Pugmama

[gallard0-5]

“If It Can’t Be You”

(Part 2)

Sasuke uchiha/ fem reader

Summary: What starts as boys versus girls ends with Sasuke claiming the only prize he's ever wanted—Your surrender, your lips, and your heart

The afternoon sun was warm against Sakura's skin.

Everyone had gathered beneath the shade of the large tree overlooking the training grounds, enjoying one of the rare days when no missions demanded their attention.

Naruto was in the middle of an exaggerated story, waving his arms dramatically.

"And then the guy looked at me and said—"

"No way," Kiba interrupted, already laughing.

"I'm serious!"

"You are absolutely making this up."

"I'm not!"

Laughter erupted around the group.

Choji nearly choked on his chips.

Even Shikamaru let out an amused sigh.

"It's troublesome... but I kind of want to hear how this ends."

Naruto grinned triumphantly before continuing his wildly embellished story, earning another chorus of laughter.

Sakura laughed too.

At least...

She pretended to.

As everyone else focused on Naruto, her eyes drifted across the circle.

To him.

Sasuke.

He wasn't smiling.

He wasn't laughing.

In fact...

She wasn't even sure he'd heard a single word Naruto had said.

His dark eyes were fixed somewhere else entirely.

Following his gaze, Sakura's own eyes landed on you.

You sat beside Hinata, quietly listening to Naruto's story with a soft smile, occasionally laughing under your breath whenever Naruto became a little too dramatic.

Completely unaware.

Or perhaps...

Pretending to be.

Sakura's chest tightened.

She looked back at Sasuke.

He hadn't looked away once.

Not once.

It wasn't the first time she'd noticed it.

It wasn't the casual observation of a teammate. It wasn't even the protective watchfulness of a friend. His dark eyes were fixed on Reader with an intensity that made Sakura's chest ache—a focused, unwavering attention that seemed to filter out the rest of the world entirely.

Sasuke's attention always seemed to find you.

It was subtle.

Most people probably wouldn't notice.

But Sakura had spent years watching Sasuke.

She noticed everything.

The way his eyes searched for you the moment you entered a room.

The way he unconsciously positioned himself where he could see you.

The way he'd grow quiet whenever you spoke, as though every word mattered.

And the way...

You never looked back at him for long.

Instead...

You'd smile politely.

Excuse yourself.

Talk to someone else.

Or find a reason to leave entirely.

Sakura had convinced herself it was nothing.

Maybe she was imagining it.

Maybe Sasuke was simply... distracted.

But now...

Watching him stare at you while the rest of the group laughed together...

Sakura watched the way Sasuke's jaw tightened when you shifted uncomfortably. She noticed how his fingers, wrapped around his own cup, flexed slightly, as if restraining himself from reaching across the table to—what? Brush that hair from your face? Cover your hand with his?

Stop it, Sakura told herself. Stop looking.

But she couldn't.

She knew what it looked like when Sasuke Uchiha didn't care.

And this—this—was the opposite.

Naruto's story reached its climax. The table erupted in laughter. Even your lips twitched upward, a polite, fragile smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Sasuke didn't smile. He didn't laugh. He didn't even blink.

He just kept watching you.

Sakura's smile slowly faded.

Her eyes lingered on you from across the circle.

You were laughing quietly at something Hinata had whispered, your smile soft enough that most people probably wouldn't have noticed it.

But Sasuke did.

He always did.

Sakura lowered her gaze for a moment.

She's beautiful, Sakura thought, the realization landing like a physical blow. You’ve always been beautiful.

It wasn't the loud, obvious beauty of a festival fireworks display. Your attractiveness lived in subtler spaces—the gentle curve of your neck as you tilted your head to listen to something Sai was saying, the way your lashes cast delicate shadows against your cheeks when you looked down, the soft uncertainty in your posture that made you seem approachable in a way Sakura never felt she was.

Sakura swallowed.

Even I...

...can't help thinking you're beautiful.

She watched as a breeze brushed through your hair.

You tucked a loose strand behind your ear with an absent-minded smile, still completely focused on Naruto's ridiculous story.

You had no idea.

No idea that someone was watching you with so much love in his eyes.

You never chased. You never begged. You simply sat in your quiet beauty, radiating a gentleness that Sakura could never manufacture, and Sasuke went to you like a moth to flame.

If I looked like that, Sakura thought, the thought acidic and shameful, would he look at me that way?

She knew the answer. She hated that she knew.

You were beautiful. Sakura could admit that without bitterness now, watching the soft light play across your features. You were beautiful the way moonlight was beautiful—unintentional, serene, existing fully in your own quiet radiance without needing anyone's validation.

But it wasn't your beauty that hurt.

It was Sasuke's reaction to it. The way he seemed stripped bare by your presence, all his walls dismantled, his armor discarded. Sakura had spent years trying to crack that armor. You had managed it simply by walking into a room.

Before Sakura could lose herself in those thoughts any longer—

Naruto suddenly sprang to his feet.

"I've got an idea!"

Everyone looked up.

"What now?" Shikamaru sighed.

Naruto grinned from ear to ear.

"Let's play hide-and-seek!"

For a second...

No one said anything.

Then Kiba burst out laughing.

"Hide-and-seek?" he repeated with a smirk.

Naruto folded his arms.

"Yeah! Why not?"

Kiba chuckled, shaking his head.

"That's kind of childish, don't you think?"

"It is not!"

"It is."

Choji smiled as he reached into another bag of chips.

"I mean..."

Kiba scratched the back of his head.

"We used to play hide-and-seek all the time when we were kids."

Naruto pointed at him triumphantly.

"See!"

"...As training," Kiba corrected. "The instructors would make us hide while another team tracked us down."

Shikamaru nodded.

"It was actually good practice."

Kiba glanced around the wide training grounds.

Tall trees surrounded the clearing.

Large boulders were scattered across the field.

Bushes, hills, and winding paths stretched in every direction.

He grinned.

"Honestly..."

"This place is perfect for it."

Naruto's eyes lit up.

"I knew it!"

Kiba turned toward the quietest member of the group.

"What do you think, Sasuke?"

Everyone's attention shifted to him.

Sasuke slowly lifted his gaze.

He glanced around the training field once before answering.

"...It's a good place for the game."

Naruto pumped his fist into the air.

"Yes!"

He clapped his hands together excitedly.

"Let's make it interesting."

He looked between everyone gathered there before a mischievous grin spread across his face.

"Boys versus girls."

Kiba immediately smirked.

"Oh?"

Choji nodded.

"That actually sounds fun."

Shikamaru let out a long sigh.

"...Troublesome."

The table erupted into chaotic planning—strategies being formed, rules being argued, Naruto and Kiba already trash-talking each other about who would be found first. Sakura watched it all happen around her like she was underwater, sounds muffled, movements slowed.

But Sakura kept her eyes on you, watching the way you finally, reluctantly lifted your gaze—and found Sasuke already waiting for you, his dark eyes holding promises that had nothing to do with the game and everything to do with the chase.

////////////////////////////////////

The afternoon sun beat warm against your neck, and somewhere behind you, you could hear the boys dispersing, counting to sixty with Naruto's voice carrying loudest of all.

You ducked behind a thick oak tree, pressing your back against the rough bark, and tried to slow your breathing. The field stretched out before you—golden grass swaying, shadows pooling beneath scattered trees, the distant hum of insects in the warm air. Ino had grabbed your wrist before splitting off, whispering something about meeting at the eastern ridge if you could make it, but you'd shaken her off, needing to be alone, needing to put as much distance as possible between yourself and—

"—hear her," a voice drifted through the grass, too close. Kiba. You recognized the lazy confidence in his tone, the way Akamaru's claws scratched against earth. "This way. Definitely caught a scent."

Your blood turned to ice.

Footsteps crunched nearby.

"y/n?" Naruto's voice, calling out with that particular brand of optimistic loudness that somehow managed to be endearing and terrifying when you were hiding. "C'mon, we know you're out here! Might as well give up!"

You didn't move. Didn't breathe.

More footsteps, closer now. Multiple sets. You could hear them spreading out, combing through the grass, their voices carrying in the still afternoon air.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing your heartbeat to slow, to quiet, to become nothing. If they found you now, you'd have to run, have to expose yourself, have to face the others with your face flushed and your composure shattered—

You turned your head slightly, preparing to peek around the trunk and assess your escape route.

And froze.

Sasuke stood ten feet away, partially concealed by the neighboring tree, his body angled perfectly to remain invisible from the searchers' approach. His arms were crossed loosely over his chest, his posture relaxed in a way that spoke of absolute confidence. And his eyes—his dark, dark eyes—were fixed on you with an expression you could only describe as smug.

He'd found you.

Of course he'd found you. Probably within the first minute of the game beginning. You were never really hiding from him—you were simply delaying the inevitable.

You stared at him, panic rising in your throat. If you moved, if you made a sound, the others would hear. If you stayed, you were trapped in this pocket of silence with him, with that look on his face that said he knew exactly how cornered you were.

"Anything?" Naruto's voice, impossibly close now. You could hear grass rustling just beyond your tree.

You didn't move. Didn't dare to breathe.

Sasuke's gaze never left yours. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted one hand and pressed a single finger against his lips.

Shh.

The gesture was intimate. Commanding. A shared secret pressed into the space between you.

You understood immediately. He wouldn't give you away. Not yet. This moment—this stolen, dangerous moment—belonged only to him, and he was hoarding it like a dragon guarding treasure.

His lips curved slightly, that smug expression deepening into something almost predatory, almost hungry. He wasn't looking at you like you were a teammate to be found in a game. He was looking at you like he'd caught something precious, something that had been running from him for months, and he had no intention of letting go.

