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He had spent the last 4 minutes moving with a warm sensation around his cock. In a natural response, Billy moved his hips, chasing that wet heat, but at some point he stopped believing it was just a very realistic wet dream and opened his eyes. He pulled back the sheets covering him and had to blink several times —as if his brain needed time to process what was happening— to see the image of his husband, with his messy brown hair from sleep and his cock nestled in his mouth.
“Good morning,” said the Brit with a smile. It was a good way to wake up.
“Hi,” John replied, licking from base to tip in a shameless, pornographic way. He was good at it; that mouth had been trained to please him well.
The man could have lain back and enjoyed the blowjob, fucking that mouth until he choked him, but he had a much better idea, so he stopped the brown-haired man. Without much hesitation, Butcher settled himself on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide, his thick, hard cock throbbing with anticipation. He signaled the other man to kneel on the floor, and he did so.
“Now be a good girl and give me a titfuck,” his voice was thick with rough authority, maybe from desire or because he had just woken up. For his part, John hesitated a little, fighting an internal battle that ended with him giving in to what Butcher asked.
Then he leaned forward, grabbing his large breasts —they had grown even bigger in the last few months— squeezing them together and wrapping them around his husband’s warm flesh. He looked up at him, seeking approval, and only received a crooked smile, which encouraged him to start moving. He went slowly at first, unsure of what he was doing, sliding upward so he could see the tip of William’s cock disappear between his mounds, then downward to watch it reappear, big and glistening just inches from his mouth. He ran his tongue over his lips; the thought of taking it into his mouth was also exciting, but he focused on this first.
He slid again, squeezing the shaft tightly with his pecs, delighting in the groan the man let out when he rose until the tip of his cock was trapped. He didn’t stop, wanting to satisfy his husband, and continued working him steadily, watching as drops of whitish liquid began to bead from the slit of the head. As he found his rhythm, he also started having trouble when milk began leaking from his pink nipples. He complained, trying to cover his nipples with his fingers to stop it, but somehow he was staining everything with his milk.
“No… I’m leaking, ah,” he said, as if his spilled milk was bad enough to stop and ruin the moment. John really didn’t understand, or rather, he didn’t know what kind of hungry look Billy was giving him at the sight. He stopped abruptly, sliding his fingers along the milky trail to clean up the mess and, without thinking, brought them to his mouth. It was a bad habit he had of tasting himself. “It’s such a mess.”
“Relax, keep going. It doesn’t bother me,” Billy said, leaning in to taste the milk on his lips, savoring the creamy maternal milk that John produced. “Come on, continue.”
John swallowed after the kiss and returned to position. He grabbed his breasts and ignored how streams of milk flowed out, mixing with Billy’s precum with every movement. It became easier to slide with their combined fluids, but it was also a sticky mess that only fueled their marital activity even more. He was hot, sweating as he bounced with the throbbing cock between his chest; he could feel Billy getting close. He felt him twitch and didn’t want William to finish yet — he wanted him inside. He wanted it so badly.
He stopped, panting with desire and somewhat exhausted. He released his chest, and the mess of bright whiteness made him feel dirty, but there was no time to clean himself. He pushed the man onto the bed, and the other yielded, lying down. Billy grabbed him by the hips as John climbed onto his legs, shamelessly rubbing his erection against the man’s tanned skin.
“William, I need you,” he sounded breathless. He began kissing along Billy’s neck, showing just how desperately he needed the touch of the only man who could fulfill his desires.
“Why are you so impatient?” He already knew the answer; he just wanted to hear it from his mouth. He held the hips that were playfully grinding against his exposed cock. He was such a tease.
“It's already… it's already been two months since the C-section. I need you,” John almost cried from wanting him inside. He craved William’s attention, those hands on his body, and any moment they had alone was crucial. It wasn’t that John minded taking care of their wonderful blue-eyed daughter or waking up curled up next to his husband —after a sleepless night— while their daughter had finally fallen asleep in her crib. He could spend all his time in William’s arms. However, John was a man with needs, and William had been very playful, teasing him for the past few weeks without being able to do anything about it.
“Put it in, I’m ready for you.”
Butcher pressed forward, sliding the head of his cock easily into John’s stretched and open hole. He could only think about how long he had been awake and how much time he had taken preparing himself alone —slipping his fingers in silently while Billy slept beside him, or going to the bathroom to open himself up for this moment. Billy grabbed him by the waist and…
A loud cry exploded throughout the house. It was the strong wails of the baby in the other room that left both men frozen the moment they heard it, knowing exactly what it meant. They looked at each other, understanding that the mood had been completely ruined.
“Ah…” John said, carefully climbing off the bed on shaky legs. “I’m coming, sweetheart,” he called out into the air as if his little one could understand his words. He gave his husband a quick kiss and headed to the bathroom to shower quickly and clean up the mess on his chest, since his daughter was clearly demanding breakfast.
While drying his body with the towel, John thought about how fun all the morning rush had been. It had been two months since their daughter’s birth, and their lives had become different and exhausting. If one was awake taking care of the little one, the other was sleeping to catch up on rest. Don’t get John wrong —he loved his little angel. He loved seeing her round little face sleeping so peacefully, touching her delicate tiny fingers that didn’t seem real, smelling her baby scent, and imagining all the things she would do when she grew up.
Yes, that was exactly where he wanted to be.
Well, the pregnancy had changed many things between Billy and John, but it was all Butcher’s fault.
(9 months ago)
“Daddy… please, I need to rest,” the blond begged for mercy on the messy bed. He was being pressed roughly into the mattress, leaving him no chance to catch his breath. “I’m sure you’ve already gotten me pregnant, please.”
The morning after their night walk, things changed for the following days. Being fucked against a tree had not meant any rest for John, because he was starting to believe that Butcher genuinely loved the idea of seeing him pregnant. He didn’t seem to listen to reason and kept going like a dog in heat, fucking him all over the house: in front of the windows, in the bedroom, in the shower, or on the way to the laundry room. And the obscene things he whispered in his ear were even worse, because they only made John see stars.
“It’s incredible that you used to be Homelander. Now you work much better as a hole to fuck,” Billy said, and it wasn’t easy for John to stay conscious at times. “Take it all, you whore. I’m going to fill your cunt until I knock you up like the fucking bitch in heat you are.”
“You—you’re going to kill me!” John said once when he tried to escape the room, only to be caught and carried back to the bed as if he weighed nothing.
After that, he would start researching foods that increased stamina just to completely remove them from his menu for the next few days, because if he didn’t lower his energy, he might die at any moment. His body was already very sore after that sexual marathon.
A few weeks later, when the whole pregnancy matter had started to fade from their minds, John began to feel sick. His body felt different and he attributed it to the fact that it was the first time he was getting sick as an ordinary human, so he ignored the discomfort as if it were no big deal. But when he got dizzy and nearly collapsed near the stairs, he knew he had to tell Butcher.
When he finished his call with William, he saw that Terror was by his side waiting to play with him. He scratched the dog’s head and made his greatest effort to reach the couch and lie down for a moment. He felt exhausted, almost unwilling to get out of bed, and hungrier than usual. But he attributed all of that to becoming a bit of a glutton, since he had been asking William to bring him sweets if he passed by a bakery on the way home. Being sick was horrible. He wished he would recover as soon as possible and stop feeling so miserable.
He didn’t realize when he had fallen asleep, but the sound of the door closing alerted him that someone had arrived. He felt disoriented until he realized that William had come home much earlier than usual, carrying a bag full of medicine. His heart beat faster at the attention he saw when Billy began listing questions to figure out what was wrong with him.
