You want to introduce Logan to something new, he eagerly agrees.
Warnings and contents: Waxplay, dry humping, penis in vagina sex, creampie, mention of safewords, slight D/S dynamics (nothing harsh)
A/N: HII!! Yes everyone, I have joined the Wolverine love train, and I fear I'm never getting off, but I'm not mad about it. Anyway, college has been beating my ass with a pipe so this will likely be my only contribution to Kinktober this year 😔so plz forgive me and accept this heinous piece of work as penance.
As always, this piece is written with a chubby, reader who has a vagina in mind but other than that there is little to no physical description.
Love you guys, talk soon! XO
Red and Dripping
"So, Lo, have you ever heard of wax play?" you asked, as you and Logan sat down on your bed to watch TV in your room after training for the day.
"Nope, never heard of it." Logan replied, a while absently flipping through channels on the TV.
"Well, Cosmo says it's when you use hot candle wax on your partner's body and it feels really good. It’s supposed to feel like a little sting at first but then the sting turns to pleasure." You explained to your boyfriend, trying to sound convincing.
"What, during sex?” You nod to affirm. “You want me to drip wax on you while we fuck?" Logan questioned, raising his eyebrow in that way of his.
"Well, actually, I was thinking I could do it to you." You suggested.
"Why me? I don't want my balls burnt." Logan said defensively.
"It won't burn you, baby. That's the whole point of it." You explained, adding with a laugh, "plus I'm not putting it on your balls, that is, if you're good, anyway."
"If you burn my balls, I'm never having sex with you again." Logan warned you.
"I actually already bought the candles for it, something told me you wouldn't be opposed to a little pain," You tell him with a smile. “If you wanted to give it a try now.”
“I’m gonna trust you on this one, princess,” He replied gruffly.
You walked over to your dresser and got out the three red paraffin candles you had purchased from a little truck stop slash sex shop outside of the city and a lighter. You return to the bed where Logan was still sitting, leaned against the headboard, and perch yourself on his thighs, straddling him. You put the candles on the bedside table and lit the first one. While you wait for it to melt a bit you turn to your Wolverine, his nostrils slightly flared and pupils dilated. "Baby," he moved his large warm hands over your hips and lower back, dipping his head forward to lick and kiss the junction of your throat and shoulder.
"Remember the rule, Logan?" You pull his head back, looking into his eyes, needing to know he wants this.
He nods, hands beginning to roam to your belly, you can feel him hardening under you.
You began by dripping a little bit of the warm wax onto the inside of your wrist to see how hot it was. It was definitely hot enough to make you jump but it felt good on your skin, a quick burn fizzling into a warm tingle.
"Let me try a little bit." Logan said while extending his arm towards you.
You do the same amount onto the inside of his wrist and he flinches a bit letting out a little moan in the process. "Mm- again," he whispered as he closed his eyes.
You poured more wax onto his wrist and he let out a louder moan and bucked his hips up, his cock brushing against your core through his sweatpants. His breathing increased and he sat up to take his shirt off before scooting to fully lay under you.
"You like it?" You ask him, focusing on how his cheeks and chest are already starting to flush for you.
"Yeah, honey it’s nice," he says, a little whiny as he looks up at you with hooded eyes. You took that as your cue to start.
You hold the candle a few inches over his left nipple, tilting it just slightly to pour just a little bit of the wax onto the peak.
He keened, "F-fuck, oh my god, that's good" His hands gripping the meat of your hips tightly, starting to slowly drag you back and forth against himself. Your underwear provides delicious friction against your clit.
"Oh god that's so good," he moans, eyes rolling back as he arches up, so you hold the candle higher and let more of the red wax drip off the candle down onto the upper part of his stomach. You do the same to the other nipple and litter more spatters on his toned chest, getting close to the base of his throat. He keeps moving his hips underneath you, now moving his feet up for more leverage.
You can feel yourself leaking into your panties now, the added slick lubricating the way you slide against the hard line of his cock, it's catching on your clit and you whimper, starting to lose the composure you had- but he isn't finished yet, still groaning beneath you, and you want more.
You pour another line of wax down his stomach, and then a second one right next to it. "Nggh, yeah sweetheart," You're so close now, the building pressure is nearly suffocating, just a few more thrusts against him and you'll be gone. But Logan is nearly there, you're sure of it, and you need him to come before you do. You want to see it. So you quickly set the candle down on the table, you don't want it to go out just yet. You run your hands over his pecs, feeling the heated skin firm under your fingertips. You rub your thumbs over his nipples and he huffs a groan.
"Please baby, please touch me," he begs.
You pull away from his cock, you don't want to push him over the edge too soon, can tell he wants to keep going. "It's okay, Logan, you're doing so well for me. We're gonna make you feel so good, I promise, just trust me," you murmur, taking his hands in yours, lacing your fingers together and holding them on either side of his head against the pillow. He nods, and swallows, you can feel him loosely humping up against you, begging for some friction on his dick.
You move your mouth down to suck at one nipple, dripping spit onto it, licking the hardened wax off his skin and scraping your teeth so gently against the hardened bud, you move to the other and do the same. He's panting under you, "Baby, please, please touch my cock, I need it," he nearly cries. You love when he begs, he's such a strong man, so composed and nonchalant, but he lets you do whatever you want to him, exterior cracking into a man who's so eager to please, desperate to receive. You give in, sliding down his body, dragging your clothed cunt over his hard dick before moving lower.
"What do you need, sweet boy?" You ask, nosing along his treasure trail, sucking at the pudge under his navel, placing kisses on the wax as you make your way to his pubic hair, teasing him as you pull down his sweatpants.
