#boston boxer

[grison-in-space]

took tidbit to the veterinary behaviorist for her in person intake today. They remembered us and immediately asked after Arthur, who is a previous client (I had wanted to check if we could be doing anything better).

As in the case of that visit, I both liked all the staff immensely and also had tried about 95% of their available ideas for solving the ongoing detente between Matilda and Tribble. (Don't get me wrong, the few exceptions were awesome, and the medical recommendations from the vet pulled out are great, very excited for those.)

It's nice to remember that hey, I am good at animal behavior modification actually. Crappy she can't wave a magic wand and fix my critters, but good to remember that I'm pretty good at fixing my own, too.

[grison-in-space]

All I can think is of is one of my most favorite ever shots of Tribble:

loves you loves you loves you

loving you loving you

[socks1965]

WHO'S FUCKIN LOOKING FOR A GOOD TIME????

[morkiemcfly]

Someone said my dog looks like a Bokoblin and now I can’t unsee it

[coffee-mage-sans-caffeine]

Just a reminder that kennel cough season is again upon us. Today, at Benton's (acd mix, right) agility class the final student arrived and her dog came in and laid down in his crate and made a sound like he was choking slightly on a treat. I assumed he'd done that. Until the sound came again five seconds later, and again. And again.

"Is he choking on something?" asked the instructor after about 15 seconds of coughing.

"Oh, no. He's just started making this sound sometimes. I think it's because he's excited. It's kind of cute."

The dog makes a horking, horrible cough.

"He needs to go home and stay home for two weeks," says the instructor. "And he needs a vet."

She caught it in less than a minute. Within two minutes she was sanitizing the area around where that dog has been. It was impressive, but now Benton has been exposed to what's probably either kennel cough or canine flu or any of the other communicable coughing illnesses.

Tribble, the greyed brindle next to him, is 13 years old. She has dementia. Benton is her emotional support friend. She takes her emotional cues from him. Without him, she gets very upset and can't tolerate being out of our sight. So I can't quarantine him from her for weeks over a two minute, distanced exposure. But she's elderly and if she catches something from him, it will be hard on her body.

Please be careful. Check if your dog needs an updated bordatella vaccine. Don't share water or treats. Wash your hands after handling other people's dogs. Ask your instructors at classes to do an email blast about the symptoms of canine respiratory illness and ask people to stay home. Avoid daycare playgroups if you can.

[juulliiaa25]

My favorite guy in the whole world ❤️🌍

[dreamonminecraft]

This is my build a bear frog named Freddie (Mercury) and I just thought you should all see him

[milkdongcomics]

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1858 – John L. Sullivan nicknamed ‘The Boston Strong Boy’ is born in Roxbury, Massachussetts.

John L. Sullivan was born to Irish immigrants, Michael Sullivan from Abbeydorney, Co Kerry and Catherine née Kelly from Athlone, Co Westmeath. He was one of the most popular heavyweight champions and a symbol of the bareknuckle era of boxing. Sullivan began to fight professionally in 1878 after briefly studying at Boston College. On 7 Feb 1882, at Mississippi City, Miss., he knocked out Paddy…

[bas-rouge]

Dog show April 8th 2023 pt 1

Chocolate Labrador, "Gracie" / Boston Terrier / Rottweiler, Spirit Mountains Pickle Bomb CGC TKI RN / Smooth Coat Chihuahua, CH Guichonís Small Town Riot / Boxer, CH Marburl and Ensign's Bravado (?) / Mastiff, GCHB CH Cabezon's Prince of Wales / Pug, Ashlan's Lil Girl Making Big Waves (?) / Puli, Buttermilk Crik's Quanah Arrow of Colorado City BN / French Bulldog

[grison-in-space]

Presented without comment.

[tournamentofdogbreeds]

[alan65447]

https://cjdevidfox.threadless.com/designs/born-in-1985?update=18490

[mattslolita]

she - c. & m. sturniolo ( 002. )

in which . . . the new girl down the street catches the attention of two brothers who grow infatuated with her.

