Call Me Officer
Banner Credit: cbv3rwhxre Divider Credit: HERE
Pairing soldier boy x f!reader
Warnings ice cube play/kink, officerxprisoner rp, smut, fluff, profanities, teasing, spanking (occurs once), begging, crying, licking, nibbling, comfort, some overstimulation
Word count 3605
You have a hawkish stance with your opponent, sleep, who you have not been able to conquer for a copious amount of days. On the bright side, you have the perseverance of a fighter. Therefore, you heroically buy a sword to fight your opponent to succumb to your needs. This sword you purchased comes in a form that does not entail violence, unless you count battling your cells and brain activity as violence. This sword has various weapons coalesced into one, such as antihistamines that block histamines (an wretched enemy that makes your body alert), and melatonin that fights to promote sleep in your sleepridden body, and lastly valerian that coos your nervous system to be calm so your sleep can be of great quality.
Yes, you are so deprived of sleep, you read about the mechanisms of how your swords work in ways that are unequivocally insignificant to you. You plop your sword, which is in the form of a pill into your mouth.
“Put your hands up.”
You freeze. You recognize the deep gruff voice of a man who basks in power. A man who manipulates women to his liking, a man whose new victim is you. Your shoulders become stiff and the pace of your heart beat quickens that the rate of a butterfly's wings vehemently flapping.
With pin drop silence, you lift your hands in the air, complying to him for the umpteenth time.
“You have the right to remain silent, my dear.” You gradually turn around to see Soldier Boy. In doing so, your flowy silk dress brushes against your legs, reminding you of the feeling you dolorously yearn for when he had brushed himself upon your legs. He has a cocky smirk plastered on his beautiful telegenic face. He holds his right hand out with the chain of the hand cuffs drooping down his pointer finger. You breathe in his ravishing statuesque look that makes your pussy have a heart beat of her own.
Your breath hitches as he advances towards you. He walks as if the integrity of the floor is treacherous leading to your supposition that he is intoxicated. He gets close to you to a point your propinquity enables you to pick up the smell of alcohol drifting from him, vis-a-vis he picks up the arousal lingering off of you.
His insatiable breath flies upon your face, as if he is teasing you that he will touch you. The only touch you had been graced was your dress flowing on you. Your nipples coarsen through the thin silk fabric that shields it, his eyes falter, noticing. Your body twitches a bit, craving for him to brush his giantesque frame against you. But he takes his sweet torturous time to merely stand behind you.
He circles his toasty large hands around your lifted right arm. You’re afraid your palms will break out in a sweat, but he would not notice as he coils his fingers around your wrists. He brings your left hand at your back concomitant to the front of your back dimples.
His other hand, brings your right arm to fall as gracefully as a swan, all to have both your wrists constrained by his left hand. You can feel your clit tingling and becoming tumid, as you slowly begin to become breathless.
With extreme ease, he roughly pulls you back, towards him. He does it with a libidinous intent, as you can feel his monolithic bulge in his suit pressing against your bum. Your mouth parts as you gasp, relishing his touch as you are ready to melt under him like chocolate. You slightly crease your eyebrows, as your stomach churns due to how unsatisfied you are of his touch. You want more, you crave more. You are so desperate, that you are willing to claw your way through anything in order to obtain the passionate desire he ignites in you.
With his bulge still barely pressing against you, he uses his left hand that is holding both your wrists to direct you to the bed. You feel utterly crestfallen at the lack of friction he purposefully controlled. He is a god damn tease. The bed is a mere five steps in front of the both of you. He makes you sit on the edge of the bed. The mattress presses slightly under you, however, like the dress and his bulge, the force of the touch is painfully too insignificant to please you. He has not cuffed you yet, yet your wrist stays as frozen as a statue.
“We’ve got to get you in your prisoner uniform, doll.” He remarks as his mossy green eyes ogle as your silk night dress adorned with delicate and diaphanous chiffon ruffles. He can tell the hardness your nipples once had has fizzled out. His eyes maunders upon your cleavage. Your dress reveals a great amount of your cleavage, that if you move with some twists and turns, it is capable of revealing the entirety of your bare breasts.
“Oh.” You softly whisper, as your eyes are locked on his viridian eyes. He reciprocates, by staring right back at you, something he is colossally exceptional at.