He can barely speak, "Touch me, suck my cock, anything, fuck, anything," he breathes. There's a wet patch on the front of his sweatpants, whether it's from you or him you're not sure, but you kiss it anyway. "Shit-" his cock twitches against your lips through the material. You pull the waistband down to let it spring free, he sways at the cool air, slapping against his belly, you cup his sac and bring them out too, all exposed now. His tip is an angry red, mimicking the wax, and a fat glob of precum bubbles out of the head, swollen with girth at how turned on he is. You lean forward and lick from the bottom of his balls up the vein to cup the tip of him with your tongue. "Ohh jesus," His hands move to cover his face now.
You lick back down to his balls, kissing them, suckling lightly at the skin, he tastes like salt and smells intoxicatingly of Logan, you suck one into your mouth and he moans. You pull away with a pop, "I'm gonna put more wax on you now, okay baby?"
"Yes, yes please do it," he answers, moving his hands to tangle in your hair, pulling slightly, you love it when he loses it like this. You move up to grab the candle, making sure it's still melty before carefully dripping it on his inner thigh, the reaction it pulls from him is immediate. "Fuck-" He growls, pushing his hips off the bed and gripping your hair and shoulders harder.
"What's the safeword, Logan?" You ask him, even though he doesn't really need to use it, but you want him to know he has control.
"Red, I'll say red if I need to stop." He answers, eyes still closed, panting and covered in a sheen of sweat. His cock is pulsing regularly now, balls drawing up tight against him.
"That's so good Wolvie, I'm so proud of you, look at how pretty you are for me" you praise, he whimpers at your words. You move the candle to pour some wax onto his other thigh, you make a little pool in the dip of where his hip joins to the top of his thigh.
You spit into your free hand, finally taking pity on him. You begin messily stroking his cock, and pour a drip of wax right above his pubes on his lower belly, making him writhe in pleasure filled pain. You can tell he's close, cock dribbling clear precum steadily into your hand and his stomach, you rub the tip of your finger against his hole, just to see what he'll do. He whines, "I want to come, I'm so close." His voice cracks like he's about to cry.
"You want me to fuck you?" You ask, knowing the answer.
"No- please just- please I-" he stutters, cut off by his own moaning as you rub the underside of his cock, right under his head. He's close, so close.
"Do you want to come?" You ask, "Tell me what you want, Logan, use your words."
"I wanna come, I need it, please let me come, I'll do anything," He begs.
"You wanna come in my pussy or my mouth? Or all over my tits?" You ask, squeezing your legs together for some friction.
He looks down at you, “Fuck, in your pussy, please, I can't wait– need to be inside you."
"Okay Logan, you've done so good, made me feel so good." You praise, climbing back over to be on top of him, sliding off your absurdly wet underwear down before pulling your tank top off over your head. He cups your tits, pulling your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, lightly twisting how you like.
You straddle his wide hips and grip the base of him to guide it inside, slowly lowering yourself down over the head, an obscene gooey sound happens as he breaches your untouched cunt, and you fold, the arm holding you up nearly collapsing as you slide down the rest of his incredible width. "Ah, holy fuck," Logan groans as he moves his hands to your hips, gripping you tightly as he bottoms out, cock nestled deep inside you.
"Ghh, Logan, so good, such a fat cock," you huff out as he pulses inside of you, balls pressed tightly against your perineum. He's panting and moaning under you, hips thrusting up slightly to get some friction, to move. You start grinding down on him, rubbing your clit into his pubic hair. "I'm not gonna last, princess," he moans, "I-I'm too close."
"I know, Lo, you can come whenever you want." You say as you lean back and brace your hands on his thighs, lifting up before sliding back down and starting to ride him as quickly as you can. -plap, plap, plap- His length stabs into your front wall, sharp bursts of euphoria blinding you, catapulting you towards orgasm.
"Fuck, baby, yes, fuck yes," he grunts, and takes over by holding your hips in place to fuck up into you. "Oh god," you cry, "Shit, I'm gonna come," you sob. "Let go Logan, please I need your cum all inside," you keen.
His eyes go blank, then roll back as his whole body tenses, his claws slice the space between his knuckles and sink deep into the mattress while his cock is swelling up and pulsing wildly within you as he comes with a yell, hot liquid flooding your cunt in harsh waves. His orgasm triggers yours, sending you spiraling over the edge blindly as you gush and pulse and flutter around his drooling cock. You absolutely collapse on top of him, his arms coming to wrap around you. There are no words as he turns you both to your sides, his cock still sheathed inside.
After a few moments of silence, and catching your breath you break the tension, "So how was that?" you ask, a little too cocky.
Logan smiles down at you, breathing a laugh, "It was pretty good, I guess."
You roll your eyes and giggle, "Just pretty good, huh?" You question.
Logan's smile grows, "It was amazing, you know me too well."
"It was, wasn't it?" You answer, looking back into his eyes.
You both burst out laughing, leaning forward and pressing your lips together. "I love you so much," Logan whispers after breaking the kiss.
"I love you too," you whisper back, resting your forehead against his.
A few minutes passed before you felt Logan's cock twitch inside you, causing you to clench around him. "Ready to go again?" you asked your boyfriend.
"As long as it involves this pussy, I'm ready to go." Logan replied with a smile.
Joel likes how you smell in a totally normal way :D
18+, explicit sexual content below the cut.
Warnings: PiV sex, creampie, olfactophilia (girl idk I guess it’s my word of the day)
A/N: like lowkey I feel like my writing is getting better, I just don’t do it enough to actually improve any marginal amount. Oh well I really don’t care, was horny, wrote this, here you go. Enjoyyy!!!
He hadn’t felt this insane with a person ever in his memory. So fucking entranced that he had to jack off on his lunch break just to be able to finish the work day, he pulls out the Polaroid he took of you from his wallet, and considers calling you but decides against using the clunky expensive thing for this particular reason. Joel thinks back to the day he took that picture of you, laid out on your bed, creamy sheets wrapped around you like some kinda fuckin angel.