( ghostface!chris x black!fem!reader x ghostface!matt )

warnings ; black!bimbo!fem!reader , ghostface!chris , ghostface!matt , obsessive!chris & matt , blood , gore , knives , mentions of death , eventual smut , threesome , dry humping , backshots , bigdick!chris , unprotected piv ( wrap it freaks! )

"o𝒏𝒆, 𝒕𝒘𝒐, 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕."

pt. 1, 2, 3, 4 💌

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆

it had been three and a half months, and your relationship with chris and matt had blossomed — you had grown extremely close to matt and chris.

you were so oblivious to all the things they'd gotten out of you, every little secret you carried — they let you cry on their shoulder when you did bad on a test, or when someone wasn't so kind to you. and oh, don't let them have found out about the dozens of guys who flirted with you and tried to talk to you. . .they took notice of it all, calculating exactly how they would "handle" each and every guy. hell, even some of the girls who talked to you in that way was watched carefully, and matt and chris didn't hesitate to take care of them, too.

matt and chris never let you out of their sight, either — you were always telling them wherever you went and how long you'd be there. you'd made other friends during your time at school, and if you only knew what they did while you were gone.

multiple pairs of your favorite thongs had gone missing over time, yet you hadn't suspected a thing or knew the reason why; did you ever question why certain people in your class stopped showing up? would you ever notice the small clicks from a camera outside of your bedroom window when you sat alone in your room, in nothing but your bra and panties? looking ever so inviting, freshly out of the shower as you laid back in your bed, small noises of pleasure escaping your lips as you touched yourself to the thought of your newest best friends — oh it was so wrong of you, yet you didn't have any intentions of stopping.

( would you ever have noticed matt outside of your bedroom a night ago, watching you as he too palmed himself through the fabric of his boxers? )

this night in particular, you had finally gotten a chance to wind down from school. your parents were out working late like usual, which left you to the company of yourself. you had grown attached to being with matt and chris all the time, yet you didn't want to bother them by asking them to come over.

instead, you sat against your bedframe, remote in hand as you mindlessly clicked through the tv channels. you had a sliver of your hair between your fingers, curling the dark strands as your mouth was fixed into a pout whilst your eyes stared at the screen with disinterest.

around this time, you were expecting a call from a certain someone — ever since that one day, you'd receive a call from him every two days out of the week. it was wrong to indulge in the mind games of a stranger you didn't even know. . . ( or did you? )

the taboo event was exciting to you, as this is something you've never done before — your parents knew nothing about it, which worked out perfectly, yet it was also odd considering they only seemed to call when your parents were away ( oh poor, innocent you. . . ) you never even confided in your best friends about your secret, finding it embarrassing. ( but what if they knew about it all along? )

a soft sigh escapes your lips and you're about to have given up the tv altogether. . .but as you quickly click off of the news, you're quick to click back, as a headline has your eyes wide with horror.

"reports from an older couple on loomis lane called into the boston police station to report a murder of seventeen year old stephen myers."

a gasp leaves your lips, tears immediately filling your line of vision as you hold a shaky hand up to your mouth, shaking your head slightly. "the poor young man's body was gutted, left hanging from a tree. at the crime scene, forensics and investigators have found a charred mask, its mouth fixed in a permanent scream, symbolizing like something out of a horror movie."

you felt bile threaten to rise from your stomach, the contents you ate from earlier today almost coming up — you knew stephen myers. he was a cute boy in your class who had just asked you on a date that same day. and he was found dead?

"police have issued a city-wide curfew throughout boston, until this ghostface killer has been caught. please stay safe and on high alert. back to you, miss prescott."

your breath caught in your throat as you stared at the screen in both shock and utter disgust — how is it that someone you've barely gotten to know had been dead in less than the 24 hours of you knowing them? this instilled fear within you, and you suddenly pulled the covers up close to you.

suddenly, a loud tapping noise startles you, causing a loud shriek to leave your lips as your eyes stare at your bedroom window in complete horror — heart still pumping rapidly, you put a hand on your chest when a familiar set of brown locs are pushed back from his blue eyes, cheshire grin peering at you as he gives you a small wave.

you roll your eyes but suck in a sharp breath, ripping the covers away from you as you quickly bound over to chris at your window.

"you scared me so bad!" you hissed at him, pulling the window up all the way. a breeze sifts past you, causing you to shudder as chris chuckles at your reaction.

"aw, sorry bout' that ma," chris teases you, reaching in the window to poke you in the side. you glare at him unimpressed, crossing your arms across your chest as you mean mug him. he rolls his eyes at your petty behavior, running a hand through his locs as he nods to the window. "kay' fine, sorry, alright? now ya gonna let me in, or what?"

with a heavy sigh, you moved to the side to allow chris access to climb into the window — you watch as his taller frame expertly climbs inside, and every time he does you're so surprised, as it seems like he's done this so many times before.

"have you watched the news tonight?" you ask chris, not facing him as you close your window behind him, "i can't believe it..."

"yeah..." chris answers, but his eyes are scanning your room as if he's been in there for the first time.

he looks over your bed, analyzing the order of your stuffed animals — his eyes then drift over to your desk, eyes intently focused on the order of the little things that lay scattered about the small space. his eyes then flick over to see you standing near your bedroom window, worry filled within your own eyes as you looked out into the looming darkness.

