𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬

Inexperienced Daryl ✭

Teach You ✭ pt II ✭ pt III ✭ pt IV ✭

Your Lips, My Lips ✭

Don't Scream Pt II✭

Third Time's the Charm

Dust Bowl✭

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 (closed)

𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐬

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

✦ Family Matters ✭ (no outbreak, brother in law!joel x tommy's wife!reader x tommy)

✦ That House in Nebraska (dark!raider!joel x reader)

✦ Paloma (retiredpornstar!rancher!joel x reader)

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬

The Hope of it All (jackson!joel x reader)

Fix It ✭ (jackson!joel x shy!reader)

Joel Meeting Your Parents (no outbreak, olderbf!joel x reader)

Pretty Baby ✭ (no outbreak, jaded!joel x mercurial!reader)

Somewhere I Have Never Traveled ✭ (jackson!joel x insecure!reader)

Cherry Picker ✭ (jackson!joel x virgin!reader)

Bound and Unbound ✭ (alpha!joel x omega!reader x alpha!tommy)

Sweetheart ✭ (no outbreak, neighbor!joel x pervert!reader)

The Night Has a Thousand Eyes (knight!joel au)

Steady Hands ✭ (jackson!joel x reader)

𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 & 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 ✭

|| 69 || choking || breast aug || ice ice baby || taste the high life || dating young joel || just peachy || watching him

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

✦ Xoxo (harry castillo x socialite!reader) ✭

⤷ I'll Be Home For Christmas ✭

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬

quid pro quo (ted garcia x reader) ✭

divinize (obsessed!frankie morales x catholic!reader) ✭

mercury falling (marcus acacius x reader) ✭

Key: ✦ complete ✧ in progress ✭ smut

updates blog: @millermouthupdates

𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘭𝘵𝘸𝘥𝘪𝘹𝘰𝘯

BLACK LIVES MATTER // SUPPORT UKRAINE // FREE PALESTINE // FUCK ICE // SUPPORT LEBANON

STOP THE ANTICORRUPTION OF PUBLIC MORALS ACT

I post explicit fics, so please do not follow or interact if you are a minor. However, I cannot control individual choices, and it is ultimately the responsibility of the reader to determine what content is appropriate for them.

Everything is also on Ao3 (including all deleted from masterlst)

if you see me interacting from my main blog, @plzlou it’s because this is a side blog. There are some features that side blogs don’t have, so tumblr assigns certain things to a main blog like liking posts & following. 

I post about The Walking Dead and The Last of Us. Please expect when you read for there to be canon-type violence (aka walker/infected deaths, gore, smaller character deaths, etc). I will leave warnings for anything outside of the usual realm of the show like s/a, major character deaths, extreme gore. Please read with caution if that is not something you can handle!

All moodboards & banners are made by me. Photos taken from Pinterest unless otherwise noted. I do not have a beta reader, all writing belongs to me unless specifically mentioned to be inspired by another. I do not consent to any work being copied, translated, or reposted elsewhere. I do not consent to my work being fed to AI.

And lastly, thank you so much for your love & support!! It means so much to me !!!

tik tok / twitter

"Christ, woman—"

You whine a little at that, your hands turning as petulant as your bottom lip where it pushes out into a pout.

"—finally get ya all to myself and—"

He's cut off by another kiss, this one no less needy than the last. It's all you are right now. Needy, wanting, absolutely, selfishly, brain-fizzingly wanton for him.

He's smiling against your lips; you can feel it against your own mouth. He's not actually mad that you keep cutting off his words. In fact, if you stopped right now, he'd probably take one of those big, thick, calloused hands to the back of your head and pull you straight down again.

Your hips are sore where they spread around his thighs—thick too, fuck. Everything about him is just so thick. Rugged. Built from tending the earth, hauling lumber, repairing things with his own hands. There is something almost biblical about him in moments like this, something carved out of dirt and sweat and hard work.

He knows how much you love him, but you'd never really said just how badly. His head was big enough already with the way you looked at him, touched him, followed him around like a puppy.

But it wasn't so unilateral like that, no.

Joel was just as bad. He made sure you knew it, too.

The second you pull your mouth away, gasping in a breath, your fingers still dug into his shoulders—those are thick too, wider than anything you'd ever gotten your hands around, round and gorgeous—his hand drives into your hair, just as expected. His fist closes at your nape and drags you back down before you've taken half the breath you wanted.

His tongue meets you first, pushing past your lips and deep into your mouth. You moan against him and open greedily, sucking at his tongue when he gives you enough of it, pulling it between your lips before he does the same to yours. It turns wet fast, all tongue and spit and mouths barely separating before crashing back together, both of you moaning lewdly and swallowing the sounds from each other.

You'd come in and immediately gotten him to the couch—the kissing going from sweet to messy to downright lazy. You're just feeding at each other's mouths, chasing tongues, sucking, panting against wet lips until whatever the hell he was trying to say has been completely lost.

Finally, it's him who pulls away first.