You’d been together a few months, dated, and only just recently started spending nights together. So your apartment was, relatively speaking, new territory. He knew he was attracted to you, like seriously, agonizingly attracted to you, but when he started being able to note your smell on things it became a lot, even for him.
From something obvious, like the way your pillows smelled after you’d washed your hair the previous night, to the way the scent of your arousal lingered on his mustache and fingers after you’d fucked, he was gutted by the hold you had on him.
He showed you as much when, after you’d made coffees in bed, the sweet thing you were, he brushed his hand up your thighs, waited for you to finish your sip, and took your mug to place it on the bedside table.
Joel waited for you to scoot back towards the headboard and lay, spreading your knees wide open where he could get down between them.
“Gonna pay me for my services, mister?”
“I have every intention to, ma’am.” He smiles, as he pushes the hem of his big t shirt over your belly, kissing the pudge above where your underwear rest on your hips. He squeezes into your belly, kissing and grazing, lighting a fire in his wake, now carefully slipping just one finger under the elastic to brush down over your pubic bone.
He tries to be subtle, he does, tries not to inhale too hard, but he can’t stop himself when you thrust your hips up towards his face and he presses his nose right into the triangle of your clothed cunt, breathing in deep the scent of you. He outwardly groans, unable to stop from thrusting down into your sheets, cock becoming heavy at the wet patch forming on the gusset of your underwear.
He pushes just the seat of them aside, slides one finger through your labia, and pushes it inside. He’s greeted with a sweet squelch of excitement from your cunt, and a loud gasp from your mouth, “Yes, more Joel-“
He obeys, adding another finger, and pretending now it’s his cock, gaping you open just for his eyes to see. You beg and plead, little sounds as he licks and kisses, until he’s decided you’re ready.
He moves up to kneel above you, keeping your feet planted on the tops of his hairy thighs. “Is she ready baby? Ready for this cock?” He slides himself over your underwear through the seam of your pussy, pushing your thighs together nice and tight to rub against you.
“Yeah Joel, please, c’mon-“ you’re getting needy now, so he pulls your underwear down over your ass, and up your thighs to rest on where your knees are parallel to the bed. Joel uses his spit to get just the tip of his cock wet, and guides it into your opening, feeding you just the head while he strokes the length.
“Fuck, baby, so pretty for me,” he slides home, seating himself all the way in, moaning as he does, it’s gruff and powerful- just like him.
He sets a quick pace, moving his hands up your arms to your shoulders to keep you in place, he bends to suck your nipple, biting so gentle the way he knows you like, making you moan your own song for him right next to his ear.
He can smell the sex in the air now, probably a prominent reason for his lusting over your scent.
“Ah fuck baby, I can’t-“ he says as he moves one hand to hold by the base of your throat, the other to your undies hanging off your knees, he stretches them against the bend of your calf and drops his head, putting them right up to his nose and inhales. Inhales your sweet, heady, tangy scent. The smell of you, of comfort and love and all that he can make you feel with just his body.
You keen, both in surprise and arousal, you feel butterflies deep in your stomach at the sight.
He moans out at the sensation of smelling you while fucking you, and does it again, and again. The third time he just rests them against his face, “I’m fucking close babe, I’m gonna come all over this sweet little pussy as soon as she’s ready for me.”
“O-okay Joel just, okay,” you focus on your impending climax, heat raising to your ears and cheeks, blossoming across your chest.
Joel pushes down on the back of your thighs and brings your underwear closer to your own nose.
“Smell that, sweetness? That’s you. That’s me. We did that- ffuck I’m gonna come, baby,”
You erupt at his words and the scent of your own arousal in the air, the blinding heat of orgasm and a little embarrassment taking over, all while Joel’s messy thrusts slam to a stop inside your cunt. His clenching balls empty inside your walls, and you moan at the thought of him filling you up.
You lay together for a few minutes just to catch your breath. “Oh my god, Joel, what was that?” You laugh at him as he gets up for a towel.
He’s back in his truck now, leaning over to the glove box and pulling out those purple panties, only six more hours till he’s home again, but this’ll have to do for now.
Joel Miller didn’t think love was in the cards for him—not as a single dad navigating the chaos of fatherhood and life’s endless responsibilities. But a late-night Match.com notification changes everything, leading him to you: bold, captivating, and completely unexpected. What starts as cautious conversation soon ignites into a sizzling connection that just might redefine everything Joel thought he knew about love and second chances.
An 18+ Joel Miller x Reader fanfic!
Word Count: 5.3k, tags and warnings under the cut
Warnings/tags: NO USE OF Y/N!! PreOutbreak!Joel x Reader, Single dad Joel, Descriptions of arousal, male masturbation, reader is tatted
A/N: Helllloooo! Long time no speak, y'know the usual yahda yahda, school is kicking my ass and whatnot. I'm on winter break right now so there has been plenty of time to lock in and pump out some writing that's been itching the walls of my brain. I hope you guys like this! I've had so much fun designing the headers and stuff. I'm really leaning into the 'divorced dad rock' of it all here, and reader is def alt vibes.... sorry if that's not your thing! Talk soon!
Creating a Match.com profile wasn't his idea; he was just nodding along with Tommy's apology after his efforts to set him up the last time had majorly failed. He definitely didn't expect to ever actually open the website again after that dinner with his brother, and he definitely didn't expect to get a match from you that evening.
Sarah slept on the couch while Over The Hedge played on the television. Joel was cleaning up the kitchen in preparation for the school week; he packed Sarah's lunchbox and soccer snacks, leaving a note inside the plastic grocery sack before setting them on the lower shelf in the fridge so she could see them when she woke up for the school bus. On Mondays, Sarah rode the bus to school, but Joel picked her up; on Tuesdays, Joel drove her to school, but the bus brought her home. On Wednesdays and Thursdays, Tommy picked her up, and Friday was soccer night- Joel would come to watch the game and take her home after. He was putting away the dry dinner dishes when an enthusiastic "MWAH, you've got a match!" rang through the house.