"whatcha thinkin' bout, hm?' chris asks you, flopping down on your bed, leaning back towards the headboard. he motions for you join beside him, licking his lips as he watches you, "c'mere."

a sigh escapes your pouted lips, as you shuffled over to the bed next to chris — his eyes shamelessly rove over your barely exposed bottom half, your ass cheeks almost protruding out of your small, white shorts. the bed dips beside chris, and you sit as close to him as possible. his arm almost instantly comes down to rest over your shoulder, as he grins runs his fingers through your ponytail.

"i just can't believe stephens gone," you whisper, shaking your head.

"i can," chris shrugs, his expression void of any emotion.

your eyes immediately snap over to him pure shock — how could he say something like that about his classmate? you weren't really sure if chris or matt had ever had any problems with any of your classmates, but to completely be nonchalant about someone dying?

"chris!" you hiss, lightly smacking his chest, "how could you say that? that's so messed up!"

"kid was a dick, y/n," chris sighs, running a hand along his face as he slowly turns to face you, "sides', he was always flirtin' with you an' shit. he was a player, too."

your nose scrunches in confusion, as you lean towards chris more as his eyes bore into yours. "wait, what does it matter if he flirts with me or not?"

chris's eyes narrow as he takes his time checking you out from head to toe — your face heats up as his eyes graze from your face, to the bare side of your neck, down to your chest. chris's eyes linger there for a beat longer, and he licks his lips as a small grin takes over his features. your legs instinctively press together, and you find yourself aroused at the way he took his time looking at you.

"look at you, angel," chris whispers, swiping his thumb over your lips as he gently caresses your cheek. his eyes lower to your lips, before they flick back up to your eyes, "nobody fuckin' deserves you."

a soft gasp leaves your lips as chris expertly hoists you up and onto his lap. his eyes never leave yours, predatory gaze locked on you as he holds your hips firmly in his grasp.

your eyes graze over his lips ever so invitingly, and chris smirks slightly as he watches your eyes — his own eyes lock on your lips, and he begins to lean up slowly.

his breath tickles your jaw, and your eyes flutter shut as you both lean in — his lips were soft and warm, and your arms melted together as they wrapped around his neck. you'd never imagined you'd be here in this scenario, kissing one of your best friends, but here you were — and truthfully? you've been wanting this for a long time.

chris's lips are hot on yours, his tongue messily swiping across your bottom lip, asking for entrance into your mouth. a low moan leaves past you as chris explores your mouth, his grip on your hips harsh as he groans, rolling your hips down and that's when you feel his erection under you.

a whimper leaves your mouth as you grind down on him, his lips parted slightly as he watches the way your own mouth falls open slightly, as you continue grinding down on him needily.

chris attaches his lips to your neck, nipping and biting on the supple skin there, causing a moan to leave your lips as his hands guide your waist up and down. your panties are now soaked with your arousal, and now all you want is to be filled up with chris inside of you.

"c-chris, please," you whimper out lowly, fingers slightly tugging at his brown locs, causing him to groan on your neck.

"aw what's that, ma?" chris taunts you, sending a smack to your ass as he comes up from your neck, a smirk on his lips, "want me to fuck you, don't ya?"

"yes..." you nod, big eyes staring down at him.

his erection seems to grow larger as he hurriedly takes you off of his lap, standing up at the foot of the bed as he stares down at you — you tilted your head slightly, doe eyes looking up at him in confusion.

"wha-"

"all fours sweetheart, now," chris growls, yanking his pants down. your eyes are immediately drawn to the very large print in his boxers, and you bite your lips as you nod and do what he says.

you took your shorts off, revealing your bare pussy — chris lets out a groan, shoving his boxers off next as his eyes rove over your bare cunt, dripping and waiting to be fucked by him.

you slowly turn around, face down ass up as you await chris's next move — another low grunt leaves his lips as you feel his presence now looming over you, watching you with hungry eyes. a whimper leaves your lips when chris's fingers glide across your pussy, collecting your slick. he slathers it on the tip of his cock, throwing his head back as he runs his hands along the tip of his cock, teasing himself.

"p-please, need you-"

your words are cut off as a moan replaces them, when chris's cock slowly begins to enter you. he lets out a low moan, gripping onto your hips harshly as he slams his own hips into you, ripping a loud moan from you.

"oh gosh!" you cry out, back arching almost immediately as chris pulls out, just to drive himself back into you, "s-so big!"

"that so, sweetheart?" chris groans, wrapping his hands around your throat, pulling your head back so that his face was level with yours, "fillin' you up jus' how you wanted, yeah?"