The footsteps passed. Naruto's voice faded eastward, still calling your name with cheerful persistence.

But you didn't move.

You stayed frozen against your tree, trapped in Sasuke's gaze, your heart pounding so hard you were certain he could hear it across the distance.

Your hands trembled against the bark. The others were still close enough to return, still hunting, still calling. But here, in this pocket of silence, it was just you and him and the unspoken understanding that he had you exactly where he wanted you.

Cornered.

His.

Sasuke's eyes darkened, satisfaction flickering across his features. He lowered his finger from his lips, but the command remained etched in his expression.

Stay quiet. Stay still. Stay with me.

And god help you, you did.

Sasuke pushed off from his tree with a fluid, silent motion. He didn't look back to see if you would follow—he simply raised one hand, a brief beckoning gesture, and started walking deeper into the field where the grass grew taller and the trees clustered thicker, away from the voices and the game and the prying eyes of your friends.

You stood frozen for three full heartbeats, every instinct screaming at you to run in the opposite direction, to call out to Naruto, to escape while you still could.

Your feet moved forward.

You followed him through the swaying grass, keeping enough distance that you could pretend you weren't really together, that this was coincidence, happenstance, anything but the deliberate choice your body kept making. The sounds of the search faded behind you, muffled by distance and the wind rustling through the leaves.

"How did you find me?" The question slipped out before you could stop it, your voice barely above a whisper. "So quickly."

Sasuke stopped walking. He turned to face you, and the afternoon light caught in his dark hair, in the sharp angles of his face. He looked at you with an expression that made your chest tighten—something fierce and certain and terrifyingly tender.

"I'll always find you," he said simply.

The words landed between you like a vow.

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze, and continued walking. Your hands twisted together at your stomach, nerves sparking electric beneath your skin. You needed to leave. Needed to manufacture some excuse—I should find Ino, the game is still on, someone will notice we're both missing—anything to break this spell before it swallowed you whole.

You opened your mouth—

"Over there." Sasuke's voice cut through your forming words. He was pointing ahead, toward a break in the trees where afternoon sunlight spilled onto weathered stone.

A fountain.

It was old, probably older than the village itself, water spilling from a cracked basin into a pool below. Moss grew thick on the northern side, and wildflowers clustered at its base—purple and white, bending toward the water's edge.

You stopped walking.

"I remember," Sasuke said quietly, moving to stand beside you. Not touching. Never touching unless you allowed it. But close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his arm, close enough to smell the faint scent of grass and training sweat and something uniquely him. "A few months ago. You were here with Ino, Tenten, Hinata.

The memory surfaced unbidden—younger, lighter, splashing water at Ino while she shrieked with laughter, your hair loose and wet, your feet bare against the warm stone.

"You didn't know I was watching," Sasuke continued, his voice dropping lower, rougher. "You were standing in the water up to your ankles, and the sun was setting behind you, and you were laughing at something Ino said. Your hair was falling out of its tie. You had a flower behind your ear—white, I don't know what kind."

He turned to look at you, and his expression shattered something inside your chest—stripped bare, vulnerable, the mask completely gone.

"I hadn't seen anyone or anything so beautiful in my life," he said. "Not before. Not since."

The fountain's water spilled endlessly into the pool below, the sound filling the silence between you. You couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. The field, the game, your friends, your guilt, your resolve—everything narrowed to this boy standing beside you, offering you pieces of his heart with the same precision he used to throw kunai.

You looked down, a small, genuine smile breaking across your face despite everything. "I didn't just stand there," you said quietly, your voice carrying a warmth you hadn't intended. "I slipped on a mossy stone and fell completely into the water. Drenched from head to toe."

You could feel his eyes on you as you slowly walked toward the fountain, your footsteps soft against the grass. The water's surface rippled gently, disturbed by the continuous flow from above, and you stared at your own reflection—distorted, wavering, somehow more honest than the face you showed the world.

"Ino laughed for an hour," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. "I had to walk back to the village squelching."

Behind you, Sasuke moved. You didn't turn to look, but you felt his presence drawing closer, the space between you shrinking with each silent step. Your reflection in the water showed him approaching, his dark form growing larger, more solid, more there.

Then you felt it—a gentle tug at the back of your head, the light pressure of fingers threading through your hair. You froze, your breath catching in your throat.

He lifted a strand of your hair to his face.

You couldn't see it happening, but you feltit—the intimacy of the gesture burning through you like wildfire. The slight inhale of breath as he smelled your hair—shampoo and wind and something uniquely you. The way his fingers lingered against the nape of your neck, brushing the sensitive skin there with devastating gentleness.

You turned around.

He was closer than you expected—so close you had to tilt your head back to see his face, so close you could count his eyelashes, so close you could see the way his pupils dilated as he looked down at you. The strand of your hair was still wrapped around his finger, connecting you like a tether.

"Wait—" you gasped, arms pinwheeling, balance failing.

You fell backward.

Your back hit the water with a tremendous splash, cold shocking your system, your cry of surprise cut short as water filled your mouth. But you weren't alone—Sasuke, caught off guard by your flailing grip on his shirt, lost his own footing and tumbled forward with you.

He crashed into the fountain beside you, water erupting upward in a chaotic spray, drenching you both completely.

Water streamed down your face, plastered your hair to your neck, soaked through your clothes until they clung heavy and revealing against your skin. The shock of the cold faded rapidly, replaced by something far more dangerous—the heat of Sasuke's gaze fixed on you, unwavering, hungry.

"We should—" Your voice came out breathless, shaking. You pushed against the fountain's stone floor, trying to rise, to escape, to put distance between yourself and this moment before it consumed you both. "Someone might—if they find us like this—"

"Let them."

The words cut through your panic like a blade.

Sasuke moved before you could fully stand

He surged forward in the water, closing the distance you'd tried to create, until his knees bracketed yours and you had nowhere left to retreat.

"Let them find us," he repeated, his voice low and fierce

"Sasuke—" You tried to pull back, but he followed, matching your movement inch for inch. Your back hit the curved stone wall of the fountain. Trapped.

Sasuke didn't stop.

He placed one hand against the stone beside your head, caging you in, his face inches from yours, water dripping from his hair onto your shoulder, your cheek, your lips. You pressed back harder against the stone, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps, your hands finding the fountain's edge behind you as if you could somehow push through it to escape. But there was nowhere to go. He was everywhere—his warmth searing through your wet clothes, his breath mingling with yours, his love a physical weight pressing down on you until you couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't remember why you were supposed to say no.

"Tell me to stop," he challenged, his voice cracking with emotion, with desperation, with the same wild recklessness that had driven him to propose, to chase you, to kneel in this fountain and offer you everything. "Tell me to stop and I will. I'll let you run. I'll let you hide. I'll spend the rest of my life pretending I don't feel this if that's what you need—"

He leaned closer still, until his forehead nearly touched yours, until his lips hovered so close you could feel the vibration of his words against your own.

His hand left the stone to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away tears you hadn't realized you were crying. "—let me love you. Let me have you. Even if it's just here. Even if it's just now. Even if you walk away after and never speak to me again—"

His voice broke completely.

"—just let me show you," he whispered against your lips, the words a confession and a plea and a promise all tangled together. "Let me show you what you do to me. What you've always done. What you'll always do."

Sasuke moved with agonizing slowness, giving you every opportunity to turn away, to push him back, to say no. But you didn't. You couldn't. Your hands stayed fisted in his wet shirt, trembling, anchoring you to him as the world narrowed to the space between your mouth and his.

He paused a breath away, his dark eyes searching yours one final time—asking, begging for permission.

You didn't move.

He closed the distance.

The first kiss was barely there—a whisper of pressure, soft and tentative, his lips brushing yours like he was afraid you might shatter. The taste of him—water and want and something infinitely warm—made your knees weak. Your breath hitched, caught in your throat, and your eyes fluttered shut of their own accord, surrendering to the sensation, to him.

Sasuke made a sound against your mouth—something broken, relieved, desperate—and then he kissed you again.

This time there was nothing tentative about it.

His hand slid from your cheek to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading through your wet hair, tilting your face to give him better access. He kissed you like he'd been starving for years and you were the only sustenance, deep and hungry and consuming, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips until you opened for him with a whimper you couldn't suppress.

The world dissolved. The fountain, the water, the possibility of discovery—all of it faded beneath the onslaught of sensation, of Sasuke Uchiha kissing you with a single-minded devotion that shattered every wall you'd built.

He pulled back only to trail his mouth down your jaw, your throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck with a possessiveness that made you arch against him. You gasped his name—"Sasuke"—and he groaned in response, the vibration traveling through your chest where he pressed against you.

Then his hands were at your waist, lifting, and you were too lost to protest, too far gone to remember why you should. He picked you up easily, your legs wrapping instinctively around his hips, and he stepped out of the fountain with you in his arms, water streaming from both of you onto the grass below.

"Mine" he breathed against your lips, and you didn't deny it.

[gallard0-5]

“If It Can’t Be You”

(Sasuke Uchiha/ fem reader)

summary: He has only one dream for his future, and every path leads back to You.

—————-

The summer night was unusually quiet.

From the hill behind your home, you could still hear the distant laughter drifting from the village festival. Music floated through the warm air, carried alongside the scent of grilled food and blooming flowers. Every so often, another firework burst across the dark sky, its brilliant colors reflecting in your eyes.

You smiled faintly.

With your knees pulled to your chest on the wooden porch, you watched another explosion of crimson and gold bloom above the rooftops. Somewhere down there, everyone else was celebrating together.

The others.

You hoped Sakura was having the evening she'd been looking forward to.

A soft rustle came from the trees.

Your smile disappeared.

You turned your head just as a familiar figure stepped out of the shadows, moonlight catching the dark blue of his shirt.

