Hickies that were etched right into the most visible area of your body?
Nearly anyone could see the coloring from miles away, and you were not sure if you could casually cover that spot on your neck in public.
"That's my mark on you," Muzan hissed in satisfaction as he admired his artwork in a rare state of adoration. "If I could, I would tattoo my name inside of you, outside of you, fucking everywhere."
At this point, Muzan couldn't help it anymore.
Even if his eyes slipped closed for half a second too long, Muzan couldn't stop imagining you grind your folds along his cock, tits then bouncing when he would slip himself inside your slicked pussy.
"Let them know," he growled. "Let everyone know that you're mine because I'm tired of whoever the fuck is always trying to take you away."
Then, he remembered.
"I'm also tired of you not cooperating, miss." His breath was heavy as his self-control seemed to thin with every passing second. "Explain. First, you talk about human flesh then you don't want to share a room with your husband?"
When you attempted to look away, Muzan lightly held your chin and you could feel the labored rise and fall of his chest that signaled his growing ire.
"Oh. right. Then, what the hell was it about babies? "
Your heart sputtered.
Although you pretended to had never mention anything about babies, he heard you.
Of course, he did.
Your husband possessed superhuman powers, and you were stupid to assume that playing dumb earlier would get you far.
"If you want a baby, just tell me," he chortled.
This time, your heart stopped for the briefest moment as Muzan traced down the side of your body so that he could gently rub the side of your stomach.
"That is, if I haven't gotten you pregnant already."
Pregnant with half-demon half-human babies, you realized as thoughts quickly flashed in your mind.
As strange and perhaps ridiculous it seemed, what if your dream was true?
That your body would deteriorate inside out if carrying Muzan's child?
"You can't get me pregnant," you braved, careful to not anger the short-tempered demon.
Too late.
The moment you finished your sentence, there was already a chamber of hot and molten lava ready to spew from his glowing eyes.
"Yes, I totally can," he retorted.
His gaze was sharp and unforgiving, ready to ruin your entirety because if looks could kill, you'd be dead in two-sevenths of a millisecond.
"As long as you're keeping your mouth shut about whatever you're hiding from me," Muzan continued, placing his warm hands at your hips. "I'll make sure that I'll get you pregnant tonight, that we don't finish until you're stuffed full of my babies."
He pulled his shoulders back to appear slightly larger against your smaller frame. "What, are you challenging me?"
You should say no.
In this situation, agreeing to Muzan's little contest was as good as consenting to a death wish.
He was giving you a choice, so just deny, right? Just—
"I dislike repeating myself," Muzan suddenly warned.
Flinching at the tone of the demon lord's voice, you blurted out, "Yes."
Wait.
You must take it back, say that you changed your mind. Why were you so pathetic?
Squeezing your closed eyes hard, you sought an escape from the situation.
"I..." you started, lips trembling ever so slightly, but your voice trails off.
Your mind was blank.
Because, as risky as it was, you secretly loved the idea of testing and provoking your husband, bringing him on edge so that he would be as desperate for you as you were for him.
When you opened one cautious eye, you knew that demon king who you sat on also made his decision.
Muzan's stare pinned you down like he was a man painfully drying out in the Sahara, and you were the last lick of water.
Tugging at your robe, he smirked, and the small curve of his mouth was a sorry attempt at hiding the devil in his eyes.
"I'll make sure that you're a mommy by the morning."
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