"y-yes," you moaned, the bed board creaking as chris continued ramming himself inside of you from behind.

the slapping of skin sounded throughout the house, and you were sure the neighbors would hear and probably tell your parents, but you didn't care — the pleasure chris was giving you was so good all your thoughts about getting caught went out the window. the only thing you could focus on how good his dick felt filling you up, hitting your sweet spot repeatedly.

"fuck, y'so fuckin' tight, ma," chris rambles, driving his cock deeper inside of you, "could be in this pussy all night, baby...feel so fuckin' good, would fuckin' kill anybody over this pussy..."

a loud moan escapes your lips as chris's vulgar words, causing him to narrow his eyes at you with a predatory gaze, watching the way your back arched for him and him only.

"yeah, y'like that?" chris groans in your ear, tugging on your ponytail as his hips snaps into your ass, cock abusing your gummy walls, "want me to kill somebody for ya? y'know i would, angel. would fuckin' murder anybody for you..."

( little did you know, he and matt had already done that earlier today. )

"c-close," you choked out, incoherent babbles leaving your lips as you struggled to keep your head up. tears pricked at your waterline, the pleasure intense as you felt the pressure building up in your stomach.

"gonna fill you up, ma," chris moans, his hand going down to rub circles over your clit. a loud cry leaves your lips as the double pleasure, chris's cock still drilling into your pussy. "c'mon baby, give it to me..."

"chris, chris, chriss..."

his name is like a mantra on your lips as you cum around his cock, decorating the mushroom tip with your arousal — his hips stutter, and you can feel his cock twitching inside of you signaling he's about to cum too. with a few more thrusts, chris's hips sputter as his cock fills you to the brim with his hot, sticky cum, painting your velvety walls a white color of his release. he rides out his high, pulling out of you which causes you to hiss slightly at the overstimulation of your raw, sensitive pussy.

"fuck," chris grunts, running a hand through his now sweaty locs, pulling his boxers up over himself, "y'okay, sweetheart?"

"yeah, i'm good," you nod weekly, looking up at him with a sweet smile causing him to grin.

"bet ya always wanted me to fuck you, huh?" chris smirks, leaning down and planting a kiss to your cheek.

your cheeks heated up in embarrassment, to which he lets out a chuckle — chris gently strokes the side of your cheek, biting down on his lip before he plants another kiss to your lips. "i'll see you tomorrow at school."

"um, okay," you nod again, watching as chris hurriedly goes over to your window.

you watch with your eyes slightly widened as he opens it up, climbing out of the window with ease — he turns to you once more and flashes that famous cheshire grin of his, before disappearing completely into the darkness of your backyard.

you couldn't believe you'd just let one of your new best friends fuck you. but you couldn't deny how palpable the sexual tension had become between you and the both of them, and you just knew it was bound to happen.

( rule #2 : never have sex. it's a gateway to all the rest of the sins. . . )

you let a sigh slip past your lips as you finished cleaning yourself up, putting back on your nightly attire. but before you could tuck yourself back into bed, a loud ring of your landline nearly startles you half to death as you gasp loudly, clutching your chest.

an excited sound leaves your lips as you bite your lip in anticipation — it was surely him. it was foolish of you to continue conversing with a stranger, especially with a psychopathic killer on the loose.

but unfortunately, your naivety took over, and you answered the phone.

"hello, darlin'," the deep voice purrs from the other end, causing you to giggle as you twisted the cord around your fingers.

"hi, you," you say back, looking around your room as you settle your legs underneath yourself, "so what's got you callin' me up tonight, huh?"

"y'see beautiful, the exorcist came on last night, an' it got me thinkin' of us," he tells you, causing a chill to go down your spine.

"really?"

"really," he says, and you found your cheeks warming up once again. "but i'm afraid your best friend might get in the way of us."

"my- what?" you ask him, looking around but this time, it was in panic.

"oh you heard me, doll," he drawls, and you can almost hear the smirk in his voice, "could've sworn he jus' left ya house after you fucked, am i right?"

the blood drains from your face upon the realization that you were being watched — a soft whimper leaves your lips as you quickly get up to lock all the windows in your bedroom, and you hurriedly closed the blinds shut. you could hear a sinister chuckle leave his lips on the other line, causing another chill to go down your spine.

"i- what do you want from me?" you begin to sob quietly, putting a hand over your face in shame. how could you have been so naive?

"to see what your insides look like," he snarls, causing a gasp to leaves your lips.

"it's you. you're the ghostface killer."

"so smart doll, look at that," he purrs, causing you to pull your legs up to your knees, rocking back and forth slightly, "now if ya follow my rules, i'll spare your life. how's that sound?"

nothing but a small whimper leaves past your lips, and you can hear him groan on other end. "need to hear your words, sweetheart. now answer the question."

"yes, i'll follow your rules," you nod, "but please don't kill me, mr. ghostface."