Sarah shot up just as Joel jumped and turned towards where the computer sat in the corner of the kitchen, the plate he held falling and shattering near his feet.
"Dad?" Sarah rubbed the sleep out of her eyes as she approached the kitchen. "What was that?"
"Hangon Sarah, broken glass on the floor. I'm not sure what it was-"
Joel carefully stepped over the large porcelain shards and grabbed the broom and dustpan, returning to the mess to sweep it up. "Remember to put your slippers on if you walk in here, Pumpkin, don't want you gettin sliced up." He told Sarah, she nodded as he dumped the broken pieces into the trash can. "Time for bed, make sure to set your alarm, I'll be gone by the time you get up tomorrow."
Sarah yawned and hugged Joel, too tired to argue about staying up to finish her movie, and he leaned down to pick her up, she was just about too big to do this anymore, and he wasn't looking forward to the day he couldn't easily tote her around on his back and shoulders. "Let's go baby girl, I'll give you a ride upstairs, how 'bout that?" Joel flipped the light in the kitchen, turned off the computer too, and switched off the T.V., putting the house to sleep for the night.
He settles in bed, all but forgetting the actual cause of the plate dropping in the kitchen. He was sure it had something to do with that website Tommy had shown him earlier in the evening. What had the robotic woman said? He had a match?
. . . . .
A jumbled up, chaotic mess, this was normal for a Monday morning. His alarm went off late, even though he certainly set it for the correct time. The dryer turned off in the night, so his jeans were stilly soggy, Tommy had left an empty carton of cream in the fridge, so there was none for his coffee, and, to add insult to injury, when he caught a peek of his reflection in Sarah's bedroom mirror when he popped in to give her a kiss goodbye, his hair was ten kinds of fucked up. Not that he ever took the time to fix it, but still, another thing to toss on the pile. Luckily, it was quickly becoming springtime, and he didn't need to heat the truck up, so he flew out of the neighborhood as fast as the morning nine to fivers would allow.
He thought nothing of the notification that played through the computer speakers the previous night, instead opting to wonder if the lumber shipment would get in on time, where the fuck Jeffery was despite it being 8:23 AM already, and trying to fry it into his mind that today was his day to pick up Sarah from school. "MUST LEAVE BY 3:00," He said to himself; he refused to leave her hanging again. It happened one time during her first year of middle school. He could tell she was embarrassed when he finally pulled in half an hour late, and no amount of apologizing could make a tween girl forget something like that.
Lunch came and went all too quickly, and, before he knew it, he was pretending not to hear people ask 'where he was headed' as he sped-walked to his truck to leave the jobsite for the day.
Sarah bounces from the doors with the swarms of middle schoolers leaving to enjoy one of the first warm afternoons of the year with a trifold board in tow. She piles up into the cab of his old Dodge, immediately rattling off about her new project for Social Studies. Her joy never fails to light him up, somehow, she makes American History interesting on their drive home from town, back to the peaceful suburbs where they'd get ready to do the whole thing again tomorrow.
"So then Thomas Jefferson was like, that's really messed up we aren't gonna stand for this okay, John?"
"And then what?" He nods along, pulling into the driveway where Sarah hops out to get the mail.
"Well then they met with all these other guys and wrote the Declaration of Independence, which is what my whole project is about."
Joel unlocks the door, plops Sarah's purple and pink embroidered backpack down on the couch, kicks off his steel-toed boots, and goes to the fridge for a soda.
"So I need to use the computer to design my poster, that's okay, right?"
The memory of last night and the website all pop into his mind at the sound of his soda tab opening, and he works to act as normal as possible so as not to raise her suspicion.
"Yeah that should be fine, I just gotta do something there first, actually."
She stops rifling through the fridge to look at him, "You have something to do on the computer?" Her eyebrow raised to him.
"Gotta email a client about some lumber, it was supposed to get delivered today but the supplier got delayed with the hurricane down the coast." He might've spit it out a little fast, but it was the truth anyhow. All he gets is an mhmm as Sarah plops on the couch with the remote in hand.
He settles into the dining room chair and turns on the machine. He waits for the dial-up to finish connecting and opens the Netscape Navigator. Here, he follows the sticky note Tommy wrote down to type in MATCH.COM. Before he clicks the little magnifier to search, he carefully leans around the kitchen wall to make sure Sarah is still watching her show; her new favorite, Lizzy McGuire, is just starting, so he has some time.
The screen loads slowly, the purple header leading to a big pink heart in the middle of the screen: "Over 3,100,000 singles have used our services worldwide!" "Click here!" He clicks to type his username and password: JoelMiller1973 and Sarah1234, respectively.
When his home screen loads up, there's less than a second before your profile pops up, right under his cursor: a little grainy picture of a young woman with her hair down, smiling with teeth at the camera. There's your name is right below it, followed by 24, Austin, TX beside that. Above your photo are swirly letters reading, "You matched! Chat now?"
He vaguely recalls seeing your name across the screen last night after dinner while Tommy was giving him a tour of the website. "So basically, you click the heart next to girls you like, and if they click the heart on you too, then you match."
"Tommy, you realize how asinine this sounds, don't you? This feels like something for teenagers, not grown men with kids." Joel glares at Tommy, where he sits in front of the monitor.
"Kid. Not kids, Joel. And for your information, my friend at work Bailey met her boyfriend Josh on here and they are perfectly happy together."
