Summary:
After Ben 'dies' after the fight at the Seven Tower, you find out you're pregnant, you keep it, and give birth to a baby boy. After two years, you see Ben again.
Tags:
!!!SPOLIERS!!!, Implied sex, angst?, mentions of pregnancy.
A/N:
I've barely written for Soldier Boy, and I've always wanted to write a fic with the reader having his kid. I would also like to add that it was democratically voted that the baby would be named Benji the final verdict here. Also, if this makes no sense, someone above me in my apartment building exclusively plays the drums past 10 PM (you may never read this, but if you do, go fuck yourself), and my dog died.
Dividers by @/blrblrgraphics
It had been two years since Ben had ‘died’, you had tried to move on, you really had tried, but it was hard since you had his child.
In the few weeks Ben was with your group, he had grown a soft spot for you, not snapping at you as much as he would the others, listening to you when you had asked him not to smoke in the motel room, and especially the first time you had sex with him.
“I wanted kids, y’know.” Ben sighed, one of his arms over your shoulders, pulling your naked body closer to his, while the other held a cigarette. “Always wanted a boy, god, I always wanted him to be named after me, have someone to carry on my legacy.” He mused, taking a drag of it.
“Why do you bring this up?” You asked, snuggling up against his chest, listening to his calming heartbeat.
“I beat my meat into a cup back in 1980.” Ben shrugged.
“What?” you asked, laughter soon following after the blunt confession. “What does that have to do with the question?”
“Homelander is my son,” Ben replied, unfazed, taking a drag of his cigarette. “I came into a cup in 1980, then in the spring of ‘81 the bastard was born,” he explained.
You sat up, looking at Ben’s calm face, smoke blowing out of his mouth.
“Do The Boys know?” You asked, your bare breasts on display for his greedy eyes.
“No, and I don’t plan on telling them,” Ben smirked, looking at your hardened nipples from the cold room. “Thought I’d tell you, and let you know I don’t want you on any more missions, too… can’t lose you,” he murmured the last part, his eyes glazing over in thought.
“I won’t tell them, only if you tell them afterwards, okay? If you tell ‘em before, they might not want you around.” You sighed, lying back next to him.
Ben grumbled in agreement, rolling his eyes, putting out his cigarette, and pulling you closer to his chest.
A few weeks after Ben’s ‘death’, you found out you were pregnant, around two months, something you saw as a sign of how much he talked about a legacy with you, and you decided to keep it.
So seven months after discovering you were pregnant, you gave birth to your son Benji. The boy was a spitting image of his father; he had his eyes, nose, and facial features, almost identical to his father.
“You had a baby and didn’t tell us?” MM asked, standing at the end of the hospital bed, looking at the baby boy sleeping peacefully, Hughie sitting in the chair next to you, with Kimiko sitting on the bed
“MM, you hate Soldier Boy; everyone hates him! What was I meant to say? ‘Hey everyone, I’m pregnant with Soldier Boy's baby, and I’m keeping it.’ Butcher would’ve fucking killed me,” you justified, looking up at MM with eyes welling.
“You could’ve told us that you were pregnant at least,” Hughie replied in a sombre tone, looking down at your baby.
MM sighed, closing his eyes, sitting on your bed next to Kimiko, looking down at the baby as well.
“I hate him, I do. But I know that this kid isn’t his dad, and isn’t going to be like his dad.” MM smiled gently, looking down at the baby. “We are gonna support you. Anything you need, a place to live, food, clothes, a babysitter. We are here for you and him.” He added.
“You can stay with Annie and me if you need, I’m sure she’ll love to meet him.” Hughie offered a small smile on his face.
Kimiko nodded, typed something, and handed you the phone.
‘We will help you in any way :)’
You couldn’t help but begin crying with the support you were receiving from them, not expecting this reaction after hiding your pregnancy from everyone. MM stood up and side-hugged you, shushing you in a calming manner, rubbing your arm.
“It’s okay, we’re gonna be with you every step of the way for you and–” MM cut himself off, realising he didn’t know the name of your son.
“Benji.” You added, finishing MM’s sentence. “His name is Benji.”
A month after Benji was born, Hughie, Frenchie, and MM were captured and put into a Freedom Camp, but Butcher and Kimiko were M.I.A., and Annie was a ghost, the last text from her being:
‘Apartment is now in your name. You and Benji should be safe.’