( lilly's corner 💌 )

YIPPEEEE ITS HERE !! so sorry it took much longer, had alot going on i fear. BUT I AM SO EXCITED FOR Y'ALL TO READ PART THREE ! what are your predictions??

taglist🥝 : @muwapsturniolo @thenickgirl @luverboychris @cottoncandyswisherz @chanelles-world

@sturnprime @middlepartmatt @chrissturniolossidehoe @sturniqloo @chaossturns

@fairyrcts @mbbsgf @sturnsxplr-25 @moonk1ss3d @oliviasturniolo21

@wh4re4chratt @cyberdre4ms @angvlarabella @pvssychicken @lovesturni0l0s

@delilahsturniolo @venusxsturnio @chrissystur @sweetangelgirl7 @wovenribbons

@chrispotatos @chrissystur @jetaimevous @55sturn @yn-ws

@onotsandoys

[kenzsturniolo1]

𝐒𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐌.𝐒

𝓣𝓦; 𝓝𝓢𝓕𝓦, 𝓹 𝓲𝓷 𝓿, 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭, 𝓼𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓳𝓸𝓫?

You and Matt have known each other for what seems like forever, but it was only last year that you confessed your feelings for each other. 

For the triplets' new video the triplets are spending a week away from each other. You knew matt wouldnt do well with this, since him and his brothers havent even spent a whole 24 hours away from each other. So you offered to stay the week with him so you can give him company and make sure he doesnt get to lonely.

—

You guys dropped chris off at the airport yesterday so he can get on his flight to BOSTON.

You woke up and found matt asleep next to you. You lay a gentle kiss on his forehead before heading to the bathroom. You strip off your clothing and head into the shower, the hot water casting over your body sending shivers down your spine. You wash your hair and do a little clean up shave on your legs with the spare razor you keep at matts house.

You get out the shower, and fall into one of matts cozy hoodies. Matts warm vanilla scent intoxicates your nose when you sniff it. You throw on a pair of your leggings and brush your hair before you head the the kitchen.

You make yourself a bagel with cream cheese and strawberries. You lean over the counter and eat your bagel and scroll on instagram.

You jump slightly when you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist and a head nuzzling into your neck. You look down and see its Matts tattooed arms. 

“Jesus baby you scared me!” you laugh slightly.

You hear Matt sniffle.

“Sorry, love.” matt mumbles against your neck. 

His lips speaking against your neck feels like heaven. The way it tickles but leaves you wanting the sensation again and again.

“It's okay, bubba. Are you feeling alright?”

You turn around and your face quickly turns into concern. “Baby you look….. A little rough.”

you look at the sweat beading all over his forehead, and his eyes are droopy. “I think i'm getting a cold.”

You laugh slightly. “Yeah baby i agree.”

Matt laughs too but then lets out a nasty rough crunchy sounding cough. You frown slightly.

“Baby why dont you lay in bed. Ill make you some soup, okay?”

Your tired boyfriend nods and waddles back to his room.

You quickly start making him some Chicken and rice soup.

While the soup is cooking you grab a washcloth and run it under cold water.

You walk back into Matt's room and see him spread out on his bed just in his boxers. You walk back over to him and set the washcloth on his head.

“I'm making you Chicken and rice soup, okay, love?”

Matt nods with a slight pout on his face. I hand him the remote.

“Put on so gravity falls,baby. Your soup will be done soon.”

Matt kisses your lips softly put doesnt really put out his lips more just places them on yours.

You hurry back to the kitchen to finish making his soup. You add some cheese on the stop and some crackers at the side.

You put the soup on a tray and carefully bring it back to his room.

“Baby sit up.”

You tell Matthew and carfelly set the tray on his lap.  

“Thank you, my love.”

Matt says in his voice rough and ragged because of his stuffy nose.

You curse under your breath when you realize you forgot to get home a drink. You quickly pace to the kitchen and pour a bunch of ice into a water bottle and pour water into it. You walk back into his room and give im the water bottle. Matt smiles and you can't help but think of how handsome he is even while hes all snotty and sweaty.

“I really dont deserve you.” matt says and blows on his soup.

You climb into bed next to him and watch gravity falls with him.

He doesnt really eat his soup and you notice. You grab his spoon and put some soup on it. You bring it to your lips and blow lightly before bring it to his.

“You need to eat, baby.”

Matt hesatinly wraps his lips around the spoon. You can really tell hes not feeling well, and it breaks your heart into a million pieces.

You take the tray off his lap as its clear hes not gonna be eating anymore. You pull him into your arms. You gently play with his slightly wavy soft hair.

“ ‘m gonna get you sick.”

“I dont care.”