"...Sasuke?"

He stopped a few feet away, his dark eyes fixed only on you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

"...What are you doing here?" you finally asked.

His expression didn't change.

"I could ask you the same thing."

You looked back toward the sky just as another firework bloomed overhead.

"I didn't feel like going."

Silence.

"I can see the fireworks from here anyway."

The colors faded into smoke.

Sasuke stared at you for another long moment before taking a slow step closer.

"I wanted—"

"If you hurry," you interrupted gently, forcing a small smile, "you can still make the fireworks show."

He frowned.

You kept your eyes on the sky instead of him.

"I think Naruto and Sakura found a really good spot to watch." You laughed softly. "Sakura was excited all week. She'll probably be waiting for—"

"Stop."

His voice cut through the night like a blade.

It was sharp.

Angry.

You blinked and finally looked at him.

Sasuke's jaw was clenched so tightly you could see the muscle twitch.

His hands had curled into fists at his sides.

"...Sasuke?"

"I said stop."

The words came out quieter this time, but somehow even harsher.

Every time.

Every single time.

Whenever he came to see you...

Whenever he tried to speak to you...

You always pushed him toward someone else.

Toward Sakura.

His dark eyes searched yours, frustration simmering beneath the surface.

"I come here to see you," he said, taking another step closer. "Not Naruto."

Another.

"Not Sakura."

Another.

The next firework exploded overhead, bathing the two of you in brilliant blue light before fading once again into darkness.

You couldn't bear to look at him anymore.

"...I'm sorry."

It was barely audible.

Before Sasuke could answer, you turned on your heel and hurried toward your front door.

"Wait."

You didn't.

The wooden steps creaked beneath your feet as you rushed across the yard.

Your heartbeat pounded louder than the fireworks.

You reached for the door—

A hand caught your wrist.

You gasped as Sasuke gently, but firmly, stopped you.

You kept your back to him.

"Sasuke... please."

He slowly turned you around until you were facing him.

Moonlight illuminated his face, and for once, the calm mask he always wore had completely fallen away.

There was frustration.

Desperation.

Fear.

The fear that if you walked through that door, you'd never let him close again.

His dark eyes searched yours.

"You keep pushing me away."

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

His grip loosened slightly around your wrist.

"You tell me to go anywhere..."

His voice dropped.

"...except to you."

Another firework exploded in the distance.

Its light reflected in his eyes.

He stared at you for a long, silent moment, as though gathering every ounce of courage he had.

Then, without hesitation—

"Marry me."

Everything stopped.

The laughter from the festival...

The music...

Even the fireworks seemed to disappear beneath the weight of those two words.

You simply stared at him.

"...What?"

"I want you to marry me."

His voice was unwavering.

"I've already made up my mind."

Your lips parted, but no sound came.

Surely...

You had imagined it.

"Sasuke..."

Your heart pounded painfully against your chest.

"I love you."

The confession settled between you with no room left for denial.

Not a passing crush.

Not curiosity.

Not convenience.

Love.

Steady.

Certain.

Unshakable.

For the first time since he'd arrived...

You saw everything he'd been trying to tell you for months.

Every visit.

Every conversation.

Every excuse to see you.

It had all led here.

Slowly...

As though afraid you'd disappear if he moved too quickly...

Sasuke lifted his hand.

His fingertips hovered beside your cheek.

Just one touch...

That was all he wanted.

Your breath caught.

"No..."

You stumbled back before he could reach you.

His hand froze in the air.

"I'm sorry."

Your voice shook.

"I can't."

Tears blurred your vision.

Without waiting for him to answer, you turned, hurried inside the house, and shut the door behind you.

The wooden door closed with a soft thud.

Your back remained pressed firmly against it.

You could still feel the warmth of his hand on your wrist.

Your breathing came in uneven, shaky breaths as you clutched the front of your shirt, desperately trying to calm your racing heart.

"...What have you done...?"

You whispered the words to yourself, though you weren't even sure if you were asking Sasuke...

Or yourself.

Outside, everything was quiet.

The fireworks continued in the distance, each colorful explosion muffled by the wooden walls between you and the outside world.

You closed your eyes.

Only a few feet away on the other side of the door.

"...I know you're still there."

Your breath hitched.

Silence.

"I can hear you breathing."

Your eyes widened.

Of course he could.

You pressed a trembling hand over your mouth, as though that would somehow hide you.

"I know you're listening."

His voice wasn't angry anymore.

It was calm.

Gentle.

"...So just listen."

Another firework bloomed overhead, its light briefly slipping through the paper windows of your home.

"I've spent months trying to find the right words."

A quiet laugh escaped him.

"...Turns out there weren't any."

You squeezed your eyes shut.

"So I'll just say what's true."

His words came slowly.

Carefully.

"I love you."

Your heart lurched painfully.

"I've loved you for longer than I've been willing to admit."

Outside, the night breeze stirred the trees.

"I kept thinking you'd eventually stop avoiding me."

A pause.

"That one day you'd stop telling me to go to Sakura."

You lowered your head.

"I know why you do it."

Your fingers tightened against the fabric over your heart.

"But every time you send me away..."

"...you're hurting yourself."

A tear slipped down your cheek.

"And you're hurting me."

The silence that followed was almost unbearable.

Then—

"I know you love me too."

Your eyes flew open.

His voice remained steady.

"I've seen it."

"You always look away first."

"You avoid being alone with me."

"You never let me finish what I'm trying to say."

He exhaled slowly.

"Not because you don't feel anything..."

"...but because you do."

Your breathing became uneven again.

"You've convinced yourself that your feelings don't matter."

His words landed one after another against the barrier between you.

Another firework exploded outside.

"I know the kind of person you are."

His voice was filled with quiet certainty.

"You'd rather break your own heart than risk breaking someone else's."

A sob caught in your throat.

"You think pushing me away is the right thing to do."

He rested a hand lightly against the other side of the wooden door.

"But you're making that choice for both of us."

Your forehead slowly leaned against the door until only a few inches of wood separated you.

His voice was barely above a whisper now.

"I don't want anyone else."

The words settled heavily in the silence.

"I chose you."

Another pause.

"And if I have to spend the rest of my life proving that..."

"I will."

The words echoed in your mind.

You couldn't breathe.

Every wall you'd spent months carefully building around your heart was beginning to crumble.

Your fingers trembled as they reached for the handle.

Before you could think better of it—

You slid the door open

His dark eyes immediately found yours.

Your chest rose and fell with quick, uneven breaths.

"Please..."

Your voice cracked.

"Please stop."

A tear slipped down your cheek.

For the first time that night, Sasuke saw you truly breaking.

Not because you didn't care.

But because you cared too much.

"You wouldn't be hurting like this if you didn't feel the same."

You lowered your gaze.

"You're in just as much pain as I am."

His words were gentle.

"But the difference is..."

"You've convinced yourself you have to carry it alone."

You wrapped your arms around yourself, as if trying to keep your heart from falling apart.

Silence settled between you.

Finally...

Almost too quietly to hear...

"...Maybe."

Sasuke's expression softened.

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

"...Maybe I do."

The admission left your lips like a confession.

"...But..."

You forced yourself to continue.

"...since it can never come to—"

"No."

His answer came instantly.

Firm.

Certain.

You looked up in surprise.

Sasuke stepped closer until only a small space remained between you.

His eyes never left yours.

"Let me be the one to decide that."

Then he moved, slow and deliberate, closing the space between you until you could feel the warmth radiating from him, until his face was beside yours and his lips were level with your ear. Your heart hammered against your ribs as his free hand came up, fingers threading gently through your hair, cradling the back of your head with a tenderness that shattered something inside you.

"Let me show you," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His voice dropped even lower, intimate and raw. "Let me show you how much I love you. Every day. In every way."

Your eyes squeezed shut, hands trembling at your sides

His grip tightened slightly, not painful, but possessive. Desperate. "It's always been you. These months without you have been torture."

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, and what you saw there—the naked longing, the vulnerability, the fierce determination—stole your breath entirely.

"Marry me," he said, and it wasn't a question. It was a command wrapped in a plea, a promise wrapped in desperation. "Be my wife. Be the mother of my children." His thumb traced your jawline, reverent. "Give me a family. Give me you. Let me spend my life proving that you were worth every second of this wait."

Tears pricked at your eyes. The walls you'd built—the guilt, the loyalty to your friend, the fear—cracked under the weight of his devotion.

The space between you shrinks. Sasuke's hand finds the doorframe beside your head, his body casting a shadow that seems to swallow the hallway's dim light.

"Sasuke," you whisper, but your voice fractures.

He doesn't speak. His dark eyes trace your face with an intensity that makes your chest tighten, reading every micro-expression like he's memorizing you. When he leans closer, his breath ghosts across your lips, warm and unsteady. Your heart hammers so violently you're certain he can hear it.

His lips brush so close you feel the static electricity of almost-contact. The world narrows to the space between his mouth and yours, heavy with everything unsaid these past months

You turn your head.

The motion is small, violent, final. Your cheek presses against the cool wood of the doorframe as you stare at the floor, vision blurring. Sasuke stills. You feel the tension coil through his frame, rigid and trembling.

"Leave," you say.

The word barely carries. It scrapes out of your throat raw, broken, barely audible above the blood rushing in your ears. You don't look at him. You can't. If you see his face now—those eyes, that rare, fragile hope shattering—you'll lose your resolve entirely.

A silence stretches, heavy and suffocating. You feel him exhale, shaky and controlled, the warmth retreating inch by agonizing inch. His hand lingers on the frame, knuckles white.

Then he steps back.

