Socrates

SLAM

That slam echoed throughout the large apartment, alerting you that Chris was home and furious. You held your breath, listening to Chris grunting as he ripped off his boots, the sounds of his gear being tossed onto the floor before he stomped up the stairs. The door flew open, Chris’s hulking form taking up the doorway, his glare evident, before his eyes widened. 

There you were,

Kneeling on the bed, white lingerie clinging to your body, accentuating your curves, with a look of seduction plastered on your face. 

Chris wasn’t having it. 

He ripped off his belt, tossing it to the side, pulling his turtle neck off, showing his muscular body, his arms flexing as he pulled down his pants, leaving him just in his boxers, his hard on evident.

He made his way over to you, your eyes filled with a silent apology as you looked up at him. 

“I’m sorry, Captain.” You whispered, your hands trailing over his chest. “I should’ve listened, please forgive me, Captain.” 

Chris wasn’t having it; he pushed your hands away, putting his hands on your hips and flipping you onto your stomach. 

“Do you think this is going to make up for your fuck up?” He snapped, forcing your body into the position he wanted it. “Some cheap slutty lingerie and a half-ass apology?” He tore your panties off, throwing them away. “You’re a fucking brat.”

You whimpered, arching your back, pushing your ass up for Chris.

“You know the safe word.” He growled. 

SMACK!

Chris slapped a cheek, a sound of pain escaping your lips. 

“I don’t want to hear it.” Chris hissed.

“You disobeyed my orders.” 

SMACK!

“You disrespected me.” 

SMACK!

“You disrespected the team.”

SMACK!

“You talked back to your Captain.” 

SMACK!

“You disappeared before you could be properly disciplined.”

SMACK!

“And now you're here.”

SMACK!

“Being.”

SMACK!

“A.

SMACK!

“Fucking.”

SMACK!

“Slut.”

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Your legs were shaking now from the sheer force of Chris’s hits, your face buried in the sheets, trying not to make a noise. 

“Are you wet?” He grunted, his hand resting on your ass, his cold palm bringing some comfort to the stinging on your ass. “It isn’t a fucking rhetorical question.” 

“Y-Yes.” You stuttered out, trying not to sound in pain.

“Turn around.” He barked, pulling away, now pulling off his boxers to reveal his hardening cock, the sight alone making your hole weak. You turned around, staying on your hands and knees, face now eye level with his cock. Chris stepped forward, tapping his cock against your cheek.

“Open.” 

You took the tip in your mouth, your tongue swirling over his sensitive head, tasting the saltiness of his precum that was leaking from it. You began to bob your head a little, your eyes closed, enjoying the moans spilling from Chris’s mouth. 

“Fuck, that's right, suck your Captain's cock.” Chris groaned, his fingers gently pulling at your hair. 

You took it a little deeper in your mouth, your tongue now wrapping around the shaft of his cock, feeling every vein your tongue came into contact with, his girth making your struggle as you took him in your mouth, his tip now touching the back of your jaw.

“Should’ve made you get on your knees and do this when you talked back.” Chris lamented, “Everyone seeing what a needy little brat you are.” 

You nodded, beginning to bob your head again, your jaw getting used to him as you swallowed half of his cock, feeling it throb each time you bobbed your head. Your eyes began to water as Chris began to force you to take more of this girthy cock. 

“Fucking slut, you love sucking your Captain's cock don’t you?” Chris scoffed, pulling your mouth fully off of him to look up at him maneuvering you onto your knees. Your eyes were glazed over, drool dripping down your chin as you looked up at him. You nodded, trying to catch your breath. 

“Say it.” 

“I love sucking your cock.”

Chris shook his head, slapping his cock against your cheek.

“Open your mouth.” He barked. 

You opened your mouth, with Chris spitting in it. 

“Swallow.” 

And you did. 

“What do you say to your superior?”

“Thank you, Captain Redfield.” You whimpered. 

Chris pushed your back onto the mattress and moved your legs onto his shoulders. 

“You’re dripping from that, you’re dripping for your Captain.” He growled, slapping his cock against your clit, making you let out a yelp of pleasure. 

“You’re lucky I’m even paying attention to your clit.” He warned, rubbing his cock against it. “If you behave, I’ll let you cum.” He added. He was purposefully rubbing your bud with the tip of his cock, smearing precum on it. “But knowing you, you won’t behave.” 

He moved his tip to press against your hole, feeling your entrance trying to suck him in. 

“You better not fucking cum until I say so,” Chris ordered. “Do you understand me?” 

“Y-Yes, Captain Redfield.” 

You squealed from the mixture of pain and pleasure you felt as Chris thrust his entire cock in you. No matter how much you two had sex, you could never get used to his girth and length, how it stretched you out completely. 

Chris looked at your face as you adjusted to him, your pain slowly melting into pleasure. Chris slowly began to thrust, picking up the pace with each thrust. His tip kissing the entrance of your womb, throbbing against it, letting you clench around him. 

“Gonna knock you up,” Chris grunted, with each thrust. “Gonna get you pregnant, then you gotta stay home, and not fuck up any missions.” 

You moaned at the thought of being round with Chris’s baby, your breasts heavy with milk for the baby. 