His warm tender fingers gently slide off the strap of your dress. He watches the strap fall gracefully, with his fingers lingering on your shoulder. Your shoulder begins to feel a bit chilly, as he removes his warm pleasant fingers to repeat his actions for your other strap. Once the last strap is unable to latch onto your shoulder, it immediately causes your dress to glide as smoothly as butter. Your breasts become exposed. Your nipples congeal once more the moment air kisses them.
Your neck cranes up, as your eyes stare as a man unequivocally nowhere as close to being tenderfoot when it comes to sex, “What have I done wrong, officer?” You query with completely faux innocence, nibbling on your bottom lip.
He chuckles at the sight that makes his dick throb in the beat of the pornhub introduction drums, “Make me harder than Cassy Teal has ever done” he coos.
Sensually, his fingers pokily trickle down your hip, and then latches on to your dress, and continues sliding his fingers down to your calves. You lie supine, but you lift your legs, to assist him in giving you only the dignity of a silk panty as pink as cherry blossoms.
He throws your silk dress to the side, that falls down in a lissome manner. Once it has fallen, Soldier Boy turns his head back to you. His jade eyes gleam, as his fingers sneak under the portion of the strap of your dainty panty that rests your hip bone. He causes your panty to descend; he does not pause when you are completely bare to him. When he notices the gusset of your panty sodden, he does not pause. He only pauses when the only cloth touching you is the bedsheet you lie upon.
“Whoops.” He smirks, admiring the beauty of your face, “We have run out of the prisoner uniforms.”
You bite your bottom lip as a flimsy attempt to hide the raw sticky happiness that came from his 11 words. However, you are as transparent as glass to him, causing him to have a noxious smirk.
“It’s alright,” you whisper, trying to play it off, as your chest heaves up and down, causing your breasts to subtly jiggle.
“Well, allow me to take you to your cell, darling.” He once more grabs your wrists, and drags you lying supine from the edge of the bed to the head board, “Since you are placed in high security, you must be cuffed.”
Before you have any time to react, the gelid metal cuff wraps around your left hand first causing shivers down your body to your core. He weaves the cuff on the head board, and introduces the last bone-chilling cuffs on your right wrist.
With your hands locked above your head, you resort to huffing to fly the stray hair tickling your face. Soldier Boy benignantly wipes his hand on your face, brushing away the hair. However, his large left hand remains on the majority of your right cheek that is slowly becoming florid.
He grunts as he comforts himself above you in your supine position with his left hand remaining on your supple and glabrous face. He reaches out his right arm to the bed side table.
“Who says a police officer and a prisoner cannot have fun?” His emerald green eyes become radiant as they glow. He burrows his right hand in the bucket that rests on the side table. You head lulls to the side. You look at his hand, the hand that you are voracious for it to penetrate somewhere that is as tight as a hose, not the cavernous opening of a bucket.
You perk your eyebrow up, as it seems to you that Soldier Boy must be parched. The bucket holds champagne bottles, from the celebration earlier. However, the champagne bottles are kept mollifyingly frosty due to the ubiquitous ice cubes bountifully sprinkled around the bottle.
“I don’t fuck with the formal pussy crap champagne.” He groans for the umpteenth time, as he has an affinity for manhattans.
His groan causes your clit to tingle a little bit. His hand rummages around the bucket until he finds an ice cube that has not begun weaning into its other form.
He glissades his whole large frame down you, until his sublime face just hovers against your stomach. Because his left hand remains on your right cheek, you tilt your head to the right. The tips of his strong fingers brush and twitch against your plump, soft, and greedy lips. You gently and cordially pepper some clement kisses on the tips of his fingers.
You softly smile, as you feel a bit cheeky and brash. You begin to tease his finger, by meticulously licking the tips. However, you don’t lather your tongue or spit…not yet.
In response, he readjusts his silky smooth arm to skim over your right nipple. You softly whimper, as the sensation your nipple undergoed was too light to your liking. Instead of giving attention to your ablazing nipple, he gently pierces his fingers into the wet warmth of your luscious pink lips that are in front of your pearly whites.
He brings out an ice cube, causing your eyebrows to furrow. With a risque smirk, he rests the ice cube right above your belly button. A gasp breaks out from you, completely halting the action you inflicted on his fingers that he gleefully faced.
