#strawb writes

These doodles/unfinished drawings are mostly just DB+HB teenage & newly immortal adult tomfoolery. Jeb got the more serious art here (ft. kiddo Brine).

This isn’t edited, but here’s the Drabble:

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Dinnerbone flopped into his bed with a moan. His symptoms had been getting worse lately. Herobrine could’ve seen that even without his roommate’s constant complaining; he didn’t blame him for it either. After all, the apothecary couldn’t do a thing for the poor guy; their potions and apples had done nothing to ease his pain. Herobrine watched quietly from over his book as the older boy resumed his usual ritual. DB leaned over the small bed, dangling his head upside down, as he did everyday.

“ You know, I swear I’m going to find Notch and have him fix this,” Dinnerbone groaned out. “He’ll come down here soon enough.” Dark purple eyes fell upon him as he spoke. Herobrine knew why. The gods- no, Notch, had taken an interest in Herobrine for Aether knows why. He had been adopted into the royal family (although he chose to ignore that more often than not). Herobrine closed his book rather forcefully with a huff.

“I keep telling you, that’s an awful idea,” he growled. They’d had the argument over and over again. He was sick of it. DB rolled his eyes, as per usual when the topic arose.

“C’mon Hero, I keep telling you you must’ve misunderstood.” And there it was, the sympathetic voice that he was beginning to seriously hate. The one his friend used whenever they discussed what Herobrine had witnessed in the back courtyard.

“Don’t c’mon Hero me.” He found himself clenching the blanket beneath him. “I know what I saw!”

“We are the precious Aether youth. Notch wouldn’t command something like that.”

“He did! I heard it! I saw it!” He was standing now. Why wouldn’t he just believe him? Herobrine hadn’t told anyone besides Dinnerbone. He didn’t have much of a social life outside of their friendship, after all. Regardless, this was dangerous information to have, and frankly he might not have even told DB if it weren’t for his illness. He needed to know. Needed to Believe him. Dinnerbone tried to sit up again and winced hard, giving up on the action in favor of keeping his head down.

“Listen, it’ll be fine-“

“No it fucking won’t!” Herobrine bit out the words. He was mad again. He wasn’t some stupid clueless child.

“Mommy, please… I’m sorry,” Jongseob whined, his beautiful deep brown eyes staring up at you, pleading for mercy. 

You looked down at him and took in the beautiful sight before you: the man on his knees wearing nothing but a pair of gray Calvin Klein boxer briefs, wrists bound behind his back, and tears starting to wet the corners of his eyes. 

You smirked down at him affectionately, but without mercy, as you pushed his two-tone honey blonde and brown hair out of his face so you could get a better look at him. His cheeks were flushed, decorated with subtle freckles from the time he’d spent out in the sun this summer. Now that the season was coming to a close, they’d probably go back into hiding until the following year. 

“You know what you did, sweetie,” you said with a mock in your tone.

“I know, but–”

Slap!

The sound of your open palm striking his face rang out in the otherwise quiet room. This was the one part of your dynamic that always had you on the fence, always worrying that it would be too much, that you would actually hurt him, and just like always, you had a moment of regret, seeing his face scrunch up in pain and a tear slip out of one of his eyes. 

However, looking down, you saw a conspicuous hardness beginning to strain against the thin gray fabric of his underwear, a small dark spot already appearing. And you were reminded once again, how much he loved being punished.

The reasons for his punishments were always a little vague, and although you were happy to oblige in his penchant for being disciplined, it turned you on the most to see him begin to act bratty because you knew he was trying to get on your nerves so that he’d have to pay for it later. Sometimes he’d start ignoring you, or he’d just start acting rude for no reason, anything to get you to start scolding him, and when he would be really stubborn in response for no reason, that’s when you knew. You knew he craved being put in his place. Pushed to his knees. Taught a lesson.

This time, it was because he’d been rude to you when you asked him for a favor. Next time, it would be something equally mundane. 