You kiss his forehead gently as he nuzzles into your chest more.

“I hate seeing my pretty boy like this.”

You see the biggest smile creep onto matts face when you call him ‘your pretty boy’. Yes you guys have been dating for a while but he will never not blush when you compliment him.

Matt tries but fails to keep his eyes open. This makes you smile and you kiss his nose.

Matt also drifts off to sleep and not soon after you do to.

—

You wake up and look at your phone.

3:12am

You turn around and see matts not in bed. Your stomach drops and you get out of bed. You walk out his bedroom and see him standing in the bathroom putting his head under the sink. You giggle and kiss his back softly as he gets his hair wet.

“ ‘m couldnt sleep.” 

“Want some medicine to help you sleep.”

Matt shakes his head with a slightly pouty face. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him softly.

You look at his body in the mirror. Hes only wearing boxers, you slide my finger tips into the band of his boxers.

“W-what are you doing?” matt rubs his hand over yours

“Nothing.” You mumble and slide your hand deeper into his boxers feeling his soft member. 

Matt closes his eyes and bites his lip slightly. 

“Let’s go back to your room, Bubs.”

Matt nods and follows you to his room. 

You guys crawl into his bed and slide under the covers. 

You guys start slowly making out. 

Your hand cupping his slight stubble and then going back to scratch his head. 

Matt puts his hand on your leggings and pulls away slightly from your lips and mumbles. 

“Love, can I?”

You smile and nod and kiss him again. He pulls down your leggings with your underwear. 

His hand stays on your waist rubbing small light circles. 

“I love you” matt mumbles 

“I love you more, Bubs.”

You pull down his boxers and then go back to kiss him. 

Matt pulls away and takes off his shirt and goes back to wrapping his body with yours. 

Matt sniffles before he asks. “Are you ready?”

You nod and he slowly enters you. You cup his face both your months opening letting out small gasps. 

You wrap your arms around his neck  and kiss his forehead as he slowly starts to move laying on his side with him in your arms. 

You both let out soft moans and groans and you caress his chin. 

A couple of minutes later if doing this both you guys reach your climax. 

You both lie there, bodies knotted together. 

You start to leave small pecks all over his face. Matt lays there not fighting back with a stupid, cheeky smile plastered on his face. 

But the next think you know….. matt sneezes right as you go down to kiss him again. 

“Matthew!”

“Don’t yell at me, 'm sickkkkk.” Matt giggles

[thriftedtchotchkes]

a matter of time

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel can't remember the last time he took things slow and let himself feel. you give him a gentle reminder.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, late boston qz era, joel's pov, smut, porn with a twist ending, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, slow/intimate sex, finger sucking, premature ejaculation, nostalgia, internal monologue, tess doesn't exist

word count: 2.4k

It's been a long time.

Joel's all but forgotten what it feels like when it's this gentle. There's almost a tenderness to it, even though he doesn't know much of anything about you at all. Not your name or how you ended up here in this hellhole of a safe haven.

Nothing but the sweet, tacky taste of your 20-year-old Lip Smacker gloss and the tang of sweat and something sweeter lingering on your skin. But he's learning.

And he likes this new knowledge. Even if he never gets the chance to use it again, he'll devour it hungrily because it's a worthy distraction from the monotony of life in a quarantine zone. Day in and day out, he returns to this shitty apartment with its peeling floral wallpaper and rotting mahogany furniture—memories of a distant past that aren't his own and, yet, sting just as viscerally.

Tonight, the space hums with a different energy. Highlighted by the soft rays of the setting sun, the room's only purpose is to serve as a backdrop to you, and that alone changes everything. Your beauty, your responsiveness, as he lays you across his moth-eaten duvet is reminiscent of a different time, and he'll happily accept that reminder.

It's one of the few pieces of nostalgia that doesn't ache or eat away at him the longer he lets it in. No, you feel good. You're warm against his fingertips, soft and pliant under the path his lips follow from the sticky smear across your cheek, past the breath hitching audibly in your bared throat, down to your soaked, coarse curls.

You want him. More than that, you want to take your time with him, and he's surprised at how much he wants that, too. Trapped within these walls, what else does he have but endless, empty time? And there's nothing he'd love more than to spend it taking care of you, just like you asked him to.

He hovers above you, refusing to part his lips from your body as he urges you up the bed to rest against his pillows. They're flattened and scratchy from years of use and abuse, but they smell like him, and you like it. He can tell. The moment your hair fans across them, rich and lively in contrast, you bury your face into the fabric to breathe him in, and your body's reaction is instantaneous.

