#<- new tag... woah...

[monstrsball]

Iwaizumi drops a wrapped package unceremoniously into Suga’s lap as he joins him on the bed. He sits cross-legged in front of him, an expectant look on his face. 

“Your birthday present,” He nods towards the present when Suga just stares at him. “Open it.”

“It’s not my birthday yet.” Suga says as if Iwaizumi needs the reminder, glancing between him and the present. 

“I’m aware.” Iwaizumi chuckles. “But since we’re going to be busy tomorrow, I thought it might be better to give it to you early.”

Suga doesn’t really think they’ll be that busy tomorrow. It’s just work and then dinner with his mom and brother. Unless there’s something else planned that he is unaware of, which is starting to seem more likely with how odd Iwaizumi has been acting all day. He’s half-tempted to try to push for more information but his curiosity about the present ultimately wins out. 

He turns the package over a few times to inspect the suspiciously neat wrapping job. It’s wrapped in pretty teal tissue paper, complete with a white ribbon wrapped around it and tied into a bow at the top. The ends of the ribbon are curled and long enough to hang a little over the edges of the box.

It’s pretty, but it’s strange. 

Iwaizumi Hajime is good at many things. He’s an excellent cook, he excels at many different sports, and Suga remembers being really surprised when he learned just how much his boyfriend knew about gardening. However, gift wrapping is not one of his specialties. It is in fact the one thing that he is, without a doubt, awful at. Suga’s helped him enough times with wrapping things before Iwaizumi decided to just start using gift bags to know this. 

So, Iwaizumi has either magically and rapidly improved his gift-wrapping ability or he got help from someone. 

Suga hums, twirling one of the ribbon ends around his finger. He remembers his boyfriend going to his room to have a suspiciously long “talk” with one of his mothers right after they had arrived at their apartment for dinner earlier that evening.

“This is really pretty.” His lips twitch as he glances up to meet his eyes. “Does this have something to do with what you and Sachiko-san were talking about?” He teases, mostly in a feeble attempt to cover up how giddy he is. It’s silly, maybe, to get so worked up over such a minor thing but Suga has always been weak to anything and everything Iwaizumi does. 

Iwaizumi fake-coughs into his shoulder, ears turning a telltale pink. “That was entirely unrelated.” He mutters, barely loud enough for Suga to hear. 

Suga laughs, “Oh?” He says, leaning forward. “Entirely unrelated, huh? So-”

“Koushi,” Iwaizumi interrupts, in a tone that is somehow both affectionate and exasperate, before Suga can needle him any further. “Can you just open it, please?”

Suga clicks his tongue, “You’re no fun.” He says lightly, nevertheless redirecting his attention to the neatly wrapped box in his lap. He swiftly and delicately unties the ribbon wrapped around the box. He considers taking his time with the rest of it but Iwaizumi looks about five seconds away from taking the gift from him to unwrap it himself. 

He makes quick work of the tissue paper, tossing it to the side. The box isn’t taped shut so he’s able to open it immediately, revealing a gray sweatshirt folded with the familiar design on the front facing out so it’s the first thing he sees.

Suga furrows his brows, tilting his head a little in confusion. It just looks like one of Iwaizumi’s UCI sweatshirts. Not that he doesn’t enjoy wearing them, of course, but he doesn’t really understand why Iwaizumi would have gone to the trouble of wrapping it if it was just- 

Wait.

Suga looks over the words printed on the sweatshirt again.

UC Urvine.

He can’t help the silly grin that slowly overtakes his face. He can’t believe he almost forgot about it. He has trouble remembering how he had learned about the existence of the misprints but he does remember calling Iwaizumi almost immediately to beg him to buy one for him. 

And he distinctly remembers the disappointment he felt when Iwaizumi told him that they were already sold out. 

“You told me they were sold out.” Suga pouts, snapping his head up and pointing a finger at him accusingly. “And to think, I thought you were a honest man.” He sniffs dramatically.

The corner of Iwaizumi mouth turns up into a small smirk. “They were sold out, I bought one a few days before they sold out. Technically not a lie.” He looks a little too pleased with himself, smug in a way that he usually isn’t. It’s more attractive than it probably should be. 

Then, his smile softens into something gentler, more tender. “I saw it and thought of you. I wanted to surprise you.”

Suga is once again hit with the reminder that he is flustered by the most ridiculous things sometimes. His boyfriend wanting to surprise him with a silly, limited misprint of a sweatshirt shouldn’t be something that makes him feel all warm and mushy inside. He ducks his head down to hide the way his face heats up, running his fingers along the writing on the sweatshirt. 

