dudejuststop

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a/n; think i started this one in uni but i never finished, also writing for blue lock rin's hands made me think of haikyuu rin's hands; i can see suna, sakusa, kuroo, mattsun (and maybe college tendo!) wearing rings i think, they're like the pretty tall bois.

also from one healthcare worker to another, hugs and applause... p.s. send help also ahaha

blurred line, best friend vibes

rings off, tape on with suna. fluff. fem!reader. | not proofread.

more reads!

~~~~~

V.League game day is always a little chaotic—the press and their cameras, the hard slam of volleyballs during warm-ups, and the last-minute checks and rituals in every corner of the athlete tunnel.

You're used to chaos, of course. But, chaos at the hospital is organized, scheduled, methodical even. You know where every patient is, where every medication is, where all the crash carts are. There is a method to the madness.

What hospital chaos is to you is what V.League chaos is to Suna because he moves through it all like he’s made of water. Smooth, unreadable, and impossibly calm.

Except for right now—right now, he’s tugging you into a quiet corner of the EJP locker room with a hand curled around your wrist, a little more insistently than usual.

“I could’ve stayed in the stands,” you say, clutching the small roll of tape he shoved into your hand a minute ago. “You have, like, six trainers plus Komori and Washio. They tape fingers well."

“None of them tape like you,” he says simply, sitting down on the bench in front of you, already spreading his thighs and resting his forearms on them.

You give him a look, one that says, 'Are you for real or do you just want to be babied.'

(He wants to be babied).

His gaze flicks up, steady with a faint trace of mischief, and his voice drops just a touch. “C’mon, angel. You know I like when you do it.”

Your fingers fumble slightly around the tape, heart thudding fast. “Don’t.”

Just one simple word from you, but he knows what you mean.

“What?” he says, all lazy innocence. “I’m just being honest.”

You roll your eyes but step between his knees anyway. You’ve done this before—taped his fingers before a match. Dozens of times.

And every single time, it always feels like... the kind of too-close quiet, the kind where his eyes follow every movement of yours, even when he pretends not to, the kind where you can't help but trace over every scar he's accumulated in his volleyball career, the kind where every brush of your hands against his feels like it means more than either of you can say.

But still, every single time, you agree.

You hold out your hand, a small drawstring bag at the ready. “Rings.”

Suna extends his right hand first, then his left. The five silver bands glint under the overhead lights—minimal, well-worn, familiar. You’ve seen him wear these since college. Some gifts. Some he splurged on. Some he just picked up and never took off because he wanted to be 'your bad-boy best friend.'

But, one of them is the ring you gave him—a small, brushed silver band with a tiny green-yellow stone that matches the color of his eyes. He’s worn it on his left middle finger ever since the day you slid it across the table at some random café during one of his rougher seasons.

You gently start sliding each one off, careful not to tug too hard, fingers grazing the inside of his knuckles as you go. You put each one in the drawstring bag.

The moment you reach that ring, his fingers flex ever so slightly.

You glance up at him.

He’s already watching you.

“That one doesn’t go in the bag,” he says, voice quiet and deliberate.

You blink. “Hmm?”

“That ring. The one you gave me.” His gaze softens a bit, and then—so casually it shouldn’t make your heart pound—he reaches for his neck and tugs the chain out from under his shirt.

It’s a slim silver chain. You've seen it peek out from his collar before but never fully.

“I want it on me,” he murmurs. “Just… not on my finger, obviously. Can you thread it on?”

Your breath hitches, and your heart flutters, but you nod. You step closer to him, now fully between his spread legs. His hands come to rest on the backs of your thighs, chin pressing against your stomach.

"Rinnie—!"

"...I'm not doing anything. Just want you to have better access to the clasp."

"Oh... sure, of course, Mister."

He mutters something incoherent into your shirt as you lean over him to open the clasp.

You pull away slightly to find his hand, slipping off the ring from his middle finger and gently sliding it onto the chain. You slowly guide the ring down until it drops perfectly on the chain, your knuckles brushing against the warm skin of his neck.

"Done," you whisper, soft and light because you don't want to ruin whatever moment this is.

He lifts his head from nuzzling your stomach, eyes dark and hooded. "Thanks, angel."

He tucks the chain back beneath his shirt, the metal brushing against his collarbone.

Your voice is quiet when you speak but heavy with curiosity. “Do you always wear this one like that?”

He shrugs, lips tugging upwards into something small, a twitch of a grin. “Yeah, I do. Before every game. Takes me longer to open and close the clasp myself though... but I have my little cheerleader with me today.”

"Stop," you giggle. One word because that's all you can push out with your heart hammering in your rib cage.

Your throat tightens around words you don’t know how to say. So instead, you kneel slightly and pull his right hand toward you, beginning to tape his fingers.

You start with the thumb. It’s always the one he sprains. You wrap the tape carefully, smoothing it with your fingers each time—not looking up, not trusting yourself to meet his eyes right now.

