18+ minors dni
★・・・★・・・★・・・★
dick grayson loves the way you look when he goes down on you, and he’s not too shy to admit it. he’d happily spend hours between your legs, drawing out orgasm after arduous orgasm from you with his tongue, until you were begging him to let you go, just to see the face you make each time you cum.
that being said, he also loves the way you look right now; on your knees, with your hands on his toned thighs, and your eyes fluttering to stay open as you take his cock in your mouth. he loves the sight of your lips, wet and swollen, taking him so hungrily, as though you’ve been starving for this.
he loves how you look inching down his length, and how you falter as you try to reach the base. you gag softly when he hits the back of your throat, and he moans, his hand on your head to keep you in place for a moment. you gasp and pull yourself off him once he releases you, a string of saliva connecting his cock to your lips. you barely catch your breath before licking a flat stripe along his shaft, your blown-out pupils meeting his.
dick groans at the sensation before running his thumb along your jaw lovingly. he takes in your appearance; your lipstick is long gone, your eyes are struggling to stay open, and you’re drooling down your chin as you take him, making a mess of yourself. perfect.
“pretty girl,” he smiles, watching you through lidded blue eyes. “I like seeing you like this.”
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you write THE BEST dark fics like oh golly you execute it with such poise and charm 🫵 i saw you're looking for drabble ideas so i've been wondering.. what are your thoughts on jealous joel miller?! just him being disgustingly jealous that it's consuming him. oh that paired with the miscommunication trope.. i'm salivating..
side note: this emerged as i was mulling over bacon and eggs in my sleepy, migraine-y brain :'D
ann, you're an actual angel and i love you wtf! thank you for bringing pstar!joel into our lives, and i hope you enjoy! nsfw and dark themes (stalking(??), possessiveness) under the cut!
joel miller and the five stages of envy
i think it's very rarely that joel miller feels envy. he's an adult, for god's sake, and he knows you better than you know yourself. so when that insatiable head of envy turns to him, it's something that he does not take lightly.
it always begins with the seedling of doubt. when you don't kiss him the moment you see him. when he has to call your name for a moment or two before you finally look to him with all your attention. he'll try to reason with himself. maybe you were just tired. maybe you were just stressed. he'll take you to his arms and kiss your temple sweetly, as if his lips could take away whatever was distracting you from him.
however, his envy would only persist with confirmation. one scapegoat to explain everything, no matter how false. one time it had been your childhood friend. another time, it was your boss. whoever or whatever it was, he becomes hyperaware of the inconsistency. he'd ask you in bed, moments before you fall asleep. "any plans, doll?" you'd mumble something, seeing christopher tomorrow, or something else so innocent. it'll haunt him. images of you in someone else's arms, fucked open by fingers that were not his own. he'd lean down and kiss the crook of your neck. "don't have too much fun, darlin'."
in the morning, he'll try to rationalize it. you're a grown person, he trusts you. of course you can have friends of your own. it's not enough. it was never enough. when you kiss his cheek and run out the door, he takes a deep breath, counts to a thousand, before opening his eyes. of course he has to do something
then, there was escalation. suddenly it was him sitting three tables away, your back to him, watching the way this "friend" smiles and laughs with you. he doesn't find it twisted, doesn't find it troubling. you were just so precious, of course you needed someone to keep an eye on you. and of course he was the one to do it. you're all his. he's not going to let some sleezy boy get all over you that easily.
so, then, conclusion is inevitable. he reacts. he shoots up from the table, trying to ignore the pounding of the vein on his temple as he approaches your table, wrapping an arm so easily around your shoulder. he makes a quick, flimsy excuse to pull you out of your chair and into the nearest restroom, forehead creasing as you try and derive answers from him.
"what the fuck, joel? i was having a good time-"
"is that what'cha call it, doll? whorin' around some guy like you're not mine?" he growls, large hand pinning you by your neck to the nearest wall. you stammer, try to explain, try to free yourself. "guess i don't remind you enough that i own you, sweet girl."
"it wasn't like that. he was just-"
your words fall short when you feel his fingers up your skirt, pushing your panties aside to fuck two into you, making your breath hitch and your eyes glaze over. true pavlovian response. as if the feel of his fingertips, and only his fingertips, was enough to silence your protestations.
it was easier this way, anyway: reminding you of just who you belonged to when you're crying for his cock while he smirks down at you. you always come back for him, anyway.
"that's it, doll. have i made myself perfectly clear to ya?"
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