So that’s why, when you noted the tear slipping down his face in the same moment that you noticed his hardening cock, you knew that you needed to keep going. With your right hand, you grabbed his chin and yanked it back towards you, forcing him to look up at you again. His lips in a pout, he muttered, “I said I was sorry.” You scoffed in response.

“Prove it, then. Prove how sorry you are,” you said, and with your left hand, smacked the other side of his face with the dark purple dildo that was attached to the harness strapped to your hips. 

“O-okay, I’ll do anything,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut and wincing from the force of the dildo before you brought your right hand up to his mouth and swiped your thumb over his bottom lip slowly.

You felt drunk on power, seeing the way he melted under your touch, and the fact that there was so little he wouldn’t do for you in this headspace. He looked up at you and you shared a moment of tender eye contact with him before pushing your thumb into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue. Without hesitation he closed his lips around it and began to suck, his tongue soft, pliable, and impossibly wet against your skin. 

He maintained stubborn eye contact with you and you felt the blood rush to the junction between your legs. Your nipples hardened against the lining of your bra and you tried to keep it together, but he was making it more and more difficult. 

You pulled your thumb away abruptly and he leaned forward as if to chase it, letting out a quiet whine. 

You didn’t give him a chance to recover before replacing your thumb with the dildo strapped to your hips. He moaned around it, brows pressed together in effort, and sighed out of his nose as you began to thrust into his mouth. 

With one hand gripped in his hair, and the other hand on the dildo, he was completely at your mercy, and he already looked absolutely pitiful. Your relentless thrusts hitting the back of his throat had him gagging repeatedly, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks, but you could see in his eyes how fucked out he already was, could see from the expanding dark spot in his underwear how badly he was enjoying being ruined.

“Look at my good boy, taking mommy’s cock so well,” you crooned, and he closed his eyes as you brushed your fingers gently through his hair, the dildo still thrusting in and out of his mouth, a little more slowly now, his lips swollen and wet by this point.

The sounds he was making were diabolical, the noises of his shameless moaning around the strap-on making your legs weak, distracting you. You tightened your hand in his hair and yanked his head back, slipping the dildo out of his mouth. He let out a series of wet coughs, saliva coating his lips and more tears starting to slip from the corners of his eyes.

Once he’d finished coughing, you cupped the side of his face and he leaned into your touch, struggling to catch his breath, his eyes fluttering closed. 

“I think that’s been enough punishment for today. Are you ready for me to take care of you, my sweet angel?”

“Yes. Please, I promise I’ll be good,” he begged, and you couldn’t help but smile at how adorable he was.

“Stand up,” you ordered, and he obliged immediately. His nipples jutted out from the soft swell of his chest, hardening in the cool air of the room, and his tender knees were red from kneeling on the rough carpet. His hands were still bound behind him, so he was truly at your mercy.

You ran your fingers along the waistband of his underwear teasingly, eliciting a shudder from him, but otherwise he stayed quiet and still, his abs tensing lightly from the brush of your fingertips.

You pulled them down his narrow hips, letting them drop to the floor as his now full erection bounced lewdly once you’d freed it. You placed a hand on his hip and guided him towards your hips as you gently stroked his velvety length against the purple silicone cock attached to your hips, still wet with his saliva. He gasped quietly, biting down on his lip from your too-light touch. 

You did this only for a few brief moments before releasing him and ordered him onto the bed, ass up. He crawled onto the mattress obediently, hands still behind his back, and your heart softened at the way he struggled to get into position in his bound state. You grabbed the restraints on his wrists and began to undo them, causing him to turn his head and look at you, confusion coloring his features.

“I’m going to take these off, but only if you keep your hands to yourself. Do you understand?” you asked firmly, and he nodded, the side of his face pressed into the bed uncomfortably. 

Slap!

Your hand stung from how hard you’d smacked his ass, and he winced in pain but kept his arms up by his head, supporting himself on his elbows. “I’m sorry, y-yes mommy. I won’t touch myself. I promise I won’t,” he said quickly, voice strained, panting into the pillow that he’d grabbed for support.

