babysitting duty | soldier boy
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pairing : soldier boy x reader
warnings : 18+ MDNI, enemies to lovers, smut, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it guys), dirty talk
a/n : hi loves, this is my first time writing smut so it might not be the best but enjoy!!
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The motel room smelled like stale cigarettes and cheap air freshener that made your nose wrinkle the moment you stepped through the door. Butcher stood near the tiny window with that familiar look in his eyes, meaning that he was about to ask you to do something you definitely wouldn't like.
"Absolutely not," you said before he could even open his mouth.
"You haven't even heard what I'm asking yet, love."
"I don't need to. That look on your face says it all." You dropped your bag on the nearest chair, already regretting coming to this godforsaken motel in the first place.
Butcher sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I need someone to stay here and keep an eye on our guest. Hughie was supposed to do it but something's come up and I need him with me."
"Your guest?" You raised an eyebrow. "What guest requires babysitting?"
As if on cue, the bathroom door opened and your blood ran cold.
Soldier Boy stepped out, wearing plain grey sweatpants and a blue t-shirt.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," you breathed.
"This psycho?" You laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. "Butcher, you do know how many people he’s killed right? And you want me to babysit him like he's a fucking toddler?"
Ben’s eyes were fixed on you and there was something in the way he looked at you that made your skin prickle.
"I don't need a babysitter," he said, his voice rough. "Especially not some mouthy brat."
"Mouthy brat?" You turned and glared at him. "Oh, that's rich coming from you."
His jaw clenched and you saw anger flash in his eyes. Good. Let him be pissed. You weren't about to play nice with him just because Butcher needed a favor.
"Look," Butcher said. "I know it's not ideal but I need someone I trust keeping an eye on him. Someone who can handle themselves if shit goes sideways. That's you."
"Flattery isn't going to work."
"I'm not trying to flatter you. I'm telling you the truth." Butcher's expression softened slightly. "Please. It’s just a few hours, I'll owe you one."
You stared at him, weighing your options. You could walk out right now and leave Butcher to figure out his own mess. But as much as you hated to admit it, he was right, if Soldier Boy was going to be part of taking down Homelander, he needed to be kept in check.
"Fine," you said finally. "But you owe me more than one. You owe me a whole fucking list."
Butcher let out a sigh of relief and grinned. "That's my girl."
He grabbed his coat and headed for the door, pausing to point a warning finger at Soldier Boy. "You. Behave. Don't make me regret this."
Soldier Boy raised his hands in mock surrender, an infuriating smirk playing at his lips. "Scout's honor."
And then you were alone with one of the most dangerous supes in America.
The silence that stretched between you was thick and uncomfortable. Soldier Boy moved to the mini-fridge, pulling out beer after beer and lining them up on the table.
Then he moved on to the food, eating like a man who hadn't seen food in decades, which you thought wasn't far from the truth.
You watched him as he shoved an entire box of noodles into his mouth, sauce dripping down his chin. He washed it down with half a beer and reached for another box.
"Do you have to eat like that?" you asked, unable to hide the disgust in your voice.
He looked at you, still chewing and shrugged. "I've been locked in a box for forty years. Excuse me for enjoying some real fucking food."
"There's enjoying food and then there's eating like an animal."
"You got a problem with how I eat, you can leave."
"Unfortunately, I can’t go anywhere."
He snorted, cracking open another beer. "Trust me, sweetheart, the feeling's mutual. I don't need some uptight bitch watching my every move."
"Excuse me?" You stood up, anger flaring hot in your chest. "You don't know anything about me."
"I know enough. I know you're one of Butcher's little followers, running around playing hero while us the real heroes do the actual work."
"Real heroes?" You laughed, sharp and cutting. "You're not a hero. You're a failed experiment that was locked away in the middle of Russia."
His expression darkened, and he set down his beer with deliberate slowness. "Watch your mouth."
"Or what? You'll kill me like you killed all those people in Midtown? Like you're killing your own team?" You knew you were pushing him and that you should stop but your anger had taken hold of you.
"You're nothing but a tool. And the moment you're not useful anymore, Butcher will put you back in that box where you belong."
Soldier Boy stood up and suddenly the room felt much smaller. He was way taller but you refused to back down, refused to show fear even as your heart hammered against your ribs.
"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," he growled.
"Don't I? I've read your file. I know what all you have done."
"You don't know shit." He took a step closer and you could smell the beer on his breath. "You think you're better than me? You think because you're on Butcher's team, that makes you righteous? You're just as dirty as the rest of us."
"No?" Another step closer. You could see the flecks of green in his eyes now, the hard line of his jaw. "You kill supes, don't you? You hunt them down and put them in the ground. How's that different from what I’m doing huh?"
"I kill monsters. You kill innocent people."
"There's no such thing as innocent people sweetheart. Everyone's got blood on their hands. Even you."
He was right in front of you now, close enough that you had to tilt your head back to maintain eye contact. Your breathing became faster and you hated that you couldn't tell if it was from fear or something else entirely.
"Get away from me," you said, but your voice was weaker than you expected.
The tension between you both was suffocating. His eyes dropped to your lips and you saw the exact moment his control snapped.
He kissed you hard and aggressive, one hand fisting in your hair while the other gripped your hip. You should have pushed him away but instead you kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands clutching at his shoulders and nails digging into his skin.
He backed you up against the wall, his body pressing against yours, and you could feel every hard inch of him.