His hand felt nice when he checked if he had a fever and asked if he had any strange symptoms he hadn’t mentioned before.
“Do you think you can do this? Just to rule it out,” his voice was soft. He was asking with a kindness that was rare in him. He took a small box in his hands —it was a pregnancy test. John’s face went pale.
He felt scared the entire time he took the test, but the positive result turned that feeling into a whirlwind of emotions that made him cry. Deep inside, however, a growing happiness bloomed.
Maybe that was all he needed to finally be happy and loved.
Then the pregnancy symptoms became more evident now that he knew he wasn’t sick. And it wasn’t easy at all. There were so many changes in his body that it seemed unreal that it was all because he was growing a life inside his belly. One of the symptoms that troubled him the most was when his nose became extremely sensitive to smells. It was as if he had recovered his superpowers with how perfectly sharp and precise he was with it.
Several things were banned from the house, especially some cleaning products with very strong scents like apple, cinnamon, and jasmine. Certain foods were also off-limits because he had discovered he couldn’t stand the smell of raw meat, and eggs had become repulsive to him. He thought his sensitivity would stop there, with things he could avoid, until he realized that William Butcher might end up on the list if his body decided so.
“Don’t hug me! You smell bad,” he said one night, pinching his nose shut and shielding himself from the horrible odor that hit him when the man tried to hug him after work. “What the fuck did you do today? You stink.”
“But you’ve always liked it when I come home,” the man protested, frowning as he kept his arms around John. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
He only received an emphatic shake of the head from the blond, who refused to breathe near him.
“I was wrong, you smell worse than a dog…” A small whine from Terror, who was lying in his bed, made him immediately retract. “Forget it, Terror smells better than you.”
Dinner passed less normally than on other days. John wore a handkerchief covering half his face as a precaution against Butcher. The Brit simply ate under the judgmental gaze of the man he now considered dramatic. Nevertheless, Butcher was stubborn and tried to get close to John despite his complaints, only to be pushed away in annoyance. This attitude was starting to piss him off.
Annoyed after being rejected several times, William refused to indulge John’s request for a bath, so John said he would sleep alone because of his supposedly nauseating smell. Billy couldn’t agree more with that decision and watched him stomp angrily up the stairs with his treacherous dog following behind. He wasn’t going to do anything about this drama.
In fact, Billy had no reason to put up with any shit from the spoiled fucking blond. This was supposed to be his house, and John —who was basically a prisoner with no choice but to be there— had to adapt to it, even if he was pregnant.
The night felt endless. John had tossed and turned in bed so much trying to find a comfortable position to fall asleep that he only ended up more restless. He was in the room they had prepared for when Ryan wanted to sleep over. That hadn’t happened yet, but Butcher’s friend who was taking care of Ryan had told the boy a few weeks ago that his father Homelander wasn’t dead. Marvin had been good with words and kids in crisis, so he managed to calm him down and explain that Homelander was no longer Homelander, that he seemed to have changed. Even so, Ryan wasn’t ready to see him yet, but he did talk to Butcher since the man was still determined to take down Vought.
He kept turning in bed, unable to sleep. John thought he would never see Ryan again, and he wouldn’t know how to start a conversation with him. After all, he loved his son, and his own madness had blinded him to the point where he ended up hurting him. He hated the man he had been in the past and he hated being alone in that room. He tried to sleep again. It was useless.
Homelander had slept alone for most of his life —he had learned to ignore the constant surveillance of the scientists in the lab— but now it was difficult for John to do so after several months of being held tightly in someone’s arms. He settled in the middle of the mattress just like he used to in the Vought Tower, face down, and told himself he was there. He closed his eyes hoping to fall into a deep sleep, but it didn’t happen. It was so frustrating.
He heard the bedroom door open and sat up quickly to see the figure of the man he was angry with. He remembered his anger just as fast, so he lay back down and pulled the duvet over himself as if it could serve as a wall between them.
What was Billy doing there? Was he coming to bother him again? To impose himself and force him to obey? John closed his eyes, wanting to fall asleep immediately.
“So you do smell good,” he heard the voice say in the silent room. The Brit was speaking to Terror, who only snorted and went back to sleep.
“You smell better than you and I’d accept taking a bath,” he said without thinking, his voice muffled by the blanket. He felt the bed sink as the man sat beside him.
“Come on, lower that,” Billy grabbed the duvet. There wasn’t much struggle with the sheets because he managed to pull it off and move it aside. John tried to get out of bed and go to another room, maybe spend the rest of the night there just to avoid being near Billy, but a pair of hands grabbed him and kept him on the bed. He got upset, whined a little, and ended up cornered with no escape. All he could do was look at the wall as a last resort. However, a hand took his chin and forced him to look at him.
“If you dropped that attitude you’d realize I already showered,” he told him. John’s blue eyes scanned Billy’s face and noticed how his hair was still damp and he smelled different —much better, John could admit. Then the blond’s body relaxed; he no longer wanted to run from Billy. “No more drama?”
“I don’t think so,” John replied, still surprised.
“Good.” Billy released his hands and John didn’t know what to say. “I already showered like you asked. Now stop crying and move over, I want to lie down,” he said indifferently, as if his words didn’t cause a storm of emotions in John, who shifted to the side. Then he felt Butcher wrap his arms around him, ready to sleep.
“Billy…?” he ventured to ask after five minutes in which his head was spinning with questions. Something inside him wanted to believe that Billy had set aside his pride to listen to him —whether for the baby or for him, Billy had done it. He could have simply left him alone in that room and kept being stubborn, but here he was, hugging him like every night. “Why?”
“Mmm,” Billy answered sleepily. At first he didn’t know what he meant, but then he replied. “If that kid is going to be as whiny as you, I should get used to it from now on.”
“Do you think it’s going to be a boy?” John asked, hopeful at the way he spoke about their little one. He wanted to look at William, but it was impossible to turn around at that moment.
“I really don’t care what it is,” Billy said, pressing closer to John. The bed wasn’t very big, but he didn’t need to do that. “It’ll be fine either way.”
——
Sometimes Billy found it incredible to have the former hero Homelander living in his house, but now it was almost unreal that he was carrying his child. This wasn’t how he had planned things, but he liked this submissive John without Homelander’s aggressive attitude. Although he doubted the man could do anything against him, he couldn’t underestimate him either. Especially not now that he spent most of the day angry at him because of the nausea.
At the beginning it was all sunshine and rainbows. The pregnancy suited him well; there was a natural glow on his face. But then the heavy symptoms arrived. The little spawn had played with their heads, making them believe it would be an easy pregnancy, only to attack its mother and make John hate it.
“No… don’t come near me, damn it!” John growled between heaves, running to the bathroom when he smelled the pancakes Butcher had made for breakfast. That was all it took —just the smell of the pancakes. The last thing he heard before the door closed was, “This is your fault… everything. Your fucking dick did this to me…” Billy couldn’t hold back his laughter.
Even with his amusing words, he was starting to believe that kid had something against him.
“This… This was your plan from the beginning, right? To kill me in such a stupid way. I’m going to die of hunger and it’s all your fault,” John said one day when he could barely eat anything—his body rejected everything. Butcher got scared that John might actually die because of his son, so he called Milk for help.
First, he had to endure a half-hour lecture in which Milk questioned every single one of his decisions, from hiding the former hero Homelander to getting him pregnant and leaving him in such a deplorable state. Though, to be honest, most of his indignation seemed to come more from the pregnancy itself than anything else.
At first, they didn’t mention the subject. However, the situation eventually forced them to address it when John spent most of the time fighting nausea. Milk had assumed he was letting himself starve to death until they explained that the real culprit was the baby, who had apparently decided to make life impossible for both of its parents.
