Can I put in the request for Ben to “support the fine arts?” 🤣
A/N: Hahaha you may! Hope you have fun with this! Based on this drabble and this little ask 😝
Pairing: Soldier Boy x F!Reader
Warnings: +18/NSFW, smut (oral m), degrading, dirty talk, weird jealousy on both side, SB being a manipulative asshole
Word Count: 2.5k
Main Masterlist || Dirty Drabbles Masterlist
He Comes In Colors
The chatter in the classroom quiets down as your teacher, Mrs. Fournier, enters. You and your friends finish your sentences in hush and take your seats in front of your respective easels, not wanting to upset the strict, older lady again.
But instead of her usual cantankerous and bitter features, she sports an unusually bright smile and pinkly flushed cheeks today, still giggling like a schoolgirl over a crush and looking in the direction of the hallway as she walks to her desk.
Bashfully, she clears her throat and fights to regain her composure. “Class, we have a change of plans. I know we were supposed to devote our attention to the intricacies of nature today, but an opportunity presented itself we simply cannot pass up on. We have a very special guest this beautiful afternoon, who so graciously volunteered to be our model for this class.”
Your chest tightens slightly at her words, encumbered with a dark forewarning that settles in your gut. And as you catch a flicker of an all too familiar sage green kimono by the door, the bad omen in your belly only grows.
He wouldn’t dare, you think. Would he?
But you don’t have to answer your own question. Deep down you already know.
Of course, he would.
“Ladies and gentlemen, meet our model for today – the one and only Soldier Boy,” Mrs. Fournier introduces, and you watch with parted lips as your stupid boyfriend strides into the classroom with an even stupider grin.
Mrs. Fournier claps with vivid adoration, expecting the class to follow her lead, but you can’t bring yourself to give him more than an annoyed slow clap. You shoot him a glare, and the smirk directed at you tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing. He aims to get on your nerves. He wants you to be mad.
Now, you’re sure you’ve done something in the last couple of days to upset him, and this is his way to enact his revenge instead of talking to you like an emotionally intelligent human being. Because Ben’s a fucking petty child, and this is how he deals with his feelings.
Ben offers his most charming red-carpet smile. “Pleasure to be here and support the fine arts, Mrs.–”
“Fournier,” your teacher provides all too helpfully.
“Ah, like fornicate. I can remember that,” Ben quips with a flirtatious smirk, while you suppress the sudden urge to stab him with the sharp end of your paintbrush.
You half expect the French woman to be appalled by the dirty joke. But to your big surprise, your over-sixty teacher only giggles in response like a high school freshman when the quarterback winks at her in the hallway.
“It is such an honor to have you here in my classroom, Soldier Boy,” Mrs. Fournier raves with a blush haunting her cheeks. “You have been my favorite superhero ever since I was a little girl.”
“Oh, so only ten years, huh?” Ben flirts shamelessly, all the while sending you little glances that let you know that this is your punishment.
Do you have a clue yet what you did? Nope! And you suppose you will never find out. You just have to get through this.
“Well, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”
Soldier Boy devilishly rubs his palms together as he struts into the middle of the room, and with one flawless swing, he drops the robe and stands before you (and your classmates) in all his god-given glory. And boy, did God give – not only with two hands but probably with six or seven.
Mrs. Fournier gasps unabashedly with a palm on her weak heart and goddamn drool in your mouth, causing your frown only to deepen.
“Marvelous! Simply marvelous,” she rhapsodizes and is close to fainting. Of course, your boyfriend enjoys all this attention greatly. “It’s like staring at the statue of David!”
“Oh, please…” you mutter with a miffed scoff and roll your eyes back, but that only earns you a scolding glare from your teacher. You know then that showing your displeasure with the situation will only secure you a failing grade.
Ben then props his foot up on a little stool right in front of you, his cock hanging heavy and long between his muscular bow legs. And no, it’s not inflated to its full size but still as impressive and formidable as a lion king during a safari.
His gaze only sweeps across you before it lingers on your friend Alexander. There’s a cocky and yet threatening glint in your boyfriend’s eyes as he assesses the male next to you.