You don't wait to hear his footsteps fade. You push the door closed with your shoulder, the latch clicking with a sound like a gunshot in the quiet home. Your legs give out immediately. You slide down the wood until you hit the floor, spine pressed hard against the barrier between you and him, as if your body weight alone could keep out everything you want and everything you're terrified to take.

Your breathing comes hard and ragged, each inhale scraping your lungs. You press your palms against your eyes, seeing stars, tasting copper and regret. The phantom sensation of his near-kiss lingers on your lips like a brand.

You let your head fall back against the door and stare at the ceiling, alone with the crushing weight of what you just refused, and the even heavier knowledge that you wanted it more than breath itself.

[gallard0-5]

“Already His” Part 2

summary: One act of “kindness” from Muzan blurs the line between help and control—and your father sees the danger before you do.

(AU Modern Day Demon Slayer. )

Human Muzan Kibutsuji/ young fem reader

CW ! yandere themes

The front door opened with a soft creak.

You barely had time to step inside before—

“There you are—!”

Your father was already moving toward you, relief written plainly across his face. His shoulders dropped the moment he saw you, tension leaving him in a visible wave.

“You’re late,” he started, breath still uneven. “Do you have any idea what time it is? I was about to—”

His expression shifted.

Mid-sentence.

Stopped.

Because you weren’t alone.

The air in the room changed as another presence stepped in behind you.

Calm.

Unhurried.

Muzan Kibutsuji closed the door quietly behind him, his posture composed, his expression polite—pleasant, even.

“Good evening,” he said smoothly.

Your father went completely still.

For a brief moment, he said nothing.

Just… stared.

Muzan inclined his head slightly, that faint, practiced smile still in place.

“I apologize for the worry,” he continued. “I happened to see your daughter walking home in this heat after school.”

His gaze flicked briefly to you.

Measured.

Then returned to your father.

“I had no choice but to offer her a ride.”

Your father’s jaw tightened.

Slowly.

Carefully.

“I’m really glad we ran into each other,” you said quickly, glancing between them. “My blood sugar was getting low.”

Your father’s expression flickered.

Concern—real, immediate—cut through the tension.

“What?” he said, stepping closer. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t think it was that bad at first,” you explained, a little sheepish. “But it started dropping, and I didn’t have anything on me.”

You gave a small, relieved laugh.

“Good thing I saw him, though. He took me out to eat.”

You gestured slightly toward Muzan Kibutsuji.

“He made sure I was okay.”

Muzan’s smile remained soft.

Effortless.

As if it had all been nothing.

His arm slid around your shoulders then—natural, casual, like it belonged there.

Like it had every right to be.

“It was no trouble at all,” he said smoothly.

Your father’s eyes dropped immediately to where Muzan was touching you.

Muzan noticed.

Of course he did.

But he didn’t move his arm.

Instead, his gaze returned to your father, that same polite expression still in place.

Though something colder sat just beneath it.

“If anything,” Muzan continued lightly, his tone just shy of teasing, “shouldn’t you be taking better care of her?”

The words landed gently.

But not kindly.

Your father went still.

“It’s kind of my fault,” you said quickly. “I should’ve picked up my usual snacks. I normally keep something with me, I just… forgot today.”

Your smile was light.

As if nothing about this moment felt strange.

Muzan’s expression softened at that.

Amused.

Understanding.

His hand lifted—

And without hesitation, his fingers brushed through your hair, smoothing it back from your face.

The touch was gentle.

Your father didn’t say anything.

He just watched.

Watched the way Muzan touched you.

Your father’s jaw tightened again.

Then—

“It’s getting late,” he said, voice controlled. “I’m sure Mr. Kibutsuji is a busy man.”

The words were polite.

But firm.

A quiet dismissal.

You glanced between them again before nodding.

“Oh— right,” you said softly.

Then you turned back to Muzan, offering him a small, genuine smile.

“Goodnight.”

Muzan looked at you.

Not your father.

Not the room.

Just you.

“Goodnight,” he replied smoothly.

Then, as if remembering—

“Don’t forget about Miyu’s get-together,” he added.

Your father’s brows pulled together slightly.

“…Miyu?” he asked, the name unfamiliar on his tongue.

You brightened immediately.

“Oh— she’s one of the girls I met at his party,” you said, a small smile forming. “She invited me over to her house.”

Your voice softened just a bit, almost hopeful.

“Can I go?” you asked, your tone light—almost cute, like you were already half expecting him to say yes.

He opened his mouth—

But Muzan spoke first.

“I’m sure Miyu and the others miss you,” he said smoothly. “It would be a shame not to go.”

The words sounded casual.

Encouraging.

Like a simple suggestion.

But something in the way he said it—

Made the room feel tighter.

His gaze shifted to you again.

And for just a second—

It changed.

Still calm.

Still composed.

But sharper.

More deliberate.

A quiet warning hidden beneath the surface.

Like he already knew the answer.

Like there was only one correct choice.

Your father held that tension for a moment longer.

Then—

He smiled.

It didn’t reach his eyes.

But it was there.

Carefully placed.

“Well,” he said lightly, glancing at you, “only if you finish your homework.”

The tone was teasing.

Normal.

Like nothing in the room had shifted at all.

You rolled your eyes playfully.

Your father huffed a quiet laugh, though his gaze lingered on you just a second too long.

Then you turned back to Muzan, your smile returning—softer now.

A small pause.

“…And thank you for today.”

Muzan’s expression warmed.

Just slightly.

Like that gratitude pleased him more than it should have.

“You’re welcome,” he replied smoothly.

Then, after a brief pause—

“Until next time.”

The words were gentle.

Polite.

But something about them…

Landed differently.

Subtly.

Deliberately.

Your father heard it.

Of course he did.

Because it didn’t sound like a casual goodbye.

It sounded like a certainty.

Like there would be a next time—

Whether it was offered…

Or not.

The moment your footsteps faded down the hallway, the pleasant mask on Muzan's face vanished. The air in the room grew heavy, suffocating.

"If you're always going to leave your daughter so uncared for," Muzan said, his voice now devoid of any warmth, "then what else can you expect?"

Before your father could even process the shift in tone, Muzan moved. It was a blur of motion—a sharp, brutal punch delivered directly into his stomach. The force was staggering, stealing the air from his lungs and sending him crashing to his knees. He clutched his midsection, a dry, painful gasp escaping his lips as he leaned over, fighting to breathe.

Muzan stood over him for a moment, a figure of cold judgment. "You couldn't even take care of your own wife," he stated, his voice laced with a contempt that was more cutting than any shout.

He knelt down, bringing himself to your father's level. The floorboards creaked under his weight. He grabbed the back of your father's neck, his grip like iron, forcing the man to look up at him. Your father's face was pale and slick with sweat, his eyes wide with a mixture of pain and shock.

"You're lucky I brought her back at all," Muzan murmured, his red eyes boring into him. His thumb pressed slightly into the base of his skull, a silent, possessive threat. "From now on, things will be different. She will be cared for. Whether you're the one doing it... or not."

Muzan released his grip on your father’s neck, but he didn’t step back immediately. Instead, he turned his gaze to the small table in the corner of the room, his eyes scanning it until they landed on a polished wood surface.

He walked over, the movement deliberate and heavy. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick stack of bills—crisp, new, and unmistakably expensive.

With a sharp flick of his wrist, he slapped the cash down onto the table. The sound echoed in the quiet room.

"Go get her something nice," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous command. "She has to meet her new friends tomorrow. You can't let her show up looking like that."

He turned back to your father, his expression twisted into a mask of pure disdain. He looked your father up and down as if he were inspecting a defective product, then fixed his gaze on the memory of your appearance.

"I can't stand how she looks," Muzan spat, the words dripping with contempt. "It’s practically rags. I can't stand seeing her dressed like a beggar. Fix it. She needs to look presentable."

[gallard0-5]

“Already His”

Summary: Muzan chooses. Muzan takes. Tonight, it’s you.

AU Modern Day Demon Slayer.

Human Muzan Kibutsuji/ young fem reader

CW ! yandere themes

The knock came just after dinner.

Not frantic. Not impatient.

Three slow, deliberate taps.

Your father paused mid-sentence, fork hovering in the air. You remember the way he glanced at the clock first — as if expecting someone — before realizing he wasn’t.

You weren’t expecting anyone either.

He stood, wiping his hands on a napkin, already wearing that polite smile he reserved for neighbors and debt collectors.

When he opened the door, the air changed.

The man standing on the porch was dressed too well for your street. Black tailored suit. Gloves. Hair slicked back like he stepped out of a private security detail catalog.

He smiled, but it never reached his eyes.

“Good evening,” he said smoothly. “I come on behalf of Mr. Kibutsuji.”

Your father stiffened.

Muzan Kibutsuji.

Everyone in the city knew the name.

Billionaire.
Philanthropist.
Tech magnate.
Owner of half the skyline.
Rumored to own the other half through shell companies.

And rumored — more quietly — to be far worse.

The guard extended a thick ivory envelope.

“There will be a gathering at the Kibutsuji estate next week. Mr. Kibutsuji has personally requested your presence. You and your daughter.”

You felt your father’s posture tighten.

“That’s… very kind,” he said carefully. “But next week is a school night. My daughter has classes. I work early. I’m afraid we won’t be able to attend.”

The guard didn’t blink.

He didn’t withdraw the envelope.

Instead, he stepped slightly closer.

“This is not a party you would want to miss.”

The tone shifted.

Not louder.

Just colder.

Your father forced a chuckle. “I appreciate that, but truly, we—”

The guard sighed softly. Almost disappointed.

Then, with slow, unhurried movements, he pulled back one side of his suit jacket.

Just enough.

Just long enough.

Metal glinted under the porch light.

A gun.

Not waved. Not brandished.

Simply shown.

An implication.