"Well, good for Bailey and Josh, we're talking about Joel Miller, 27-year-old single dad of an almost teenage girl, who hasn't had sex in 8 and a half months." Joel doesn't really mean for the last part to slip out, but he's kind of getting desperate at this point; there's only so much your right hand can do for a fella.
"Jesus man, TMI," Tommy says, holding his hand out to stop him. "But I am sorry, though. I know it's hard with Sarah and everything. And I'm sorry about what happened with Jill—I didn't think she was like that."
. . . . .
That past weekend, Joel let Tommy set him up with Jillian, Jill, from his apartment complex. He met her at a little bar where The Nosedives, a little local band, would be playing, and she was just like Tommy described, sweet, smelled good, and laughed at everything he said. The only thing was she flipped shit when he mentioned Sarah's soccer game when the bartender was changing channels on the television and flipped past a Duke vs. NC State game.
"Your daughter? As in, you have a kid?" She raised her voice, gaining the attention of the patrons sitting around them.
Joel ducked his head slightly, "You didn't know? I thought Tommy woulda told you?"
"Would I be here if he had?" Jill stands, grabbing her clutch and getting up from the bar. "That's some pretty fucking important information, Joel. Don't call me."
And that was the last he saw of sweet, smelled good, Jill.
. . . . .
"It's fine man. I'm not mad, really. No one like that is worth crying about, I'm just glad it happened there than here at the house. God forbid Sarah hear something like that, that's the last thing she needs."
Tommy nods, clicking through the pages of women from the general Austin area, "Hey, she's pretty cute. Close by too, think she's available tonight?"
"Fuck off," Joel laughs at his brother, he points at your little picture on the screen, "What about her?"
"Sure," Tommy clicks the heart and scrolls, "The world is your oyster with this, man, you can have as many as you want as often as you like."
Joel rolls his eyes, "You know that's not what I want for us, even if I could have that." Joel often finds himself speaking in terms of Us, Us being himself and Sarah, of course. Unfortunately, part of dating as a single parent is always including your kid, whether you want to or not. They aren't just something to sit down and pick up when it's convenient, so until he met someone who could respect that, it would just have to be him and her, and that would just have to be fine.
He hovers over the Chat now! button, visions of Jill plaguing his mind. He sighs and moves to press the big 'X' in the corner instead. He really shouldn't. Right now just isn't a good time for his dating life to be his priority.
But, it is so tempting. As much as he loves Sarah and Tommy and adores being a dad, Joel spent the winter feeling that pull, an unshakeable chill in his bones every time he went crawling into bed alone. He was longing, lonely and in need of some relief.
He didn't want to put all that expectation on a random woman from his computer, but you were pretty, in all your grainy glory, cheesing at him from your little picture. What could happen? You don't respond, or you do respond and don't hit it off with him? If that was the worst-case scenario as opposed to his recent experience, this sounded like a walk in the park.
So he moved the cursor over the Chat now! Button and clicked.
A little creaky door sound played as 'JoelMiller1973 has joined the chat.' Followed by a little blinking text box showing up on his screen. Fuck. He had no clue what to say or how he was supposed to start a virtual conversation. He knew you were in Austin- that helped some, but shit, he hadn't ever done something like this before. Usually, women would approach Joel, at most he'd send them a shot at the bar to get their attention.
"Hi there, how are you?" He typed out carefully, making sure not to misspell anything, but his big fingers and lack of practice with the keyboard made it difficult. Fuck it, he thought, "Good enough." He clicked enter and sent it off with a woosh.
He didn't want to raise suspicion with Sarah for what took him so long, so he quickly logged out of the website and emailed the client he had needed to get in touch with about the lumber, setting a record time for the fastest email he had ever typed.
. . . . .
Tuesday and Wednesday flew by as they normally did. On Thursday, Tommy was going to pick Sarah up and take her to the mall to buy a present for her friend's birthday next week. Joel hadn't planned on having his afternoon free, but the continued delay in the lumber shipment meant he could leave the job site early, and he headed home to a very rare empty house.
Quickly, Joel's mind turned to other things. He remembered the message he had sent on the dating website Monday night and settled down at the computer desk to check if you had responded.
He logged on to MATCH.COM to a new popup; this time, there were multiple other photos of women with the caption, You have 5 New matches!
'Wow,' he thought out loud. Maybe Tommy was right about the whole whenever and whoever he wanted thing. In the moment, though, he really wanted to see if you had even gotten his message. There was no point in contacting anyone else if no one really answered. Sure enough, as he closed the first, another popup appeared.
'Just4girl77 has sent you a message. Would you like to view it?' A smile formed on Joel's face; this was fucking cool; what a time to be living in. He clicked 'Yes!' On the screen, and a new box now featuring both of your screen names showed up.
Your message came through in a cute purple font, 'Hi JoelMiller1973, I guess that means I don't need to ask your name and age LOL.'
What the hell was 'LOL'? His brow furrowed and his hands hovered over the keyboard, he debated calling Tommy, even though using the minutes for something like this is what Joel wouldn't say is a "Necessaries only, emergency call."
He wiggled his fingers, typing out, 'I see your name. Are you a No Doubt fan?' He sent the message and stood from the desk to make a sandwich. He was no further than slathering mayo on the bread when a door opening creak sounded from the speakers, and he moved over, bread and knife in hand, to see what the screen said.
'Just4girl77 is online now!'
'Just4girl 77: Yes I am! I saw them at the Pavillion in Houston last June.'
He huffs a laugh and sets the bread on the kitchen island to respond.
JoelMiller1973: Last time I was at the Pavillion was for the Creed tour in 99. What is your favorite song by them?
He gets back to making his sandwich. He doesn't want to become some hermit, sitting inside on the computer all day messaging a virtual woman; and that was another thing, what if you turn out to be some creep? He was always warning Sarah about staying away from strangers on AOL; how was this any different?