"As I was sayin'—" he chuckles, his lips glossy with the remnants of your kiss, "—now that I have ya all to myself for the weekend, I'd like to take my time, if that's alright, little lady."

His fist is still curled at the base of your hair, and it's probably the only thing keeping you from diving right back into him.

"Mmm…" you hum, smiling. "But what if we take our time later?"

"Later, huh?" he teases, smiling back. "I like later too."

You nod, one eyebrow crooking up. Easy.

"Why don't you…" His eyes travel down to where he'd already opened your cut off shirt, the sleeves nothing more than tatters over your shoulders, the buttons pulled loose until the shirt hangs open around you. When you glance down, you can see your bra beneath it too. Your favorite one. Saved specifically for this—for having him to yourself.

"God, look at cha—" He clicks his teeth and draws your face closer, his mouth catching your jaw. "Perfect girl, hm? You my perfect girl? Why don't you take this off for me?"

You hum again and let your eyes close, his beard scraping over skin already tender from his mouth while his fingers finish working the last buttons loose. Asked ya a question, you hear him whisper. Yes, yes, whatever you say, you mumble back, and he smiles against your skin. The shirt slips from your shoulders and lands somewhere near the sofa, and your hips move before you mean for them to, grinding down where you sit over him, the thin fabric of your pull-on shorts barely there against the thick denim beneath you.

His hand tightens in your hair, "Want some more— c'mere now."

Bringing your mouth down to his—finally, finally— it's as if you haven't spent the last half hour making out with him like two teenagers who'd been left unsupervised in a cabin.

You breathe him in when your lips press to his—that pine soap underneath the sweat of a long day, still caught along his throat and under the collar of his shirt.

"Wanna ride you," you murmur between kisses, your mouth wandering because you can't seem to keep it anywhere for long. His lips. His cheek. The rough thicket of his jaw. "Right here—"

"Let me shower first. You can join me if ya want—"

You shake your head immediately. "Like you a little dirty."

That pulls a laugh out of him, his head tipping back to rest on the back of the sofa while you continue to kiss down his neck. You paw at his shirt until he finally gets the message, lifting his arms so you can drag it over his head and toss it somewhere behind you before your mouth goes straight back to his skin.

He's warm beneath your lips, the salt of his sweat on your tongue.

He tastes like fucking ambrosia.

You lick into the hollow of his throat and feel his swallow beneath your tongue. A low moan slips out of him, vibrating against your mouth, and you smile there before doing it again.

"Fuck—yeah, fine, okay, fuck—" he grits out.

Somewhere in the fumbling mess of hands, your bra follows both of your shirts to the floor, and suddenly there is nothing between your chests. Hot skin pressed together, his arms wrapping fully around you while your nipples drag against the hair over his chest every time you move.

His hips drive up without warning, his hands closing harder around you as he pushes you down against his covered cock, arms wrapping around you fully, keeping you flush to him. The denim is rough beneath your shorts, his length thick and just as needy, that there is no pretending your impatience is some one sided problem.

"Needy little thing can't wait ten fuckin' minutes for this cock, huh?"

"Oh, yeah," you chuckle against his throat, kissing the spot again because you've already learned what it does to him. "It's me who's impatient—right."

His head lifts. "What was that, young lady?"

You giggle now, rutting your hips against him again, and his hands immediately catch your ass to help pull you over him, which feels particularly rich considering the accusation.

"Just sayingggg…"

"Sayin' a lotta things," he murmurs, and then he's kissing you again before you can come up with another smart answer. "C'mon now. Grind on my cock like that. Such a good girl you are—"

The next roll of your hips cuts through both of you at once.

Your clit catches just right against his lap, the soaked gusset of your shorts dragged tight between your legs, his denim thick beneath you. You moan straight into his mouth, and Joel answers with one of his own, low and rough where it breaks against your lips.

"That's it," he breathes. "Show me how you'll ride me, little bunny. Show me—"

A smile curls at the corners of your lips: "Corny old man—ah!"

The rest of it turns into a strangled moan when his hand drops from your waist. His fingers hook into the back of your shorts and pull, drawing the fabric tighter between your legs until the wet cotton presses hard against your pussy.

"Oh, fuck!"

"Mmhmm." His forehead knocks against yours when his hips buck up beneath you, a crooked, breathless smile splitting his face, amused and cocky son of a bitch. "Yeah, that's right, where’s that smart mouth I love?"

He pulls the fabric tighter again, and your body jerks, speechless in his hold. He doesn’t need you to answer him, he knows well enough.

"Think you could come just like this, baby? Bet you could.”

Your brain feels made of cotton clouds, all soft static and drifting white shapes—the kind you used to lie on your back and name until they stopped looking like anything at all. Your eyes roll back before you realize it, mouth falling open while another needy sound slips from your lips. There's spit gathering at the corner of your mouth, and Joel's thumb catches it without comment, dragging across your lower lip before he pushes it into your mouth.

"Yeah," he groans when you suck around it automatically. "Think you could. Almost fucked dumb already, ain't ya, angel? Barely even touched you."

You whine around his thumb.