The smile returned.

“I will inform Mr. Kibutsuji that you’ll be attending.”

Silence pressed in around you. Even the crickets seemed to quiet.

Your father swallowed.

“…Yes,” he said hoarsely. “Of course.”

The guard finally handed over the envelope.

“Seven o’clock. Dress appropriately.”

Then he stepped back into a sleek black car waiting at the curb. The engine purred to life, disappearing into the night like nothing had happened.

You stayed frozen in the hallway for a moment before finally stepping forward.

“Dad… who was that?”

Your father didn’t answer right away. He was still staring at the closed door, jaw tight, fingers curled slightly as if they’d forgotten how to relax.

Then, slowly — deliberately — he turned around.

And smiled.

Bright. Wide. Too wide.

“Oh! That?” he said lightly. “That was just a representative from Mr. Kibutsuji.”

He held up the envelope like it was something wonderful instead of something dangerous.

“We’ve been invited to a very big party next week.”

Your eyes widened instantly.

“A party? Like — fancy party?”

“Yes,” he said quickly. “Very fancy.”

At the name Kibutsuji, your heart skipped.

Everyone knew Muzan Kibutsuji. In this city, he was almost a myth — the reclusive CEO who threw events that ended up on magazine covers, who funded hospitals and museums and political campaigns with the same casual ease.

He was young. Brilliant. Untouchable.

And now you were invited to his estate.

“Dad, are you serious? That huge place outside the city? With the gates and the fountains and the—”

“Yes,” he cut in gently. “That one.”

You gasped.

“Oh my god. What am I going to wear? I don’t even own anything that’s like… billionaire-party appropriate. Do I need heels? I’ll break my ankle. Maybe something black? Or red? Is red too much? What if everyone else is wearing designer stuff?”

You were already pacing, excitement bubbling over, hands flying as you talked.

Your father watched you.

And kept smiling.

You didn’t notice the way his hand tightened around the envelope.

Didn’t notice the way his smile never reached his eyes.

“I can’t believe we’re actually going,” you continued breathlessly. “This is going to be amazing.”

Men like Muzan Kibutsuji didn’t summon people like him without reason. And men like that didn’t send armed guards with invitations.

This wasn’t social.

This wasn’t random.

And it certainly wasn’t generous.

His gaze drifted to you — still rambling, already planning hairstyles, blissfully unaware.

That was what terrified him.

He would not leave you alone there.

Not even for a second.

Even if standing in that estate meant standing in the lion’s den.

You kept talking, already glowing with anticipation.

He kept smiling.

And praying that he was wrong about the reason behind that invitation.

////////////////////////

The drive to the Kibutsuji estate felt longer than it should have.

Streetlights blurred past the windows in soft gold streaks while your father kept both hands tight on the wheel, knuckles faintly pale. The closer you got to the outskirts of the city, the quieter the roads became — wider, cleaner, emptier.

Your excitement, however, only grew.

“Dad, did you see the pictures online of his last party? There were like — ice sculptures and violinists and— oh my god, what if there’s a live band?”

He hummed absently. “Mm.”

You leaned forward in your seat, practically vibrating. “Do you think he’ll actually be there? Or is he one of those hosts that just… appears for five minutes and disappears dramatically?”

Your father didn’t answer right away.

“…We’ll see,” he said quietly.

Then the estate came into view.

Massive wrought-iron gates.

Manicured hedges.

Soft golden lights illuminating a mansion that looked less like a house and more like something torn straight out of old-money fantasy.

Your breath caught.

“Whoa…”

The car rolled to a smooth stop near the front drive, where valets and sharply dressed guests moved in quiet, controlled motion.

Your father killed the engine.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then you turned to him suddenly.

“Wait.”

You twisted in your seat, nerves finally bubbling through the excitement.

“…Do I look okay?”

For the first time all evening, your father’s expression softened — truly softened.

He turned toward you fully.

Really looked at you.

The careful dress. The way you’d done your hair. The nervous hope in your eyes.

His hand lifted, warm and gentle as it came to rest against your cheek.

He caressed your face the same way he used to when you were little.

“You look beautiful,” he said softly.

Your breath hitched.

“Just like your mother was.”

Something in his voice almost broke at the end.

But then he smiled again — steady, reassuring — and opened his door.

“Come on,” he murmured.

Inside the estate, everything was… controlled.

Elegant.

Too perfect.

Crystal chandeliers cast soft light over polished marble floors. Quiet music drifted through the air. Every guest looked carefully selected — wealthy, composed, important.

Your father kept your arm tucked firmly through his.

Not tight enough to hurt.

Just tight enough to keep you close.

Before either of you could get your bearings, a familiar black-suited guard approached smoothly, that same professional smile already in place.

“Good evening,” he greeted warmly. “Welcome. Mr. Kibutsuji is pleased you could attend.”

Your father forced a polite nod. “Thank you for having us.”

The guard gestured across the grand hall.

“Your table is right over there.”

Relief flickered briefly across your father’s face.

But it didn’t last long.

Because just as the two of you began walking—

“Ah—”

The guard’s voice was light. Polite.

Stopping you both mid-step.

Your father went very still.

“Yes?” he asked carefully.

The guard’s smile widened just slightly as his gaze shifted to you.

“There’s been a small adjustment.”

A pause.

Then, smoothly—

“Your daughter will be seated at a different table.”

Your father’s grip on your arm tightened instinctively.

The guard continued, tone almost teasing now.

“After all… she’ll have much more fun speaking with people her own age.”

Something cold slid down your father’s spine.

The moment the words left the guard’s mouth — the polite tone, the friendly smile — your father understood this was not a suggestion.

This was placement.

Deliberate.

Carefully arranged.

And very, very not up for debate.

For a split second, his grip on your arm tightened like he might argue anyway.

Like he might try.

But then the guard’s gaze flicked briefly — meaningfully — to where his jacket sat perfectly smooth over his side.

A silent reminder.

Your father swallowed.

Then, slowly… he smiled.

Warm. Easy. Convincing.

The same smile he’d used your whole life whenever he didn’t want you to worry.

“Well,” he said lightly, turning to you, “sounds like you’re being upgraded.”

“Really?” you asked, eyes bright.

“Of course.”

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek — lingering just a second longer than usual.

“Go have fun, sweetheart.”

You beamed.

“Okay! Don’t be boring without me.”

“I’ll try my best,” he chuckled.

But his hand didn’t immediately let go of yours.

For just a heartbeat longer, he held on.

Then… he released you.

And watched as the guard gently guided you across the room.

The closer you got to the table, the more obvious it became that this was not the same atmosphere as the rest of the party.

This group was younger.

Sharper.

Beautiful in that effortless, expensive way.

Laughter came easier here — but it still felt… curated.

Like even the fun had been approved beforehand.

You barely had time to feel nervous before someone stood.

A young woman.

And — oh.

She was stunning.

Perfectly styled hair, glossy and precise. Jewelry that absolutely had to be designer. Her dress looked like it belonged on a runway, not just a party.

But her smile when she saw you?

Warm.

Genuinely warm.

“Well, there you are,” she said brightly, stepping forward like she’d been expecting you.

Before you could even fully process it

She leaned in and pressed a light kiss to your cheek.

You blinked, surprised.

Then she pulled you into a soft, friendly hug, one manicured hand smoothing briefly over your back like you were already part of the group.

“We were wondering when you’d arrive.”

Her voice was smooth, easy, practiced — but not unkind.

Up close, she smelled faintly of something expensive and floral.

When she pulled back, she kept her hands lightly on your shoulders, looking you over with clear approval.

“You’re adorable,” she declared.

Around the table, a few of the others smiled with quiet interest.

Like your arrival had been anticipated.

You laughed a little, still slightly flustered from the sudden affection as the girl gently guided you into the empty seat beside her.

“I’m glad you made it,” she said smoothly. “I was starting to think we’d have to send a search party.”

A soft ripple of amused chuckles moved around the table.

You relaxed despite yourself.

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly. “Traffic was kind of crazy.”

“Mm, always is,” one of the boys across from you agreed easily, swirling the drink in his glass. He looked about your age — maybe a little older — dressed in something that definitely cost more than your entire outfit combined.

And yet…

No one was looking down at you.

No one was whispering.

No one was giving you that subtle once-over you were used to when you ended up somewhere too nice for your comfort.

If anything… they seemed genuinely engaged.

“So,” the girl beside you said, propping her chin lightly on her hand as she studied you with bright curiosity, “what do you think of the party so far?”

You hesitated for half a second.

“Honestly?” you admitted. “It’s… kind of amazing.”

That earned you a few warm smiles.

“I knew she’d be fun,” someone murmured.

You blinked, surprised at how easily the conversation flowed after that.

They asked about your school.

Your hobbies.

What music you liked.

Normal things.

Easy things.

And somehow — weirdly — you found yourself relaxing more and more with every passing minute.

Which was… unexpected.

Because you weren’t blind.

You knew the difference between your life and theirs.

Your father worked long hours.

You budgeted for new clothes.

Vacations were rare, carefully planned things — not spontaneous weekend trips to another country like the girl beside you casually mentioned at one point.

By every logical standard…

You didn’t belong at this table.

And yet—

You laughed when they joked.

They laughed when you did.

For a few easy, fleeting minutes… it almost felt normal.

Almost.

Then—

The music cut off.

Not faded.

Stopped.

Mid-note.

Conversation died just as quickly, like someone had pulled the air straight out of the room. Forks paused halfway to mouths. Glasses stilled in mid-sip.

And one by one—

Everyone stood.

You blinked.

“…Oh—”

Chairs slid back in smooth, practiced unison. Around you, the entire table rose to their feet without hesitation.

Including the girl beside you.