“Remarkable, isn’t it?” Soldier Boy prompts daringly. Only your boyfriend could talk about his dick like that and not even feel an ounce of shame. “Don’t worry, squirt. I’m sure yours is just fine,” he adds, but you know he doesn’t mean it.
And then, suddenly, it dawns on you – why he has decided to infiltrate your art class.
Two nights ago, you went out with Alexander and a few other friends from class for drinks and didn’t invite Ben. Mostly because Ben is obnoxious when he meets new people and is a little too “old-school values” for your hipster friends. It would take ages alone to even explain all their different sexualities and pronouns to your last-century boyfriend. You just wanted one night for yourself, and you knew now that hurt his feelings.
You even felt a tiny bit bad and guilty but by far not enough to accept this current shit show he was delivering.
“Oh my, I don’t want to be too forward but may I–” Your teacher doesn’t finish her sentence, but her reaching hand is suggestion enough.
Soldier Boy chuckles amusedly. “Oh, you may,” he says but smirks at you as you gape at him in utter indignation. “What kind of hero would I be, if I said no? After all, this body belongs to every American citizen.”
And as Mrs. Fournier’s greedy palm stretches for your boyfriend’s perky buttcheek, something inside you snaps. You jump up from your seat, all wild and fuming, before you realize everyone is staring at you with wide eyes and confused brows. No one knows you’re dating him, so your upset seems completely unwarranted to everyone else in the room. Only Ben’s lips rise triumphantly.
“Be-… Soldier Boy,” you correct yourself and clear your throat, forcing a tight-lipped smile on your face. “A word, please?”
“Y/N, we’re in the middle of a class. Show our guest some respect,” your teacher demands chidingly.
But Ben soothes her anger with another charming smile. “Oh, absolutely no problem, beautiful,” he says and causes Mrs. Fournier to blush once more. “Y/N here is clearly an adoring fan, and I always have time for my fans.”
“Yes, I’m a huge fan. I’ve never met a real celebrity before. My grandma will be so thrilled when I tell her all about it,” you lie as dryly as possible. Honestly, you’re so pissed you can’t get yourself to act remotely convincing.
“We’ll be right back,” Ben excuses with a tight smile.
He quickly throws his robe back on and grabs your upper arm, ushering you outside. You want to stop in the hallway, but he drags you further and shoves you into a supply closet, closing the door a little too roughly.
“You know the rules: no fucking drama in public. It’s not good for my image,” he reminds you sternly, and you try not to scoff.
“How dare you say that after waltzing into my goddamn class? Ben, my education is serious. You don’t mess with that,” you point out angrily and fold your arms over your tits. “I don’t have time for your petty revenge.”
“Yeah, you never have fucking time,” he huffs scornfully.
“Is this because I didn’t invite you for drinks with my friends?” You cock an eyebrow, shooting him a knowing look.
“No, this is because you went out with that fucking empty nutsack in there,” he bites and points an angry finger at you. “And by the way, you’d be fucking lucky to show me off. I’m a fucking catch! Have you seen how those bitches fawned over me in there?”
“Who? Mrs. Fournier? That old hag hasn’t seen any action since the French Revolution. She’d fawn over a fucking trash bag,” you retort and watch Ben purse his lips dejectedly. You smirk a little at your win.
But you don’t want to antagonize him more. You can tell that you hurt his fragile ego with your rejection, and while he fucking annoys you and drives you incredibly mad sometimes, you’re still deeply in love with the idiot in front of you. He does have his sweet moments every once in a while. He comes in many colors, a whole palette of different shades.
“Look, uhm, I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean to, okay? I don’t want you to be jealous. You have no reason to be, alright? I love you, asshole,” you tell him with a small smile.
“Fine, maybe I was a little jealous,” he admits after a beat. “But not of that scrawny twinkie in there.”
“Alright, maybe I was a little jealous, too,” you remark to make him feel better. “But not of that old French whore in there.” Ben snorts at that, chuckling. “So, do you forgive me and get the fuck outta my class now?”
Ben muses slyly and then grins. “I don’t think that apology was good enough.” Your brow draws into a deep frown at his words. Whatever has gotten into his mind now can’t be good. “They do say an apology is only worthy if it’s said on someone’s knees.”
You glare at him, your hands balling into furious fists by your side. “You gotta be kidding me…” you mutter and hiss through your teeth, “Ben, I’m not fucking blowing you in the supply closet of my school!”