You were alone again.
For two years.
Two years of just you and Benji, two years of Benji’s firsts with no one but you, two years of having to explain to the police constantly and Vought that you hadn’t heard from anyone, two years of being on constant lookout for anyone you knew, two years of being on edge that someone from Vought would realise that Benji was Soldier Boy’s son and taking him away. Just two years of pure fear.
The only thing keeping you going was Benji, who had grown into a little toddler, one who could walk, run, jump and speak. As Benji got older, his features became more and more like his father's, almost becoming his twin, which made you even more nervous and on edge. Wondering constantly if someone would figure out he was Soldier Boy’s son and take him away. Or even worse, Homelander finding out he existed.
That's why when Butcher broke into your apartment, asking you to join the group again, promising you that Homelander would be taken down once and for all, you couldn’t refuse. For Benji’s sake.
And now here you were, standing across from the Kix Crib with Benji, pretending you were just a mother taking her son for a walk, while in actuality, you were the lookout.
“How long does it take to get a giant rock to breathe?” You asked, holding your phone against your ear while you bounced Benji on your hip. “They're gonna be back any second, Sheline and Jetstreak just finished their livestream,” you added, looking up and down the street just in case.
“I don’t know, I think MM is on the phone with Butcher, just stall in case they get there. Say you’re a massive fan or that you throw on their videos for Benji.” Annie suggested.
“I think I’d rather give my kid V than let him watch their content.” You chuckled.
Suddenly, the phone hung up.
You looked down at your phone, confused. You looked at the Kix Crib and noticed Annie running out before launching herself up into the air.
You rushed across the street, Benji still on your hip. Frenchie opened the door, beckoning you inside.
“Soldier Boy.” He blurted out before you could say anything.
“What?”
“He is alive, Butcher lied, he was in some sort of cryogenic freeze,” Frenchie explained, looking down at Benji before looking back up at you. “He is not a supe, no?”
“N-No, I-I mean I made sure he wasn’t given V if that's what you’re asking–”
Frenchie grabbed your shoulders, leading you back out of the house. “Get back to the safe house, I don’t want to risk–” Frenchie cut himself off.
Soldier Boy.
Your eyes widened, welling up as you saw him chase after Butcher, your jaw clenching.
“B-Ben?” You whispered, mainly to yourself.
Hughie, Annie and Butcher ran past you, quickly slamming the door behind them, leaving just you and Ben outside.
Ben couldn’t believe what he was seeing either, you. In the flesh. With a toddler on your hip.
“Whose is it?” He asked gruffly, nodding towards Benji.
“W-What–”
“Is that my son?” he barked, stepping closer to you, pulling you closer to him so he could get a better look at the boy. “Jesus, he is practically my twin.” He huffed, a small smirk forming on his face.
“I-I thought you were dead– I-I t-thought that you died after that fight–”
“We can talk about this later, doll.” Ben cut off, shaking his head at your stuttering, “Can’t wait to hear all about junior here.” He added, ruffling the boy's hair, earning a giggle from him.
“Y-You c-can’t go in there, there's– god, there's a virus that can kill supes!” You blurted out, grabbing his forearm with your spare hand. “Please, for Benji and me.” You begged.
Ben rolled his eyes, pulling his arm away. “Not gonna let that happen.” Ben made his way inside, the supe Jetstreak following him as they went after Hughie.
You just stood there, shocked, trying to process the fact that Ben was alive. And trying to process the fact that he blew you off, even worse, that he blew his son off. The only thing bringing you back was Annie rushing out of the house, saying something to you, snapping you out of your trance.
“W-What?” You asked, realising Annie was talking to you.
“We have to go back to the safe house; the Frenchie and Hugie have released the virus, we need to leave before–”
“Where’s Ben?” you cut off.
Annie's eyes widened before furrowing her brow.
“Soldier Boy? Why would that matter–”
“I-Is he in there?”
“We need to leave.”
“He is, isn’t he?”
You couldn’t breathe; you had just gotten him back, even for a brief second, you had him again, before he slipped away again.
Everything was a blur afterwards, being escorted back to the safe house, debriefing Sameer on how the virus worked, and being settled into a small room, a double mattress for you and Benji to sleep on for the night.
