It's been a month since Annie gave birth to William, their son.
The first few weeks are a blur of sleepless nights and quiet awe.
Annie spends hours just watching William sleep, mesmerized by the way his chest rises and falls too still, sometimes, for a human baby. But William isn't just human. From the first breath he took, it was clear their son is different. He glows.
It starts subtly. A soft shimmer under his skin when he dreams, when he cries, or when he's pressed against Annie's chest and hears her heartbeat. By week two, he's already accidentally shorted out a lamp and levitated a few inches during a particularly loud tantrum.
Annie learns to swaddle with reinforced fabric. The crib is lined with a strong alloy. Not exactly the warm wooden furniture she once imagined, but everything about motherhood surprises her mostly in the best ways.
John is involved more than she expected. At night, he watches over them like a sentinel, his presence equal parts protective and possessive. He rocks William with casual strength, sometimes hovering midair as he does. He doesn't say it aloud, but Annie knows he's proud. This boy is his legacy, and it shows in every glance. They laugh more than people might expect.
William once belched with enough force to blow out the windows. Annie shrieked. John howled with laughter. The baby just blinked and fell back asleep.
When they aren't managing baby meltdowns or changing diapers that occasionally melt through regular trash bags, they're navigating something else something harder to admit. The world outside is watching. William isn't just their son he's a symbol. A second-generation supe. A living headline.
But in their private time, Annie holds onto the fact he's hers. Their family isn't normal, but in between the flashes of light and sound, there's love. Real love.
Kimiko sometimes comes by in the evenings, giving Annie and John a rare moment to breathe. She's less wild now, watching William with a strange softness in her eyes. When she's alone with John, she's less guarded, less fierce her sharp edges softened by the warmth of family.
One night, as John gently rocks William in his arms, Kimiko lingers nearby, her gaze lingering on the tiny glowing child. The sight stirs something deep inside her, a whisper of longing she never expected to feel. Watching the gentle strength John shows, the way he cradles his son with reverence and care, she finds herself imagining a life she hadn't dared dream of.
Maybe, someday, she thinks, holding William close for just a moment, maybe she could have that too.
John stood quietly in the dim light, looking at her.
"I want us to build something real together too... " John says carefully, his voice low and steady. " Bear my child." He adds his hands holding her hips as she cradles his son.
"I'm not ready. Not while some of them still walks free." She answers, her gaze unwavering. John takes a step closer, his expression gentle but determined.
"I know what you're fighting for. But that doesn't have to be forever. We can have a future that's bigger than your war." He retorts.
She shook her head slowly. "My fight isn't over. I can't bring a child into it."
"I'll stand with you through it all. But I want you to know I'm here, ready, when you're ready." He holds her, hiding his disappointment.
Kimiko turns slightlyw looking at him as something unspoken passing between them. "When that day comes.. maybe then."
"I'll wait."John nods hope mingling in his eyes.
[ Later that evening ]
The weight of the day press on John. William's linger in his mind the fragile reminder of a life he created with Annie. Yet beneath that warmth, a storm brew. The endless scrutiny, the impossible expectations, the parts of himself he doesn't show to Annie.
His phone vibrated an encrypted message from an old contact. Tessa from the TNT Twins.
"A place to breathe, to have fun. To drop the mask." The message read with an address.
John stares at the screen, fingers tightening around the phone.
Later, John stands by the door. Annie's soft voice reached him from the other room. "Be safe. "
He nods to himself. "I will."
Then, in the quiet, he allowed himself a moment to breathe deep and step out.
As he slipped into the night and fly up, the pull of event is more than temptation, it's necessary. A fleeting chance to have fun. After all soon it'll be Maggie and Victoria turn to give birth and he'll have to take care of three kids. He's also going to need to get back to work again to get more.
Homelander descend from the sky. Warm light spilling out into the cold night.
His boots touch down on the marble terrace of the mansion turned pleasure palace with a soft thud, wind coiling. Heads turned. The clap of flesh against flesh pause. The thrum of bass-heavy music don't stop but something shift in the room.
Some whispers his name. Others knelt not from fear, but reverence. Homelander isn't just a guest. He's a myth made flesh. A living god descending into the temple of the obscene.
Eyes devoured him. Every movement he makes. His cape flutters behind him, catching the low light like blood silk.
Naked supes parts for him instinctively some in awe, some in heat, all hungry for even a glance. A man coated in gold body paint raised a glass and bowed low. A woman in nothing but wings trails her fingers across his shoulder, shivering at the brief contact.