What surprised Milk the most was that John showed no signs of discontent toward Butcher. He didn’t try to ask for help, escape, or even hint that he was there against his will. On the contrary, he seemed completely at peace with his condition and hopeful that everything would be fine with the baby.
In the end, Milk decided not to get more involved than necessary. He limited himself to providing medication, serums, and other essential medical supplies. He also left a long list of things John could and couldn’t do during the pregnancy.
And while he was packing up to leave, he couldn’t get one more complicated issue out of his head: how the hell he was going to explain this to Ryan. The boy had only just started to accept that his father was still alive, but the fact that he was pregnant was something straight out of a fever dream. He thought about the words he would need to say to the boy, because he would be the one doing it. Billy would surely traumatize Ryan with one of his rants. He didn’t want him mixing everything up and turning it into some Space Girls reference.
By the afternoon, John was lying on the living room sofa, asleep while the IV drip finished, which would be very soon. His chest rose and fell steadily. He looked calm, defenseless, and even a little cute as he rested without any trouble. Butcher thought about what Milk had said that afternoon —that he was crazy— but his obsession with Homelander had lasted so long that he simply couldn’t kill him that day at the White House.
A long-buried memory surfaced in his mind right then, one he had pushed deep into his memory after speaking with Jonah Vogelbaum, the man who had created Homelander.
“When he was a little boy, five or six, he was quite sweet. He’d cuddle up to me. He’d have stories about Davey Crockett, Teddy Roosevelt. He loved the idea of the woods, the forest, manifest destiny.
Well, you know, I needed him to be the strongest man in the world, so I went to work on him. He didn’t even want it”
He felt the same disgust he had felt the first time he heard those words —cruel and cold words from someone who had destroyed a child in a lab to build something powerful. He had always wondered what the fuck they had done to Homelander… no, to John.
He wanted to think about something else that wouldn’t lead to feeling compassion for the blond, so he thought about what they would eat that night. He had dinner ready; it would be something light since John had told him he wanted strawberries with grated garlic on top. It was the most normal combination he had heard from him in the last few days, especially after the ketchup popsicle he had eaten three days ago.
Either way, he was ready to grab his keys and get in the car to buy what John wanted. Or taking John with him was also a good idea.
The blond was more comfortable with the idea of going out, maybe because he no longer looked like the hero Homelander —his blond hair was slowly returning to its natural brown, the one Vought had always hidden with dyes— or because Butcher was as attentive to him as he was to the baby, which made him feel safe.
Even so, his appearance wasn’t the same. He put on his coat and cap to sit in the back seat, watching the streets of the nighttime city. He looked with sorrow at the large billboards where The Seven’s advertisements used to be, but now there were only other products unrelated to superheroes.
And that’s how their nights outside the house passed — with John looking out the window until he craved something, then Billy would park and go buy it. It was strangely fun. They would stay in a deserted parking lot while eating in the back of the car. Butcher was disgusted by the combinations John made. He preferred it when he asked for normal food like a hamburger.
Even with all that, the atmosphere in those moments felt pleasant — so much so that he thought he was going crazy for thinking that the blond looked adorable with his cheeks full of food. He wanted to resist seeing him in any way other than hatred, but he believed he had already crossed that line a long time ago when he allowed him to stay.
Those damn bright eyes looked at him while he ate. It hadn’t been discreet at all and had caught his attention. Butcher leaned closer to John’s face, and when he was just inches away…
He bit what John had in his hands.
“Fucking hell, that tastes horrible,” he said, spitting it out the window. “Hamburger doesn’t go with whipped cream.”
“Let me eat!” John complained loudly when William took a big part of his food. He got angry, wrinkling his forehead, and moved away a little as if the car were big enough to give him some privacy with his meal. “You have your own food.”
Things had changed a lot in these months, and when Billy tried to keep his distance, he would find himself with John curled up against his chest watching a movie or indulging his whims with some enjoyment.
The weeks passed and John stabilized. It seemed like his son and he had called a truce because the nausea disappeared completely.
Also, with time, Ryan joined John’s short list of contacts. Now he had Billy, Milk, Hughie —the man had given him his number out of pity after a covert visit to the clinic— and Annie —he got hers when the blonde confronted whoever was calling her husband. In John’s defense, he liked talking to Hughie about some of the discomforts of pregnancy and wanted to compare it with Annie’s experience.
At first, Ryan barely replied to his messages, which made John sad. But then he started sending him photos of his strange food combinations —Marvin had talked to the boy about his unusual situation— which led them to message each other every day. Their daily chats were about his studies and how Butcher was always in a bad mood. By the end of the month, Ryan showed up at Butcher’s house to eat hamburgers because Monique didn’t allow that kind of food and the boy wanted something greasy.
It’s worth saying that the first meeting between both parents and their son was somewhat tense at the beginning, much quieter than their text conversations. However, they managed to break the ice when John offered him a ketchup popsicle. That sparked a discussion about the peculiar cravings, where Ryan and Butcher agreed that they were disgusting. John only asked that they give his food a chance.
The months felt slow when a life was being created inside someone’s belly, but they also felt like time would vanish in an instant when it came time to prepare things for the baby. That’s what was happening to John, who was sitting at the dining table thinking about what he needed on his list.
“William! You’re back, great,” was the first thing the man heard when he reached where John was. “There are so many things I want you to buy. I’m making a list, even though it still looks pretty empty.” By this point, John’s belly was big enough that it couldn’t be ignored, and he was using it as a support for his yogurt cup while making the list on his phone. According to John, they were important things related to the baby’s room. “But I marked the most important ones.”
“Let me see, gorgeous,” Butcher said, and John proudly showed him the list he had made with a smile, revealing his fangs.
“A blanket?” Of all the things on there —and Billy had surely thought about getting a stroller, a crib, towels, diapers, and other things— the only thing marked was the word “blanket.” John still had that happy sparkle in his sea-blue eyes.
“Yes! It’s important,” he said, taking his phone from the man’s hands. “I had one. It was the only thing I had in the lab and I loved it a lot.”
Billy thought he probably shouldn’t ask, seeing the melancholy that appeared on that cheerful face, but he still did.
“And where is it?”
“Buried along with the rest of my things at Vought, I think. They threw it away when they filmed my supposed life before becoming Homelander,” John said, lost in the past. He remembered the last moment he saw that blanket: inside a trash bag on the set. He hated that they had used it for their lie, because it had been the only real thing in a house as artificial as the memories they had created for him.
“That sucks,” Billy said.
“Yeah… they had to throw it in the trash like the rest of my things after my death to erase my existence,” he shrugged. That sounded far too pessimistic to Butcher, who took the yogurt and held it in front of the blond’s nose.
“John, eat some yogurt.” And so he did. He ate a spoonful and continued talking.
“Buuuut now I have a husband who’s going to give me what I want. Right?” He glanced sideways at Butcher several times, waiting for him to agree.
‘Husband.’ That was how John had been referring to Butcher lately. Before, he only said it during sex, but now he used it whenever he wanted something for his cravings. This time it was for a blanket. When he didn’t get an answer, he gave the man a small nudge.
“Yes! Of course,” Billy replied with a fake smile, knowing it would calm him down.
“Good. Now help me get up, I want to take a bath.”
Things were progressing for the couple, with Milk doing check-ups and doing everything possible —calling in favors from old colleagues— to get the man to a clinic. That had been the most complicated part. They relied on the ultrasounds Milk performed himself —none of the men were going to allow anyone else to get involved— along with John’s blood tests to make sure everything was okay with their son.