“It was going to be one of my Christmas gifts to you,” Iwaizumi explains further, as Suga pulls it out of the box to pull it on over his sleep shirt. It’s a little baggy on him and the sleeves fall a little past his wrists, just the way Suga likes his sweatshirts. 

“But then you heard about it and called to ask for one so I thought it might be too soon to properly surprise you. So, I decided to hold onto it until your birthday.”

It’s a little ridiculous that he waited nine months because he thought that the sweatshirt still would have been on Suga’s mind three months later, but he admires the dedication. 

“So,” Iwaizumi says, sounding more unsure than he did just a few moments ago. “Do you like it?” 

He doesn’t say, but Suga suspects that what he really means is Was it worth it? 

Suga pushes the box out of the way so he can move closer and wrap his arms around Iwaizumi’s shoulders. Iwaizumi relaxes at the contact, placing his hands on Suga’s waist to guide him into a less awkward position on his lap before he wraps his arms fully around his waist to tug him a little closer. 

“I love it,” Suga says quietly, tucking his face into the crook of Iwaizumi’s neck. “It’s the best present I have ever gotten in my entire life.”

Iwaizumi snorts at that but says nothing about it, just hums and kisses the top of his head.  

“I’m glad, I was starting to have doubts.” He admits with a half-chuckle. “My mother looked like she was wondering where she went wrong raising me when she was helping me wrap it. I think she thought it was just a regular UCI sweatshirt.”

Suga’s shoulders shake as he starts to snicker, “I thought you said your conversation was entirely unrelated.” He teases, tightening his arms around his neck when Iwaizumi groans and tries to move away.

“Noooo,” Suga laughs even harder. “It’s my birthday, you have to put up with me making fun of you-”

Iwaizumi flips them around so Suga laying on his back on the bed, the motion knocking the empty box off of the bed. He props himself up on his elbows, his arms bracketing Suga’s shoulders. He’s scowling but there’s a slight upturn to the corner of his mouth, giving away his true feelings.

“It’s not your birthday, actually.” 

“You gave me a birthday present so that makes it my birthday. Legally.” Suga says, matter-of-factly. 

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“It totally is. It’s like an unspoken agreement. I can’t believe you don’t know this, Hajime.”

Suga expects him to argue with him more but instead, he just laughs and dips his head down to kiss him, short and sweet. 

“Fine, whatever you say.” Iwaizumi says with a small grin when he pulls away, still hovering a few inches above his face.

 “Happy birthday, Koushi.”

---

note 1: the uc urvine misprint sweatshirt is real. this was entirely inspired by a conversation i had in discord with ash (who told me about it) about how suga would want one. i had to come up with a reason for why iwa was giving it to him nine months later though fjsdlfkjds. because i really wanted it to be for suga's birthday.

note 2: there is indeed a surprise dinner of sorts planned for suga's birthday but it's not really why iwa gave him his present early. he was just starting to worry suga wouldn't actually like it and wanted him to open it somewhere he would be comfortable enough to be honest about it.

[crowiin]

Putting him in a blender

[connect404]

SORRY FOR BEING LATE BUT HERES THE NEW SP SKETCHES !!!

This honestly might be my favourite batch of sketches so far they all look so cute <3

[nousanti]

✨💜THE TWINS 💜✨

[ohbo-ohno]

Okay but *gulp* soap with his dick slipping out and accidentally pressing into the wrong hole. Doesn’t stop him from continuing tho

listen LISTEN listen - yeah!! soap is 100% the kind of asshole to do this!!

1.7k soap x f!reader "wrong hole" drabble 🫶 (cw: pwp smut, noncon anal sex between partners (also unrealistic anal sex), pussy drunk johnny)

You arch further into Johnny, slick skin sliding along slick skin as your mouth drops open on a moan.

“Jo-Johnny,” you pant, gripping tightly to his broad shoulders. “Feels ssooo- so good.”

“Yeah?” He grunts from above you, mohawk messy and dripping sweat. “Bet it- bet it feels big, huh?”

You whine, pushing your hips closer to him as he slams home inside of you. “So big,” you agree, your mind draining from you slowly as he pulls nearly the entire way out on every thrust, leaving you almost empty before filling you to the brim. “God, you’re so good, Johnny.”

“Fuck, yes,” he pants, arms wrapping around your back and squeezing you tight to him. Your hips are pushed a little further up, a little closer to him. You wrap both your legs around his waist, hold him as tight as he does you. He only manages to keep up his rhythm through pure strength, easily able to overpower your grip.

“So good,” he mimics, eyes squeezed shut. You can’t look away from him - the sweat dripping down the side of his tanned face, the wrinkles and scars decorating his skin, the way he looks like he’s either in agony or euphoria. “Feel so perfect, so tight. Fuck, missed you so much, lass, missed your perfect cunt.”

