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elliesbambi · 2 days

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warnings. farm hand!ellie, farmer’s daughter!reader, dom!ellie, bratty!reader, pure smut (rough-ish sex, use of strap-on, spanking, light degradation, squirting), ellie refers to her strap-on as ‘her cock’

words. 1.7k

mdni.

thinking about farm hand!ellie…

you’re the pretty farmer’s daughter and she’s the farm hand your father hired to help out with some of the things he can no longer do at his age. they’re simple tasks, things like milking the cows, cleaning the pens, watering the crops.

but you — god, you make the job ten times more difficult. you’re always there, prancing around the farm in tiny little skirts that ride right up your ass whenever you lean over, flashing ellie your panties as you pretend to be laser focused on inspecting how the freshly planted produce are coming along, paired with the tightest crop tops known to man that you never bother wearing a bra with, your nipples hard and inviting as they poke through the shirts.

you don’t even close the bathroom window when you’re showering either, knowing full well that it overlooks the field right where ellie is working, giving her a perfect view of the water sliding over your smooth, naked body, purposefully putting on a show for her by lathering your tits in body wash or pretending to drop the soap, slowly bending down to pick it up, your glistening pussy lips peeking out from behind your ass.

you’re a little tease, and you damn well know it. whenever you catch ellie watching you, you shoot her a wink or blow her a kiss, not bothering to cover yourself or fix your clothes, uncaring that she can see practically everything. she knows you like the attention; you like the way she reacts to you, the way she constantly looks like she’s on the verge of losing control around you, just one step away from taking you in the pumpkin patch and fucking that bratty streak out of you.

and don’t get ellie wrong, she tries her best to ignore it at first. she’s here to work, not play games. she’ll dig her heels into whatever task she’s doing; trying not to nick her fingers when she’s shearing the sheep and she suddenly catches a glimpse of you skipping past on your way to the stables, going full commando under your dress that the breeze graciously causes to flutter up; trying not to outright stare when you’re hanging the washing and purposefully peg your skimpiest pair of panties right above ellie’s head, the fabric smelling of lavender and roses, a scent that makes her clit throb.

(she always ends up stealing them off the washing line when you’re not looking and tucking them away in her back pocket to get off to later, pretending that it’s actually you she’s grinding her pussy against and not just the now soaked fabric of your panties.)

but as the days pass, it gets harder and harder to ignore you, to act like what you’re doing isn’t affecting her. wherever ellie is, you’re not far behind. whether she’s stacking barrels of hay, feeding the livestock, or mending a hole in the chicken wire, you’re right there with her. and as much as ellie tries not to let her mind wander, her thoughts are never on work when you’re around; they’re on you.

she ends up fucking you in your room one day when your father goes into town to pick up a few things. it’s one of very few times she’s been inside your house, because your father doesn’t like her trekking mud through the halls after she’s been outside working all day. she had been looking for the bathroom when she passed by your room, where the loud sound of moans and whimpers were coming from. unable to stop herself, she’d looked in, and there you were — on your bed, knees drawn and spread, two fingers pumping rhythmically in and out of your pussy.

ellie was about to walk away, reminding herself that you’re the daughter of her somewhat boss, but that was when you’d looked up and seen her, and with a teasing smile, you’d tilted your head, batted those pretty lashes, and purred “why don’t you come help me, ellie? i bet yours would feel so much better…”

that did it. that crossed the line. and now—

she’s practically splitting you open on her strap, the curved tip of it slamming against your cervix and sending bursts of pleasure up your spine, her sweaty chest pressed against your even sweatier back. there’s nothing gentle about it. this is her getting back at you; finally teaching you a lesson for how much you’ve been pushing her buttons.

“this what you wanted, huh?” ellie growls in your ear, delivering a firm smack to your ass that has you squealing and rutting back against her. “this why you’ve been acting like such a needy fuckin’ slut? think i don’t know what you’ve been doing? if you wanted me to fuck you so badly, you should’ve just asked.”

the hand on your ass moves around to your front, finding your clit — red, swollen, and crying out for attention — and giving it a hard pinch between her middle and pointer finger, making you gasp sharply, before soothing it over with some quick, gentle rubs of her thumb.