It was a complete odyssey, but it was worth it when one of the check-ups revealed they were having a girl and that everything was fine. And even with the reassurance from the medical tests, John liked Milk’s visits because he had someone else to talk to. Plus, the man would tell him how Ryan was doing.
But even with all the calm, problems could still arise.
“You know, I thought pregnancy would be something magical, and I’m not saying it isn’t. I mean, it’s beautiful and knowing I’m creating my little one, but it’s really exhausting. What I mean is, women look radiant. Do I look radiant, Butcher?”
“Yes.”
It was three in the morning and they were awake, not by Billy’s choice, but because John had woken up from a nightmare. At first, the brunette just wanted to sleep and had snapped “Stop fucking up my dreams” after enduring the man’s whining and restless movements in his arms like a fidgety squirrel. But this wasn’t a simple nightmare —he very rarely had them. This time he had woken up crying nonstop, with tears falling freely and soaking the pillow.
So here they were. William was leaning back against the headboard —making an effort not to fall asleep— with his arms wrapped around John, who was resting on his chest. The only light in the room came from the flashlight on the phone lying on the mattress. The blond was clinging tightly to Butcher’s arms as if they were his lifeline, refusing to let go just as he refused to talk about what had happened in the dream. He simply talked about other things as if they mattered.
“And the pants… they don’t fit me anymore so I need you to get me clothes I can wear and I don’t know, I feel so sensitive like anything could make me cry and I hate it.” He was trembling. Butcher could feel John shaking as if something could happen to him. He hugged him tighter, resting his chin on his shoulder and placing a kiss on his neck. A few months ago he had discovered how receptive John was to physical affection. It had a strong effect on him, and what he did now seemed to calm his heart.
“Tomorrow I’ll look for clothes for you.”
“Yeah, because this is your fault.”
“Yeah, I know.” Billy tried not to yawn. He just stayed there with John breathing calmly.
“William…” His voice was hoarse. John felt a lump in his throat. “Did you know they found The Deep’s body on the beach? I saw it on the news, but online the photos were uncensored. He was so destroyed that they could only identify him by what was left of his suit.”
“That’s horrible,” Billy said, showing some superficial empathy. He had never liked supes, especially not The Seven with all the shit they were, but… well, he felt a little sorry for the fish having to feed on garbage.
Silence fell over the room again until John spoke.
“I dreamed about him. I dreamed I was on the beach with the police and more people,” he confessed. “I was in my suit and— and I saw the body.” The tears returned and it became hard for him to explain. “Then they came for me. They jumped on me and I just wanted to protect my daughter… I couldn’t fly, I couldn’t escape.” John held onto William’s grip tighter. He didn’t want to feel alone, and he didn’t want his nightmare to become reality.
He breathed several times. It was difficult when it felt like the air wasn’t reaching his lungs, but the soft kisses on his neck distracted him from the horrors in his mind. “It was just a bad dream. You’re not Homelander anymore.” And that was enough for John. They stayed like that for a while, holding each other, until John finally fell asleep, leaving William wanting to lie back down in bed.
Billy went back to work after being absent for a long time. He spent more time at home with John, and if he was at the office, he would get a call from the blond with some request and had to leave to fulfill his craving. After the nightmare, the man seemed even more attached to the brunette, following him around the house and constantly asking for his attention. That’s why he escaped to work to have some privacy.
However, the pregnancy was going well. John had gained more weight and it showed especially in his ass, thighs, and chest. He had also started producing milk a few weeks ago, but now in the seventh month his chest had grown and looked much more prominent. Sometimes a bit of milk would leak, which was annoying because it would ruin his shirts with the wetness. That’s why he opted for Billy’s horrible shirts to wear during the day. If an accident happened, he would just open the shirt to deal with it.
“It tastes just like I remembered,” John said, tasting his own milk. He didn’t do it often because he didn’t like wasting it. He was waiting for William to get him a pump to relieve his chest and prevent it from overflowing.
On the other hand, the moment Butcher saw the blond unbuttoning his shirt to clean the milk sliding from his full tits… oh, that was the moment Butcher started chasing after John.
“William…!” John whimpered, cornered against the kitchen wall next to the refrigerator. His shirt was open while Butcher sucked the milk from one of his nipples. “Ah! Stop, it feels… weird!” He squirmed, trying to escape, but Butcher held his hands firmly to keep him all to himself.
“Your tits are so sensitive,” he continued with the other nipple, which already had a trail of milk running down. Billy didn’t want to waste it, so he licked the wet trail from the bottom up until he reached the nipple, teasing it with his tongue and then sucking. “You taste delicious. Is that why I always catch you drinking your own milk?” He smiled mockingly.
“William…” John moaned, dissolving into complaints with his name, looking at the man with longing.
“Open your mouth, princess.” John obeyed, opening his mouth, and Butcher spat the milk he had collected into it. John swallowed with pleasure.
“Do you think you can give Daddy a thigh job with those chubby thighs of yours?” When Butcher released his hands, they quickly went to his face to pull him into a kiss. It wasn’t gentle —quite the opposite— it was voracious.
“Take me,” John said without thinking when they separated. “I can do it. I’ve read that couples have sex during pregnancy and I really want—” he whimpered.
“Fuck, I’ve been holding back so much… seeing you walk around the house with that fat ass of yours only makes me jerk off in the bathroom,” Butcher admitted while his hand moved to John’s crotch, rubbing over his pants. “I’ve had to restrain myself from taking you while you were sleeping… oh, you damn slut, you were doing it on purpose.”
“I just wanted to cheer you up…” John justified himself, pulling him in for another kiss even though his belly made it difficult. “I also thought you wouldn’t like fucking me because I look like a ball,” he said uncertainly.
“I’ll make it very clear how much I’ve been holding back,” Billy said as his hand squeezed the man’s soft ass. John jumped and moved toward the stairs with the clear intention of continuing in the bedroom.
The passion between them continued. They were so horny that they only stopped when Ryan arrived unexpectedly and almost left because of the trauma of seeing them through the window. The boy just wanted to erase his memory or bang his head against a tree —anything to stop thinking about it for the rest of the days he would be staying in that house.
William had asked his son to stay at the house for a few days while he was away. He had some matters to attend to and couldn’t leave John home alone. The boy had agreed because he had planned to make cookies with his father and also check on him with the whole pregnancy situation. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe it until he saw him again. Now John had an even bigger belly and would place a hand on his back when it hurt.
But there was Butcher, hugging him from behind and carefully holding his belly, making John react immediately.
“Oh God, that feels incredible,” he smiled goofily and let his body fall back to lean on William. It felt like his back was finally getting a break after carrying so much weight.
“Separate or I’m leaving,” said the boy, feeling like he was watching something he shouldn’t.
After the man left, Ryan settled into the room they had prepared for him. There weren’t many things in it, but they had made an effort to make it cozy for when he decided to sleep there. He had no plans to move in with his parents —it still felt strange to refer to them that way knowing their relationship— he was comfortable with his life with Monique and Marvin and was already making friends at school.
When he came down to the living room, he saw that John had fallen asleep on the sofa. Butcher had warned him that he now fell asleep more often and that he should be careful if he left the kitchen on, because it had happened before.
While making sure everything was okay in the kitchen, Ryan couldn’t help but think about what Butcher had done to change Homelander. He had to admit that he liked this much more human version of his father. He remembered how he was when he lived in the Vought Tower: very tense and emotionally unstable. But now it seemed like nothing could disturb his peaceful life. There were no demands, no feeling of inadequacy… he was someone else.