You rubbed the red mark that had begun to bloom on his ass, soothing away the ache, before slapping it again, eliciting a muffled whimper from him. “Sorry,” you said, “I know I said your punishment was finished, but I just can’t help myself.” 

You stared at the way his tiny asshole fluttered as you brushed a finger across it gently.

“It’s okay,” he breathed, turning to look back at you for a brief moment. “I can take it.”

“Oh, I know you can,” you soothed, bending down to grab an ass cheek and press your finger more firmly against his opening. Teasing. Torturing. Until you just couldn’t help yourself anymore and leaned in to lick a hot strip of saliva against his hole, taking him off guard completely as he gasped loudly. 

This was your favorite part. You weren’t sure how balanced it was if you ‘rewarded’ him for being disciplined, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. That part was for him, and this part was for you.

You prodded at his asshole with your middle finger, massaging the soft, puckered flesh, and even though you hadn’t quite planned it to go this way, you removed your finger to begin licking against him again. He moaned shamelessly, burying his head in the pillow, and you could tell how much he had to restrain himself from pushing his ass back into your face. You spread his small cheeks as wide as they would go, your face soaking wet with saliva, and buried your face in him. You were addicted to his noises, his smell, the texture of his skin; you felt drunk, and couldn’t get enough.

Pulling away and eliciting a whine from him that had you slapping the sore spot on his ass once again – which shut him up immediately – you reached over to grab the bottle of lube from the bedside table and covered your fingers generously with the thick substance. You’d recently opted for an oil-based lubricant so you didn’t have to keep reapplying it, and it had made a world of difference. After all, Jongseob hated being interrupted when you were fucking him.

After warming it up in your hands, you massaged it against his opening, and he hummed contentedly when you pressed a finger inside him, sliding it slowly but steadily until you were past the second knuckle and could begin to slowly pump in and out of him. After a few minutes of getting him warmed up, you added a second finger, and eventually a third. By this time, his breathing was coming out ragged and he already sounded wrecked. 

He gasped at the loss of contact when you removed your fingers and began to liberally smear lube along the strap-on, coating it thoroughly before lining it up against his hole and pressing into him slowly. 

He moaned loudly into the pillow as you slid inside, pausing as you bottomed out. You wished there were no barriers between your skin and his, the straps of the harness cutting into your skin mildly, but you had to work with what your biology allowed. It wasn’t enough, but it was good enough.

“You ready, baby?” you asked, holding yourself still and rubbing the soft skin of his lower back soothingly. 

“Yes, mommy. Please fuck me. Please, I’ve been so good, I need your cock,” he begged, and you gave in to his pleas, pulling out and snapping your hips back against his ass, causing him to cry out and grip the pillow tightly. You held onto his hip with one hand and braced yourself on the bed with the other, rolling your hips into him with increasing speed. Although you wished that there was sensation in the dildo so you could feel yourself inside him, the action still made your groin throb with pleasure nonetheless.

You pulled out of him and he whimpered from the sensation as you flipped him easily onto his back and pushed him further up the bed so that you could kneel on it in front of him. You pushed his legs apart and lined up the dildo against him again, taking no time sinking back into him. You looked at his face while you did it, wanting to see the way it affected him, craving the sight of him falling apart under you, filled up and overwhelmed.

His eyes were squeezed shut, his brows furrowed together and his cute nose was slightly scrunched up. You pushed his bangs out of his face to see him more clearly and could feel the dampness in his hair, the heat radiating from his blushing skin. His wet lips were slightly parted and he opened his eyes to look at you. He looked like he could burst out crying at any moment, his petite, flushed cock swollen and bouncing against his stomach.

“Will you kiss me? Please?” he asked so politely that in that moment you’d have rather died than deny him. You pulled back and thrust back into him slowly as you leaned down to capture his lips with yours. He exhaled a warm sigh through his nose against your face and whimpered against your mouth as you began moving in and out of him again, increasing your speed gradually as his tongue entered your mouth, hot, wet, and hungry.

