𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 ✓ | Muzan X Reader X Giyuu

39. Gettin' Ripped Tonight

(A/N: Warning because my breeding kink went brrrrrrrrrrrr.)

Two things.

First of all, Muzan probably, most likely, very certainly just ate his naysayers.

There was nothing that stopped him given his strength and position, after all. 

You were not prepared to be eaten alive, and suddenly, you considered spilling all the beans that Douma had laid out for you.

Second of all, Mrs. Kibutsuji?

Although you had been married to your husband for over a month, you had never been referred to by your husband's surname.

Yet, these simple things, especially when coming from your husband himself, made your heart flutter unexpectedly.

"Whatever your answer is, don't hurt me," you quietly pled to Muzan's original question.

Your husband slowly scanned your face, biting his inner cheek as he did.

You looked so soft, so kissable.

Your puffy lips, your small pout, your breathy voice.

When you also stared at the man with your big doe eyes that shone from the starlight, Muzan had to will every ounce of his body to not immediately rip your robe off and start fucking you like the depraved animal that he truly was.

Stop.

He needed to stop. He needed to control himself.

But stopping was the very last thing that the demon king could do.

How could he "stop" when he must show this misbehaving young lady exactly who was in control, when he clearly needed to discipline his disobedient wife?

With a smirk, your husband leaned into the sensitive area behind your ear, biting down gently with his sharp fangs.

"Hm, how should I drag these answers out of you?" Muzan thought aloud, the purr in his voice sending sharp shivers down your body.

Using his lips, your husband created a trail of feather-like touches that led to the crook of your neck, breath tickling hotly against your sensitive skin a split second before his lips do.

It was a strange sensation, really. 

The kisses were as hot as boiling water but somehow so indescribably cool at his sweet admiration.

"Why don't you tell me?" the man then hummed by your collarbone. "Tell me what you're hiding from me."

You unexpectedly stuck out your tongue, the inner brat inside of you revealing itself.

"As if. I won't tell you," you built the courage to taunt only for your husband to shut down that bravery just as quickly.

At your defiance, Muzan's light kisses suddenly turned to rough ones as he relentlessly sucked at your skin, ​​teasingly brushing his canines against your neck, chuckling against you when a pathetic whimper left your lips.

Your hands landed on your husband's shoulders as you tried to push him off, but you immediately abandoned the operation when you were too occupied by the bursts of pleasure both from your husband's actions at your neck and the heat that built at your centers.

When Muzan finally detached from you, a sideways glance at the nearby mirror allowed you to see the large, purple-red markings that he had visibly left.

As your fingers flew up to your neck and gently rubbed the bruised spots, your eyes doubled in size.

Were these...hickies?!