You become stunned at how nippy the ice cube is on your junoesque skin. Your nipples temporarily harden once more. Both of you know his left arm over your right nipple can feel the hardness poking him. You suck in your stomach due to the ice cube. In response, the ice cube slowly slides down towards your pussy, leaving its watery snail trail.
Soldier Boy halts the ice cube in its place seconds before it would have reached your desirous needy core, as if he properly timed it as a slight tease. He glides the cube back up to your belly button, causing you to produce a susurrus at the algidness attacking your body. He leans down, with his wet and in contrast, tepid tongue playfully roaming over the snail trail. His beard scraps against your skin, not as callously as an exfoliant and not as lightly as a feather.
You abruptly suck in your stomach and jolt, as you begin to sonorously giggle. His face tickles you, causing your legs to move in fetal position. Actually, your legs did a pathetic attempt to move in the fetal position, the elephantine man on top of you restrained your legs from doing so. Your back and legs still attempt to pathetically crimp.
He completely disregards your titters as his tongue glides upon your lower belly, sometimes in zig zags, sometimes in a straight line. Your vocal cords let out a melange of a cacophonous laugh and a soft moan, relishing this exact moment. You guys have never done this before, therefore, you fail to anticipate what comes next. However, the excitement is one factor for the wetness you caused below you.
He once more moves the ice cube, making a grotesque unsymmetrical watery heart upon your ribcage. Afterall, he is America’s hero, not an artist. You deeply suck in, in response to the ice cube, making your ribs ever so faintly visible. You bite your lower lip, trying to subdue your reaction of being tickled.
“Suck.” He barks an order, as he shoves the ice cube into your mouth, “Do not bite.”
You comply, sucking in the ice cube with hints of your body lotion. You disregard the extra spice. You drink the water oozing from the ice cube, concomitant to Soldier Boy licking the cockeyed heart he created upon you.
Your eyelids flutter shut, becoming a bit overwhelmed from the warm wetness of his tongue, and the cold wetness of the ice cube. You attempt to clench your thighs shut, causing him to press his chest deeper into your thighs to make sure you are not impermeable.
Soldier Boy takes out the ice cube from you, and he himself sucks on the ice cube. You look in complete awe, as his blooming thick mauve lips become glossy with the wetness. Some of the water droops down his beard and patters onto your bare skin, however, your lustful gaze stays upon him.
He takes out the ice cube and drags it along where the wire of your bralette typically would rest. His tongue slowly chases where the cube goes, causing you to sink your head in the pillow concomitant to you letting out a deep guttural groan to a point you are undulating.
The feeling of being tickled has flown away, as he is now focusing on your chest. He removes his left arm that was resting upon your nipple. You momentarily furrow your eyebrows, as he has redacted his warmth, inviting the cool air to make your nipple protrude. You ever so slightly frown at the lack of balance of how one nipple is hard and the other is soft.
He grabs the sides of your ribs. The ice cube has gotten significantly smaller, as its lost liquid is robust upon your torso. Soldier Boy once more places the ice cube in his mouth. You gently tug at the chains, yearning to have the pads of your fingers roam upon his scalp. And to tug his head in the direction you please, just you cannot decide whether you want him to go up or down.
Soldier Boy graces your ribs with feathery kisses, in contrast, his beard scrapes against you. Once more, you can’t help but let out some laughs of raw joy and glee. Your pearly whites are showcased and you can feel him smile against you.
Suddenly, you gasp, as he drops the ice cube from his mouth onto you. The navigates it to rove on you; the ice cube feels so cold to a point it feels like it is sizzling hot.
Soldier Boy grins, as he stops roving the ice cube, as he maneuvers it to draw two circles tangent to each other.
“BEN!” you squeal, “You’re a child!”
He swiftly spanks your breast, “Officer.” He glares, correcting you.
“Sorry, Officer.” You pout, with your wide naughty eyes staring at him.
He can’t hold it in, as he laughs as he heads back to his canvas and finishes drawing a large dick, in all the meanwhile, the room is filled with your lavish laughs.
He begins lathering his tongue on your ribcage, circling around your bellybutton, and even nibbling you. When you close your eyes shut in pure peace, he shatters it. He places the ice cube upon you, with its coldness giving a sense of discomfort that you oddly like.
He drifts the ice cube until it becomes non-existent. He lifts some of his weight off you, as he fetches another ice cube.