As you pulled away from the intense kiss, you hooked an arm under each of his legs to spread him apart even further, deepening your access to him. With each of your hands braced on the bed, you began fucking into him relentlessly, snapping your hips at an angle that had him throwing his head back, his eyes becoming wet with tears once again. 

His breathing became labored and his chest was red and splotchy, covered in a thin sheen of sweat that looked good enough to lick off of him. His breathy moans started to come out in little gasps and he opened his eyes to look up at you, expression panicky and distraught.

“Mommy, I’m–”

“Not yet. Be good for me and wait, or else,” you managed to order between breaths, your own breathing becoming labored with effort. 

“I—fuck, okay. Okay,” he whined out, and you couldn’t help smiling at his desperation. After continuing to fuck into him until he was a babbling mess, his cock leaking relentlessly, you conceded, unable to deny him any longer.

“Okay my sweet boy,” you said at long last. “Come for me.”

He let out a sigh of relief, grabbing his cock and only pumping it a few times before he made a mess all over himself, sticky white cum spurting all over his stomach and chest.

You continued thrusting but slowed to a very gradual stop, letting him ride out his orgasm but trying not to overstimulate him too much. He moaned quietly as you pulled out of him and removed the harness, rushing to the bathroom to grab a warm wet towel and a glass of water. 

When you returned to the bedroom he was limp on the bed, just an absolute mess, eyes closed, chest rising and falling dramatically, a dopey fucked-out smile on his face. You paused to take in the sight of him, smiling ear to ear and heart aching at the sight. He had a tendency to have that effect on you. 

After wiping up the mess on his stomach, you crawled into bed with him and gathered him into your arms. He buried his head in your chest and you ran your fingers through his soft hair, peppering the top of his head with gentle kisses. 

“So good for me,” you whispered repeatedly, and he hummed into your skin, tightening his arms around your body. 

“You’ve always said that guy’s a cringe-fail loser, right? So why do you suddenly care if that’s guy’s a girl?”

“Because!” Tim whirls around, his eyes bugging out. “I can’t say a girl is a loser! That’s—it’s—misogyny! It’s transmisogyny! It’s antifeminist and sexist and—mean!”

Kon has to think on that one for a bit. Is it really sexist just to call a girl a loser?

What if she’s a loser because she wears a mask under a full-face helmet sometimes? What if she’s a loser because she stashes so many knives in her boot that it fell off mid-grapple once? What if she’s a loser because Rob regularly catches her reciting poetry to herself, twice this year already? That’s sort of a gender neutral loser-ism, right?

mitobe isn’t mute. he’s deaf, and he doesn’t like to speak because his hearing loss was rapid and pretty much complete, therefore he struggles with volume control. the reason it seems like koganei can communicate with him is because they speak to each other in sign language. 

murasakibara is nonbinary. they aren’t out completely yet, but himuro knows and will bite anyone who says a bad word against them. 

kuroko is allergic to cats. 

aida and kiyoshi have a joint fake discord account which they use to leech money off of men to fund team outings and training camps. 

izuki goes on to become a successful stand-up comedian after graduation, thanks to his (terrible) puns and lifetime of insane stories he has leftover from playing basketball at seirin. 

momoi can do the ‘uwu gamer girl’ voice and uses it to get free things on the internet. she hasn’t paid for aomine’s birthday/christmas presents since she was fourteen. 

kagami is an avid machine gun kelly fan.

takao can play the guitar. he only owns one - a mint green strat he saved all of his money for when he was a kid. his grandad taught him. they still play together. 

midorima can’t do maths. like, at all. 

kise is aro/ace. 

akashi collects something really stupid and small, but he has so much of it now he can’t just stop. like bottlecaps, or stamps, or stupid little rocks. 

imayoshi has a glasses prescription above +5. he just seems like his lenses need shaving when he gets new glasses because the lenses are so thick they’re a hazard to society. 

kasamatsu is a regular concert-goer and the sort of mosher you should keep a ten-foot distance from.