“You’re shaking,” Suna murmurs. “Nervous for the game?”

You scoff softly. “You wish. You just make me... nervous sometimes. I mean—”

The words slip out before you can stop them.

There’s a beat of silence.

Then his voice is low and teasing. “Only sometimes?”

You groan and avoid his smirk as you move to the next finger. “You’re impossible.”

“Still let me pull you into the locker room.”

“Because you were being annoying and whiny.”

His voice dips a little darker. “Mm... I think you love it.”

Your fingers falter slightly as you finish taping his ring finger and pinky together, just like how he likes it. His skin is warm on yours, and his breath is calm and steady above you. His legs are still bracketing you where you kneel.

You're more aware.

And he watches your every move.

“I usually keep my rings in my duffle,” he says softly. “But not today.”

You glance up. “No?”

He leans forward just a touch, his voice near your ear now. “I want you to hold them while I play.”

Your pulse stutters.

“Rin...”

“Like having a part of me with you,” he murmurs. “And knowing you’re watching.”

It shouldn’t feel intimate. But it does.

You eye the ring-filled drawstring bag on the floor beside your foot. “I’ll keep them safe.”

His smile is soft. “I know you will.”

You reach for the last of the tape, smoothing it down along the side of his left pointer finger. His hand flexes under yours, slow and purposeful, like he’s resisting the urge to grab your wrist and keep it there.

(And you’d let him. Just for a second).

You stand back up when you finish, and he tests the tension of your work.

Then he looks at you—really looks at you.

“You’re good at this,” he says, voice rough.

You reach down to pinch his cheeks, but there's no real bite. "I've been doing it since college, silly. I probably tape your fingers more than you do yourself."

He smirks, his hand catching your wrist before you can pull away.

“You always take care of me,” he murmurs.

“You always let me... and you're a big, needy baby, so someone's gotta do it."

He leans in like he’s about to say something else, but Komori yells from the hallway.

“Suna! Court! Now!”

His hand lingers a second longer before he lets go.

Then he grabs his towel, stands, and lets his eyes rake down the length of you one last time.

“I think I like being your big, needy baby,” he says over his shoulder, walking toward the door.

And like clockwork, your heart flutters.

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me when I go out wearing an outfit I wouldn’t usually wear: oh my god everyone knows this is an outfit I wouldn’t usually wear I’m so embarrassed

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crazy how I think I'm not brave enough to do some things and then I just go and get them done. and it's always like this

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like to charge reblog to cast

🕯️ 🕯️ 🕯️

🕯️🕯️ may all 🕯️🕯️

🕯️🕯️corrupt politicians🕯️🕯️

🕯️🕯️ meet their fate 🕯️🕯️

🕯️🕯️ ‧͙☆༓happy ides༓☆‧͙🕯️🕯️

🕯️🕯️ to all 🕯️🕯️

🕯️ 🕯️ 🕯️

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green wax seal pngs. made by me. credit not necessary! requests open.

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grateful to not be running errands today (tomorrow is both the Superbowl AND a winter storm)

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sooooo sleepy today… i hate emails!!!!

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objectively the funniest moral panic to come from conservatives is "alternative energy is bad because birds might fly into the wind turbines". birds, which notoriously have no other man-made obstacles, such as the window

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slept for 15 hours today and im mad about it !!!!!

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Sukuna assimilating to you

Synopsis: After discovering that Sukuna has been wide awake every time you nap together, you become embarrassed around him.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

It is a scientific fact that when we are around people we love and trust, while in a healthy relationship, the release of oxytocin makes us sleepy.

Sukuna does not need sleep. He is the king of curses, able to continuously use his technique without ever becoming exhausted. When you first suggested that his chambers were "perfect for napping", he had simply raised a brow and considered what that could possibly mean.

You are like a weak creature to him. A kitten or perhaps a rabbit. And since you are never safer than when you are in his presence, you frequently find yourself growing sleepy when you are around him.

Throughout your strange relationship with the king, something that you loved most, is that there never needs to be words exchanged between the two of you. You were both contented to sit in silence. Frequently dozing off together, or so you thought.

You caught on eventually, that he was always awake before you. That his breathing pattern never really changed. That his face never relaxed more than it would if he had simply been sitting with his eyes closed.

One morning, after having stayed the night sleeping, you mumbled to him, "How is it you're always awake before I?"

He rose a brow at you, his upper set of eyes were looking into yours, the lower staring at how you lay across his bed sheets.

"I do not know your meaning." He grumbled out.

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "You never sleep in longer than I do, one day I would like to wake up before you."

"I never sleep at all." He stated before you had even really finished your sentace.

"What?" Your breathy outburst echoed slightly in his bed chamber, "What do you mean you don't sleep?"