Ben only shrugs carelessly. “Alright, guess I’ll have to ask Mrs. French Whore and see if she takes me up on my offer.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” you grit.
“Oh, we both know I would, but I do prefer your beautiful and warm mouth, doll,” Ben smirks, letting each word roll off his tongue as his thumb pad reaches out and seductively traces your pink lips.
Instinctively, you suck his thumb into your mouth and massage it with your tongue, only widening his brash smile. As your eyes flicker down, you notice his rock-hard cock push through the fabric of the kimono and salute you. Your legs grow wobbly at the sight, your knees giving in with the urge to bend.
“Down,” he mouths, and you oblige without another protest, sinking to your knees in front of him.
You part your lips and stick your tongue out, ready to welcome his swollen tip. He fists his length and jerks his palm up and down a few times. He likes it to be as big as possible. He loves to see you struggle as you desperately try to fit all of him inside your tiny mouth.
His free hand lifts your chin, forces your eyes to find his as he guides his cock to your waiting mouth. He plops it on your tongue, heavy and thick, and lets it rest there for a second, gauging your reaction with a knowing smirk. You seal your lips around his weeping tip without question, your tongue swirling around it and dipping into the slit. You lick the salty precum with moans of pleasure, your hums sending vibrations up and down his length as your head begins to bob.
With each swallow you get closer to his pelvic bone, but Ben’s impatient and fists his hand into your hair. He roughly tugs and pulls you all the way down till your nose disappears in the little tuft of hair and tears stream down your cheeks as you cough for air.
“Yeah, that’s it, baby girl. Choke on my cock, you little slut,” he growls. His hips rock and find a rhythm as he thrusts inside you, hitting the back of your throat each time. “Fuck, that’ll teach you a lesson, won’t it? Who do you fucking belong to?”
He pulls you off his spit-drenched cock for the sole reason of replying. You look up at him as he expectantly meets your gaze with an arched eyebrow.
“You, daddy,” you reply on command.
He smirks in satisfaction and praises you, “There’s my good girl.” He tightens his grip on your hair and pushes back inside you. “Gonna send you back in with my cum all over you. Show those little pricks they can’t fucking touch what’s mine.”
As his hips gain speed, you hollow your cheeks and suck harder, feeling him swell on your tongue. Your jaw begins to ache, barely fitting his girth while his massive length drills relentlessly into your throat. Drool dribbles out from the sides of your mouth and mixes with your tears. Your mascara is nonexistent at this point and smeared all over your face.
And you know damn well, as soon as you walk back into class, everyone will know what you did.
“Such a good little whore for me,” Ben groans and pistons deeper once more, squeezing his eyes shut. You know it’s his telltale sign that he's close. “You’re such a fucking mess. Shit, gonna blow…”
He grunts as his hips stutter and his cock throbs in your mouth. He shoots hot ropes of cum down your throat, pulling out in the midst to paint your face with the rest. God knows he would never miss an opportunity to mark you. And when he’s done with his piece of sublime artwork, he smirks down at you, all self-satisfied and proud.
But then a bit of sweetness returns as he holds out his hands and helps you back on your feet. He gently tucks and brushes your hair back into place before snatching a roll of paper towels from the rack of art supplies behind you. He thoroughly cleans your face, removing any evidence of his deed, and kisses your hairline like you’re his most prized possession when he’s finished.
“There, all done, doll.” Ben’s smile makes you blush as he cups your cheeks. “No one will be the fucking wiser.”
As the two of you saunter back inside, no one seems to suspect anything. You get back to your original seat, while Ben invents some silly excuse to get out of his naked commitment.
But then Alexander tilts his head at you with a furrowed brow and narrowed eyes, his finger pointing at his own cheek. “Y/N, uhm, I think you have something there. Oh, uhm, is that…”
He doesn’t finish as your eyes widen and your cheeks redden in embarrassment. Your shocked gaze darts to your boyfriend as he lingers by the door. With one last cunning smirk, he winks at you and heads out.
Yes, your boyfriend surely comes in many colors – and most of them are dark.
And yes, you bet your ass Ben was crushing hard on Mrs. Fournier 😂 Hope you enjoyed this!
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