angellwhispers

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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."

"Don't push it."

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."

"I'm nothing like you."

"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.

"Make me."

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.

You just wanted to feel.

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.

"You can take it."

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?"

"Fuck you."

"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.

"Where?" he gritted out.

"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."

"Mhm."

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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pairing: uzair baloch x reader

disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is created purely for entertainment and creative purposes only. All canon characters mentioned here belong to their respective creators and right holders. I do not claim ownership over the original character, universe, or any canon material referenced. Furthermore, this story is not intended to romanticize or justify the actions of any real-life individuals.

a/n: HI JAANUS! it’s been so long, exams have been eating me alive (a level psychology is not for the weak💔) but we are finally done, so i’ve decided to treat everyone with this fic. Enjoy reading and as always please do message me if u want to be tagged in any upcoming works!!

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The rain lashed down with a fury, turning the narrow lanes of Lyari into slick rivers. Uzair ducked into the nearest open shop, shaking the water from his thick black hair.

The air inside was a blend of old paper and something sweet like vanilla. He found himself in a small music shop, its walls adorned with shelves overflowing with vinyl records of a bygone era.

Your back was to him, carefully arranging a stack of CDs behind the counter. You wore a simple, embroidered kurti, your dark curls pulled back loosely in a braid with a few strands framing your face. He took a step further in, intending to lean against a shelf but his foot caught on a loose rug.

There was a loud noise as a precious display of an antique gramophone and record crashed to the floor.You spun around, eyes narrowing instantly. You took in the broken vinyl, then him, a tall and lean figure dripping water onto your floor.

You didn't hesitate.

"Abay o duffer, andhe ho kya?" you shouted . "Tumhe koi andazah bi hai ki tumne kya thoda hai," you gestured wildly at a shattered disc, "Yeh Mehdi Hasan ka signed vinyl tha"

Uzair, who was used to men shrinking at his gaze and women averting their eyes, found himself utterly speechless. He stared at you, a woman barely reaching his shoulder, scolding him over a broken record.

"Kya tum bevakuf ki tarah khade rahoge ya ise uthane main meri madad karoge?" you snapped, already kneeling to carefully gather the scattered pieces.

Uzair bent down, his movements stiff as began to collect the scattered vinyl. His large hands felt clumsy as he tried to handle the pieces.

"Sambhal kar," you muttered, swatting his hand away gently. "Yaar, kuch log…" You sighed, rolling your eyes upward. "Bas ise chhod do aur chale jao please main nahin chahti ki tum kuch aur todo."

Uzair straightened up, a muscle twitching in his jaw. He wanted to say something, anything, to defend himself but your fierce gaze shut him up. He was kicked out of a record shop by a woman who had no idea who he was.

.✦ ݁˖ .✦ ݁˖

Two days later, the rain had cleared leaving behind a sun-drenched afternoon. You were at home, on your bed and sipping chai with your best friend, Ayesha.

"Arey haan, yalina ki shaadi ho rahi hai," Ayesha announced, her eyes sparkling. "Hamza ke saath, tumhe pata hai, hum jisse mall main mile the!"

You smiled, "Arey waah, main toh phir zaroor aaungi."

Ayesha beamed. "Is saturday hai aur kuch sundar pahne na, ammi ne kaha hai ki shaadi bada hone wala hai"

.✦ ݁˖ .✦ ݁˖

The wedding was filled with color and music. The air thick with the scent of roses and expensive oud. You were dressed in a vibrant emerald green sharara and found yourself at the center of the dance floor. Your curls bounced as you danced, your laughter ringing out freely as you twirled with Ayesha.

From a corner of the hall, Uzair stood beside Hamza. His gaze, sharp and fixed on the emerald green figure on the dance floor. He watched you, a mixture of recognition and disbelief washing over him. It was you from the record shop. Here. Looking so different, yet somehow the same.

Hamza noticed his gaze and nudged him. "Kya dekh rahe ho bhai? Aisa lag raha hai jaise tu ne koi bhoot dekh liya.

He didn't answer, his eyes still on you. He saw you laugh and the way you moved so gracefully.