“n-not a slut, els,” you pant out. “just… just wanted your attention… ngnhh.”

“that right?” ellie rasps. “well, you’ve got it now, baby. you’ve fuckin’ got it alright.”

she pushes down on the middle of your back, causing your knees to give out beneath you and your body to slump forward so that your chest is pressed against the mattress, face squishing into the pillows. ellie’s fingers dig into your hips, lifting them higher for her, her strap rabbiting in and out of your pussy at a pace that makes your head spin, like she’s seriously trying to rearrange your guts.

“ellie, ellie, ellie,” you mewl, eyes rolling back. “gonna— gonna cum. oh god...”

“no, the fuck you’re not,” ellie hisses, slapping your ass again, squeezing the fat of it firmly in her hands just for good measure. “not till i fucking say you can. slut.”

she pulls out then, and your pussy tries to protest by tightening around her strap as she moves back, the wet pop of your pussy reluctantly releasing her echoing through the room. you glance over your shoulder at her, face twisted into a desperate look, eyes begging with her not to leave you on the edge like this.

“ellie, please—”

she grabs you by the waist and flips you onto your back, then tugs you up and forward until you’re straddling her, your sticky folds sliding over the glossy tip of her strap, bumping against that swollen bundle of nerves at the top of your pussy entrance. “there we go,” ellie murmurs, more to herself than to you. “you’re gonna do the work now, baby. make it up to me for all your teasing.”

with a whine, you line yourself back up with her and sink down, both you and ellie letting out a low moan at the feeling of her filling you again, the bottom of ellie’s strap brushing deliciously against her own neglected clit. you grind against her desperately, no pausing or hesitating; just the pure, unbridled need to cum. ellie eyes the way your pussy swallows her up greedily, fitting so perfectly around her, tight like a glove, as if you can’t get enough.

“that’s it,” she hums approvingly. “ride me, baby. fuckin’ ride me. show me how bad you want it.”

you begin bouncing up and down on her strap so fast that the headboard slams against the wall. she groans, planting her feet flat on the bed so that her strap angles just right, reaching even deeper inside you, spearing you. a gasp flies from your lips and you throw your head back. ellie’s hands come up to cup your tits and play with your nipples. all the times she’s seen them poking through your shirts or silhouetted in the steamy bathroom window, now she’s finally getting the real thing.

“gonna cum, huh?” she breathes out, when your bouncing starts to get sloppier and your thighs begin to quiver. “gonna cream all over my cock, pretty girl?”

you nod frantically. “y-yes, ellie. oh, fuck, gonna—” you don’t even get to finish your sentence before you cum, mouth open in a silent scream, clenching around her strap, soaking your thighs, her abdomen, and the sheets beneath you in your release, pussy gushing like a waterfall. the force of your orgasm hits you so hard that you swear you nearly black out. you don’t even realize you’ve squirted until ellie chuckles and slaps your thigh, bringing you back into the moment.

“ffuckkkk, that’s it,” she mutters, still bouncing you, still chasing her own pleasure despite the fact that your overstimulated body has gone limp in her grasp. you’re too fucked out to be embarrassed by neither your pussy’s reaction nor the disgusting squelching sounds it makes each time ellie slams you down to the hilt. “squirting all over my cock like such a good girl. knew you had it in you.”

when she cums too, she holds you down on her strap for a good while longer, keeping the pressure of it against her clit and imagining for a moment that she’s filling you up with her cum. then she lets you off and smirks when you immediately collapse into a boneless pile next to her, curling into her side like a cat in the sun.

“s-so good,” you murmur, voice shaky and uneven, slowly coming down from your high, the thrumming between your thighs where her strap had just been lodged unrelenting, as if it’s shaped itself a home inside your womb. with a sigh, you bury your face in ellie’s neck, planting a soft kiss on her pulse-point. “that was so good, ellie.”