She stood gracefully, smoothing her dress, her earlier warmth settling into something more composed. More careful.

More… respectful.

Your stomach fluttered.

Slowly, you pushed your chair back and stood too, a half-second behind everyone else.

The room had gone very, very quiet.

Then the doors at the far end of the hall opened.

And he walked in.

Muzan Kibutsuji did not rush.

He didn’t need to.

Every step was measured. Precise. Effortless in a way that felt almost unfair. Tailored suit — immaculate. Dark hair perfectly styled. Not a single detail out of place.

Power didn’t cling to him.

It moved ahead of him.

People bowed their heads slightly as he passed. Some offered quiet greetings. Others simply stepped aside.

“Mr. Kibutsuji.”

“Good evening, sir.”

“Welcome.”

Your breath caught before you could stop it.

You weren’t even sure why.

Maybe it was the way the entire room seemed to orbit him. Maybe it was the way everyone moved just a little more carefully when he passed.

Or maybe it was just… him.

You barely realized you were still staring until the music slowly, smoothly returned — softer this time, something slow and elegant meant for the dance floor.

The tension in the room loosened.

Chairs shifted.

People began to move again.

And before you could overthink the strange flutter in your chest, a familiar hand gently touched your shoulder.

You turned.

“Dad?”

Your father was smiling — that careful, practiced smile — but his eyes were softer now.

“May I have this dance?” he asked warmly.

Relief bloomed instantly in your chest.

“Of course.”

He offered his arm, and you slipped your hand into the crook of his elbow, letting him guide you toward the dance floor.

For a moment…

Everything felt normal again.

The music swelled gently around you as his hand settled carefully at your back, yours resting on his shoulder. He guided you slowly, carefully — not fancy, not showy.

Just steady.

Safe.

You smiled, relaxing into the familiar rhythm. For a few precious seconds, the strange heaviness from earlier faded.

It was just you and your dad.

Just like always.

Then—

The music didn’t stop.

But the air shifted.

Your father felt it before he saw it.

His hand tightened — just slightly — at your back.

And then a smooth, controlled voice spoke just beside you.

“May I?”

Your father froze.

Slowly, he turned.

And there he was.

Muzan Kibutsuji stood impossibly close, expression calm, polite… and entirely expectant.

Not a request.

Not really.

Your father’s smile came back immediately.

Too quickly.

Too carefully.

“Of course,” he said, voice smooth despite the tension in his shoulders. “It would be an honor.”

For just a fraction of a second, his eyes flicked to yours.

Apologetic.

Worried.

Then he gently placed your hand into Muzan’s.

And stepped away.

Muzan’s grip was light.

Controlled.

His other hand settled at your waist with perfect propriety as he guided you smoothly into the dance without missing a beat of the music.

He moved… effortlessly.

Like this was second nature.

Like everything was.

Up close, his gaze settled fully on you for the first time.

Measured.

Interested.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he said smoothly.

Your cheeks warmed instantly.

“Oh— thank you.”

His eyes flicked briefly over your dress, something thoughtful moving behind his expression.

“It suits you,” he added. “Very lovely.”

You smiled, a little shy but pleased.

“It was actually my mom’s dress,” you admitted. “I was really happy I could wear it tonight.”

Across the room, your father saw the moment something in Muzan Kibutsuji sharpened.

It was subtle.

So subtle most people would have missed it.

But your father had spent the entire evening watching that man like his life depended on it.

Because it might.

He stood near the edge of the ballroom now, one hand loosely around a glass he hadn’t touched, eyes locked firmly on the dance floor.

On you.

You were smiling.

Actually smiling — bright and easy, the way you did when you were comfortable. When you felt safe.

Muzan guided you smoothly through the steps, posture perfect, expression calm… but his attention?

Undivided.

Focused.

Wrong.

Your father’s jaw tightened.

Around them, a few other guests had drifted closer, making polite conversation, laughing softly at something you’d said. From a distance, it probably looked harmless.

Normal.

But your father saw the way Muzan kept you positioned just slightly closer than necessary.

Saw the way his gaze kept returning to your face.

Measuring.

Assessing.

Selecting.

A quiet voice spoke beside him.

“She’s grown into such a beautiful young woman.”

Your father startled slightly, turning.

A maid stood at his side — posture perfect, expression composed. She looked older, her uniform immaculate, her presence so quiet he hadn’t even noticed her approach.

He forced a polite smile.

“…Thank you,” he said.

Her eyes didn’t soften.

In fact… something about her expression turned almost pitying.

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

Your father’s smile faltered.

“…I’m sorry?”

The maid’s gaze drifted past him — toward the dance floor.

Toward you.

Toward Muzan.

Her voice lowered.

Careful.

Measured.

“Mr. Kibutsuji enjoys beautiful things.”

A slow, cold feeling began to coil in your father’s stomach.

“Houses,” she continued calmly.
“Art.”
A small pause.

“…And women.”

Your father’s fingers tightened around the glass.

The maid finally looked back at him fully.

“And like I said,” she murmured quietly,

“your daughter has grown into such a beauty.”

The words landed heavier this time.

Not admiration.

Recognition.

Your father’s confusion began to shift — slowly, horribly — into understanding.

The maid’s voice softened, but it didn’t become kinder.

If anything…

It became more urgent.

“…Into everything Mr. Kibutsuji wants.”

Silence stretched between them.

On the dance floor, you laughed at something Muzan said, completely unaware.

Your father’s heart dropped.

The maid stepped back slightly, already retreating into the quiet professionalism she wore like armor.

But before she fully withdrew, she left him with one final, quiet warning.

“…Watch over her.”

Then she was gone.

Lost back into the moving crowd like she’d never been there at all.

Your father didn’t move.

Couldn’t move.

Because across the room—

You were still smiling up at Muzan.

[gallard0-5]

“The Price For A Cure”

(part 4 one shot)

human Muzan Kibutsuji/ fem reader

yandere Human Muzan

summary: One moment of rebellion exposes Muzan’s weakness for you—and he breaks before he’ll ever let you go.

The dining room was quiet in that heavy, velvety way it always was whenever Muzan decided silence suited him. Morning light poured in through the tall windows, but even the sun seemed to dim itself in his presence.

You sat across from him, hands folded neatly, trying not to overthink the way he watched every small movement you made. His gaze wasn’t harsh — it was soft, almost amused — but you knew better than to mistake softness for safety.

You cleared your throat gently.
“Muzan… Ayame invited me to the festival next week.”

He didn’t look surprised. He didn’t even blink. He only cut neatly into his food, movements graceful, unhurried.
“No,” he said simply. “Not by yourself.”

Your fingers curled against your lap. “I’ll be fine. I go every year. Ayame and I—”

“—I said no.”
His tone didn’t rise. It didn’t need to.

He lifted his eyes then, meeting yours with a calm that made your stomach twist. He looked at you the way someone looks at an unruly pet — fond but with an unspoken command beneath it.
“Eat,” he said, tapping the side of your bowl lightly with his chopsticks. “Before your food gets cold.”

You swallowed your frustration. Ayame’s invitation had been the first thing in weeks that made you feel something normal, something that didn’t involve isolation or being shadowed by a dozen guards disguised as attendants.

“I’ve gone every year since I was a child,” you tried again, voice softer, less confrontational. “She thought it would be good for me to get some fresh air. See people. Walk around—”

Muzan dabbed his mouth with a napkin, as if the conversation bored him.
“Fresh air exists on the estate.”
He reached for his tea cup.
“And I see no reason for you to be surrounded by strangers. Especially at night.”

You exhaled, frustrated. “I’m not a child.”

“No,” he agreed, placing the cup down with delicate finality.
“You are my wife.”

A simple sentence.
A devastating one.

You looked down at your barely touched food. His gaze followed you like a shadow — attentive, possessive, unyielding.

He continued eating, but you could feel the conversation hanging between you like a blade suspended by a thread.
He thought it was settled.
He always did.

But today, something in you refused to fold so easily.

The silence stretched thin between you. Muzan lifted his cup again, ready to resume his breakfast as if the matter had already been closed forever.

That was when you inhaled.

Deep.
Deliberate.
And held it.

He paused mid-sip.

Slowly, his eyes lifted to you.
“Y/N… what are you doing?”

You didn’t answer.
You just kept holding it.
Chest tight. Jaw set. Eyes locked forward.

A flicker — the smallest crack in his perfect mask — passed across his face.

“You said you’re not a child,” he murmured. “Yet you’re behaving like one.”

Still, you held it.

You felt your lungs burning, your heartbeat thudding in your ears. Muzan’s gaze sharpened, irritation slipping through the cracks of his calm façade.

“I’m not repeating myself,” he said. “You’re not going to the festival. It’s final.”

Your chest trembled.
Your vision blurred.
Still… you didn’t stop.

“Enough,” he snapped quietly, a thread of real annoyance in his voice now. “Stop this tantrum.”

You swayed. Your fingers dug into the table for support. Muzan’s brows drew together — not in anger this time.

In fear.

“Y/N,” he said, standing immediately, voice low and urgent. “That’s enough. Breathe.”

You didn’t.

You couldn’t.
Your body screamed, but your stubbornness — your newfound edge — screamed louder.

He reached toward you.

You pushed yourself backward in your chair so abruptly that it scraped against the floor.
He froze — hand suspended mid-air — stunned that you’d pulled away from his touch.

His eyes widened.

“Y/N,” he said again, this time with a tremor he couldn’t hide, “breathe.”

Still nothing.

A heartbeat.
Two.
Three.

And then his voice broke entirely.

“Fine,” he hissed, desperation crackling at the edges.

The second the word left his mouth, you let out a slow, controlled exhale — the breath he’d been begging for. The burn in your lungs eased, replaced by something warm and sharp spreading through your chest.