You glanced towards the shadows and your eyes locked with a pair of intense, dark eyes. The man was tall and handsome and he was staring directly at you.

"Ayesha," you whispered, nudging your friend. "Woh aadmi kaun hai, hamza ke pass mein?"

Ayesha followed your gaze, her eyes widening slightly. "Oh, Woh? Woh Uzair Baloch hai, Rehman bhai ka cousin, lyari mein toh sab jante hai" She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Gangster hai."

Your jaw dropped, your mind flashing back to the shop and your shouting. Uzair Baloch. The gangster. The man whose name commanded power and fear, was the same man you had kicked out of your shop.

"Ya Allah" you breathed, the color draining from your face. "Ayesha yahi woh aadmi hai jise maine us din danta tha."

"Tumne use danta?" she finally managed, tears of laughter in her eyes. "aur phir use bahar nikaal diya, tum zinda kaise ho?"

"Mazak ki baat nahi hai!" you hissed, though a nervous laugh escaped you. "Mujhe sorry kehna chahiye na?"

Ayesha, still chuckling, pushed you gently. "Bilkul, toh phir jao, shayad use bhi mazak laagega."

Taking a deep breath, your heart pounding frantically against your ribs, you walked towards the shadowed corner. As you stepped closer, Uzair’s eyes never left yours. Hamza, noticing your approach, gave a slight nod before excusing himself.

You stopped a few feet away, suddenly feeling incredibly small. "Uzair ji?" you began, your voice barely a whisper. "Main bus yeh kehna chahti thi ki us din meri dukan par jo hua, uske liye sorry, mujhe toh pata nahi tha ki aap kaun hain."

He watched you, his expression unreadable. Then, a small smile spread across his lips. "Actually," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver through you, "Main pehle maafi mangne wala tha."

You blinked, surprised. "Kya?"

"Aapke records jo maine tode," he said. "Pareshan hone ka pura haq tha, woh records bahut khoobsurat the." His eyes held a flicker of amusement. "Waise pehle kabhi is tarah koi mujhe danta nahi hai."

A blush crept up your neck. "Khair, mujhe phir bhi itna badtameez nahin hona chahiye tha, sorry."

He took a step closer, his gaze softening slightly. "Arey, maafi maangane ki koi zarurat nahi hai," he paused, his eyes searching yours, "Main soch raha tha ki kya aap mere saath kal mele mein aana chahenge?"

Your heart fluttered. A fair with Uzair Baloch? It was unexpected yet you found yourself smiling. "Ji bikul," you said, your voice a little breathy.

"Good," he said, with a hint of satisfaction. "Main tumhe saat baje le ne aaunga."

.✦ ݁˖ .✦ ݁˖

The next day, you spent hours deciding on what to wear, finally settling on a simple yet elegant blue kameez with delicate gold embroidery, your hair left loose around your shoulders.

As the clock neared seven, you peeked out your window and there he was, leaning against a sleek black car. Uzair wore a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms and a pair of dark trousers. He looked less like a gangster and more like a film star.

When you stepped out, he straightened, his eyes sweeping over you with a subtle appreciation. "Bahut hi khoobsurat lag rahi ho," he said softly, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

The fair was full of bright lights and loud noises.Uzair was surprisingly a patient and attentive partner. He let you drag him to the shooting game, where with extreme precision he won you a ridiculously oversized teddy bear. He bought you a rainbow-colored ice gola and you shared a plate of spicy chaat, his large hand brushing yours as you reached for a piece.

"Toh," you began, breaking the quiet, "tum sach main Uzair Baloch ho."

He chuckled, a low, warm sound. "Haan."

"Par tum woh nahin ho jo main soch rahi thi," you admitted, looking at him properly, his face illuminated by the lights of the fair.

"Aur tum," he lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours, "bilkul wahi jo mujhe nahin pata tha ki main dhoondh raha tha."

Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly looked away, a shy smile on your lips.

When he dropped you off at your doorstep, the street was quiet, illuminated by the glow of a single streetlamp.