Your back arches with a heavy sigh of contentment and your legs fall apart naturally, welcoming him closer, but he waits. Reverently, he slowly leans back onto his heels to appreciate the sight in front of him, and he can't help but feel grateful. You're already glistening for him, preening under his undivided attention as your delicate fingers trail up to your breast to tweak a nipple.

As your eyelashes flutter and a gasp escapes your parted lips, his hand quickly drops to squeeze his twitching cock over his boxers and he keens, nearly doubling over at the pleasure that overcomes him. A coy, knowing smile quirks at the corners of your mouth, and he decides he needs to taste you again. Now.

He lurches forward, and you let out a surprised squeal as he licks into your mouth and commits to memory the faint taste of artificial root beer and mint on your tongue. The familiar fight for dominance he's so used to after years of quick fucks and one-night stands isn't there, and, instead, you set a languid, passionate pace that makes his head spin. It's a slow, deep caress—wet and warm and all-encompassing—and it's everything he hopes fucking you will feel like.

He's so hard it hurts. God, when was the last time he was this fucking hard? He's leaking messily through his boxers, desperate to be touched and enveloped and claimed.

And how could he not be? He's kissing the perfect woman. A patient goddess who's leading his hands across every inch of bare skin, showing him exactly how you like to be stroked and gripped, sighing encouragingly when he heeds your lessons just right.

You're one hell of a teacher, and he thinks he might just be your favorite student. He separates from you with a lewd smack and a string of saliva keeps you connected for a fleeting second before you lean up to lick it off his bottom lip. Your eyes lock with his and they're dark, almost completely consumed by desire, and it's further encouragement to continue on to his next assignment.

This one might just send him over the edge. You guide his hand down to cup your wet heat and you're drenched, dribbling and smearing slick patterns onto his sheets that he'll probably trace with his tongue while he jerks off to the thought of you long after you're gone.

Bathed in the dwindling embers of twilight, your silhouette—the plush slope of your breasts and soft curve of your belly and thighs—is cast around the room in artful shapes and shadows, and he wishes you were a permanent fixture. That your visage covered these walls instead of false depictions of growth and life. It's a dangerous train of thought, but he's too lost in the haze of your warmth and wetness to think about anything else.

He needs to feel you. He needs to fuck you.

He barely even realizes he's already slipped inside you as if he's been there all along, stroking your walls with the rough tips of his middle and ring fingers and honing in on that hidden, spongy spot with such precision, you'd think he'd done it a million times before. Thick, cording veins strain against his forearms as he tenses with the effort of keeping his thrusts long and purposeful, and he watches, captivated, as your cunt sucks him in greedily and fruitlessly tries to hold him inside you.

Tight—fuck. You're so tight. He's bucking into his unoccupied hand, jerking himself off over his boxers, and he doesn't remember when he started, but he can't stop. It feels too good...you feel too good, and the steady, simultaneous rhythm he sets for both of you isn't nearly enough.

Faster. Harder. Still so goddamn tight. He'll never be able to stretch you out enough to take him, and he's starting to worry he'll cum before he even gets the chance to try. His cock throbs violently against his palm, and he bites back a groan at the vision beneath him. Christ, how did you get here?

You can't possibly be real. Your thighs are quaking on either side of his waist and your pussy clenches dangerously hard around his scissoring fingers. There's a thin sheen of sweat matting the wispy hairs around your temples and pooling everywhere your body connects with the mattress, your searingly hot skin an addictive, sticky trap he willingly and faithfully succumbed to.

And those sounds.

You need his cock. Fucking hell, you need it. Greedy, patient, needy fucking woman. He can hear it in your soft pants and hitched breaths. You're quiet and subtle in your pleasure, so unlike any other woman he's ever been with, but when you whimper—fuck. Fuck.

He's going to give it to you. Right now, after taking the time to map and explore and discover, he's going to use his newfound knowledge to hollow you out, then fill you up until you're overflowing with him.

He slows to a stop and pulls his glistening fingers from your cunt, and there's that faint, perfect sound again. A stuttered, broken whimper that lilts with each knuckle that catches on your entrance. He sucks his ring finger into his mouth and adds your taste to his list of all-time favorites, right alongside your Barq's root beer-flavored lip gloss.

Then, he offers you his middle finger, and he swears he can feel your lips sealing tightly around his cock as you wrap them around it. You work your mouth up and down, bobbing your head eagerly like he's about to blow his load down your throat, and—

He's going to fucking cum.

With his finger still nestled between your lips, he wrenches his boxers down his thighs and lines himself up with your entrance, ignoring how close he's suddenly teetering on the edge. His balls are already taut between his legs and it worsens as he inches in his aching, neglected tip.

"S'time, beautiful," he grits out, still tender in his touch as he splays his hand across your waist to stroke your heated skin. "You ready for me?"