0
It was night and silence reigned in the house while William Butcher raided his own refrigerator after arriving home following four days of being gone. The undercover job he did wasn’t very long, but he had stayed away from home just in case someone from Vought had followed him.
“So, what did you find out?” Ryan said, surprising the adults in the kitchen. The boy had heard noise coming from downstairs while in his room, so he had to make sure no stranger had broken into the house.
“Vought is up to their necks in trouble,” Butcher said, clearly pleased to deliver the news. Kimiko nodded beside him while biting into a sandwich. “After the Vought files on Compound V were leaked, there are lawsuits from supes against their parents, and the government wants a registry of all the babies who were subjected to this treatment so they can keep them under surveillance.”
“I thought they’d manage to get away with the legal problems,” Ryan said, incredulous.
“Oh no, kid. There are lawsuits from supes against Vought and from supes against their own parents who let them get pumped full of drugs. Especially the deformed ones whose powers are useless — those are the hardest hit.”
“They’re fucking finished,” Kimiko said with a smile. The whole dangerous trip had been Butcher’s idea to investigate more about Vought’s facilities, and he had asked her for help. Milk, Annie, and Hughie had refused because they had distanced themselves from anything related to that damn company and had other priorities and people to save in different ways.
However, Butcher had convinced Kimiko to do this job one last time and she had agreed, since it was the last one before she left the country to start her journey back home or wherever life decided to take her.
“Honey?” John’s sleepy voice came from upstairs on the staircase — the last thing the three of them heard before something shattered the living room window. It was a smoke bomb.
“Take cover!” Butcher shouted as another smoke bomb broke through a different window, reaching the kitchen where they were all gathered. “Ryan, go upstairs with John!” They acted fast, covering their noses from the gas that was meant to immobilize them. Kimiko moved quickly, grabbing both devices and throwing them back out the window to clear the air. Meanwhile, Butcher went for his weapons and stayed alert for whoever was trying to enter his house.
On the other side, John stepped back when he heard the glass breaking and the sound of gunfire downstairs. He tried to move, but his body froze and he didn’t know what to do in a moment like this. Fear took hold of him and he only placed a hand on his prominent belly, knowing he had to get out of there. He saw a figure approaching up the stairs — it was his son Ryan rushing up, and he also saw her. The woman.
They looked at each other in a silence that felt like an eternity during the armed confrontation unfolding in the living room. She still held a grudge for what he had done to Frenchie — she would never forget that — but Butcher had told her about John’s delicate condition, and now she could see it. The man was pregnant and she didn’t want to hurt him while he was like this. Even with the pain of not having Frenchie, she was not a monster like he had been.
“You two need to hide,” she said before a bullet pierced her stomach, then another in her leg. She didn’t flinch, instead urging Ryan to hurry up the stairs. She was going to stay there to stop them from going up.
John grabbed Ryan’s arm to help him walk and get to one of the rooms in the house. He couldn’t think clearly as he heard fighting on the stairs and the Asian woman began battling the intruders.
The only thing John could think about were his two children, so he did everything he could not to faint. They reached the master bedroom, which was the farthest away. Both entered and locked the door behind them, but the boy moved a piece of furniture in front of it for extra safety.
Time there seemed to pass very slowly. They didn’t know what was happening or if they would be safe after the sound of gunfire finally stopped. John’s heart was beating fast. He feared the worst.
“They want to take her,” the man whispered, touching his belly. He tried to calm down because being upset wouldn’t be good for the baby, but he couldn’t. “Ryan, they’re coming for her,” he said with absolute certainty.
The boy noticed that his father had started breathing faster, as if no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t get enough air. He quickly approached the man, who fell to his knees and tried to hide in a corner.
“Vought… they’re going to come for me and take me,” John said, terrified. He needed to get out of there. He wanted to run, but he felt like he was dying right there. He didn’t want to go back. He couldn’t go back to those cold, lonely facilities.
He imagined a horrible scenario where they abandoned him —powerless and without surveillance, with no one to take care of him because they would be using his daughter as the next Homelander.
“Dad, Dad, breathe. You need to calm down,” the boy said, trying to stay calm himself. There was already enough chaos outside for something to happen to John now. He didn’t know what to do when the man was in such a delicate state. “Tell me, tell me the things you want to do with your baby. You’ve thought about what you want to do, right? Tell me.” He tried to distract him.
“I… I want…” John tried, he really tried, while looking up at the ceiling, attempting to think. But it felt useless. “Ryan, I can’t. I don’t know.” He lowered his gaze to the floor, feeling like it was going to get worse.
“Yes you do. Come on, tell me. I know you’ve told Butcher what you want.”
“I…” He tried again. It was difficult, but he managed to think of something. “I want to bathe her and put rubber duckies in the bathtub.” He began to cry as he imagined it in his head. “Help me, don’t let them take her…”
“Dad, tell me what else you want.” Even if it was hard, Ryan wasn’t going to give up.
“Uh… I want to bathe her. I want to take her to the park and let her see the birds.” He took a deep breath and did it two more times. “I didn’t see trees until I was eighteen. I want her to see them from a young age. I want her to play with dirt. I want her to see whatever she wants and read whatever she wants.” He thought about his cold childhood. “I don’t want them to force things on her. I don’t want them to make her read about presidents and their achievements like bedtime stories.”
Ryan felt a lump in his throat. Seeing his father this vulnerable, hearing things he had never told anyone before, felt like a bitter pill, especially when he had once been so angry with him. “What else?”
“I want her bed to be full of stuffed animals, so many that you can’t even see her among them,” he smiled, closing his eyes. He seemed much better now. “I want William to hold her and look at her with a smile. I want him to truly love her.”
“I’m sure he does,” Ryan said without thinking.
There was no more noise below them. When they noticed that, they didn’t know who had won the conflict, but Ryan quickly scanned the room for something they could use to defend themselves. Then someone knocked on the door, alerting them.
“Come out now, it’s all over,” Kimiko’s voice was heard from the other side of the wood. They let out the breath they didn’t know they had been holding.
“Okay,” Ryan said, his voice calm, though he was still worried about his father.
As they carefully went down the stairs, Ryan saw the disaster the house had become after the violent attack. He avoided the bodies on the floor and approached Butcher with clear anger.
“You have to stop what you’re doing,” the boy said. He had come down alone because John was in no condition to go downstairs, much less see everything that had happened in the living room. “You have to let go of your obsession with Vought. Look at the destruction they caused. My dad was having a panic attack thinking they were coming for him,” he said with concern. Butcher didn’t react.
“We didn’t know those fuckers were following us or that they’d find us,” Butcher said, irritated that everything had ended in a shootout inside his own house. Luckily, it had turned out fine and no one was hurt. Well, Kimiko regenerated, so that didn’t count.
“You know that if you keep doing this, it won’t just be you who gets hurt, right?” Ryan said angrily, stepping closer to Butcher. “John is going to… have a baby, and my life is finally becoming normal again. I don’t want something like this putting me in danger.”
“It’s not like I haven’t thought about it,” Butcher muttered through his teeth, tired of a kid lecturing him about something he had already considered for a long time. In fact, this was supposed to be his last job because he couldn’t keep leaving John alone at home during the pregnancy, but now they wouldn’t even be able to stay in the same house because it would become a target for Vought attacks.
“I don’t know what you expect from all this, but you should think harder about getting your life in order,” Ryan said. It sounded less like advice and more like an order coming from a worried young man. “You don’t have powers, Dad doesn’t have powers anymore, and neither do I. What are you going to do when they come to the house and you can’t protect anyone.
William clenched his teeth in anger. The whole situation had put him in extreme danger. Maybe they had gotten away with it today, but he was sure that sooner or later Vought would track them down if he kept getting involved in their affairs.