"My perfect little thing." His eyes stay fixed on your face while you rock over him. "Bet you could make me come like this too. I'm so fuckin' close, watchin' my girl work herself up on me. My pretty little girl—grind on me some more, sweetheart. C'mon now. Know you can do that."

He's babbling now, and that's how you always know he's getting close.

The words start coming quicker than he can seem to organize them, his hips rocking harder beneath you while his mouth wanders wherever it can reach. Your jaw, throat, the skin below your ear—he leaves open mouthed kisses there, his tongue dragging broad and hot across your neck before his teeth nibble lightly at your skin.

You listen—of course you do.

Your hips work harder against him, the movement losing whatever rhythm it started with. You rock forward, then lift yourself slightly and drag back down, chasing the pressure again, mimicking the motion of riding him until Joel's hands clamp around your hips and help you through it.

"Fuck, yeah. Just like that."

You do it again.

"Been waitin' so long to have you like this, baby," he mutters into your neck. "All alone out here. Nobody to fuckin' bother us. Just me and my baby girl. Ain't that right?"

"Yes, Joel—yes, yes, I'm so—fuckkk—" Your thighs tighten around him. "I'm getting so close."

"What a needy girl you are." His mouth curls against your skin. "Tell me."

You whine, rocking faster.

"Tell me how needy you are for me.” He repeats

"You feel so good, Joel. Oh my God—need it, need you so bad—"

The rough denim catches at the perfect angle again, sharper this time, and you nearly fold forward over him.

"Please let me come!" you squeal as your nails dig at his shoulders

Joel's mouth is hanging open when you finally look down at him again. His pupils are blown wide, his cheeks warm beneath the scruff, and there's something almost dazed in the way he's watching you move on top of him. His eyes drop between your bodies for a second, following the desperate roll of your hips, then drag slowly back to your face.

His hand finds your hair again. "Come here."

He pulls you down into him. This kiss is the messiest of them all—teeth clacking before your mouths find each other properly, lips wet and swollen, tongues eager but distractedly lazy now by the pleasure tightening through both of you. Every few seconds one of you breaks away to moan and then immediately comes back, unwilling to give the other more than half a breath.

Your hips are starting to hurt from the way you've kept them spread around him, thighs trembling with the effort, but it only makes you grind harder. Heat climbs through your belly, your spine prickling while the muscles low in your stomach begin to pull tight.

Joel is talking straight into your mouth.

"Good girl—yeah, that's it." Another kiss. "Come on, baby." His hips drive up. "Please, let me have it."

You whimper his name: Joel, Joel, Joel—

"Gonna make an old man come in his fuckin' pants for you if you keep that up."

That nearly has you toppling over the edge, the build up of your swelling pleasure nearly painful in your belly. "Joel—!"

"I know, sweetheart."

"I love you." You kiss him again, so sloppy that the words barely make it out. "I love you, I love you, Joel—"

"Oh, baby." His voice cracks around a groan. "I know."

His hand grips the back of your neck even harder while the other holds hard into your hip, forcing you down against him when his hips come up.

"I love you even more, don't you know that?"

"Fuck—"

"Love you so much. N’ you feel so good rubbin' this sweet pussy up on me like that." He's completely gone now, words spilling out against your mouth while his breathing turns low and gravelly. "C'mon, make me proud. Come just from a little rubbin' on my dick, hm?"

You nod frantically against him.

His thumb brushes over your cheek. "You can do it."

The next grind sends the pressure white hot through you, and the sound that comes out of you barely resembles his name—strangled between a cry and a sob when the pleasure finally splits through. Your whole body locks around him, thighs clamping tight against his hips while you grind down hard, chasing every last bit of friction you can get.

His hands are everywhere now, one twisted into your hair, the other spread wide over your ass, pulling you against him through every helpless roll of your hips. Your neck is barely strong enough to hold your lolling head, letting your mouths push and slide without managing a proper kiss anymore, both of you breathing into the same inch of space. Your orgasm yanks from you, body locking and your spine arching into him, belly to belly.

"That's it, baby, that's my girl—oh, god, yes—" you hear him moan.

Your hooded eyes open, watching him now as you continue to ride out the pleasure as his face goes slack—awe beneath the pleasure already pulling his own features apart. There's no teasing left in him now. No smug little curl at the corner of his mouth.

"Baby—“ he nearly whines, hips bucking hard beneath you. "Baby, I'm gonna—"

You kiss him before he can finish, his eyes rolling back, the moan tearing from his throat into your mouth. His whole body goes rigid underneath you, fingers digging into your skin nearly painful while his hips jerk up, pushing you harder against the thick shape of his cock through his jeans. His eyes squeeze shut as his head falls back onto his neck, his mouth still parted, and for one long second he looks completely overcome by it.

There was something almost obscene about seeing him like this.

Joel Miller. A man so accustomed to being useful to others—to fixing, carrying, building—now barely seemed to know what to do with himself except hold you. His mouth stayed open against your cheek, your name a constant on broken breaths while the last of the pleasure worked through him.

You'd never seen him look so helplessly happy.