I need to see more conquest with wifey!
Conquest reacts to his baby's or how he reacts to you treating his baby's softly?
Is he relieved or disappointed his kids are going to have a soft side? Maybe he's really fucked and gets jealous😭
𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚎𝚜 (𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚎𝚢! 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛)
a/n: anon i love you so much, yes yes yes i kiss your mind mwwwwwwwwah! disclaimers: sexual content, childbirth mentions, f! reader, pregnancy kink, lactation kink, violence mentioned, conquest being sweet but in a fucked up way but its okay we love himmmmm
you're in labour for what feels like days, it's a chunky baby even for viltrumite standards. conquest refuses to let his child be born anywhere else. no, you're doing this at home. he does have the sense to abduct provide you with a midwife, but he never lets her leave his sight. he sits beside you in solemn silence, watching. even when you try to joke, and tell him he's not going to like what he sees. he glares back at you. there's no way he's missing a moment of this.
his firstborn child is a son. he was slightly disappointed that it wasn't a daughter, one he could watch grow up into a smaller you. yet, when he saw his child, when he saw his son's eyes open and they were yours, when that bundle began to whimper and cry, and his woman held it close to her exhausted little body, weeping softly herself but with that beautiful, angelic smile... he cried himself. made no excuse, made no apology. never brought it up again.
conquest takes care of you and his son over that bumpy first month. he does so without complaint. nothing is off limits, nothing is too much, nothing bothers him in the slightest. you two were the centre of his universe now, and he who had never had anything for his own, not truly, took ownership with pride. you will want for nothing, his wife in his bed swaddled up with his baby, well fed, calm, happy.
that isn't to say that he's not selfish. it doesn't take long for his loins to ache again, used to being pleasured by you every night. but no, he knows not to press the issue with you, knows that little body like the back of his hand, and knows it must rest and heal. will that stop him lusting for you? absolutely fucking not.
he fists his cock with any item of clothing he can get from you pressed up to his face, his sensitive nose filled with your scent, drool staining the fabric as he bites down into it to muffle his grunts and groans. you were sleeping beside him, after all. you needed your sleep. but that didn't mean he'd deny his own needs, primal and obsessive as they were.
his favourite clothes to do that with were your nightshirts. you'd be all embarassed and whiny when you'd be sitting playing with the baby on the couch and your engorged breasts would begin to leak and stain your comfy tee, hiding them in the laundry basket bundled up with the other clothes so as to hide them from his view. hilarious. he scented them out right away when he was doing the laundry later that evening, and hungrily bring it to his mouth, even the slightest taste of that sweet wifey cream made his cock stand up...
the jealousy began to trickle in after that grace period. he could hardly stand it, seeing you be so soft with that baby. he watched you kiss its little head, squish its cherubic cheeks, hold its tiny hands with a finger and sing little silly songs to it to make it laugh... you had been like that with him a few months ago. there was a time where all you'd do is cling to him for the whole day, naked up against him, whining and giggling as you climbed all over his big body, yowling playfully for attention. but his little kitten was so consumed... too busy being soft with someone else, even if that someone else was half of him. more than half, if we're thinking about the dominance of viltrumite genes in hybrid offspring.
he grumbles disapprovingly when you babble back to the baby, when you tickle its little belly, when you cover it with raspberry kisses as it squeals and smiles... you're indulging weakness, that's his excuse. in reality, he doesn't care if his children inherit the softness of their mother, they're still his progeny, they'll be killers anyway, it's written into their dna to conquer and crush. he's learned that caring for your loved ones only makes indulging that destructiveness all the more satisfying, when you're doing it for a purpose. what he does care about, what eats him alive, is that you're not giving him that softness anymore. the bitterness, the despair, the loneliness that plagued him for centuries, it all comes rushing back. and it gets to a point where he has to leave for a while. days at a time, to let out his anger that he'd never lay upon you in a million years, but had to get out. he slaughters thousands upon thousands, he levels skyscrapers, brutalises and tortures and conquers. until that rage leaves him, and he can go home, exhausted enough to fall asleep beside you without a thought.
but when he returns one night to find you sitting up in bed, weeping softly, he pauses in the doorway. the cot was no longer in the bedroom, you must have moved it to the nursery at last. you look up at him with those wide, wet eyes, and you crawl to the end of the bed, mewling and crying softly. you missed him, where did he go, why did he have to leave, you were so lonely...
it hits him then. he'd been neglecting you too this whole time. consumed in the caretaking, silent for most of the day, only using his voice to reprimand you for being soft, the thing he loved the most about you... and then he'd left you in the house by yourself while he selfishly dealt with his anger instead of talking to you, paying attention to you like you desperately needed him to...
...he could scent your ovulation, too. it had returned, your body was ready to be seeded again. his precious kitten, so beautiful, growing evermore heavenly as a mother...
and so he holds you close as he makes love to you, over and over again, holds your trembling body to his as if you'd fall apart without his touch, explores your body as if it were the first time he'd seen it, worshipping at his wife's altar once more and finding joy in all the new sensations and softness... he caresses your broad, fertile hips with disciplined, reverent hands, maps out the changed walls of your vagina, as if he were acquainting himself to your perfect little pussy all over again, and he finally, finally allows himself to latch his lips to your engorged nipples and savour your most holy milk, liquid gold on his tongue... you were the most perfect, most incredible living thing to exist in this pathetic, inferior universe. you had made life from within yourself, and you had done it for him... the least he could do was worship you for the rest of your lives together.
and of course, give you another. his cum pours inside you many times that night, and the next, and the next... until your son is introduced to his little sister...
ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh i wrote this instead of going to a lecture i need to be shot......... thank you again anon i need to go lie down...
