#ratwritingunder1kchallenge

[ebodebo]

these boots are made for walkin’... │ simon riley

simon teaches you a lesson in this tumblr writing special .ᐟ

│cod masterlist │ inbox │ taglist │ao3│

│CONTAINS│18+ SMUT MDNI, fem!reader, slight dubcon vibes, boot riding till orgasm (i know that's right,) slight brat taming vibes, power imbalance (he's your lieutenant,) age-gap (late 40s/early to mid 20s,) superiority complexes, meanie & condescending simon, & no use of y/n. [979 words]

│AUTHOR'S NOTE│yes, your eyes do not deceive you! this is a very special tumblr writing special! my bestie & fellow writer @sceletaflores and i have decided to collaborate and give YOU a writing challenge. your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to write a fic about anything and anyone you like, but it must be 1k words or less. make sure to tag us, @ebodebo and @sceletaflores, with #ratwritingunder1kchallenge so we can see your fic and add it to our challenge masterlist. we’ve both made our contributions—are you ready to make yours?

│MORE│dividers by @bernardsbendystraws!

You barge into his cramped, dimly lit office, skin sizzling and tongue hot with accusations, the only sound is the scratching of his pen on paper. 

"Why the hell would you pull me out?" you shout at Simon, your lieutenant, who is hunched over his desk doing paperwork.

He doesn't even look up; he just scribbles messily across the page. "Best adjust your tone, Sergeant," he replies, his voice low and gruff as always.

You stand your ground, arms crossed over your chest. "No," you declare, your voice firm and unwavering.

This time, he glances up at you, and his tone shifts to a lethal seriousness. "What was that?"

"I will not let you or the other guys treat me like a little kid, Ghost. I may be young, but I earned my rank, and Laswell wanted me here, so you're just going to have to deal with me," you insist, your arms flailing with anger.

He exhales sharply, setting his pen down and rubbing a hand across his masked face. "You're gettin' to be a real fuckin' pain in my ass, you know that?"

"Good. Then maybe I won't be so fucking easy to ignore," you grit out, your voice straining.

"You should be thankin' me," he suggests, leaning back in his chair with a creak.

"Thanking you?" you gawk, your eyes wide.

"You're ungrateful," he stands. "Disobedient," he mutters, moving from around the desk to walk over to you. "A real brat."

"Ghost," you start, your voice trembling as he stands right in front of you.

"Worst of all, you come in here with your chest puffed, thinkin' you can talk to me the way you did. Oh, sweetheart," he shakes his head. "You need to learn some damn manners."

“Ghost,” you urge, feeling the toe of his boots press against yours.

He shakes his head; his harsh emotions are easy to read, even with his face covered. “Get on your knees, Sergeant,” he directs firmly, his eyes looking down at you.

Your eyes widen in shock as his command catches you off guard. “Wha—what?” you stammer, confusion evident in your voice.

“Did I stutter?” he asks, his eerily voice low.

"No… I—Ghost..." you manage to stammer, your voice trembling with worry.

He twists his head to the side, clearly agitated. "You show me some goddamn respect and call me 'sir,'" he commands before turning back to meet your wide eyes and tight shoulders. "You lack the discipline needed to succeed here," he continues, resting his hands on his hips. "You haven't a single clue how mean I can be. You haven't seen me lose control. Not really," he states, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"So, I'm… what? Lucky?" you say, trying to tread lightly—or as lightly as your rebellious mouth allows. 

"Yes," he confirms without hesitation. "You are. But right now? You're tearing apart every shred of patience I have left to give. So, I’m telling you one last time: get on your knees, Sergeant."

 A fire ignites in your stomach that you despise, but you obey, sinking to the cold floor before him.

"Wasn't so hard, now was it?" he sarcastically questions. His tone makes you want to erupt in anger, but you hold back and bite your tongue. "Now, sit on my boot."

"What?" Your voice comes out more breathless than you intended as you look up at him.

He narrows his eyes, tapping his foot impatiently. You can tell he's testing your obedience. "Sit," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. 

Your mouth opens slightly as you slowly move to sit on his foot, feeling his laces and the fabric rubbing your cunt through your cargo pants.

“Good girl,” he praises, making you swallow deeply as you stare at his leg. “Use my boot, Sergeant,” he encourages through clenched teeth.

“For what?” You look up at him, your chest heaving from nervousness and adrenaline.

“For this,” he says, picking up his boot slightly to rub against you. You grab his calf and let out a stifled moan at the sensation. “Yeah. Feels damn good, huh? See what happens when you listen to me, Sergeant,” there’s condescension in his tone before his voice goes dark and low. “You get to have this greedy pussy takin’ care of.”

Your body jerks forward at his words, and you can feel yourself grind into his boot, mouth hanging open as you let out a small whimper. 