You nod quickly, humming your affirmation around him, and he gives you another shallow inch. He was right. No amount of preparation was going to ease the stretch. You're gripping him so hard, it almost hurts, and the thought of how tight you'll be when you cum—he feels delirious with it.

Yes. Yes. Squeeze him. Let him feel you wringing him fucking dry. Let him pump you so full of his release, you'll be dripping him for days, an intimate, lingering reminder of this night. You have no fucking idea how long he's been waiting for this, for you. He doesn't even know your name, but that doesn't matter. Right now, all that matters is this.

This deep-seated, unspoken connection. It's been a long time. And, right now, his time is up.

He slides home in one long, deep thrust, the tip of his cock tenderly nudging your cervix, and your body struggles to accept him. He lights up every nerve ending like a live wire, drags against every sensitive pressure point in perfect succession, and your walls begin to mold around him as if they recognize the sensation. Like your body's remembering him.

Sharp nails dig into his side and drag from his shoulder down to his ass, urging him closer. You're trembling beneath him, your breasts thrumming with sharp, rapid breaths akin to a hummingbird as he fucks you further up the bed, one slow thrust at a time. You're fluttering around him, a delicate spasm and, then, an indicative clench, and it forces a sob from his chest that he barely recognizes.

That's it, beautiful. It's right there. C’mon, give it to me.

He doesn't speak it aloud. He hasn't coaxed or rushed you with his words this entire night and he's not about to start now. He knows, for some inexplicable reason, that he doesn't have to.

But you do. It's barely a whisper—a single, hushed syllable that trembles and passes your lips like a plea. A prayer only he can answer.

"Joel."

Christ. He knows you.

Christ, he's cumming.

His vision whites out, and he's only vaguely aware of his tightening grip on your hips and the long, drawn-out groan that tapers into something devastatingly familiar. Your name.

Now, it's his turn to pray. He repeats it like a mantra, breathing it into your lungs as his lips crash onto yours. It's almost as if he's afraid he'll forget it again if he stops, but your body's response quickly convinces him otherwise.

You bear down on him harder, driven closer and closer to your peak each time he calls out to you, for you. You're molten hot around him, searing each letter into his skin with every pulsing clench of your cunt, and he does the same, thick spurts coating your walls.

He can't help himself. He stays deep—he knows he shouldn't, knows how dangerous the consequences could be, but he needs to—and your ankles digging painfully into his back to hold him in place wordlessly tell him you need it, too.

So good, you're so good. You're perfect. You're his. You're—

Gushing, squeezing, finally moaning for him. You’re cumming.

With it, your orgasm brings every memory of you flooding back at once. Late summer afternoons spent in bed while Sarah visited her grandma. Champagne-flavored kisses on New Year's Eve, soundtracked by Dick Clark and cheers from the crowd in Times Square filtering through the plasma TV in his living room.

He loved you. He loved this. He should've known the moment he kissed you, the moment he saw you, but he's been surviving for so long. He can't remember the last time he lived.

Your limbs surround him, pulling his entire weight down to rest on top of you, and you continue to swivel your hips into his pelvis, riding out your high as his name falls breathily from your lips. He works you through it, frantically blinking away the sudden blur that engulfs his vision so he doesn't miss out on another moment with you. Not ever again.

He's...he's crying. He didn't even know he was capable of that anymore. Sensitivity starts to set in, in more ways than one, but he doesn't want to leave the heat of your embrace. He thinks he might break at the sight of his cum leaking out of you and seeping into the undeserving fabric of his co-opted sheets, far away from where it belongs.

But, then, your lips meet his tanned, weathered cheek—a stark contrast to the young man he was when he was yours—and you kiss away his tears. He feels more fragile than he has in decades, and that's surprisingly okay. Because you're here to protect him, now.

Trailing from the apple of his cheek to his lips, up to the years of tension creasing his forehead, back down to kiss him tenderly, you establish a comforting repetition. He chases you every time you part, but, after a while, he's struck with a realization. What you've been trying to convey with your actions all night.

You always return to him. So, maybe this was just a matter of time. A slow smile spreads across that beautiful face he hadn't allowed himself to think about since the outbreak, and you huff out an affectionate laugh, your fingertips curiously running across his back and tracing raised lines and jagged shapes you've never felt before.

"Hi, Joel," you murmur fondly, still close enough for the tacky remains of your gloss to catch his bottom lip, and his tongue darts out to taste you.

It's real—it's too vivid not to be real. His eyes dart between yours, and he can still see everything your future together was supposed to hold. He still sees forever.

"Hey, baby," he rasps, his voice thick with tears and disuse, and something unidentifiable that sounds a lot like hope.

He hasn't felt this way in a long time. Not since you.

thanks for reading!