expression. “Quite the resume, sweetheart.”
“It’s wrong,” you snapped, mostly to yourself. “It has to be. There’s no way—no way—that I’m submissive. I’m a Captain, for fuck’s sake! I give orders, I don’t take them! I lead my squad, I manage every mission efficiently, I keep everything under control—”
“And yet,” Kyoraku interjected smoothly, eyes sparkling with mischievous intent, “you threw a full-blown tantrum when I took the last dango stick earlier today.”
You whipped around, scowling. “That doesn’t mean anything!”
“Oh?” He chuckled, propping himself up on one elbow. “You stomped your foot and crossed your arms, pouting about how ‘unfair’ it was. Then you got all huffy when I told you I’d give it to you if you asked nicely.”
Mouthing your mouth to retort, you snapped it shut. Tsk. He was right.
“I was just pointing out a pattern,” he continued, lounging even more obnoxiously. “You’re quite fond of complaining when things don’t go your way, especially when I tease you.”
“That doesn’t make me a brat!”
He raised a brow, that smirk growing into something altogether more cunning. “No? So, what does it make you, then, hm?”
You felt your cheeks warm as you spluttered. “I—I don’t know! Just…not that! I—I wanted to be dominant!”
“Oh, my sweet petal, you—ah, you kill me,” he wheezed, wiping a fake tear at his eyes. “Dominant? You?”
“Shut up, you ass! Why is that so hard to believe?!” Marching over, you reeled your hand to deliver slap to his arm, however, he caught your wrist with ease, tugging you forward until you stumbled onto his lap, legs awkwardly straddling his hips. His grip remained firm as he tilted his head, appraising you with that slow, knowing look that always made your stomach twist.
“Because, my dear,” he murmured, fingers trailing along your wrist, up your forearm, then back down again, “you love being handled. You love it when I take the lead, when I put you exactly where I want you. You melt when I call you my good, little thing. You squirm when I tease you just right. You fight it, oh, you fight it so hard—but in the end?” His voice dipped lower, melting over you like caramel. “You surrender every single time.”
You wanted to resist. To fight back, but all you could do was remain silent, lips parting with no sound escaping.
“You see,” he continued, shifting beneath you, making you hyper-aware of just how strong he felt beneath his layers of fabric, “I admire your strength. Your power. Your intelligence. I always have.” His hands settled on your hips, thumbs rubbing slow, sensual circles. “But there’s nothing more beautiful than watching you come undone, watching you give in. And sweetheart?” He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I think you love that I know it, too.”
You hated how right he was because your entire body burned under the weight of his words. He wasn’t wrong, and that was the worst part.
Trying to gain some form of composure, you swallowed hard and attempted to appear unyielding within his grip. “It’s just a stupid quiz,” you muttered, attempting to wriggle out of his hold.
It only made him chuckle and tighten his grip just enough to make you still. “Oh, of course, of course. Just a stupid quiz. Nothing to be upset about, right?”
“I’m not upset,” you scowled.
“Hmm. If you say so, sweetheart.”
He took that moment to dip his fingers lower, tracing the curve of your thighs with a touch so featherlight. Your breathing was fumbling at this point, betraying all attempts at composure. Something he thrived on.
“But, just out of curiosity,” he mused, “if you were dominant, what exactly would you do to me, hm?”
Thrown off suddenly, you blinked “Wh—what?”
“If you’re so sure you’re not submissive,” he breathed heavily, pressing the faintest of kisses to your throat, “then show me, sweetheart. Take control. Prove me wrong.”
Oh, he was a bastard. A devious, smug, infuriating bastard.
Trying to summon an ounce of that dominant energy you so desperately wanted to believe you had, your hands clenched against his shoulders. But his hands were still on your hips, his lips ghosting over your skin, his breath warm and taunting. He was making you wait, making you hesitate, and—
Oh.
You realised, with mortifying clarity, that you were waiting for his next move.
And it made him revel in satisfaction. “That’s what I thought.”
Heat was practically surging through your veins as you glared down at him. The pure frustration of him winning at his own game. Damn him, damn it, but he was right.
Carefully, while still fuming, his fingers slid up your spine, drawing a slow shudder from you. “Come on, sweetheart,” he purred, coaxing. “Say it.”
You bit your lip. “Say what?”
His lips curled against your skin before planting a gentle bite, waking a trail of goosebumps. “That I’m right.”