A few minutes later, he sits back down at the computer to a new message.
'Just4girl77: Well, Just A Girl, obviously, but probably Bathwater or New off the Return of Saturn album. How about you with Creed?'
He scrolls down and sees a photo you sent; it looks to be from within the pit at the concert; in the background, Joel can see a faraway Gwen Steffani raising one hand up in the air. The picture captures who he recognizes as you from your knees up. The girl next to you is hugging you around your middle; you're wearing jeans and a short white tank top that shows off your belly and midriff, your foot is kicked up behind you, and you don leopard print platform sandals. Your eyes are closed, and your hand is pointing the rock and roll symbol at the camera, with your other arm flung around your friend's neck. Your hair is in spiky pigtails on top of your head, and your left arm is almost covered in tattoos.
It's funny that they say a picture is worth a thousand words because he has about fifteen million running through his mind at the moment. If his mouth was dry before, when he squints and realizes your nipples are pierced and sticking through the tanktop, he might as well be chewing sandpaper now.
"Holy shit." He says out loud, for real, now. He keeps scrolling to see your next message.
'Just4girl77: This is me and my friend at the concert, we wanted Gwen to be in it, but she never came over to us! Haha. We had a good time tho.'
He swallows his bite and gulps down a big swig of his beer. You were smoking hot, not to mention super fucking cool looking. Cool? Jesus, he should just go re-enroll in high school now; this is ridiculous. Now he was nervous, definitely not wanting to fuck this up.
Joel tried to come up with the coolest Creed song he could think of. Beautiful was the first thing he thought of, but that was maybe a little too on the nose.
‘JoelMiller1973: Honestly, I think Faceless Man is my favortw.’
Fuck. typo.
'JoelMiller1973: I meant favorite.'
He cringes. You were probably going to close the chat and never reopen it, and he couldn't blame you; you were way out of his league.
'Just4girl77: Cool! I'll check it out next time I'm at the mall, I don't have their CD yet.'
'Just4girl77: So what do you do?'
Oh. Maybe not.
Joel messaged with you periodically for a few hours until Sarah and Tommy arrived home, he sent off a quick goodbye message and closed the computer for the night, choosing to think about everything later.
. . . . .
Sarah had picked a raspberry body mist set from Bath & Body Works and a CD case with the Powerpuff Girls on it for her friend.
Tommy came in with a bag from Spencer's.
"Please tell me you didn't take Sarah into Spencer's, Tommy." Joel rubbed his forehead.
"No, he made me wait in front of the store even though they were having a huge sale and I could've found something for Khloe in there."
Sarah rolls her eyes at him, and Joel breathes a sigh of relief. "Alright, thank God."
It isn't until Saturday morning that Joel can log on and message you again. Sarah slept in after her soccer game the previous night, and Joel would probably have the computer until at least 11 o'clock.
'JoelMiller1973: Hey there, sorry I haven't had a chance to talk. Been busy with work.'
He wrings his fingers, he wants you to be online, he was looking forward to messaging you as often as possible now, imagining what your voice would sound like if he were really talking to you.
After five minutes he decides to start the pancake batter for breakfast, to give himself something to do, but is all too happy to nearly slide on his socks back to the desk with the notification chimes that you had messaged back.
'Just4girl77: Hi!!1 It's okay, I've been busy too. Maybe we could exchange phone numbers and call for real, that way you can reach me whenever you want?'
'Just4girl77: (512) 555-4468'
Joel nearly jumps up out of his seat with excitement. He snatches the home phone off the wall and, probably too eagerly, keys in your number.
He clears his throat as it rings, and then-
. . . . . . . . . .
The phone rang almost immediately upon sending you number to Joel. You popped up from your desk and grabbed the phone off its base on your dresser, yelling out to your roommate, "I've got it, Sadie!"
Wait two rings, and, "Hello?" You try to sound normal but slightly more sensuous than you would any other time picking up the phone.
"Hey there, um, this is Joel."
Yum, his voice is deep and sort of gruff, from the picture on his profile, he was probably a DILF, and his voice certainly matched.
"Hello, Joel, so what are you wearing?" you ask jokingly.
A cough comes through the line, "uhum, huh?"
"Oh, too, soon?"
He stutters over his words, "Well, I uh-"
"I'm just kidding, Joel." You wait a beat, "So what're you up to, today?"
He laughs into the phone, "Right, I knew. Well—right now I'm making pancakes, and later we're going to see that new movie Shrek at the mall."
"Who's we? And why are you going to see a cartoon?" You laugh and he thinks he nearly passes out, it sounds so incredible.
Joel heads for the front porch, stepping quietly through the living room so as not to wake Sarah up. "Well, this is why I'm glad to finally get to call you," he says, sitting down on the step and stretching his legs out in front of him. "This isn't really something to say through text."
You brace for the worst; he's married and wants this to be a secret, a load of drama you're definitely not up for right now.
"I have a daughter. And I didn't tell you before because I wanted you to hear it from me so we could talk about it properly, face to face, er, well, you know what I mean."
"Sure Joel, I know what you mean, what's her name?"
"It's Sarah. She's twelve, hence the cartoons and pancakes-"
You chuckle into his ear, "That sounds fun, twelve is hard, I bet you're a great dad, though."
Your admission makes his heart skip. You're sweet, really sweet, and apparently, not put off by his being a dad.
"Thank you, that's nice-"
"I'm sorry, I hope that isn't weird to say, I'm embarrassed," you interject.
"No! No, it's not weird, it's really nice to hear, actually." He's fully smiling now, imagining your face behind the phone.
There's a beat of silence before you clear your throat, "So, the mall, huh? That sounds fun!"