Benji was sleeping peacefully under the load of blankets covered over him, cuddling up against a bear he loved.
“How’s the kid?” MM asked, leaning on the doorway.
You didn’t look up at him; you couldn’t.
“I know it would’ve been hard to see him again, but he was a bad man–”
“I know, but… to see him again, after two years– you didn’t know what it was like, I had no one. It was just me and Benji, I-I had no help. So when I saw him again, I had hoped we could be a family,” you explained, tears beginning to trail down your cheeks. “I-I just want someone around.”
“You have us around though–”
“No, I do!” you argued, snapping your head up at him. “I know it wasn’t anyone's fault that the past two years happened– but– god, I had no one, but in some weird, messed up way, I still had Ben in Benji. A-And I just thought for a second–”
“You could’ve had a complete family.” MM finished for you, sitting next to you on the mattress. “I’m sorry we couldn’t be there, and I’m pissed that Butcher never checked up on you, but you have us now, and I swear we aren’t ever gonna leave you or him,” MM reassured.
MM wrapped his arms around you, comforting you as you cried, letting you know that you still had him and The Boys to lean on.
A/N:
Lemme know if I should do a part two!! (I probably will once the third episode of S5 comes out.)
Summary:
Ben confesses how he got his powers.
Tags:
!!SPOILERS FOR S5E4!!, angst, crying, comfort.
A/N:
I tagged the people who wanted to be tagged in part two of my other Soldier Boy story, thinking y'all might like this one, maybe? let me know if you wanna be tagged for other Soldier Boy stories (*>﹏<*)
Shout out to @/redroud1 for the divider!!
Smoke clouded the small, dingy motel room, yellowing the yellow walls even more than they were. Ben didn’t expect the Ritz; he was used to the shitty motels with the smoke- and age-affected walls, but he couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty in a way. You were a special girl, well, to him at least, he tried to show Butcher that you were more than a babysitter for him, but deep down, he was happy you were always around him.
His gaze moved from the popcorn ceiling down to your head resting against his firm chest, your face turned to the box TV that was playing an old rerun of one of his ridiculously bad movies, ones he thought were the best of the best, were now just a distant memory of being fucked over by Vought.
“You’re enjoying this shit?” He asked, blowing out a puff of smoke and tapping the dead ashes into an ashtray.
“Not really, but I think you’re pretty hot in it.” You giggled, rolling your head to face him. “Did it hurt?” you asked.
“Did what hurt, doll?” He asked, picking up his burning cigarette and putting it in his mouth.
“The V? Did it hurt?”
Ben froze, his muscles tensing at the memory of the injection, how he cried for his mother, how he pissed himself, and how he wasn’t accepted into the program; his dad bought his way in… how his dad had heard about the extremely low success rate, and hopefully Ben would be a part of the statistics of the mortality rate.
“Why you asking that for?” He grunted, blowing the smoke in your face, hoping that would get you to drop the subject.
You coughed, fanning the smoke away.
“Just thought it might’ve hurt–”
“Well, it didn’t, so drop the fucking subject.” Ben snapped, “Dumb fucking thing to ask, ‘did it hurt?’ course it fucking didn’t, I’m Soldier Boy, I stormed the beaches of fucking Normandy!”
Ben’s chest began to get warm, too warm, with it beginning to glow slightly. You scrambled to get up, as Ben continued to rant, covering yourself up with one of Ben’s shirts, moving to the corner out of the blast radius.
“Stupid fucking question, why would it fucking hurt?! Probably hurt for the pussies nowadays, but I’m a real fucking man–” Ben stopped his rant, noticing that you had shifted to the corner of the room away from him, suddenly realising his chest was glowing slightly.
Ben took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes and shaking his head.
“Fuck…I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He sighed, letting himself relax into the well-worn mattress. “I’m sorry, just… it was a hard thing, it did hurt.” He confessed.
You didn’t budge, your eyes still wide and scared from his outburst. Ben grunted, gesturing for you to get back in the bed, opening his arms.
“I’ll tell you, but you gotta promise not to fucking laugh,” Ben grunted, grabbing the ashtray and resting it on his abdomen.
You nodded, dropping the shirt and climbing back into bed, lying back down against his chest, letting his arm wrap around your waist.