Sweat, lube, booze, and supercharged hormones fills the air like smog. Bodies are everywhere on the floors, the walls, the ceiling some flying, some crawling, some melting into each. Music pounds, moaning matching the beat, and the smell is between a nightclub and a porn set.
One supe is getting railed through a wall by a guy who can phase through matter half in, half out, literally. Another is using heat generation to carve symbols into willing flesh while others cheer.
In the corner, someone with telekinesis is suspending five people in midair like puppets, twisting limbs into new angles for fun or show.
On a plush red sofa, a supe with four arms and no jaw is multitasking in ways that shouldn't be physically possible. A shapeshifter flickers through identities mid-act, switching genders and faces every few seconds while getting fucked in the ass.
Everywhere you look, someone's screaming. In pleasure, in pain, in something in between.
Drugs are everywhere. A supe with a melted-looking face is snorting off a prostitute asscheeks, pupils blown wide like dinner plates. Someone else inhales something neon-blue from a respirator and immediately floats two feet off the ground, laughing and drooling.
On the stairwell, a pyrokinetic lights a joint with her thumb and passes it to a guy who smokes it without even stopping his hips thrust.
Another shapeshifter changes their skin color to match the acid trip they're on shimmering and fractal, eyes rolling back while three people ride them like a theme park.
John undoes the buckle on his suit and shrugs it off, slow, deliberate, like peeling back the skin of his public self. All eyes lock on him. He scans the room, jaw tight, bored but hungry. Choosing who's going to have the honor.
Hyperion, tall, statuesque and caramel skinned, barely covered in black leather and glitter-dusted sweat meets his eyes and doesn't look away.
Firecracker is half-drunk and half-wired, standing on a table with a bottle in one hand. She notices him looking, stumbles off the edge like it's a red carpet.
Crimson Countess is lounging near the fireplace, surrounded by sycophants. She doesn't move until she sees the look. Then she's on her feet, red silk dress dragging behind her.
Homelander says nothing. The three fall in line behind him like handpicked sacrifices, each one smirking. He leads them to a heart shaped bed.
" Fuck off." He says coldly to the Supes on the bed who quickly stands and leave it empty for him.
" Now girls, get rid of that and get on that bed " John says to the three women he chose to unleash his pent up stress. They undress quickly and get on the bed as he ordered.
A slight shimmer come from between their legs as their wombs heat up and fresh arousal floods their veins. It won't be long before they're on their hands and knees begging for his dick.
Firecracker and Crimson Countess purses their lips and leans in, planting a pair of loving kisses against his reddened tip while he play with Hyperion's ass, slapping it loving how it jiggle like jelly.
The two whore-supes set about their work, lavishing his tip and shaft with their tongues and massaging his bulging balls using the palms of their hands. The moment they starts to suckle on his shaft they starts to make a series of undignified noises while he fingers Hyperion's wet pussy. The sound of the two slurping and sucking on his cock on their stomachs, worshipping it like it's a gift from the gods drowned by the orgy around them.
Firecracker make sure to lather up his shaft with as much of her spit as possible, while Crimson Countess opens her plush lips and accept the tip into her mouth. She earn a pleased groan from John after running her tongue around the head and cleaning every nook and cranny in the process.
Their blowjob is detailed and enthusiastic, whenever one pulls away to pay attention to another area or his balls, the other would take her place and enjoy the sensation of his cock stuffing her mouth and cheeks full.
They're desperate for any small taste of his seed. Even a tiny dribble of precum is enough to make their bodies shiver in ecstasy.
Adoring mouths and devoted tongues lashes across his length, suckling on his hairy balls.
He pulls Firecracker head closer to the base of his cock and holds it there for several seconds. she doesn't protest or try to move away. She accept the punishment being doled out and waits for him to unload into her throat. John doesn't make a sound as his first orgasm of the evening boiled up inside of his dick.
Firecracker close her eyes and focuses on swallowing as a thick deluge of his seed threatens to clog her windpipe.
"Save some for me slut!" Crimson Countess bites her bottom lip in jealousy.
Firecracker complies with her request. She pulls back and caught some of the prize in her mouth, before twisting around and pulling her into a kiss. The two busty Supes moans and ground against one another while they swap spit and cum, fighting with their tongues for it.
Crimson Countess comes out on top, taking away most of Firecracker share and swallowing it down with an erotic moan of pleasure.