Your eyes nearly roll back in your head when he hits the perfect spot inside of you, body limp in his arms. You feel almost like a doll, like a toy for him to fuck, but he’s so good at it that you can’t even begin to care.

The both of you devolve into moans, occasionally trying to speak and choking on your words. You might feel embarrassed of what a mess Johnny’s made of you, if he weren’t in the same condition.

He pulls out completely on several thrusts in a row, both of you gasping at the sensation - you, because it’s a shock to go from nothing to everything completely and him, because every thrust inside of you when he’s pulled all the way out feels like the first. You dig your nails into his muscles, pushing your chest against his for all the physical contact you can manage.

It happens too quickly for you to even really notice. One second Johnny is rearranging your guts, giving you the best dick of your life, and the next you feel like you’re being torn in two.

You nearly scream, eyes flying open and nails dragging down his back, peeling skin off. Johnny’s loud groan drowns you out almost entirely, and he doesn’t seem to notice what he’s done.

You notice. Your unstretched ass feels like it’s on fire, and after your first sound of shock you can’t get enough breath in to try and say it hurts. 

Johnny can’t thrust the whole way in, like he had in your pussy. Your body gives him too much resistance, which is what finally makes him realize.

You’re nearly blinded by the tears filling your eyes when he finally blinks open, staring down at you.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, and you can feel his heart racing against your chest. “Did I-? Am I in your-?”

“Pull out,” you gasp, tapping at his back desperately. “Oh my god, Johnny, pull out, I can’t- fuck, you’re too big.”

That’s the wrong thing to say - instead of pulling out, he groans, dropping his forehead to yours and letting his eyes fall shut again. You let out a long, high whine when his hips push forward, slowly spearing you further and further on his cock.

You’re made mute by the pain, left only with your nails as defense as you try and tear his back to shreds. You should know better, though - Johnny’s a masochist, and pain you inflict only drives him more insane.

“God, you’re fuckin’ stranglin’ me,” he pants, pulling out just enough to force himself a few inches deeper. “Thought your cunt was tight, but it’s nothin’ compared to this.”

“Johnny- please.”

“So fucking warm.” He looks nearly delirious above you, pupils blown so wide you can barely see his iris even as close as you are. “Tight.”

“Johnny,” you whine, even as the slide becomes a little bit easier from all the slick dripping from your cunt. “Hurts, please, you gotta… gotta stop.”

He makes a sound that’s somewhere between soothing and a snarl, a low sound that makes you instinctually arch further towards him and then yelp when that gives him more leverage.

“You’re fine,” he comforts - well, the words should be a comfort but his tone is almost dismissive. “You’re wet, I can feel it.”

“Not enough,” you cry, half choking on a sob when you feel him finally bottom out inside of you. “Ok, ok, please pull- pull out, Johnny.”

“But you feel so good,” he purrs, butting his nose against your temple. “Fuckin’ hot little ass, huh lass? You’re squeezin’ me so good, you sure you want me to pull out?”

“Yes!”

You feel the sharp smile pressed against your temple and hiccup a sob, shifting your legs so that instead of wrapping around him you’re trying to push him away. But he’s too strong for you to make him move, and he only shoves himself even further inside of you by leaning his weight forward.

“I think you’re lying,” he almost sings, grinding his hips deep inside of you. He shifts briefly, holding himself above you on one arm and sneaking the other between your bodies and down to your pussy.

You cry out when his fingers work quickly at your clit, tight fast circle that have you shaking and moaning. It’s almost enough to drown out the pain of having your back hole stretched so ruthlessly - almost.

“Here,” he says, dipping his hand down a little further to almost scoop the slick dripping from you, smearing it around your plugged hole like he’s trying to make up for the lack of lube in the first place. He pulls out about halfway, thrusting back in and moaning when you cry out. “Th-there, how’s that feel?”

“Still hurts,” you manage to get out through your sobs, eyes squeezed shut against the pain.

Johnny’s panting like a dog above you as he starts to fuck you again, his pace sharper and uncaring about your sensitivity. You can’t help but clench down, your inner muscles squeezing tight in an attempt to push him out that only drags him further in. 

You can’t do anything but lay there and take it - as he moans repeatedly into your ear - while he fucks you. The pain eases after a bit, your own wetness making the path at least slightly easier, but the sharp sting never fully dissipates. Your tears don’t dry up, and you’re nowhere close to the orgasm that had been building before.

Johnny’s your complete opposite - he’s lost in his own pleasure, and your desperate scratches down his back only make things better for him. If you’d thought he was euphoric before, he looks like he’s found Nirvana now. You’re not sure if he’s so wrapped up in his own pleasure that he can’t hear your pain, or if your pain is what’s driving him more and more insane with pleasure.