Soldier Boy gently rests his chin upon your liver, with his eyes sparkling of adoration. He holds a sultry countenance along with a cheeky smile. He serenely circles the ice cube on the circumference of your right breast. He leisurely brings the ice cube closer to your nipple in a spiral direction.
With a couple more spirals, the ice cube would touch your nipple. That is when those emerald eyes scan your face, intently looking at how it will pinch, twist, and contort.
You look back, with eyes not as big as how eager your nipples are becoming, a mouth parted suddenly dry, a tongue brushing upon the lower lip as your other set of lips as left alone.
“Yes.” you softly moan, as the ice cube is getting beautifully close to your right nipple. This is what you have been waiting for. Your chest heaves up and down in anticipation.
“No!” You keen, prepared to throw a hissy fit, you dig your finger nails in your palms in anger as you tug the chains.
A sinful chuckle erupts from Soldier Boy, as he traverses the ice cube around your nipple, it glides upon the many radii of your breast that it is making the petals of a flower.
“Please…Officer please.” you mewl with your head lulled in sorrow.
He ignores your pleads, as he continues his way with you - exactly how he wants. You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing your head in the pillow, groaning.
“Please Officer.” you cry weakly with tears ready to stream down your florid cheeks.
The ice cube runs throughout the entirety of your breast but not your desirous nipple.
You sigh with the utmost sorrow, your lips part ready to beg, but nothing comes out. Why? Because you are frankly frustrated.
Finally your vocal cords begin to work, just it makes your voice crack, “Officer please.”
He still disregards you. The ice cube is almost gone, like your patience. You and the ice cube cannot do anything about it.
“Ben.” you make a feeble sob.
“You win, doll.” He rasps, as he slowly brings the ice cube next to your nipple.
A small smile spreads across your face, your toes curl. Your thighs clench, and you suck in a deep breath making your breasts rise. You keep your breast raised in anticipation.
You can feel his heavy gaze upon you, however, you are looking at your right nipple and the ice cube that just needs to move just a bit to please you.
Not even a second. Probably quicker than a millisecond he swiftly brushes the ice cube quicker than a cheetah, upon your nipple.
Tears stream out of your eyes at how frustrated you are. Your eyelids close your eyes like a wrinkled waterproof blanket. However, you do not want to open them.
“Did I not tell you to call me officer?” Soldier Boy sternly responds feeling no remorse for the wetness on your face that is not caused by the ice cube.
In response, you turn your head away from him. You do not want to give him the satisfaction he already has of seeing you like this. He is unfazed, as he continues allowing the ice cube to be Dora the Explorer on your breast (not your nipple).
Your breasts heave up and down, as the tears stream down your face quicker than basking oneself in the shower water.
“Stop crying like a fucking baby.” Soldier Boy’s voice bellows through the room.
If he does not listen to you, why should you? You cry louder with raucous cries.
“Stop it.” He sneers.
“NO!” You yeet out of your throat with energy depleting.
You start throwing your legs in a puerile manner, making the sheet awry. Soldier Boy grabs your legs, as he lies prone above you. He tries to control you, stopping you from moving so vigorously. You are beginning to get exhausted, and your interest is evaporating at a quick pace.
That is when you feel it. Unbidden, the thick press of his tongue, right upon the ablazing bundle of nerves your nipple holds.
Your cries die down, as the majority of it was sheer drama. You do get what you want in the long run.
Your wrists may be cuffed, but you finally feel free. Your nipple becomes hard, as he scraps his teeth against it. Soft moans break through you. He flicks it rapidly with his tongue, causing you to melt into the sheets. The warm sheets welcome you to close your eyes and give in. Your eyes widen. The sword. No! The sleeping pill!
“You like that, huh?” He speaks with his lips pressed against your nipple.
“Mhm.” You smile, groaning in pure pleasure, trying to shoo away your thoughts of how the sleeping pill is beginning to make you drowsy. A yawn threatens to break out of you. But you will not give in. You will not allow sleep to beckon you.
He speaks with his deep gruff voice, “The other one deserves love too.” he smirks, intently eyeing you once more.
However, all he has are eyes that are droppier than Soldier Boy before he saw you. Right as he is hovering above your left nipple, seconds before his mouth plays with it, a darkness invades your senses, inviting you to win the battle you awaited for so long. However this victory cost you the loss of another battle, dare I say, a more imperative battle you wish you could have prioritized.
Authors note this is my first time trying to write good smut! I hope you like it!
@supern0va03