"You could have split it evenly with me." Firecracker says angrily.
"You were the one connected to the source! That would hardly be fair." Crimson Countess retorts while Hyperion's is shaking from his fingers. Her ass shaking from side to side from need.
" Get on your knees." Homelander orders them then looks at the three ass raised in front of him.
He used his immense, bull-like strength and speared her leaking cunt with several inches of his shaft, bottoming out and pushing all the way up to her womb. Hyperion gasp at the impact, the discomfort quickly replaced with an overwhelming feeling of pleasure. Firecracker watches in envy as she takes the first round.
"Hhnnh! Mmmpphh! Hmmmm!~"
Hyperion don't want to lose so easily, biting her bottom lip to conceal the sensual sounds of a harlot leaving her mouth involuntarily facing the wall and dropping her head in submission.
Her hair held in a ponytail while his body pummel her heavenly buttocks with insane strength. The impact of his fervent thrusts making the flesh wobble lewdly, the soft pillowy meat audibly smacking against his sturdy body.
John snarl while spanking her insanely plump dump truck like they're drums. He spank her cheeks to prove his authority over the woman whose only ever known what it's like to dominate, not to be dominated.
The spectators are reduce to having soaking wet pussies, patiently waiting their turn before soon joining in to caress John burly frame.
"Don't worry. It'll be your turn soon. Let me finish putting this woman in her place." He says.
Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap!
The thrusts so emphatic and deep that his entire shaft hilt inside of her molten, heated tunnels pushing her face against the bed. Speeding up the hectic pace of his lower half slamming into the curvy bimbo that flex her buttcheeks in response to the harsh thrashing.
He continues to pound into her even while her walls clenched around his girth and she squirt violently all over the mats below.
"Here it comes!" He groans.
He pulls her down to the base and let loose, flooding her womb with semen in one long, gratifying release. John grunt and held his head aloft. Each forceful pulse sends a shiver down his spine. It felt like there was so much pressure forcing its way through his dick that it was going to burst, and the ejection of jizz into a willing receptacle leaves a faint burning sensation around his cockhead. He releases her and Hyperion plops down on the bed while he turns and set his sight on Firecracker.
He swat her ass with the palm of his hand, leaving a clear red mark behind on her pale skin.
Reaching back to spread her ass apart and reveal her sodden slit for his enjoyment.
"Please." Firecracker pleads.
He position himself behind her waggling ass and line up. With a firm swing of his hips, he slides every inch of his veiny-covered shaft into her. He reaches out and play with her breasts then he pulls back her wrist and hold them making sure she couldn't slip away from him once he starts to pick up the pace.
"Tighten up your hole bitch! " John grunts, thrusting in and out of her. Firecracker moans and shakes her head.
"I can't!" She gasps. "Your cock is too big! It's stretching me!"
Firecracker can only hold on for dear life and try to keep herself from cumming too quickly, an impossible task when his brutal prick is spreading her inner walls and scraping her most sensitive spots with every thrust.
John continues to bully her pussy and slap her ass, leaving a series of red marks on her thighs and buttocks.
He feels an orgasm rumbling up inside of his body. He push down on Firecracker from above, practically grinding her face into the bed while he huff and puff. The tension in his cock is released and a flood of egg-raping seed push directly into her willing womb. Firecracker can't hold back her wails of pleasure. A rush of endorphins is being injected into her brain too, causing her vision to blur and her hold on reality to slip.
"Oh! That's good, real nice. " John chuckles. "I guess you are good for something after all." He adds.
He pulls free with a loud popping sound. Leftover jizz flowing from her gaping cunt and onto the sheets.
Moving behind Crimson Countess, John's hands go underneath and plays around with her ample breasts as he insert his dick in her pussu, his toned stomach smacking against her round ass cheeks, creating a resounding slapping noise and making his wide cock disappear into her pink cunt. He lands deep strokes inside her cunt and tap the rounded head of his cock against the the supe cervix.
"Ahh! Ahh!" She moans aloud.
John grab her hips and stops fucking her for only a second. When he starts pounding her again, his tempo increase. His strokes becomes deep but fast. A groan begins to build up in his throat as his balls begin to throb and quiver underneath his butt with the overwhelming desire to ejaculate.
Suddenly, his ass cheeks tense up. He throws his head back as his hot load of semen spray powerfully onto the opening of Crimson Countess's unprotected womb.