“My older brother was in the army, and I was just a fuck up… I convinced my father to buy me a spot in Vought's experiments, he agreed. Later found out he only did it cause of the high death rate.” Ben confessed, looking down at the ashtray. “The needle they used was fucking huge, they had to strap me down… I pissed myself and began crying for my mom.”
You looked up at him, noticing his eyes glazing over, tears threatening to spill over.
“When I came back, he said I cheated, told me he was hoping I’d die, that's why he paid for it. Never spoke to him again… spoke to my brother back in ‘72, brief, said mom was asking for me on her deathbed and that the old man wanted to see me.”
“Did you go?”
Ben took a deep breath, biting his inner cheek, closing his eyes.
“I snuck into her room in the middle of the night, I talked to her for hours… later that week I saw her obituary in the paper,” Ben confessed, breaking down and letting his tears flow. “Found out later, the old man was telling everyone I had died from a car accident.”
He couldn’t look at you, he knew that you were thinking how he was a pussy, how he should’ve been a man, how he wasn’t worthy of being Soldier Boy, how-
“I’m sorry.”
Ben’s eyes snapped open, looking at you through tears.
“You’re what-”
“I’m sorry that you went through that, and that you thought I’d laugh at that.” You consoled, rubbing his arm. “I’m sorry, Ben.”
Ben fell into your chest, letting himself sob as you stroked his hair, trying to reassure him that you would be there to support you.
A/N:
Lowkey a wip I whipped up (you see what I did there?), I will be working on part two, I'm just trying to figure out how to make reader and Ben meet, I'm thinking Fort Harmony, or after Mr Marathon in LA idk I am still deciding. (ALSO TO THE FUCK ASS DRUMMER WHO LIVES ABOVE ME, STOP PLAYING PAST THE HOURS OF 9PM ISTG)
Summary:
After multiple rounds, Chris has a smoke. You want to have a drag of it. He lets you, under one condition.
Tags:
implied multiple rounds, cigarettes, multiple positions, cowgirl, creampie, implied creampies, implied multiple creampies, whimpering, prematurely cumming, slight after care.
A/N:
wrote because my situtionship was ignoring me (at the time), then began to get clingy... idk why I'm telling tumblr about this...
Shout out to @/redroud1 for the dividers.
The sounds of the silent city filled his apartment, the lights from the other skyscrapers illuminating his bedroom and the occasional screech of tyres. Chris exhaled, stroking your back as you lay on his chest.
Chris reached over to his side table and grabbed a lighter and a cigarette. Lighting it away from you before rolling onto his back again.
“Can I have a drag?” you asked, resting your chin on Chris’s peck.
Chris squeezed your ass, shaking his head, resting his cigarette in the ashtray on the side table. “I don’t want you to get addicted to them; it’s a bad habit,” he replied, pulling your body onto the top of his.
“But you're smoking,” you pointed out, kissing his nose.
“Do what I say, not what I do,” he grunted, his hand slowly making its way down to your clit, his warm hands ghosting each part they came across.
You shuffled down and sat up, straddling his thighs, a lazy smile on your face, and your bare breasts on full display, your nipples hard from the cold room.
Chris slowly began to get hard, his cock standing high and hard, twitching just from your breasts, his smirk getting bigger and bigger.
“Can you be a good girl and ride my cock?” he asked, grabbing his cigarette and putting it back in his mouth.
“Can I have a bit of it if I do?” you retorted, shifting so your pussy was lightly kissing the tip of his cock, edging him on.
He nodded, placing one arm behind his head, while the cigarette hung out of his mouth. “Yeah, anything to feel you, just– uh! Oh god,” he moaned, your pussy slowly sinking onto his thick cock.
Chris groaned, feeling your pussy squeeze him; the feeling of his cum still in you from the previous rounds had his cock twitching. He used his free hand to grip your hips, helping guide you back and forth on his cock.
“You always feel like heaven,” Chris grunted, closing his eyes.
You let out a high ‘hm’ in return, trying your best to ride on his girthy cock. Even though it has been in you more times than you can remember, you never adjusted to it. Always tight, and sucking him in for more of you, and that drove Chris wild.
You grinded as much as you could, but your legs slowly began to give out after only a few minutes. It was hard for you to take his cock let alone straddle his thick, juicy thighs.
Chris noticed this, sitting up and lifting you with ease, up to adjust his position with you, moving both of you into the middle of the bed, and adjusting the position to the lotus pose.