"Mhm, it's Sarah's friend's birthday, so they're going to celebrate. I was gonna watch the movie with them, but say, if you're not busy, we could pick you up on the way, and I could show you that Creed album we talked about." His boldness surprises him; there's a frog in his throat, and the hand on the back of his neck is clammy as he spits the question out.
You sound surprised at his words, too, "Oh- Joel I-"
For some reason, this is the first time he's really registering that you're saying his name, and damn, does it sound perfect coming off your lips.
"Honestly, I'm a little nervous to meet anyone from online in real life, but you seem to be okay and I do have something to return. Maybe I could just meet you there? Which mall will you be at?"
"I completely understand, I was just thinking that meeting people online is so new, I wonder how many people are fake on there . . . We'll be at the Barton Creek Mall around 2:30 this afternoon, if I can get the sleeping beauty up in time to do her hair."
You think you may swoon right now, jesus, that was attractive, "That sounds perfect, Joel, I'll see you there, by the Macy's okay?"
"Okay, b-bye." He hangs up and, in a move pulled directly from the 'I have a tween daughter' playbook, holds the phone against his chest and closes his eyes, letting a whisper-soft "Yes!" slip through his lips.
. . . . .
When you arrive at the mall and find a parking space, you stop to check your appearance in the Macy's bathroom before going to look for Joel. You wear a black and white floral printed maxi skirt with a slit up the calf, a black tie-neck top, and black strappy platform sandals. A young girl enters the bathroom on your way out, and she eyes you up and down, ogling the tattoos on your arm. It's so cute; you love seeing kids' reactions to your tattoos; they can never hide their true feelings about them the way adults try to.
As you go to make your way back to the entrance to look for Joel, you see him and are stopped in your tracks; he's leaning against a beam by the restrooms in a dark grey tee shirt with an open short-sleeved button-up over top, jeans, and sneakers. The outfit is simple but damn effective; you'd definitely take a second look if you were seeing him for the very first time with no context.
"Uhm- Joel?" You call out, praying you were right in your assumption. He looks up from the floor and pulls his hands out of his pockets. There's a lack of recognition on his face until he suddenly lights up. His smile is gorgeous, and he walks towards where you wave at him and pull our bag up higher on your shoulder.
"Hey, hi-" he greets you but isn't sure whether to shake your hand or hug you, so he just half waves. "Wow you look-"
Beaming, incredible, sexy-
"Great, you look great, too, Joel." You smile at him. "Why're you over here?"
"Just waiting for Sarah in the bathroom— oh there she is now,"
You turn around to see the girl who was looking at your arm earlier. "Oh, hi there, Sarah," you introduce yourself. It's nice to meet you."
She smiles timidly and stands beside her dad, "Who're you?"
"This is my friend, we met at, um at work. My work. She was at one of the jobsites."
Sarah looks back and forth between the two of you. "Alright, dad. You're so weird. Let's go; I don't want to be late."
You smile and nod at her, and Joel motions for you to walk beside him to take Sarah to the theater attached to the mall.
After dropping her off with her friends and the birthday girl's mom, you turn to Joel and say, "So I guess this is like our first date, huh?"
He stiffens a little, "I'm sorry, I should've planned something nicer-"
You shake your head, laughing, "That's not what I meant Joel, this is perfect, c'mon, show me to the record store."
You pick up coffee on the way through the mall and end up inside the FYE by the CD section. You sift through until you find the No Doubt album you told Joel about, along with the newest Limp Bizkit album you didn't have. The conversation between you and Joel flows naturally, talking about work, how you're finishing school soon, life, and music, and each of your interests is seemingly complimentary to the others in some way. Your hand brushes Joels as you shift down the row to the 'C's' to find the Creed album. Electric shoots through your limb, and he smiles down at you. It's nice.
After you checkout, you walk to Victoria's Secret, where you have to make a return.
"You don't have to come in here, but my aunt seems to think I need fancy bras in the size I wore in high school, so I'm gonna return them real quick."
"It's okay, I'm not totally perverted," thoughts of the first time he found a porn video online flash behind his eyelids. Now that he thinks about it, a woman that looks a lot like you is wearing pretty lingerie like what was sold here. He swallows; just don't think about it. It's fine.
This was the first date; you were worth more than having Joel eye fuck you while you walked around the mall, but damn if he couldn't help himself. When you pulled out the red ribbony thing and plopped it on the counter with the receipt, he wanted to fall to his knees, imagining your breasts draped in the soft material, letting his lips follow the line of your belly down to the crux of your pretty legs.
"Whaddu think Joel?"
You were asking him something, shit. "Wha- what is it?" He smiles, feigning innocence.
"Do you think I should just get a refund or get them in my size, this nice lady says they have it in my size."
The employee is turned to the back counter, refolding things when Joel leans to your ear.
"In an effort to not sound like a horny guy on a first date, I'll tell you to just get a refund, but if you really want my opinion, I think it'd look mighty pretty on you, sweetheart."
His voice so close to your ear melts you, and you meet his dark eyes up close for the first time, understanding why they say, 'you can get lost in them.'
"I think I'll take it in my size." You turn back to the woman, and Joel has to turn away to quickly adjust his pants.
Outside Victoria's Secret, you and Joel walk back towards the theater to wait for Sarah. You reach down and grab Joel's hand. He looks down at where you're joined and then to your face. You just smile at him and rub your thumb against the top of his knuckles.
. . . . .
"How about a real date next time? We could do dinner?" Joel says as he opens your car door for you. "I can cook or we could go out? It's up to you."
"Well, I'm glad to hear there'll be a meeting next time, Mr. Miller. Today was really fun." You stand sandwiched between Joel and the car, hands holding your bag behind your back. You meet Joel's eyes again and watch his gaze drift down your face to your lips. When he looks back into your stare, you lean in and press your lips to his, tilting to slot against his sharp nose. Joel raises a big hand to cup your skull and deepen your kiss. The pull away is quick; then the fire is lit when Joel dives back in, hungrier against your mouth. He kisses you deeper now and peeks his tongue out to taste your lips where they meet, you hum into him, and he groans back to you, moving his other hand around your waist.