“Fuck,” Butcher said, annoyed. He pulled out his phone and stared at it as if there was another option he didn’t want to take. “I’ll fix it, alright?”
As it turned out, after the day of the broadcast at the White House, everything was chaos, with the news going around the world. There was a lot of talk online — from the speech Homelander gave that terrified many people, to the fight that was broadcasted, and the superhero everyone followed being “assassinated” on camera (he had actually just been knocked out by the blows and presumed dead) by some guy no one knew.
In the days that followed, Butcher kept a low profile, spending most of his time in one of his safe houses while John stayed home. It was the safest place for him, since there was no record or information linking him to that house. However, CIA agents had tracked him down and there was a conversation he didn’t want to have.
Butcher simply held the agent’s gaze, waiting for him to leave. He couldn’t consider the offer to work for the CIA, not when he had a certain person who was the cause of so many problems and would surely be locked up if they saw him free. Butcher could do it — hand him over and get rid of him — but the problem was that he didn’t want to.
“But if you change your mind, if you decide that working with us is more useful than going solo, call me.”
Now, looking at the old, crumpled card they had given him months ago, it seemed to be his only option. It wasn’t that he liked the idea of abandoning what he had known for so many years to become an agent. He also had to think about what to do with the man upstairs in his room. William pulled a bag out of his coat. The bag had the words: DO NOT USE written on it.
“What is that?” the boy asked, annoyed, looking at the card and the bag as if they were important.
“A sample of my descent into madness, son,” Butcher said. He took those things and left the kitchen, heading toward the stairs. As he went up, he saw the body of one of the agents Vought had sent. He avoided touching it and shook the dust off his clothes.
“John?” William called as he opened the bedroom door. The man looked at him. When he opened the door fully, John could see a corpse lying at the end of the hallway. “Relax, he’s dead.”
John sighed. Sometimes he forgot that William had killed people without using powers. It looked so easy from the perspective of someone who had always relied on powers.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight,” he said, sitting against the headboard. He tried to force a smile for Billy, but it only came out as a grimace that showed he wasn’t okay. “They… they were from Vought, right?”
“Yeah,” Butcher replied, trying to smile. But tears welled up in John’s eyes, so he looked down and covered his face with his hands. “I thought the worst. When everything went silent, I thought it was all over for us.”
“Darling, I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you,” Billy said, offering comfort that wasn’t entirely effective. The man was still shaking and crying over everything that had happened. “Look what I brought.” He sat closer to John and pulled a piece of blue fabric from his coat. It was a blanket John knew very well — in fact, it was the only thing he had known as a child. “Long story, but I ended up in a creepy Vought museum warehouse about Homelander and there it was.”
John touched the blanket with his fingers, feeling the material he had been familiar with so long ago. It was cotton. The last time he had held it, he thought they had thrown it away. He had become furious seeing it on the set of his “childhood life” filming. He couldn’t stand how, in all that propaganda lie, there was a part that showed his truth — like a crack in the mask of perfection revealing his past.
But holding the blanket in his hands now made him feel sad. Why had William brought it? He had mentioned it so casually, as if it didn’t matter — just words from a bitter memory. Yet William had brought it as a gift. His heart softened. There were too many emotions in the last hour; it was all too much for him.
“William,” he began. There was a lump in his throat, but touching his belly calmed him. “I want stuffed animals for the baby.”
“Okay,” Billy said easily, though he looked worried. Whatever John wanted, he would get it for him.
“And I also want to take her for walks in the park.”
“We can do that.”
“And…” John chose his words carefully. “I don’t want Vought coming back to this house.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “I have nowhere else to go, but I want my daughter to be safe and…”
“So you’re going to leave?” Butcher asked seriously. He didn’t like what John was implying. The man had nowhere else to go, no way to survive on his own, and even less idea of how to raise their daughter without him. “Are you saying you’re going to run off?”
“William, I just want…”
“You wanted to stay here and be my fucking wife. Where do you think you’re going if you leave?” Butcher smiled, and John looked down, unsure how to respond. “If you try to leave, you won’t get far. Do you understand?” He tried to make him see reason, but his anger made it sound more like a threat toward John.
When the blond looked up, Butcher could see the fear in his eyes. His eyes were holding back tears and his lower lip was trembling. Fuck, he wanted to get closer to the man, but John pulled away from his touch.
“I didn’t mean that. I don’t want you to leave,” he finally said. He sounded exhausted; he hadn’t been sleeping well for days. He ran a hand over his face. He felt like the biggest piece of shit in the world. “I’m going to fix everything, okay? Everything is going to change and there won’t be any more of this,” he said, referring to the dead men in the house. “Does that sound good to you?”
The man only nodded as tears rolled down his cheeks. He had no other choice but to accept it.
What happened next was the most complicated month of John’s pregnancy. It was also the time when he felt the farthest from William, to the point where he feared he had been abandoned. After the attack on the house, Ryan was taken back to Milk’s place. Then Butcher left John and Terror in Kimiko’s care. The man didn’t explain much more — it seemed he had already spoken with her before telling John.
When John waited for William to get out of the car, he realized he wasn’t going to stay. He tried to talk to him, to ask where he was going, because he was still scared from what had happened and didn’t want to be alone. Even worse, he didn’t want Billy to leave and put himself in danger. John hated it because the only thing he said before leaving was: “I’ll be back soon.”
And indeed, John couldn’t sleep. The darkness of the night slowly faded until morning came, and the blond kept waiting for a call or message from William. He wanted to know he was okay. He wanted some proof that he wasn’t going to disappear and leave him alone.
At eight in the morning, Kimiko appeared at the bedroom door carrying a bag full of fruit, which she handed to John. He took it without feeling entirely comfortable with her. It was clear he was in mortal danger because of everything he had done in the past.
“I’m not worried about you, but I am worried about the child you’re carrying.”
“It’s a girl,” he corrected her, playing with an apple. He wasn’t hungry, but the woman was right to be concerned about his baby. The night before had been horrible and extremely tense. He feared the stress might affect the baby. With that worry on his mind, he thought about asking Billy’s friend for a quick check-up.
Maybe he could also ask where William was…
“So, do you already know what you’re going to name her?” she asked. The blond didn’t want to lie when he saw her genuine interest. “You must have had many names picked out in case it was a boy.”
“William wanted to call him Terror II,” John let out a soft laugh remembering that terrible conversation, because the Brit didn’t want to complicate himself with names. “But I was thinking of Lily.”
The days passed with John still locked inside the house and no news from Butcher. Kimiko wasn’t great company —perhaps because of the fear he had of her— she wasn’t very talkative and he didn’t want to bother her with whatever she was doing around the house. Sometimes they would run into each other in the living room or kitchen. John would just smile and go back to whatever he was doing, not wanting to cause any conflict with her.
As the days went by, John couldn’t shake the worry about where Billy was. A whole week passed with no news from him, and no one seemed willing to tell him anything. He kept his worries to himself and stayed calm during the rest of the pregnancy after the last check-up confirmed everything was fine.
A few days before the month with Kimiko was up, a voice woke him. It tickled John’s ear and he stirred in his sleep. At first he thought he was having another dream about Butcher —he had been having them often since they were separated— but the warm touch of rough hands woke him up.
Seeing him felt like a mirage, though he thought so only for a second. One of his hands went to the man’s face —he looked different, his hair was no longer a mess but neatly combed and his beard was short— to make sure he was real and not some cruel hallucination. He was also afraid he would disappear and he wouldn’t see him again.