"Still hate you," you muttered against his mouth, his hands already working on your clothes. "Fucking hate you."
"Feeling's mutual," he murmured.
You gasped as he yanked your shirt over your head, his mouth immediately finding your neck, biting and sucking hard enough to leave marks.
Your hands fisted in his t-shirt, pulling him closer even as your mind screamed at you to stop. His tongue swept into your mouth and it was angry and desperate, all teeth and tongue.
He groaned against your lips, the sound traveling straight in between your legs, and then his hands were moving—down your neck, over your shoulders and then settling at your waist. He lifted you like you weighed nothing, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist as he pressed you harder against the wall.
"Fuck," he breathed against your mouth. "You're—"
"Shut up," you cut him off, pulling him back into another kiss. You didn't want words. Words would make all of this real, would make you think about what you were doing.
He grinded his hips against yours, and even through layers of clothing you could feel how hard he was. It should have disgusted you but instead, it made you even wetter.
He carried you away from the wall, his mouth never leaving yours and dropped you onto the bed. He yanked his shirt over his head, and before you could even catch your breath, he was already on top of you.
"Tell me to stop," he said, his lips moving to your neck, biting and sucking hard enough to leave marks. "Tell me you don't want this."
You arched further into him instead of answering, your hands sliding over his broad shoulders, feeling every defined muscle.
He made quick work of your underwear, practically tearing it all off because of his impatience. He leaned back and stripped off his sweatpants and underwear in one go and slowly climbed over you.
"Jesus Christ," he muttered, his eyes roaming over your naked body with a look that was purely carnal. "Look at you."
His hands followed his gaze, rough and calloused as they explored every inch of you. He palmed your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they were hard peaks, then he bent to take one into his mouth. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as he sucked hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh.
Your hands tangled were in his hair as he showered attention on your breasts, moving from one to the other, making sure to leave a trail of marks.
"Ben," you gasped out, and hearing his name on your lips seemed to shift something in him.
He spread your legs wide, settling between them, and looked up at you with eyes that were filled with desire.
"M’gonna make you scream so loud doll," he whispered.
And then his mouth was on you.
His tongue found your clit, circling and sucking while sliding two fingers inside you and curling them just right.
Your hips bucked against his face, but his hands kept you pinned as he devoured you like a man starving.
The combination of his mouth and his hand had you seeing stars. Your orgasm built fast and hard, the coil becoming tighter and tighter in your core until it finally snapped.
You came with a scream, your whole body shaking but he didn't stop. He worked you through it and then kept going, pushing you toward a second orgasm before you'd even recovered from the first.
"Too much," you gasped, trying to push his head away, but he just growled against you.
The second orgasm hit even harder than the first, leaving you trembling. Only then did he pull away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he moved back up your body.
"Still hate me?" he asked, and you could hear the cockiness in his voice.
"More than ever," you managed to say.
He lined himself up at your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against your folds. He was big- much bigger than you'd expected.
He must have seen the anxiety on your face because he paused. "We can stop-."
“Don't you dare." You said as you wrapped your legs around his waist.
He pushed in slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size. The stretch burned in the best way, a delicious fullness that had you moaning. He groaned too, his head dropping to your shoulder as he bottomed out inside you.
"Shit," he breathed against your skin. "You’re so fucking tight."
He started to move, slow at first but that gentleness didn't last long. Soon he was pounding into you such force that the headboard was slamming against the wall.
Your grasped at his shoulders, nails raking down his back hard enough to leave marks.
He grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand while the other gripped your hip hard enough to bruise. The way he manhandled you so easily made you clench around him.
"You like that?" he growled. "Like being held down?"
"You are, sweetheart." He punctuated the words with a particularly hard thrust that had you crying out.
He released your wrists to grab your thighs, pushing them up to your chest, folding you nearly in half. The new angle had him hitting even deeper, and you could feel another orgasm building.
"That's it," he encouraged, his voice strained. "Come for me. Let me feel it."
Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, your whole body tensing as pleasure rolled through you. You clenched around him as he groaned, his thrusts becoming sloppier.
"Inside," you gasped. "I'm on the pill."
That was all the permission he needed. He slammed into you one last time and came with a roar, his cock pulsing as he filled you. He collapsed on the bed beside you, both of you breathing hard, covered in sweat.
For a moment, neither of you moved. Reality was starting to creep back in and with it, the weight of what you'd just done.
You finally sat up, looking around for your clothes. They were scattered everywhere, some of them definitely ruined. "This can't happen again."
You found your pants and shirt and quickly put them on. When you turned back, he was watching you, an unreadable expression on his face.
"You know doll," he said while smirking, "You aren’t what I had expected at all if you know what I mean."
"Shut up." You said as you buttoned up your jeans. "This doesn't change anything okay."
"Yeah, I know." He sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair.
But there was something in his eyes that suggested maybe, just maybe, that wasn't entirely true.
You suddenly heard the sound of a key in the door—Butcher was back. You and Ben exchanged a look, a silent agreement passing between you both.
You moved quickly back to the tiny living room, closing the bedroom door just as Butcher walked in.
"How'd it go?" he asked, looking you over. "He give you any trouble?"
You thought about the marks hidden under the shirt, the ache between your legs and the taste of him still on your lips.
"Nothing I couldn't handle," you said.
From the other room, you heard the TV turn back on, the sound of the news anchor filling the silence. And you found yourself somehow smiling.
Maybe babysitting duty wasn't so bad after all.
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