When Joel pulls away he's breathless, your cheeks are heated, and his pupils are enlarged. "Sorry, got carried away-" You cut him off with another peck.
"It's okay. You're good at being in charge," You tease.
Joel breathes in, "I'm so glad Tommy put me on that website."
Sarah walks out the doors of the theater then, distractedly laughing with her friends still. Joel backs up from his close position to you. "So, I'll call you, kay? Next weekend, probably, for dinner."
"Okay, Joel, sounds good. Drive safe!" You slip down into the driver's seat and pop your new Creed CD into the disc player.
That night, Joel came faster and harder during his shower than he had any time in his recent memory. He kept replaying pulling your hair from in front of your ear to whisper what he said and your little breaths while kissing you. Oh, the plans he had for you. Joel imagined draping you against his pillows on your side and pushing into you from behind, learning every little spot on your body that made you sing. He spilled over his knuckles at the memory of opening his eyes from kissing you and seeing you already looking up at him, eyes wide and hair ruffled from where his hand was in it. He covered his moan with a washcloth, knees going weak with the intensity of it. He was so fucked, but he couldn't have been more excited.
Joel Miller didn’t think love was in the cards for him—not as a single dad navigating the chaos of fatherhood and life’s endless responsibilities. But a late-night Match.com notification changes everything, leading him to you: bold, captivating, and completely unexpected. What starts as cautious conversation soon ignites into a sizzling connection that just might redefine everything Joel thought he knew about love and second chances.
A/N: Joel jacks off to the thought of you, that’s pretty much it. Unedited, unfiltered, unholy! I love writing dudes masturbating, is that weird?? Idc! Enjoy this filth, lovlies! 🫶🏼
————
He supposed that it was watching you describe to the young boy how a bow and arrow works that really did him in. You kneeled next to him, both bundled in your gloves and scarves and boots, perched behind him; observing his aim towards the small squirrel a few yards away. Like a strike of lightning, it hit him, and you were scalded into his flesh from then on. He arrived home that night feeling like he could vomit, the lust and want and pain of it all thick in his throat.
Weeks pass, he avoids you. Waits for this to dissipate, but it doesn’t. The string which connects you to him is pulled taught, reeling him towards you at a hundred miles an hour-
“How goes it, cowboy?” He jolts from his thoughts, looks up at you from his seat on the steps outside the mess hall.
A grunt of acknowledgment escapes him, “Fine, s’posse.”
You kick his boot with your own, sounding back to him in agreement, and sit down on the step below his.
“You got watch tonight?”
“Yes ma’am, me ‘n you. Nine O’Clock. Why?”
“Just wonderin’ if I have time to put Charlie to bed before we gotta leave.” You push the gravel around under the toe of your boot.
“You can be a few minutes late, I ain’ gonna snitch on you.” He looks down over at you now, he can tell from the way you squint your eyes that the cold air is freezing you. He wishes he could wrap you up in himself, keep you safe from it all.
“Thanks Joel- see ya tonight, then,” you make to stand and leave, bumping your shoulder against his without removing your gloves hands from the pockets on your coat.
—
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go out on patrol with you, in fact, that was one of the only things he had to really look forward to these days. It was more so that if he wasn’t focused, completely keyed in, he could miss something- and he couldn’t take losing you.
So he rushed home from the mess hall, a few spare hours before your watch began, the smell of your hair stuck in his nose fuckin’ suffocating him like you were some kind of angel.
He runs a hand through his hair once he makes it up the stairs to his room, slow down now. He couldn’t help but pretend it was you saying it to him, telling him just how you like it while he pushes the worn denim down over his thick hairy thighs. Propped up on the bed, he can’t wait another moment to pull his boxers down over his dick and rest them under his balls , half-hard just from sitting next to you, god- he’s so fucked.
Keeps his left hand down on his thigh, cupping himself almost; just teasing, and moves the right up over his belly, and chest to spit into his hand. He quickly moves it back down, now using the left hand to hold his cock up straight while the right pools the spit down onto his tip and frenulum.
“Fuck baby, little hole’s tight for me.” He squeezes the fat tip under the bulb of his cock tight, maybe too tight- staving off cumming for a few more minutes.
He’s got this sick image in his head of you, bent over a table somewhere- maybe his house, maybe the watchtower- whatever. Your jeans are haphazardly pulled down and resting on your knees, boots still on, shirt too, and he’s on his knees behind you eating your cunt. He’s gotten off to the thought of it every night this week, and he might die if he doesn’t get to see it live soon.
The way you say his name is twisted up into a moan in his fantasy, and you reach back to grip his hair, to make sure he doesn’t stop licking at your clit.
He beats his dick fast now, this is his favorite part. He pops a thumb into his mouth, then, all at once, he slips two fingers inside to fuck your pussy while lining one up to tease inside your asshole, all while he continues to slurp at your hard little clit.
“Fucking fuck, Joel- just like that, make me cum,”
He’s right on the edge now, waiting for your command to spill and finally you do, your moan ringing between his ears “Ngh- yes I’m comin’ baby-” you cry to him while you twitch and flutter all over his fingers. The slick of your orgasm seeps down his face and drips onto the table below you, evidence of the pleasure he gave you.
He lets go, cock spitting seed over his knuckles and dripping down into his pubes, pooling on his balls, he groans for you in the silent emptiness of his bedroom.
“Fuck.” Always such a mess when he’s by himself. The cool air against his sweaty sticky self is enough to make him get up and ready for patrol, praying you aren’t wearing his favorite jeans of yours tonight- or he’ll be doing all this again before the night is over.