“yeah?” ellie responds, her hand coming down to spank your ass again, smirk widening at the little yelp you make into her neck. “you learned your lesson? gonna continue fucking with me or you gonna be a good girl from now on?”

you shake your head, though a small smile tugs at your lips. “gonna be a good girl for you, els. no more teasing, promise.”

“that’s what i thought.”

let’s just say — you’ve never been one to keep your promises. it’s not your fault ellie is so fun to mess with.

please do not steal, copy, translate or repost anywhere else ♡

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elliesbambi · 8 days

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requestttt maybe u could do outbreak!joelmiller with a controversial age gap maybe they meet in jackson btw love ur writing girly 🎀

⭑.ᐟ all american

꒰ pairing. joel miller x fem reader

꒰ warnings. farm hand!joel, farmer’s daughter!reader, post outbreak, large age gap (joel is mid-fifties, reader is nineteen), sneaking around, reader is a tease, pervy joel, smut/porn with plot (unprotected p in v, blowjobs, cunnilingus, doing it in public places, brief mentions of rough sex like choking and slapping)

꒰ wc. 2.3k

꒰ dni. minors

joel miller had settled into life at jackson city more comfortably than he ever expected to. after everything he’s been through over the years from the moment the cordyceps flipped the world upside down, jackson is a much-needed escape from it all. it’s peaceful, organized, and a small semblance of the life joel used to know. he’s grateful for it, grateful for the people who have taken him in, grateful for ellie to finally have a safe place to grow up in.

he started working at your daddy’s farm about a month after he arrived at jackson, and soon enough, he found himself at the farm almost every day for the past few months, helping mend a broken fence here; stacking the barrels of hay there.

after a bad fall during the winter of last year following your mother’s death — bless her — your daddy needed help running the place. joel didn’t hesitate to lend a hand. he admires your daddy; the man is kind, patient, and more generous than what joel is used to. plus, your farm provides for much of jackson, so to him, it’s no problem.

the one problem there is, though, is you.

nineteen years old and far too smart-mouthed for your own good, you seem to take great pleasure in getting under joel’s skin. from the first day he arrived at the farm to help, you’d been there. hanging around the barn, fluttering your lashes, wearing little summer dresses that left very little to the imagination.

joel, being a man of discipline and restraint, had done his best to ignore it at the start — your obvious flirting — but you made that a difficult task.

every day, you seem to find new ways to tease him. if you’re not flaunting around in one of your short dresses, you’re leaving your panties hanging on the washing line where you know joel will be working nearby or bending over right in his line of view on a windy day, purposefully making your dress fly up just enough to give him a glimpse of what he can look at but not touch.

joel grits his teeth, clenches his fists and keeps his eyes focused on whatever task your daddy gives him, but he can’t deny that it’s affecting him. the way you talk, the way you smile at him from under those thick lashes, the way your backside ‘accidentally’ grazes the noticeable bulge in his pants as you pass by. all of it is enough to drive any man insane.

and joel is a man. he’s not blind to the fact that you’re a beautiful girl, and your constant teasing stirs something inside him that he hasn’t felt in years…

so he’s really not to blame for how he starts responding. stealing your panties off the washing line when no one is around, tucking them into his pocket for safe keeping. he can’t help himself; they smell too much like you, your intoxicating scent. and he gets lonely in that big, empty house of his; he needs something to get him through the long nights.

craning his neck to get a better look up your dress when you’re bent over a berry bush or collecting the chickens’ eggs. you’ve caught him staring quite a few times, but you never flinch or try to cover up; you just pursue your lips and give him that same teasing smile of yours that never fails to make his stomach flip. you know exactly what you’re doing.