“Is it too much for you?” he asked, easing you back down to his cock.
You shook your head, your arms wrapped around his neck.
“M’just too big,” you whispered, your head resting on his shoulder.
He let out a short chuckle, pulling back to look at your face. He took a drag of his cigarette and put it in your mouth with a smirk.
“Hold onto that for me, will ya?” he asked rhetorically, his hands gripping onto your waist and thrusting up into you.
You let out a moan, your eyes rolling back into your head as he fucked you. His cock was twitching now and then.
“God, you take me so well, baby,” he groaned, looking at your spaced-out face, the cigarette barely hanging from your lips. “Gotta be careful, don’t want it to fall out and burn you,” he smirked, pushing it a little bit back into your mouth.
“Chris,” you moaned, your back arching, causing you almost to fall over. He adjusted his position once more, putting you onto your back, lifting your legs and dragging you to the edge of the bed. He stood up, pulling himself out a little bit, leading you to whine.
“I know, baby, just gimme a second.” He whispered, trying to sympathise with you. He grabbed his cigarette back from your mouth and put it back into his before slowly thrusting back into you.
With your legs up on his shoulders, so he could hit your G-Spot better, purposefully twitching his cock against it to tease you.
“Chris!” you cried out, tears streaming down your face from the immense pleasure, unintentionally squeezing his cock.
“God, you’re gonna make me fucking cum right now if you squeeze like that again,” he grunted, slowly beginning to get into a steady rhythm of thrusts.
Your mind began to numb from the pleasure. After the multiple rounds in one night, your body was reacting faster and faster to him.
“Mm’not gonna be able to last long, Chris,” you slurred, eyes fluttering on each thrust.
“Same,” he replied, his pace already picking up. “You’re just so goddamn addictive–” you unintentionally cut him off, squeezing his cock when he hit your sweet spot again.
“Oh shit, squeeze like that again, I-I goddamn…” he muttered, making sure his thrusts would hit the spot every single time.
Soon, you felt that feeling in your stomach, and your legs began to shake, even with Chris holding onto them for support. His mouth fell open, his cigarette fell on the bed beside you, but you both ignored it too indulged in the pleasure.
“Chris– oh god–” you whined, arching your back even more, grabbing the bedsheets. Chris smirked, moving his hand down to your pussy.
Chris had a smug grin spread across his face as he pinched your clit and began tweaking it.
That pushed you over the edge, your body spasming, and your walls clenching around his cock, causing him to unexpectedly cum.
“Oh god!” he whimpered, Chris hunching over you, burying his face in your neck, your legs falling to his hips.
Chris felt your arms clutch his back, your nails digging into him, while your body still spasmed.
“ImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorry.” Chris whimpered into your ear, letting his cum leak into your womb
After a few minutes, Chris pulled away, seeing your face embedded with bliss. He slowly pulled out a while breaking from you.
“I know, baby, I know,” he sympathised, kissing your upper thighs. Chris noticed the cigarette on the sheets, noticing it had burnt a hole through them. “Ah, shit,” he sighed, grabbing it and absent-mindedly letting your legs fall.
You let out a whine in discomfort as Chris lost focus.
“Oh shit, sorry baby,” Chris replied, putting it out in the ashtray. He walked back over to you and lifted you, and carried you into the bathroom and put you on the counter.
“M’wanna go back to the bed–” Chris put his finger to your lips.
“Just gotta change the sheets, baby,” he whispered.
You leaned against the mirror, the cold surface keeping you awake, but it slowly became warmer with your body heat, helping you drift off.
“Do you want me to clean you up?” Chris asked, picking you up, you shook your head, nestling your head in his neck, Chris put you in bed, crawling in with you and holding your body close to his.
The sounds of his apartment are still silent, except for your steady breath lulling Chris to sleep.
SOLDIER BOY IN CHARACTER?????????? IN SEASON FIVE????????? THEY FINALLY STOPPED TRYING TO PROP UP VOUGHT RISING FOR A FUCKING EPISODE THANK GOD.
PART TWO COMING SOON CAUSE OF THAT.
Hello all, I am currently unable to write any fanfiction since I have a mild case of pancreatitis.
Due to this awful incident, I am unable to write fanfiction at this time. I will start writing again, but I am extremely unwell as I write this. Please forgive me.