Victory.

You lifted your head, still shaky from lack of air, but your lips curved before you could stop them. A small smile — soft, sweet, utterly satisfied.

You had him.

For the first time since becoming his wife, the balance shifted.
Not much.
Just a fraction.
Just enough for you to feel it.

Muzan stood before you, tense, eyes searching your face as if trying to understand how you had slipped through his grip for even a second. His voice had cracked. Muzan Kibutsuji — calm, perfect, immovable — had cracked for you.

And you knew it.

You knew exactly what that meant.

You were his weakness.

Your fingers brushed your chest as you steadied your breathing, that quiet little smile still playing at the corners of your mouth. You didn’t look directly at him — letting him stew in worry, in confusion, in that rare flicker of fear.

You just sat there, letting him see the gentle, innocent expression he adored…

…while beneath it, something new unfurled inside you.

A weapon.

You.

A way to bend him.
To push him.
To pry open the iron bars he’d built around you.

He didn’t even realize it — how easily he’d given in. How quickly he’d folded when you pulled away from his touch. How fast panic had replaced power.

You swallowed, savoring the quiet thrill of it.

You had found exactly where to press — and you would use it.
Not cruelly.
Not recklessly.

But deliberately.

For freedom.
For space.
For yourself.

—————

You thought he hadn’t noticed.

That shift.
That spark.
That new steel under your softness.

At first, Muzan had dismissed it as moodiness — a fleeting rebellion, a moment of petulance. But over the next days he saw it growing, blooming quietly behind your innocent eyes.

The way you held her chin a little higher.
The way you questioned him just slightly longer before obeying.
The way you smiled sometimes… not at him, but to herself.

As if you knew a secret.

As if you held power.

It unsettled him.

No — it infuriated him.

He loved you, craved you, would tear the world apart for you… but this change?
This small, defiant shift?

It was driving him insane.

You were pulling away from him in ways he couldn’t properly name. Not in distance — you still sat beside him, still spoke gently, still touched him like you always had. But there was something calculated behind it now. Something he couldn’t predict.

And Muzan hated what he couldn’t predict.

He tried to dismiss it, to bury himself in work or routines, but every evening you would move through their home with that quiet, blooming confidence, and it set his nerves alight.

By the time night fell, he needed her near him just to steady himself.

That Night

Your room was dim, lit only by the warm glow of lantern light. The curtains swayed softly with the night breeze, brushing shadows along the walls.

You lay beneath him, your breath unsteady, your hands gripping his shoulders as Muzan kissed you with a hunger — a hunger fueled by something deeper than desire.

Possession.
Fear.
Confusion.

He wanted you close.
He needed you close.

His mouth trailed along your skin, his grip tightening as if he could anchor you to him through sheer force of touch alone. You felt his tension — his desperation masked behind controlled movements.

He was losing his hold on you, and he felt it.

Your hands slid against his chest, guiding, yielding, but your mind was elsewhere. You had practiced these expressions, these soft sounds, this warmth you knew he craved from you.

You were careful with your smiles now.
Careful with your silences.

Careful with him.

But as Muzan shifted, the corner of his eye caught something — the edge of a wooden box beneath the bed. Slightly pulled out. Not hidden well enough.

His breath stopped.

A strange, sharp instinct snapped inside him.

He reached down, fingers curling around the box before you even realized what he’d seen.

“Wait—!” you gasped, trying to pull it from his hands, but Muzan was far stronger. The lid came off easily.

Gold.
Coins.
Weeks of allowance.
Months of gifts.
All tucked away.

His heart slammed in his chest.

You tried to grab it back, panic sparking across your face. You shoved his shoulder, pushed his wrist, tried to wedge yourself between him and the box.

“Give it to me—!” you demanded, breath shaky.

His grip tightened.

“Y/n,” he murmured, your name falling from his lips like a warning, like a plea. “Stop fighting.”

But you didn’t stop.

You slapped his hand away, frantic, voice trembling. “Give it back!”

Muzan’s jaw tightened — a rare crack in his composure.

“Why,” he asked slowly, voice low and dangerous, “do you have this much money hidden?”

You froze.

You didn’t answer.

Your hands moved instead—desperate, frantic—snatching at the scattered money on the bed, trying to pull the notes and coins toward you. Your fingers shook as you grabbed fistfuls, stuffing them against your chest, clutching them like a lifeline.

“Stop,” Muzan ordered.

You didn’t.

His hand closed around your wrist, firm but not yet cruel. He tried to pull your arm away from the money.

“Stop,” he repeated, voice edging into warning.

You twisted, jerking your arm out of his grip, the fear in your throat turning sharper—daring.

“y/n!” he said, your name like a command, “Look at me. Look at me and answer—”

He reached for your arm again.

You snapped.

Your hand swung before either of you processed it—a sudden, instinctive, wild strike born from weeks of quiet fear and minutes of growing terror.

Your palm cracked hard across Muzan’s face.

The sound tore through the room.

Muzan didn’t move.

His head barely turned with the force, but the shock that flickered through his eyes was instant, raw, disbelieving. No one—no one—had ever struck him like that.

But the shock that flickered through his eyes was instant, raw, disbelieving. No one—no one—had ever struck him like that. Muzan's reaction was a mix of surprise and a flicker of something darker, more primal. With a swift, almost predatory motion, he pushed youback onto the bed, his movements fluid and commanding. The room seemed to hold its breath as he positioned himself over you, his presence dominating the space.

As he began to move, you felt the weight of his body, the intensity of his gaze. Muzan's voice, low and dangerous, whispered in your ear, "You are mine. You will never leave me." The words were a possessive promise, a claim that left no room for doubt. You, caught in the moment, simply smiled, a knowing curve of your lips that seemed to both challenge and accept his assertion.

Muzan continued his thrusts, each one a declaration of ownership, a statement of his control. Your smile remained, a silent acknowledgment of the power play unfolding between you both. The room filled with the sounds of your shared intensity, a symphony of desire and dominance.

His eyes flared.

Even as he held you down.
Even as he reclaimed every inch of you as his.
Even as he tried to bury the fear of losing you beneath possessive certainty.

You smiled up at him.

Like you knew exactly what you were doing.
Like you knew the power you had.
Like you knew he would always break before he ever let you go.

And Muzan—

He didn’t know whether to worship you for it…
or destroy the world to keep you.

[gallard0-5]

Master list for

“A Price For a Cure”

one shot series

1.

Post by @gallard0-5 · 1 image

💬 5  🔁 22  ❤️ 691 · "The Price of a Cure" A human Muzan Kibutsuji one shot yandere Human Muzan Summary: He was cured of death itself, onl

2.

Post by @gallard0-5 · 1 image

💬 0  🔁 14  ❤️ 360 · “The Price Of A Cure” (part 2 one shot) human Muzan Kibutsuji/ fem reader yandere Muzan. Summary: “To be Muzan’s wif

3.

Post by @gallard0-5 · 1 image

💬 4  🔁 14  ❤️ 408 · “A Price For a Cure” Human Muzan Kibutsuji/ fem wife reader. Summary: Innocent to the world. Ruined by Muzan. Smut one

Post by @gallard0-5 · 1 image

💬 0  🔁 0  ❤️ 0 · “The Price For A Cure” (part 4 one shot) human Muzan Kibutsuji/ fem reader yandere Human Muzan summary: One moment of r

💬 0  🔁 0  ❤️ 0 · “The Price Of A Cure” part 5 Human Muzan kibutsuji/ fem reader Summary: He wears a human life to survive the sun, but me

[gallard0-5]

“A Price For a Cure”

Human Muzan Kibutsuji/ fem wife reader.

Summary: Innocent to the world. Ruined by Muzan. Smut one-shot. (part of the “price for a cure” series.)

(NSFW)

The afternoon was quiet, the kind of stillness that might have felt peaceful if not for the way Muzan’s gaze clung to you like a brand.

You sat cross-legged on the floor, Snowball batting at the ribbon in your hand. Each time the kitten pawed at it, you laughed—soft, light, unthinking. You looked like a girl untouched by anything dark, your innocence spilling out with every little giggle.

And Muzan’s blood burned for you.

Gods, how could you look so pure and yet so damn tempting at the same time?

His brush hovered uselessly over the parchment in front of him, ink dripping onto the paper, forgotten. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. The slope of your neck when you tilted your head to tease the kitten. The delicate arch of your wrist, so small, so easy to break—yet the same wrist he had pinned to the mattress night after night.

You were utterly unguarded, and that only made you more obscene in his eyes.

You didn’t even know what you were doing to him. Sitting there with your soft thighs peeking from beneath your robes, your lips parted just slightly as you cooed at that damn cat. To anyone else you might look angelic, demure. But to him? You looked like sin wrapped in silk.

He thought of the way those lips had trembled beneath his, the way your voice cracked when he drove into you harder, deeper, until you could barely breathe his name. And now here you were—sweet, innocent, playing with a kitten—like he hadn’t ruined you already.

It made his cock twitch.

Muzan leaned back slightly, his jaw tight as he studied every inch of you. The flush in your cheeks when you laughed. The softness of your body that he’d claimed, marked, filled until you cried. You had no idea how utterly sexy you looked to him in this moment, how badly he wanted to toss the papers aside, drag you onto his lap, and remind you of what you truly were.

Not innocent. Not untouched.

His.

The brush slipped from his fingers and clattered against the table. You startled faintly at the sound, glancing up. Your wide eyes met his, cheeks warming instantly at the raw hunger in his stare.

You looked away quickly, stroking Snowball as if pretending you hadn’t seen it.