"I do not require such things." He turned his torso now toward you, all four eyes studying your face, you had quickly sprung up, seemingly miffed.

"So... so all this time, you've just been... laying there while I've been sleeping?"

"I suppose I have, I do not see how this matters in the slightest." "It matters because I've been... It's just been a big waste of time for you. Sukuna you should have said something." You're upset, he can tell. Your face is scrunched up, your blood is pounding in your veins. Sukuna, however, does not know what to say in this situation.

In all honesty, he figured you knew and were just including him. Did you really think he was that weak? Or could you simply not conceive of a restless existence? Whatever the answer, he had no response for you, expecting a shrug of the shoulders- you he would discover, would not so easily let go of things.

And how humiliated you were. How many HOURS had you spent sleeping with him, within his grasp, in his space for him to have been conscious the whole time? You tried thinking back, attempting to recall a time you had requested a nap when he was uninterested.

He had never uttered a word about it. Never turned you down. Sukuna was not a kind king, he rarely ever did things that were not out of necessity, and he certainly did not do things he didn't like. That, at least, was consolation. You knew he had not been suffering for your sake, but even so, it was embarrassing.

Sukuna, still, could not understand your sheepishness about the subject. He did not care to explain that time works differently for him, that his mind is not so simple as yours and does not require entertainment all the time, that he could sit still for years and not be bothered, and frequently did before you came along.

He assumed you would get over it quickly. In your time as well as his. But days passed and he rarely saw you. You took your dinner with other people of the palace and spoke with him in the most cordial manner. One night, he informed Uraume that they needed to prepare a dish suited for you, something that would entice you, and serve it to him.

He figured this would bring you crawling back to him, tail between your legs. Yet, you did not budge.

Odd.

You were wallowing. You knew it. He did not care to spend time, what? Watching you sleep? Of course, he wouldn't, but it hurt your pride, to know you had been taking up such huge chunks of time lazing about in his presence. Well, not anymore. You slept in your chamber and your chamber alone. Gone were the days of blankets on the engawa, gone were the days of resting beneath the kotatsu while laying your head in his lap, gone were the days of sharing his bed.

If ever he wished for someone to share his bed, he had a whole cast of concubines, though you knew they were never of any use to him, they were mostly just house staff with a fancy title.

The evening he finally decided enough was enough, you were in the washhouse doing laundry.

Your back was arched over a bin full of soapy water. Your hands working tirelessly on some cloth.

"Have you not circumvented me enough?" He spoke in a low and slow tone.

"Lord Sukuna." You bowed, clothing in your hands, suds up your forearms, you bent your neck as to not look at him.

"You will reply now." He raised a brow, watching your hands quietly splash in the washbin.

"Was there something you would like me to assist to?" You questioned. Your head was full of possible reasons for what the king meant by seeking you out personally.

"Do you believe that by not sleeping in my presence I would come to believe you do not require rest?" He spoke in an unserious tone, eyes unblinking.

"No, my lord." Now what was he playing at? Of course that wasn't your intention.

"Then you hide yourself from me because you no longer have time for your king, I suppose." He mused.

Oh, for heaven's sake, "No, my lord."

"I see," He bent down to look you dead in the eyes, "So, you must no longer crave my occupancy of your space. You must not desire my hand running through your hair? I suppose you have tired of staying in my chambers?" His tone remained deep but his eyes were dead serious now.

"I-" You began, but suddenly you felt the urge to cough, swallowing you tried again, "I wished not to preoccupy so much of your time."

"And you made this decision without enlightening your king."

You said nothing.

"You will eat with me tonight, you shall stay in my chambers henceforth." He rose in record speed, turning without a second glance your way, maids were staring wide-eyed at the king of curses as he halted at the entrance of the washhouse. You could not see, but there was finality in his voice.

"I wish not to waste-" You were cut off by Sukunas voice, his broad back still facing you.

"Your wishes do not interest me now, so it seems. It is my wish for you to spend your time with me." His steps resounded through the compound, your face slack.

The maids smirked, and with shocked faces, side-eyed one another. A couple entered the washhouse giving you big open-mouthed smiles, and patted your shoulder as they passed.

That night Uraume made something you would go on to beg them to make for years to come. And when Sukuna pulled you prone from your seated position on his bed, he took a firm fingertip and stroked the space between your eyes, one of his enormous hands encircling your skull and massaging your temples with his thumb and ring fingers. He traced the bridge of your nose to your forehead, the way you would stroke a cat.

Perhaps he thought this would induce drowsiness but all it did was make you feel all floaty inside at his silliness.

And for the first time since that night, you slept alongside him. Within his embrace, and when you awoke, Sukuna's eyes were closed.