You did everything but say those words. Swallowing hard at the stubbornness building in your throat with the undeniable truth of it all, you huffed.
“You’re pissing me off,” you grumbled.
He chuckled. “That’s not a denial.”
“Fine. You win. I’m—” you muttered quietly, the admission bitter on your tongue, “—not dominant.”
“And?”
You shot him a glare from the corner of your eyes that told him he was pushing it. “And I might be a brat.”
“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it, my sweet girl?” His arms wrapped around you fully, holding you against him as he pressed a lingering kiss to your jaw.
bear with me I’m thinking out loud about my shunuki academy-era fic again
it’s so easy to try to fit them into that cookie cutter “flirty confident one / studious shy one” box, until you examine them more closely. the little bit we do know about them from that time (admittedly, from the perspective of Yamamoto, so their own experience of their younger selves likely wasn’t the exact same) is that Shunsui was “thoughtful and able to see the truth of things,” and Jushiro was “well-respected and always at the center of things.”
I’m imagining a young Shunsui who, yes, spends a lot of energy flirting with women and presenting himself as a rascal who doesn’t care for the rules, who has a complicated relationship with his brother that affects how he interacts with his peers. I’m imagining someone who questions whether authority deserves respect, not just for the sake of being contrarian, but because he’s aware that adults and authority figures are able to fail
he’s someone who gets good enough grades, but hides pleasure reading behind his textbooks, someone who appreciates poetry, and flirts with women like he’s talking about fine art. someone who’s a little less brash behind closed doors, who worries that he’s wrong for still having a tense relationship with his brother now that things are easier between them, who’s used to being kept at arm’s length and only opening up just enough to seem charming and interesting
And then, I’m imagining Jushiro as someone more confident and comfortable with himself than we might assume, and despite the undercurrent of frustration he’s able to make jokes about his shortcomings and feel comfortable in his strengths. he’s staring at shunsui in class like he doesn’t mind being caught, and not acting ashamed when he is caught, either
he’s good at getting to know people, at taking care of people. I’m imagining someone who knows the names of everyone in class, remembers that they went home to visit family and asks how they’re doing, tells Shunsui he’s an idiot for drinking the cheapest sake he could find and then closing the blinds and using the introductory kaido they’ve barely learned to ease his headache. he seems like someone who knows who he is, and even if he doesn’t like every aspect of that, he’s very good at working around it and won’t waste energy apologizing or over-explaining
idk. I’m sure there’s more I could say, and I probably will. tldr I’m having so much fun figuring out how to write them at that point in their lives
This is - legitimately - my favourite delivery of Shakespeare I have EVER seen (and I have seen some good-ass productions yo, in the Globe Theatre itself even). Like seriously, even though the words are unchanged, he’s stripped away ALL of the archaic pretense and assumed grandeur of ~presenting the bard~ that makes even the most wildly talented of actors and innovative of productions inherently inaccessible to a modern audience. Like, they’re still great, they can still communicate the message and (some) of the nuance, but they’re still always a step removed from being identifiable to any viewer’s lived experience. They’re still always reciting 15th century poetry. But this guy? This guy is like, screw iambic pentameter, to hell with being precious about the material, HOW WOULD AN ACTUAL PERSON SAY THIS SHIT?
Like this. And it’s beautiful. It’s beautiful to hear a soliloquy I loved so much already, and have it come to life in a way it never, ever, did before. I feel like I grasp his motivations, his twists and turns, no longer on an academic level but on a visceral, instinctive one. Because he’s presenting his mental and emotional journey in a way that speaks honestly, like a real person.
So yeah, this shit post? I love it. Deeply and sincerely.
in more pleasant news: this year is seeing the biggest humpback migration in Australian history, bigger than it was PRE whaling. That's right, there are more humpbacks migrating off the coast of Australia than there were BEFORE industrial whaling started.
A huge, fat W for environmentalists and Greenies. what an achievement
my original posts: writing prompts/tips ⚜ artists (not on tumblr)
my reblogs: artists on tumblr ⚜ writers on tumblr ⚜ photographers on tumblr
my main/writing blog: literaryvein (likes and follows from this account)
Compilations: Plot ⚜ Character ⚜ Worldbuilding ⚜ For Poets ⚜ Tips & Advice
(yes, this blog is an avalanche, so follow these instead if you want a more...calm posting schedule):