For your own sake, you pray it’s the first.

He doesn’t last long - thank God - and only a few minutes later his thrusts get choppier and choppier, jerking in and out of you without any rhythm at all.

“Gonna make me come, bonnie, fuck.”

You can only stare wide-eyed at the ceiling as Johnny buries his face in the crook of your neck and comes deep inside of your ass, the hot spurt of his come a distant sensation with the stretch of his cock still at the front of your mind.

“Alright, alright, pull… pull out now, Johnny, please,” you beg again, too shell-shocked to even flinch at the embarrassing crack in your voice.

He obeys wordlessly, pulling his limp cock out slowly enough to make you whine when he finally leaves you empty.

“Hush, hush,” he quiets you, pressing a kiss to your cheekbone and brushing over your spread hole with his fingers. You jolt and whine, turning to press your face into his sweat-soaked mohawk. “You’re alright, didn’t even tear.”

“You-you sure?” You sniffle.

He chuckles a little, the sound vibrating through your chests. “Yeah, you’re alright, lass. Didn’t think I would really hurt you, did’ya?”

You can only whine.

His fingers dip inside your back hole just long enough to drag out some of his come, moving up to shove it inside of your pussy.

“There ya go,” he soothes, repeating the process again and again. “Still got a nice load in your guts, you're alright." His fingers lift to your clit, rubbing in perfect circles to make you arch and gasp, squirming for more pleasure despite the growing ache in your other hole.

He brings you to a slow orgasm, one that has the last of your tears dripping down your cheeks and clinging to his shoulders like a life raft. Your breaths are uneven, heartbeat quick in your chest, and you feel fuzzy around the edges.

Unlike usual, Johnny stops at one orgasm. You almost expect him to keep going like he always does, never satisfied with less than three for you and two for him, but he pulls his hand away after your first pained whines start again.

He doesn’t get off of you, letting his weight push you deeper and deeper into the couch cushions. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close to you and breathing in his musk. It takes a while to get your breathing even again, though Johnny’s levels out in moments.

You only let your eyes close once his snores start up, loud in your ear. The rumbling of his chest is a comfort, and you float into sleep with Johnny’s sweaty body pressed firmly against every part of yours, and the ache in your ass only growing more noticeable with every breath.

[crabussy]

for the record I think wind turbines are beautiful and are not a stain on any landscape and the sounds they make are beautiful and whenever I see one I am filled with love for human innovation and hope for the future of clean energy and if they needed to be built close to my house I would go YAYY ^_^ WAHOO ^_^ WIND TURBINE!!

[animatedjen]

Do you trust me? Yes.

[antlered-prince]

corduroy time.........

[ginger-snappe-420]

I don't have any art so have this thing I made a couple weeks ago

[milkypiggybeans]

did a little drawing at a park while I was visiting Florence like two months ago :]

[lordofthesillystraws]

breaking news: todomatsu likes men? more at whenever the fuck we decide to do this again

[gvnuzi]

Drone.exe

She has taste

Me when I scroll on TikTok and every audio I hear reminds me of them

[beckybarnes]

RAGS, BUTTONS, AND GINGHAM AND YARN

TO MEND A HEART THAT’S BROKE IN TWO

RAGGEDY ANN / RAG DOLLY | 1984 ESIPA

[front-facing-pokemon]

[halflifebutawesome]

playing my game with my friend

[jadecantcreate]

very important curse of strahdanya chapter 10 & 11 spoilers please dont click before you’ve fully finished 10 and got at least 30 minutes into 11!

thinking about how the rest of the azran expedition instantly becomes cold and uncaring, not moving a muscle (beyond kana in that one brief moment before stepping away) to interact with sarnax who is clearly in (worse than) distress…except for shepherd who, despite being turned to wickedness, still insisted on sarnax coming along, still considered sarnax a friend, still refused to kill him……

thinking about how upon waking up in a vision with gherix the first thing shepherd does is ask if sarnax is alright; when asked what he’d do with renewal, shepherd answers, voice cracking, that he needs to save sarnax; when learning that it’s gherix, he pleads with him to think about sarnax and save him………….

thinking about how sarnax (in at least two separate occasions) said that he couldnt trust clayton, kana, or victoria, nor the ‘words from his lantern’, and proceeded to ask/prompt shepherd about what he’d like to do, saying in all but words that shepherd was the only one he could trust…….

thinking about how sarnax — realizing that he seemingly was connected to his god no longer and that the rest of the party was wicked, swatting and swerving away from kana calling her a ‘wicked woman’ — asks shepherd if we’re friends and then begs shepherd to kill him, saying that it must be him to do it……………..