As if someone had removed a bothersome splinter from his skin, seeing the bearded man again felt like relief from the worry caused by his absence. Still, John acted indifferent about being left without any news for so long. Even so, he obediently got into William’s car to leave with him.
They said goodbye to the woman and drove off with Terror in the back seat along with the little luggage they had brought. The ride was silent. John stayed in his angry role, looking out the window and avoiding Butcher’s gaze. It didn’t take long for him to realize they weren’t going home. All that time he had thought Billy was fixing the house, but it seemed he was wrong. Now they were heading to a somewhat secluded area outside the city, with nice houses spaced apart from each other. It looked safe.
“I know you have questions, or if you want to insult me, go ahead,” William said as he parked the car in front of a house.
John touched his belly, feeling his little one move and kick. If only she could kick her father.
“I was going to kill you if you left me alone during labor,” he said angrily, rubbing his not-at-all-small belly. During all the time they were apart, that was the only thing he had thought about. But who could blame him? The fear only grew with each passing day.
“MM told you months ago that it would be a cesarean,” he reminded him, but it seemed like that had only made things worse.
“Don’t make me kill you before the baby is born,” John replied angrily. It was a threat that didn’t scare either of them.
“I don’t think you want Lily to grow up without a father,” Billy said with fake sadness. John just growled because he wasn’t getting the attention he wanted.
“I’m scared of the cesarean!” John admitted sorrowfully, looking at his hands in his lap, which was completely taken up by his big belly.
“I know, but everything is going to be fine,” Butcher reassured him. John rolled his eyes, still feeling uneasy.
“Still, this is your fault.”
“Yeah, but I’d give you more kids if I could,” he said with a smile, not a single ounce of regret.
“That’s why I hate you,” John answered with a glare.
“Then why don’t you leave?” Butcher mocked. It was all a joke to him. John huffed in annoyance and looked out the window, hating that the car was parked. There was nothing to distract him now.
“I want to get out.” Before his hand could reach the door handle, Butcher locked the doors with a loud click that echoed inside the car.
“So you didn’t miss me at all.”
“Let me go,” John said irritably. Billy smiled arrogantly, enjoying every second.
“I never will.” He leaned toward the blond, who felt cornered. John hated —and at the same time loved— that possessive attitude. “I remind you that you asked… no, you begged me to stay with you.” A hand rested on his belly. John didn’t try to push it away. “Now you’re stuck with me.”
“When I have Lily in my arms, nothing will stop me from running and strangling you,” John said with a wink, though his voice came out shakier than he wanted.
“Don’t get me horny or I’ll end up fucking you in the car,” Billy said amused, but his words were as serious as the deep red burning on John’s face from his insinuations. It was so easy to get him like that.
“You don’t…” John tried to respond with anything, but his tongue tripped several times and he only managed to say, “You’re a fucking animal.” William moved even closer, making John feel trapped.
“I don’t hear you saying no, darling,” he smiled and unlocked the car. Butcher got out first while giving John a quick look that sent a chill down his spine.
Was he really thinking about…? Oh yes. He definitely was.
“But… but you still don’t listen to me!” John complained. His voice went unheard or was simply ignored by Billy.
The blond quickly opened the door with clear intentions of escaping, but he was met by Butcher’s hands helping him down from the car with false chivalry. Then Billy opened the other door to let Terror out, who looked excited to see his owner but quickly began sniffing around the place, completely oblivious to the tension.
John took a few steps back, stepping onto the perfectly cut grass. He looked at Butcher expectantly, as if excited about the whole situation. A part of him wanted to know how this would end.
“Don’t you dare,” he said, as if he could say anything that would stop him.
“Come on, darling. Make yourself comfortable at home. We have a lot to talk about,” Billy smiled. He walked with Terror by his side but never took his eyes off John, who was doing his best to walk fast, almost waddling like a penguin as he approached the house.
It didn’t take long for him to reach John, who seemed to be enjoying the view of their new home.
“So, what do you think?” His hand slid under the loose shirt, caressing the tight curve of the swollen belly. “Don’t you think this is a good place for our daughter to grow up?” He planted kisses and savored how John trembled with weak knees.
“What… what have you been doing, William?” John asked, breathless.
“I told you Vought wouldn’t fuck with us anymore, and I kept my word.” He whispered it against his ear before biting his earlobe, making him sigh. From one of his pockets, he pulled out an ID card from his new job and handed it to John. “Look, I’m not the type who likes sitting at a desk and following orders, but here I am. I had to leave you while I sorted everything out—lots of paperwork and investigation.” He shrugged, remembering how tedious the last few days had been.
“But what if…” John tried to speak, but a bite on his neck made him lose his train of thought. He wanted him to do it again, and Billy did, sucking on the sensitive skin hard enough to leave a big mark.
“We’ll keep doing our thing and make up a story for everyone else. We’ll live peacefully in this house, and we’ll figure out the rest as we go,” Billy said, as if it were that simple, downplaying everything while things were getting this heated. The bastard. John couldn’t argue with anything when he wanted him in bed so badly.
“William…” John sighed with desire. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t want him anymore—his body reacted to every touch, every word, even his gaze. “Where’s the bedroom?”
And that’s how they settled into their new home. They bought a bunch of things to decorate the baby’s room at the last minute, turning weeks of work into a few intense days. John kept William busy with the nursery after he got home from work—it was a small revenge for what he had put him through the previous month.
John would have more freedom to go out now, since hardly anyone passed by, except for the occasional neighbors wanting to welcome them. Of course, John had to hide from those welcomes—his nine-month belly would scare anyone. He was also still afraid of going out into the world in case someone recognized him.
William had assured him several times that wouldn’t happen, but John wasn’t fully convinced. His hair had changed; the blond was a thing of the past—the brown had completely taken over. He now wore glasses too. He had needed them for a long time, but as Homelander he refused to wear them because they didn’t look good… and honestly, he just didn’t want to get the damn things.
Looking at himself in the mirror, a sudden wave of confidence washed over him. He thought it could really work. Maybe after the birth, he could have a normal life in this house with Butcher. Leave the past behind and focus on what was to come.
(Back to the present)
“You’re so beautiful…” the man whispered as he looked at his daughter. The little one had cried so much until her mother came to feed her. It was always like that—she would cry and scream as if they were going to leave her alone, and John didn’t want her to ever think that. Now she was calm, sleeping peacefully in his arms after her little snack.
John looked over at Billy, who was standing in the doorway. It seemed he wanted attention too, judging by the way he was looking at him. John smiled at him lovingly, as if saying he’d get to him in a moment. But Billy approached where John was sitting, knelt on the floor, and began running his hands over John’s soft legs.
“Giving me a massage?” John smiled. The man sometimes pampered him when he felt tired. During the last weeks of pregnancy, William often massaged his swollen feet. “That… mm!”
Those hands kept moving higher and higher until they reached John’s crotch, where Billy delighted in the delicate lace panties he was wearing.
“Wearing your lingerie under that nightgown? There’s no way I can resist,” Billy licked his lips and pushed the thin fabric aside.
“I wanted to surprise you…” John sighed, trying his best not to make too much noise. Shameless hands touched him between his thighs, squeezing the soft flesh that he was sure would turn red. Then he felt a pair of fingers brush against his hole and he squirmed. “Wait, wait… stop, Daddy,” he said. The man stopped kissing his partner’s thighs. With just a little teasing, John was already trembling like a leaf.
John swallowed and carefully lowered his daughter into the crib without waking her. He made sure everything was okay and that the baby monitor was on before returning to his husband.
“We can’t make too much noise,” he warned, but let out a surprised yelp when Butcher suddenly lifted him off the floor. His legs instinctively wrapped around William’s hips.