even going so far as to sneak into your bedroom and pounding you into the mattress when your daddy is out. your daddy likes joel well enough, but at the same time, he’s a stern, protective man and still doesn’t like the idea of his daughter, his angel, you, with men. especially not men thrice your age. he would put joel’s head on a spike if he ever found out about this.

joel gets where he’s coming from. joel himself knows it’s wrong. a man his age shouldn’t be focused on a sweet, young thing like you. the age gap is far too big — controversial, even. when he first brought it up to you one afternoon while he was watering the crops, telling you, “i’m old enough to be your father,” you’d responded with a giggle and a simple “so? even better.” joel had raised his eyebrows, amused, and said “really, sweetheart?”

from that moment on, he stopped caring about the age gap, and soon, things escalated from simply just sneaking into your bedroom. joel fucked you in practically every area of the house; on the dinner table, in the shower, over the armrest of your daddy’s favorite rocking chair. he’d have to clamp a large, calloused hand over your mouth to muffle your screams, or press your face into a pillow, and he never stopped until your legs were shaking, your core was aching, and you were stuffed nice and full with his seed.

your rendezvous aren’t just limited to the house, though. other days, you’ll fuck in the barnyard too. joel will have you bouncing up and down on his cock, your slick, puffy folds swallowing every inch he has to offer, grass in your hair and over his shirt, loud grunts and breathy moans echoing around the loft — though you always pull off with a teasing grin just when joel is about to cum, wanting to see how long he lasts before he snaps. and when he finally decides he’s had enough of your teasing, he flips you over, pressing you into the hay-strewn ground, and rails you, your thighs either pushed up to your chest or coiled tight around his torso, ankles digging into his lower back, pressing him deeper and harder into you.

he’s a talker too. whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he blows your back out, calling you his princess, his baby girl, his little doll. other days he can be mean with it, which you know is to be expected. joel is a hardened, brutal man, rough around the edges with a past loaded full of trauma. he needs some sort of outlet for all that. he’ll deliver a light smack to your face to jolt you back to the present, maybe apply a bit of pressure to your throat, but nothing ever too rough. he’d never want to harm something so precious to him; like a porcelain doll he’s too scared of breaking.

and of course, it all remains a secret. your daddy isn’t the only one who would disapprove. the people of jackson, as understanding and caring as they are, would definitely frown upon a relationship with such a large age gap. not to mention the difference in personalities. you, the sweet, gentle farmer’s daughter, and joel, the hard-as-nails ex-raider.

even tommy, as much as he jokes about finding you attractive and calling you a ‘little fox,’ would never let joel hear the end of it if he found out.

so it stays like that between you and joel. constantly sneaking around the farm, sneaking kisses and subtle flirtations behind your daddy’s back, fucking as soon as you can get your hands on each other. some nights he’ll spend with his face buried between your legs, tongue rolling over your sensitive clit, the bud swollen and red from how long joel’s been at it. other days you’ll give him a quick blowjob behind the shed to help him release some of the stress that’s been pent-up since he saw your cleavage in your tight shirt earlier that day.

to your daddy, joel is simply just the farmhand. the trustworthy farmhand who minds his own business and keeps his focus on his work. but behind closed doors… well, that’s a different story.

one morning, joel is out by the barn, working on repairing the broken sheep gate that’s come loose from its hinges. the sound of hammer hitting wood and the cows grazing in the paddock is the only thing that fills the air.

you’re there, lingering nearby as always, pretending to hang washing but really just watching joel. your dress today is shorter than usual, the hem barely even brushing your thighs, so tiny that if you were to lean forward or stand on your tippy toes, your entire ass would be out. it’s light and airy, perfect for the summer heat yet entirely inappropriate for a farm — though joel suspects that’s the point.

he tries to ignore you, focusing on the task at hand, but he can feel your eyes on him, can see the way you’re stretching and bending and shifting a little closer each time to purposefully rile him up, soft giggles of satisfaction escaping your lips every time he glances over at you with dark, longing eyes.

eventually, he sighs and turns to face you, wiping the sweat from his brow with a huff. “(name),” he mutters, voice low and firm. “quit it. your father’s gonna see us.”