"Shukriya," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Aaj mujhe bahut maza aaya ."

He nodded, his eyes lingering on yours. "Mujhe bhi ." He paused, a hint of vulnerability in his dark eyes. "Main phir se milna chahunga, agar aap mujhe ijazat de."

Your heart swelled. You reached up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. His skin was so warm beneath your lips.

Then, before you could second-guess yourself, before he could react, you turned and fled into your house, leaving him standing there in the quiet night, a hand gently touching the spot where your lips had been, and a huge smile spreading across his face.

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taglist: @mariaaysbusjs @tere-naal-nachna @angelllk1ssed @rehmandakaitswife @luvvkk @cloudmast @seasonofthenerd @depressedgiftedburnout @diaryofawhoretbh @goodnightkatherine @layinglowkey @maroonphase @saltedburns @rini4everdreaming @shadylovedhurandhar

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pairing: soldier boy x supe!reader

warnings: nothing just pure fluff!!

a/n: i literally wrote this fic just to feed into my delusions about this man since season 5 has come out…so enjoys loves and feel free to message me if u want to be tagged in the upcoming writings!!

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Soldier Boy had been resurrected and was a walking destructive force barely contained by his stubbornness and high ego.

After nearly killing Butcher and his crew with the blast, he reluctantly joined them with the promise of vengeance and that’s when he first saw you. You were the odd one out in Butcher’s circle of violence. While the others smelled of blood and sweat, you somehow smelled like fucking strawberries and sunshine.

You were a Supe just like him but your power wasn't for breaking bones—it was for fixing them.

Soldier Boy didn’t talk to you much. He didn't talk to anyone much, unless it was a threat or a string of obscene words. Ben instead watched you from under his brow. He didn't trust "sweet." Back in his day, sweet was a mask for something rotten and ugly.

He observed the way you patched up Hughie’s scrapes, calmed MM’s anxieties, and even saw you interact with Kimiko by sitting down beside her and sharing a quiet moment of companionship.

Something shifted in Ben. He’d seen plenty of supes. Vought was full of them, all selfish and desperate for attention. But you were different. You weren’t seeking glory or fame. You were just helping people heal. It was a stark contrast to the cold, hard world he’d known, a world where supes were gods and humans were beneath them. He found himself trying to remember the last time he’d seen such compassion.

He couldn't.

Ben tried to fight it. He grunted more often when you were near, turned his back, pretended to be engrossed in whatever Butcher was talking about or cleaning his guns and shield .

You were so…soft. And Soldier Boy, the original supe, the epitome of masculinity was slowly falling for you. It was infuriating.

.✦ ݁˖ .✦ ݁˖

A few days later, the two of you were tasked with a supply run. The drive back was quiet, the interior of the beat-up sedan cramped and with Ben behind the wheel, his large frame made the car feel even more tiny.

The sun was setting, casting long, amber shadows across the dashboard. The silence that filled the air between you both wasn't awkward anymore but instead comforting.

"You're gonna get yourself killed, doll," Ben said suddenly, his voice raspy.

You looked over in surprise. "By being nice?"

"By being you," he corrected, finally looking at you. His green eyes were intense. "This world, these people don't deserve someone who looks at them the way you do. Especially not Butcher. Especially not me."

"I think everyone deserves a little kindness, Ben," you said softly. "Even the ones who think they're beyond saving."

Ben pulled the car onto the side of the road and slammed it into park. The engine ticked in the silence. He turned to you, his jaw tight, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles went white.

"I spent decades in a box," he murmured, leaning so close you could smell the cigarettes and the faint scent of whiskey on his skin. "I forgot what it felt like to be warm. And then I met you, and now I can't think about anything else. It's so damn irritating."

"Ben—"

"Shut up," he growled, though there was no heat in it.

He didn't wait for a response. He reached out, his hand surprisingly gentle as he cupped your cheek and pulled you in. The kiss was desperate and grounded all at once, it was a man reclaiming a piece of his soul he thought he’d lost a long time ago.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing ragged. "Don't let this shithole world change you," he muttered against your lips.