“I’m not the loud one here,” Billy replied, pinning John against the hallway wall. They hadn’t even made it to the bedroom yet and William was already too impatient to wait.
The older man licked over the silk nightgown, creating a delicious friction against John’s swollen nipples. John had no choice but to bite his own hand to keep from moaning shamelessly. Billy kept teasing him, knowing he could torment him as much as he wanted and John couldn’t do anything about it. But when he tasted the milk soaking through the fabric, he pulled it aside, revealing the pale skin and soft tits underneath.
Some women didn’t produce much milk during pregnancy—William didn’t know why—but that wasn’t the case with John. He was always leaking. His breasts were so full that he constantly complained about how heavy they felt. His nipples were a dark pink, peaked and incredibly erotic in Butcher’s eyes. He took one into his mouth and sucked gently. John’s body surrendered immediately as milk flowed from his nipple into Billy’s mouth.
It was delicious. The creamy scent only made him want more, and he had no intention of wasting a single drop.
“Let me taste—” the brunette whispered, pulling John into a wet kiss so he could taste his own creamy milk on Butcher’s tongue. Even then, Billy’s hands kept playing with his nipples, squeezing them on purpose to make a mess. John hoped he wasn’t wasting too much milk, but there was nothing he could do when the man was such a pervert for his tits—always pressing and drinking from him like it was Butcher who needed to be fed.
John gasped for air when they finally stumbled into the bedroom.
They fell onto the bed, desperate after waiting two months for this. He had been incredibly horny lately; the smallest thing could set him off like a match. There had been so many moments—seeing William dressed and perfumed for work, the way he kissed him at the door before giving his ass a playful slap, watching him work out at home in those sleeveless shirts that showed off his strong arms that could easily pin him down, or how paternal he looked when holding their little girl, making silly faces to get a reaction from her.
Fuck, he didn’t know how he had held out for so long.
John spread his legs wider to give Billy better access, but it seemed like the man only wanted to drive him crazy, pressing his hard cock against John’s own needy one. Then he felt Billy move lower, rubbing against his perineum and then his prepared entrance. It looked like Butcher had no intention of wasting time stretching him with his fingers.
But something felt different. He could feel the warmth of his skin, but there was also a familiar burning sensation in his belly that wasn’t just arousal. It was the same thing he had felt nine months ago, coming from the mark on his skin. Oh no.
He pushed his husband off him and looked down in horror. That strange mark was glowing faintly. The only other time he had seen it like this was in the park when William had fucked him against a tree. A few days later, the symptoms had started. John swallowed hard. His throat suddenly felt dry and all the blood drained from his face.
This couldn’t mean…
“Fuck— I can’t get pregnant again, right?” John asked with a nervous smile. They didn’t have any condoms —they had never kept any in the house and he was sure he’d never see one, since Billy loved filling him up completely— and he had just had a baby. Faced with Butcher’s silence and amused smile, he grabbed him by the shoulders. “Right!?”
“Let’s find out,” Billy whispered in his ear with that husky voice that made John moan. He shouldn’t be getting this turned on by the very real possibility of getting pregnant again. He should tell William to stop talking to him like that, or he was going to lose his mind and agree to anything.
“William…!” he whimpered, worried. He didn’t want to get pregnant again. He had just given birth, for God’s sake. “Please, wait… we can’t—”
“Relax, I’ll pull out before I finish,” Billy said with a smile. It didn’t convince him at all. John was caught off guard when Billy flipped him over and pressed his face into the mattress, completely dominating him.
“You’re lying. You never pull out… fuck!” His words were cut off as he was suddenly penetrated. The fat head of Billy’s cock pressed against his hole, stretching him open with a slow burn that quickly turned into delicious pleasure as he pushed in inch by inch. John’s nails dug into the sheets.
“Oh? Didn’t you have something to say, princess?” Butcher teased. John’s eyes rolled back, as if getting fucked was the only way to reset his brain. “Finally quiet, but don’t deprive me of your voice.” He kept rolling his hips, forcing more of his thick length inside.
“Yes… keep going. Please,” John panted. The hands gripping the sheets were caught by William’s strong ones, pinning him in place. “I need it so bad,” he whispered into the pillow, drooling a little.
The sudden movement made him choke as Billy thrust in brutally, making it burn, but the depth felt so good. He had prepared himself that morning, fingering his hole to loosen it up —just like he used to do when William first brought him to live with him and he had to stay ready— but it was never enough to prepare him for that thick length.
It burned deep inside him, a tingling heat spreading through his belly that he wanted to last forever. The thrusts started slow, both of them savoring the feeling of each other’s bodies, turning the encounter into something almost intimate. Moans and gasps filled the room, along with muffled pleas and obscene words meant to drive the lust higher.
“You’re doing so good, Daddy,” John said, looking up to find William with a serious, concentrated expression as he fucked him so well. He loved how masculine and imposing he looked when he didn’t hold back. “Daddy, don’t be so cruel to me,” he begged, even as his warm, soft inner walls clenched tightly around every thrust.
The view was incredible whenever Butcher could see John’s lashes fluttering and his eyes crossing every time he slammed in hard.
Butcher only growled. Those teary doe eyes only turned him on more. He pulled all the way out of that sweet, milking hole and thrust back in forcefully, making John’s tears spill over.
John wanted to scream, but nothing came out except a string of broken gasps with every thrust that perfectly stroked his prostate while his own cock rubbed against the sheets. He was getting fucked so well that the spasms in his belly only grew stronger. He was so close he could almost taste it. Then he started begging, just like he always did when he wanted something.
“William, please, Billy, Billy,” he repeated like a mantra. He wanted to come so badly. That was the only thing he was asking for.
“You’ve always loved this shit—” Butcher growled and did it again, slamming deep inside him. “Me taking you when you least expect it… using you however I want. Because you’re a fucking masochist.”
He degraded him with a cruel smile, mocking him:
“That’s right, pretty girl. A bitch who gets wet from the pain.”
“I’m not…” John managed to say, biting his lower lip hard in an attempt to hold back the moans threatening to escape his trembling throat. “It’s not true!”
And that was his mistake. Contradicting Butcher when he knew exactly how he would react. He knew him so well —after all, he had trained him that way.
“Oh yeah, princess?” Billy smiled like he had already won. He loved a challenge. “Let’s see how long you last like that…” His hot breath brushed against John’s neck as he whispered in his ear. John shuddered all over. He knew he was going to eat his words. A hand wrapped around his throat. John cried out.
“Fuck!” he barely managed to say. The pressure on his throat made it hard to breathe or speak properly. But fuck… it felt so good. John closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation —the pleasure growing more intense with the lack of oxygen. His head was spinning. He couldn’t think anymore. He couldn’t… “Fucking— yes!”
He couldn’t hold back any longer. The friction of his cock against the bed, combined with the relentless pressure on his poor, sensitive prostate, only intensified with the lack of air. John felt the pleasure surge, carrying him to absolute bliss. He writhed as much as he could under Billy’s heavy body, who groaned deeply at the feeling of John’s walls clenching tightly around his cock. Billy thrust deep one final time and came hard, flooding John’s insides with thick, hot cum.
William kept pumping slowly, savoring how wet and messy it felt, until he finally softened and pulled out. He admired his handiwork: John’s stretched hole leaking thick, whitish fluid that began to drip down his perineum.
“Let’s hope that’s enough for you to give me another kid,” Billy said, giving John’s ass a firm slap. John jolted before collapsing face-first into the pillow.
He needed time to recover — maybe even a little sleep — before his daughter or his husband wanted anything else from him in the next few hours.