your smile widens and you reply, “daddy’s all the way up at the house, joel-y.” joel-y. a nickname you’d given him at some point when he started working here. “he can’t see anything.”

joel shakes his head, but he can’t help the way his gaze drifts down your legs before quickly snapping back up to your face. “you’re gonna get us caught,” he warns you, his voice lacking the conviction he wishes it had.

you giggle again, clearly not taking him seriously. pushing yourself away from the washing line with a twirl, you saunter closer, hips swaying with each step, making joel’s heart rate quicken despite himself.

“i like the risk,” you whisper as you come to a stop in front of him, reaching out to stroke a hand down his chest. you’re close now, too close for joel’s liking. especially with your daddy only a few feet away.

joel chews on the inside of his cheek, trying to hold onto the last remnants of his self-control. “i’m serious, girl—”

but before he can finish his sentence, your hand dips lower. your fingers brush past the waistband of his worn jeans and easily unbuckle his belt in a matter of seconds. joel sucks in a breath. he knows he should stop you, knows that this is reckless, downright stupid even. but as soon as your hand slips inside his boxers and wraps around his hardening cock, all thoughts of self-control fly out the window.

he groans loudly when you give him an experimental squeeze, droplets of precum oozing from his tip and gathering on your fingers. then your hand wraps all the way around his shaft and you begin to stroke him. slowly at first, then faster the louder he gets, grunting your name like it’s a prayer on his lips.

“you’re always so tense, joel-y,” you whisper to him, nipping his ear. “i can help you with that…”

he doesn’t even register the words. all he knows is that you’re here, so close, smelling of roses and strawberries, your soft breasts pressed against his arm, your dainty hand down his pants, and he’s so so close...

and it’s then that a voice rings out from the house, ruining the moment completely.

“(name)!”

it’s your daddy.

joel’s stomach drops. he stiffens immediately, instinctively going to push you away despite that being the very last thing he wants to do. thankfully from where your daddy is standing on the porch, the washing line and the nearby willow tree provide enough cover for the hand you have shoved down joel’s pants to be hidden from his view. still, it isn’t exactly a comfort either, considering your daddy could come wandering over at any second now if he felt like it, and see for himself what’s going on.

“come inside, honey,” your daddy calls out again, his tone stern but not questioning. he doesn’t suspect anything. “leave joel alone while he’s working. i need that fence fixed today.”

without missing a beat, you step back casually. you give joel’s cock another quick squeeze before you pull away completely, subtly wiping your hand clean on his jeans. he swallows and shoots you a look which you return with a wink.

then, you turn to your daddy, chirp a sweet “coming, daddy!” and skip up the pathway to your house. joel doesn’t miss the way you tug your dress a little higher up to flash him a hint of the lacy panties you’re wearing beneath — his favorite pair, the same ones he’s snatched off the washing line and used to jerk off to numerous times before.

then, just before you disappear into your house, you glance over your shoulder and give joel a look that clearly says ‘we’ll pick this up later.’

he swallows hard, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. his jeans are now way too tight and uncomfortably sticky, and his face is flushed and hot. he feels like a damn teenager again, getting so affected by a bit of touching from a pretty girl. but you’re different. you’re not just any pretty girl. you have a way about you, a way of making joel forget any common sense, a way of making him forget about anything other than that he wants you.

with a grunt, he returns to his work, his hands slightly shakier now as he continues hammering nails into the splintered wood of the sheep gate. “damn girl will be the death of me.”

but he gets back at you for your teasing later, when he fucks you in the stables until your throat is raw from screaming so much, your hips are covered in bruises, and the skin of your neck is barely even visible beneath all the hickey’s joel leaves there.

and the next morning when your daddy asks you why you didn’t come down for dinner last night or for breakfast, how can you possibly explain to him that it’s because you physically can’t walk anymore?

please do not steal, copy, translate or repost anywhere else ♡

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