“You want me to knock you up, to keep you at home,” Chris whispered, maneuvering your body to be folded underneath him. “Can’t disobey my orders while pregnant, can’t disobey your Captain while you're pregnant with his baby he fucked into your slut hole.” 

You moaned, your arms wrapped around him, nails digging into his back as he pounded you relentlessly. 

“Say it, say you want to be full of my cum.” 

“I-I wanna be full of your cum C-Captain I– ohhh!” you whined, “I-I don’t think I-I’ll be able to h-hold it–” 

“You will if you wanna be able to sit.” Chris barked, thrusting even faster, his thrusts getting shallower, his balls twitching against your ass. 

“Get pregnant, get fucking pregnant. Want your tits full of milk, want to suck them when they’re heavy.” Chris babbled in a low, gravelly tone, his eyes squeezed shut, imagining you as that. 

“C-Chris I-I can’t– I can’t!” You screamed, your hips bucking on their own, your mind getting hazy with pleasure. “I-I’m sorry!”

You squealed, your hips grinding against Chris, your pussy clenching around his cock as he thrusted it in as deep as possible. 

“Fuck!” Chris yelled, uncontrollably cumming into you from the sudden tightness. Chris looked down to see your eyes blown out, half-lidded, with your jaw slacked. Chris’s balls pulsated, filling your womb up with semen, the sensation making you squirm with pleasure.

“Fucking brat.” Chris scoffed, moving his hand to squeeze your cheeks, pushing your lips apart. “You can’t listen to your Captain, even in bed.” 

“M’sorry”, You pleaded lazily, wrapping your arms around Chris’s neck, while wrapping your legs around his hips. “M’such a bad girl, Captain, M’sorry.” You whined, rolling your hips against his, slowly feeling him get hard again. You kissed his cheek before whispering in his ear:

“Y’should punish a bad girl like me.” 

Chris groaned, attacking your neck, biting and sucking your neck while he started on his slow pace again, lazily grinding his hips. 

“Gonna make sure everyone sees you belong to me,” Chris mumbled, before biting at your neck again. “You wanna be a momma to my baby? You think a bad girl like you deserves to have my baby?” 

You moaned in response, nodding.

“I wanna be a mama to your babies– wanna be full of you, Captain!” You exclaimed, nuzzling your head into his neck, returning his bites. 

Chris picked up his pace again, fucking his cum back into you, making sure it takes. 

“Gonna suck the milk out of those fucking tits, need to make sure my baby is getting the fucking best.” Chris murmured, now biting your earlobe, “You’re gonna be such a pretty fucking momma, gonna be so fucking sexy, gonna make sure everyone knows it's mine, gonna get hitched, don’t care if you’re waddling down the aisle, gonna make sure you’re mine.”

You moaned in response, nodding, moving one of your hands to pull on Chris’s hair. Chris pulled back, still thrusting into you, his eyes filled with lust and love, now blown like yours. 

“Love you so much.” Chris whimpered, his lips falling against yours as his thrusts picked up speed. Your tongues intertwined, Chris slowly beginning to reach his peak, with one of his hands moving to play with your clit. You threw your head back, your hips bucking as you were slowly pushed over the edge. 

“Fuck!” Chris whimpered, his pace picking up again. “Gonna cum gonna cum– gonna fucking cum!” He whimpered again. 

“Ah!” You squealed, suddenly feeling Chris’s cum fill you up. 

Chris whimpered, his fingers still pinching and rubbing your clit, as he pumped the last drops of cum into you. 

You whined, grinding against him, letting it slowly build up before cumming again. You squealed at the lazy orgasm you had. 

You and Chris remained like that for a few minutes before he reluctantly pulled out, leaving you empty and a whine escaping your lips as you lay there. 

Chris made his way over to the bedside table, taking out a plug and inserting it into your empty hole. 

“Feel better?” Chris asked, kissing your forehead.

You nodded, smiling.

“M’sorry for disobeying you, was stupid for disobeying you, Captain.”

“Hopefully you’ve learnt your lesson,” Chris replied, pulling away. “Need anything?” 

“No.” 

“Good, just wanna lie with you.” Chris chuckled at your blunt reply, helping you under the covers, before getting in himself, pulling your head against his chest. 

“Love you, Chris.”

“Love you too.” 

Eight months later

You had finished preparing Chris's morning coffee, something you did as you got little sleep, being eight months pregnant. 

“Your morning coffee.” You winked, giving Chris a sly look on your face as he studied the liquid. 

“What's in it?” He asked, raising the mug to his lips and taking a sip. 

“Oh, just water, instant coffee, and some of my milk.” You smirked, stepping closer to Chris, letting his free hand wander over your stomach. 

“Yeah? Well, Daddy approves of it.” He chuckled, taking another sip. “Good enough for me, good enough for him,” Chris smirked, letting his hand trail up to your left breast, his thumb lightly circling your nipple. 

“I’m sure Hound Squad would approve if you were late, y’know? Newly wed, needy, horny, pregnant wife and all.” You suggested, cupping his slowly growing hard on. 

“I’m sure they would.”

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.

Tag List: jayfl0  lemonwaterr   ameliadraws mornixgstar18  nefika-aranahe duckyhowls  gorephillia ladykitana90  kollover24 

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.