𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 ✓ | Muzan X Reader X Giyuu

29. Making Babies

(TW: IF YOU CAN'T TELL FROM THE TITLE, SMUT SMUT SMUT. Skip if uncomfortable. Explicit language, fingering, virgin sex, period sex, more to come.)

You, and nothing else.

That was what your husband wanted.

Burning under Muzan's stare, you shifted uncomfortably by the sink.

You could only give the man a dejected look, hoping he would hurry up in whatever the hell he plotted on doing with you.

"My plan," Muzan mumbled, listlessly stroking your thighs, "is that if I can't be your first kiss, I want to be your first for something else."

Wearily staring at Muzan's fingers on your hips, you suddenly understood what your husband was implying.

Muzan wanted to...make babies?

He better be joking.

Narrowing the slits of his ruby-tinted eyes, Muzan sure didn't look like he was joking, though.

You weren't ready to be a mother.

Basic biology told you that your chances of getting pregnant during the end of your period were low, but "low" wasn't "zero."

As your gaze anxiously lowered to avoid your husband's imposing stature, you realized that you had a more embarrassing worry.

"I've never...done anything like that before," you quietly admitted before pointing a hesitant finger towards the bathroom exit. "Plus, the bedroom's out there."

"Forget the bed," Muzan mused, a small smirk tugging at the smooth lips you kissed a minute ago. "I want to ruin you right here."

On the bathroom countertop?

Today already checked off too many firsts for you: the first time a man has touched you, groped you, and asked for you with so much desire.

You weren't sure if you could handle any more.

Chills zipping through your spine, you straightened up a little to prepare for a swift exit.

Yet, for some reason, you couldn't move beyond that.

Maybe you were scared. Maybe you felt guilty.

Whatever the reason was, your mind scrambled for excuses until you realized that you were trapped, and the best thing to do was to do nothing at all.

Muzan, noticing the small alteration in your posture, now used his strong hands to secure your wrists to the bathroom counter before forcing his body between your slightly parted legs.

You're almost horrified by the sudden advancement.

You would be horrified, if it wasn't for your deliciously gorgeous god of a husband who was pressed against the growing heat under your panties, smiling as he observed your anxiety with a vicious sort of excitement.

This man was an absolute animal.

"I'll teach you," he commanded, voice husky and raw. Muzan freed a hand from your wrist to roughly push your shoulders against the mirror. "Behave if you want to be a good wife."

His voice was soothing, almost hypnotic, as his orders echoed in your head with a fog. 

Powerless under his carnal stare, you decided to do your best to obey Muzan's demands, afraid of the punishment that you'd experience if you didn't.

After all, your husband was a little older, perhaps a little more experienced.

He must know what he was doing.