He lets out a gruff laugh, which you look up with needy eyes. “Take what you need,” he tips his head in approval towards you. 

And so you do.

Your fingers span across the back of his calf as you work your aching cunt on his boot.

Back and forth, the fire in your stomach burning hotter and brighter with every rhythmic movement.

“Look at you squirmin’ on my boot,” he murmurs, hand resting on top of your head as you wail and whine. “Like a cat in heat. Fuckin’ needy and whiny.”

You lock your arms around his leg as you feel the soft blow of your looming orgasm.

“Eyes on me,” he commands, moving his thumb to press against your pouty bottom lip.

You comply, gazing up at him as you rock yourself against the leather fabric, seeking more friction. Your eyes remain half-lidded as you watch his intimidating gaze swirl beneath the mask.

“You gonna start mindin’ me, Sergeant?” he prompts, squeezing your bottom lip between his thumb and pointer finger. “Better not mouth off again, or I’ll let Price deal with you.”

Your orgasm crashes over you as you wail into the fabric of Simon’s cargo pants, fingers digging into his calf. 

“Thanks,” he speaks after a brief moment as you are still trying to recuperate.

“For… what?” You tilt your head in confusion as you try to catch your breath.

“My boot needed a good shinin’.”

│MINI AUTHOR'S NOTE│this writing special was created because i challenged @sceletaflores to write a fic that is less than 1k words. she then challenged me to do the very same, and we thought it would be a fun challenge to share with other writers on here! remember, make sure to tag @ebodebo and @sceletaflores with #ratwritingunder1kchallenge so we can see your fics and add them to our challenge masterlist. we can't wait to see what you all come up with. mwah!

[sceletaflores]

COMING UP QUICK (GOING DOWN SLOW)

|| pedro masterlist || update blog || inbox || taglist || ao3 ||

ೃ⁀➷ PAIR: Joel Miller x fem!reader

ೃ⁀➷ WC: 999

ೃ⁀➷ FOR: the super duper fun @sceletaflores & @ebodebo #ratwritingunder1kwordschallenge

ೃ⁀➷ CONTAINS: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, set post-outbreak, unspecified age gap, joel’s pov, insecurity, lots of dirty talk cause he’s old and gross, oral sex (fem!receiving), pussy pronouns, wet & messy, come eating & swapping, we in fact now know what erectile dysfunction is in this house and we love it, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

ೃ⁀➷ ANON SAYS: Joel giving you filthy, nasty, messy oral after he comes inside you because he feels bad he can’t go for as many rounds as he used to be able to ♡

ೃ⁀➷ NAT’S NOTE: yet another installment of rylea and i being unstoppable…when we lock tf in and work as a team there’s nothing we can’t do. this all started with her daring me to write a fic under a 1k words since we all know that never happens on this blog, and ofc i can’t do a single thing without forcing her to do it too so here we are. plus we’re extra so we decided to make it a whole little challenge that anyone can do if they want! we’re just super whimsical like that. check out the masterlist here! hope y’all love it, mwah!

dividers by @cafekitsune!

joel miller always gives his girl one more round…

You’re still twitching as Joel pulls out.

Your pussy fluttering around him warm and wet like you don’t want to let him go just yet, like you don’t want to believe he’s already finished.

And fuck—neither does Joel.

He sits back on his haunches, panting like he ran a mile through mud, staring down at the mess he made between your thighs. His eyes follow the dirty trail of his come as it spills out of you, thick and slow, dripping down onto the sheets. 

He should be proud of it, the way he marked you, filled you up so good you can’t even hold it all. He used to be, his ego nice and stroked each time he’d leave his claim over you.

All he sees now is how fast it’s over.

It makes something ugly and hateful start wriggling to life beneath Joel’s skin, angry and buzzing through the hollows of his bones like bees. It’s all different now, his body doesn’t obey like it used to. He can’t stand it.

Joel’s age was never something that bothered you. It never put you off or made you stop wanting him—but the two of you have been together for a good while now, and he’s only getting older.

You're still young, in the prime of your life. All bright eyed and fiery and you're wasting it on a bitter old man who can barely get his dick up anymore. Joel’s more weathered, worn. Old bones and greying hair, more and more creases decorating the skin of his face.

Still, you never complain.

All that doesn’t change how you look at him like he hung the damn moon, and he tries his best to believe it. Tries his best to believe it when you tell him that he’s enough, but he knows better. 

You deserve more than one or two rounds before his cock is spent and lying uselessly limp on his thigh, his body aching and swamped with exhaustion. 

A younger man would have flipped you over and fucked you all damn night. Would’ve made you come again and again without breaking a sweat. Would’ve kept going until your thighs were shaking and your pussy was swollen and well fucked.

Joel used to be that man. 

“Used to” is a phrase that pisses him off more than he’d ever admit.