Her frame shudders as an orgasmic ecstasy makes her pussy spasm around the his still throbbing penis. The contractions of her cunt only ensuring that his semen is sucked deep into her womb.
While John's hands grip tightly her plump ass cheeks, she purrs at the feeling of his hot seed shooting out onto her quivering cervix and warming her up inside.
" Round two girls." He says, grabbing Hyperion and turning her around to put her in a mating press, his dick filling back her pussy.
[ Siberia ]
The transport chopper is blacked out as it speeds toward its target. Inside, ten men sit in silence, checking their gear. No wasted movements. No nerves. These aren't regular mercenaries, they're ex-special forces, pulled from the depths of the intelligence world. Some American, some British, some men whose governments don't even know they exist anymore.
The leader, a scarred veteran named Connor, checks his watch. "Two minutes out."
"Perimeter's hot. Guards on patrol, automated defenses. Looks like they're expecting trouble." The pilot's voice crackles through their earpieces.
"Then let's not disappoint." Connor smirks.
The compound emerges from the darkness a reinforced bunker hidden in the frozen wasteland, spotlights cutting through the swirling snow. Russian soldiers patrol the walls, their breath visible in the frigid air.
The chopper never touches the ground. The mercs rappel down, moving fast, silent. The first sentries go down with muffled gunshots. Knives flash in the dark. Blood stains the snow. Then, the alarm blares.
Gunfire erupts from the towers. The Russians respond fast, sweeping the area with searchlights, unloading their rifles into the night. But the mercs are already inside, moving through the facility like ghosts.
Explosions rock the complex as charges breach steel doors.
Inside, scientists and guards scramble. They aren't trying to stop the intruders. They're trying to secure something.
The team reaches the main chamber. A reinforced vault stands at the center. The lead merc plants the final charge.
Boom.
The door buckles inward. Smoke clears.
And there, at the heart of it all, stands a glass chamber. Thick as a bank vault, filled with amber-colored fluid. Inside, frozen in unnatural stillness, is a man.
The machines hooked up to him beep frantically as the system struggles to compensate for the breach. His body remains unchanged, preserved as if he never left the battlefield.
One of the mercs steps forward, setting up the override.
"Control, we're in." He says.
"Wake him up." Grace voice comes through the radio, cold and sharp.
The system drains the fluid. Soldier Boy's body shudders. Then, his eyes snap open.
The moment the fluid drains, the facility is drowned in chaos.
Soldier Boy's eyes snap open, his body heaving as he gasps for air. For a split second, confusion paints his face. Then, instinct takes over.
His first movement is a violent reflex, a devastating punch that shatters the glass chamber like it's paper-thin. Shards explode outward, embedding into the nearest mercenary's face. He barely has time to gurgle before Soldier Boy grabs him by the throat and crushes his windpipe with one squeeze.
Gunfire erupts.
The mercs, trained professionals, don't hesitate. They unload entire magazines into him, the muzzle flashes lighting up the darkened chamber. But the bullets do nothing. They ping off his body, flattening uselessly against his skin.
Faster than any of them expect, he rips the gun out of one soldier's hands and swings it like a bat, caving in his skull with a sickening crunch. Blood splatters across the chamber walls. Another merc gets a boot to the chest, his ribcage collapsing as he's launched backward into a console, snapping his spine on impact.
The rest try to scatter. They don't get far.
Soldier Boy grabs one by the ankle, swings him up like a ragdoll, and slams him into the concrete floor so hard he leaves a red smear. Another, he gets by the jaw, fingers digging in as he rips the man's lower face clean off, tossing it aside like garbage.
Screams fill the bunker. The last two mercs break for the exit one almost makes it. Soldier Boy hurls a chair, and it impales the man's back, pinning him to the wall.
Soldier Boy breathes heavily, his muscles tensed, eyes wild. His brain still catching up. His last memory was a mission, a Russian ambush then nothing. And now, he's here, surrounded by bodies.
And then he hears it. A voice.
"That's enough."
A woman stands at the entrance, unshaken by the massacre before her. Grace Malory, old but not weak, her sharp eyes locked onto him like a handler facing down a wild animal.
"Who the fuck are you?" Soldier Boy exhales slowly, cracking his knuckles.
Grace steps forward, past the mutilated corpses.
"Someone who just gave you a second chance." She says.
"Lady, I don't even know where I am." Soldier Boy says coldly while he tilts his head, considering her.
"Then let's catch you up." Grace's expression remains ice cold.