Joel’s not the man he used to be, so he does what he can. 

You’re still laid out for him—sweat dotted along your skin, thighs shaking, and pretty, so goddamn pretty. And somehow, he’s the one who gets to see you like this, warm and panting like you’re starved for more.

He’d never leave you like that, something buried deep in his gut just won’t let him.

So now, even as his cock flags between his legs and the muscle of his thighs ache with something fierce, he lowers himself anyway. The comforter makes soft shushing sounds under his palms, bunching around his knees as he settles between your legs.

“Joel?” Your head rises off the pillow, a confused little pinch between your brows. “Come back here, s’cold.”

He doesn’t answer, just trails kisses over the sweaty skin of your leg. Over the jagged scar across your left hip, over the bend of your knee, over the crease where your thigh meets your pelvis.

Lower and lower until his warm breath ghosts over the glossy expanse of your pussy.

“Look at that,” Joel murmurs, voice low and hoarse, like it scrapes up from the pit of his stomach. “Shit. You make me so fuckin’ proud, baby.”

His fingers part your lips, spreading you wide. “Still fuckin’ twitchin’,” he murmurs, dragging his knuckle over your entrance. “Poor thing’s still hungry, ain’t she?”

You open your mouth to say something—something reassuring, probably, something sweet he doesn’t deserve—but you never get the chance.

Joel bends low and licks a fat, slow drag up the slick mess he made between your legs.

He groans into your pussy—vulgar, guttural. The taste of you and him tangled together hits his tongue. Salt and sweat and musk and something sweeter. That thick, filthy taste of his come still leaking out of you and into his mouth.

You cry out, hips bucking, but he just grabs your thighs tighter, pins you down, keeps going. “Joel—shit, oh my god—”

“That’s it, sweet thing.” He presses a wet kiss over your clit, your thighs twitch around his head. “Taste’s so fuckin’ good, creamy little pussy’s makin’ your old man’s mouth water.”

You cry out when he drags his tongue up the mess leaking down your folds, catching every drop, sloppier than he’s ever been. Filthy, desperate sounds coming from his mouth—wet slurps, heavy breathing, growls low in his throat.

You’re close already. He feels it when you start to shake. Hears the way your voice cracks when you cry his name. “Joel—Joel, I’m gonna—fuck—”

“Go on, baby. Wanna feel you come. Wanna taste how sweet this pussy gets for me.”

Your thighs clamp tight around his head when it hits you, back arching, pussy spasming around his fingers like it’s trying to milk them, and Joel fuckin’ growls into you. Keeps his tongue on you through every wave, licking and sucking and moaning like a goddamn animal.

When it gets to be too much, when your feet start kicking at his shoulders and your breath catches on a sob, then he pulls back.

But not for long.

Joel crawls up the shaking length of your body, cranes his neck down and kisses you before he can stop himself. His lips fit perfectly with yours, slotting together slow and deep. You moan into his mouth, arms snaking around his neck as he glides his tongue over yours so you can taste it all. 

You. Him. The pure need pulsing through his veins.

It’s too much. It’s not enough.

“Let me do it again,” Joel begs against your lips. “Let me make it up to you, darlin’.”

And he does.

MINI NAT'S NOTE: love how i constantly yap about fucking that old man while i myself am toting around three (3) new knee braces, roll on icy hot, AND a super fancy prescribed pain cream at all times…like babes, you ARE the old man. he’d be digging in my purse for the extra strength advil just as much as i am.

also to the anon that sent this in…thank you. thank you so much. this is exactly what i needed, both in and out of the context of this challenge LMAO. i can’t tell you how much i struggled with this whole thing, like i literally started and scrapped two fics before i found this god send of an ask wrongfully collecting dust in my inbox. i hope you’re freak has been matched and you love it.

thank you so much for reading chickens, love you!

[ebodebo]

— #RATWRITINGUNDER1KCHALLENGE

࿔ RULES ࿔ write a fic about any character from any fandom, but it must be 1k words or less.ᐟ make sure to tag @ebodebo & @sceletaflores with #ratwritingunder1kchallenge, so we can see your fic and add it down below.

࿔ DEADLINE ࿔ july 31st.ᐟ

࿔ NOTE FROM HOSTS ࿔ we thought we should explain the name of our challenge lmao it’s literally just a combination of our names: rylea and nat, which make rat. we thought it was cute and simple, so we used it.ᐟ

have fun, we can’t wait to see what you come up with.ᐟ

check out submissions below.ᐟ (individual warnings may apply)

— SIMON RILEY

these boots are made for walkin’ by @ebodebo

SPOILED SUMMER by @annwe24

— JOEL MILLER

COMING UP QUICK (GOING DOWN SLOW) by @sceletaflores

THANKS FOR PARTICIPATING! LOVE RYLEA & NAT!