Muzan smirked. Lust curled hot in his veins, thick and possessive

"Come to me," he commanded, his voice a low, dangerous purr. The innocent girl, drawn by an inexplicable force, began to rise from her position, but Muzan's next words halted her. "Crawl." he insisted, a cruel glint in his eyes.

You hesitated for a moment, then complied, moving slowly across the floor towards him. As you drew near, Muzan reached out, his hand roughly gripping your face. He pulled you close, his lips crashing down on yours in a fierce, demanding kiss. His other hand fumbled with the tie of his pants, releasing himself from the confines of his clothing. With a gentle yet firm pressure, he guided your head downwards, urging you closer to him.

Muzan's grip on your face tightened, his thumb pressing firmly against your cheek, urging your mouth to open. "Open for me," he commanded, his voice a low growl that left no room for disobedience. You complied, your lips parting slightly.

He guided your head closer, his other hand gently but firmly pressing against the back of your neck, directing your movements. You could feel the heat of him against your lips, and then, with a slow, deliberate thrust, he entered your mouth.

Your eyes widened, a gasp escaping your lips, muffled by his presence. You took him in, your body tensing as you tried to relax, to accommodate him.

Muzan's breath hitched, a sound of pure pleasure escaping his lips as you began to move, your mouth and tongue exploring him with a hesitant, nervous touch. He guided your movements, his hands gentle yet insistent, showing you what he wanted, what he needed. You could feel the power in his grip, the way his body tensed and relaxed with each motion

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and saw the raw, unbridled desire in his gaze.

Muzan's hands gripped your head, pulling you back up to meet his lips in a fierce, demanding kiss. His tongue explored your mouth, claiming it with a hunger that left you breathless.

Abruptly, he broke the kiss, his breath ragged. With a swift, powerful movement, he pushed you down onto the floor, your hands and knees hitting the hard surface. You gasped, your body tensing as you felt his presence behind you, his hands gripping your hips with a possessive, almost bruising strength.

He didn't waste any time, his body pressing against yours, his hardness probing your entrance.

And then, with a single, powerful thrust, he was inside you, filling you completely. You cried out, your voice in pain and surprise, your body arching back towards him.

Muzan began to move, his hips thrusting against yours with a relentless, unyielding rhythm. Each movement was a claim, a statement of ownership, a reminder of who you belonged to. You could feel the power in his grip, the way his body dominated yours

Suddenly, he leaned forward, his body pressing against yours as his lips found yours in a fierce, demanding kiss. His tongue explored your mouth, claiming it with a hunger that matched the intensity of his movements below. You could taste the salt of his skin, the primal, intoxicating flavor that was uniquely him.

Abruptly, Muzan broke the kiss, his breath ragged and hot against your ear. With a firm, commanding grip, he pushed your head down, your cheek pressing against the cool floor. The position left you exposed, vulnerable, and utterly at his mercy. He continued to thrust into you, his movements unrelenting, each one a claim, a statement of possession.

Your pulse raced as his grip tightened in your hair, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. His command left no room for hesitation, and you obeyed, heat prickling over your skin as his hunger devoured you whole.

The room was thick with the sound of your ragged breathing and Muzan’s low groans, the air heavy and charged. He was completely consumed by you, so much that he didn’t even notice—or perhaps didn’t care—when the door creaked open.

One of the servants stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide, face turning crimson as the sight before them registered. Your startled gasp caught in your throat, but Muzan didn’t falter. If anything, his lips curved into a wicked smirk, hand pressing you closer as though daring the servant to keep watching.

The poor servant stammered out a noise of apology, bowing hastily before slamming the door shut. Their hurried footsteps echoed down the hall, carrying their embarrassment with them.

Muzan only chuckled darkly, tilting your face so you were forced to meet his gaze.
“Let them see,” he murmured, his voice dripping with possessive pride. “Let them all know you belong to me.”

———————-

[gallard0-5]

“The Price Of A Cure”

(part 2 one shot)

human Muzan Kibutsuji/ fem reader

yandere Muzan.

Summary: “To be Muzan’s wife is to be adored, protected… and trapped.”

CW ! yandere themes,emotional breakdown, manipulation, obsession

The night carried on well past the midnight hour, and the servants in the west wing found themselves moving with hushed steps, heads bowed, pretending not to hear.

But the sounds were impossible to ignore.
The steady thud of the bed against the wall.
The low, commanding murmur of Lord Muzan’s voice.
And—worst of all—their mistress’s breathless cries, breaking through the silence again and again.

“M–Muzan!” your voice rang out, trembling with pleasure and desperation, loud enough to echo down the corridor.

The youngest maid nearly dropped the tray she carried, her face burning red as she pressed a hand over her mouth. Another servant tugged her by the sleeve, whispering fiercely, “Don’t linger, you’ll only shame yourself!” Yet even she was blushing furiously, her steps quick and uneven as the rhythm from within the chamber grew harder, faster, more insistent.

A third servant, older and long-accustomed to her master’s intensity, gave a small, knowing shake of her head, though color still bloomed high across her cheeks. “Lord Muzan is simply… taking what belongs to him,” she murmured, almost defensively. “It is not for us to question.”

Still, when another loud cry of his name spilled past the doors, raw and unrestrained, every maid in the hallway flushed to their ears. Their mistress, once so quiet and demure, was now caught in her husband’s consuming grasp, and the sound of it made the servants scatter quickly, hearts pounding with embarrassment.

—

They hurried down the corridor, skirts swishing, trays clattering faintly in their nervous grip. The further they got from the master’s chambers, the louder their hushed voices became, as though distance gave them permission to speak.

“I thought I’d faint,” the youngest maid whispered, pressing both hands to her heated face. “She was calling his name so loud—what if someone from outside the house heard?”

“Careful,” the older one chided, though her voice trembled with the same flustered heat. “Best not to repeat such things. Lord Muzan would not take kindly to servants gossiping about their master’s marriage bed.”

“But—” the girl stammered, eyes wide, “the way the walls shook—” She broke off, hiding her face again as if even recalling it was indecent.

A third maid, her lips curling with a wry smile, gave a soft laugh. “What did you expect? Lord Muzan has been wanting her ever since the lady nursed him back to health. You could see it in his eyes—like a starving man finally finding what he craved. And now, she is his wife—his possession. It is only natural he makes it known.”

The youngest maid bit her lip, hesitating before whispering, “But… have you seen the way he looks at her? As if no one else exists in the world but her. It’s frightening sometimes… like she’s not just his wife, but his entire reason for breathing.”

The older one gave a slow nod, her expression uneasy. “Yes. His gaze never wavers from her, not even for a heartbeat. There is nothing gentle in it—it’s hunger, pure and consuming. Our lady may not notice it yet… but to those of us who serve, it is plain as day.”

The other two exchanged glances, their faces still burning, and nodded quickly. But even as they turned away, their thoughts remained tangled with the sounds they’d overheard—the bed striking the wall, the mistress’s cries, the master’s dark, commanding voice—all of it a reminder of the consuming force that bound the household together now.

——

Inside the chamber, the air was heavy with heat, the scent of sweat and silk mingling in the candlelit darkness. Your breaths came quick and uneven, each one trembling as you clung desperately to Muzan’s shoulders. His body moved against yours with unrelenting strength, each thrust driving the air from your lungs, leaving you gasping, dizzy, overwhelmed.

Your fingers dug into him, nails catching against his skin as you tried to steady yourself. “M-Muzan…” you moaned, the sound breaking, breathless, raw.

His dark eyes locked on you, burning with an intensity that stole whatever strength you had left. He drove forward again, harder, faster, until your voice rose higher, the sound filling the chamber. His grip on your waist tightened, almost bruising, as his pace grew frantic—each movement a claim, each breath a vow that you would never escape him.

The pressure inside him snapped, and with a low, guttural cry, Muzan’s voice rang out, your name spilling from his lips in a fierce, desperate shout. His body shuddered, trembling as he pulled you flush against him, as though he could press you into his very being and never let go.

The room fell into silence but for your ragged breaths, your head falling weakly against his chest, your body trembling from exhaustion. His hold on you remained ironclad, even as his movements stilled, even as the storm of his desire ebbed into a possessive calm.

Muzan’s lips brushed against your damp temple, his voice a dark whisper meant only for you. “Mine… always mine.”

The words lingered in the quiet, sealing the night with a promise that was as much a vow as it was a threat.

———-

Morning light spilled gently through the paper screens, painting the chamber in a golden glow. You sat before the mirror, brush in hand, running it slowly through your tangled hair. Your body still felt sore, your movements slower than usual, but there was a quiet calm in the air—an almost fragile peace.

The servants moved quietly about the room, folding linens, tidying trays, and pretending not to glance your way. Yet their eyes lingered, warm smiles tugging at their lips as they stole glances at the master.

Lord Muzan had slipped up behind you, his dark eyes fixed not on the servants or the room, but entirely on you. His hand brushed lightly over your shoulder before he bent low, pressing his face into your hair, breathing in your scent with quiet reverence.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, the single word filled with certainty.

You stiffened faintly at the unexpected touch, but his arms slid easily around you, drawing you against him. The brush slipped from your fingers as Muzan pressed a tender kiss to your cheek, then another to the corner of your jaw, his lips lingering as though he could never bear to part from your skin.

The servants exchanged glances, smiles soft and knowing. The youngest covered her mouth to hide her flustered grin, while the eldest gave a small nod of approval. To them, their master’s devotion looked almost sweet—an adoring husband, unable to keep from cherishing his new bride.

But you could feel the weight of it, the intensity in his touch, the way every kiss seemed less like affection and more like a brand. His love was not gentle, not truly—it was consuming, and it left you trembling even beneath the softness of his lips.

A sharp knock sounded against the door. Muzan straightened slowly, his arms still lingering around you as one of his guards stepped into the room, bowing low. In his hands, he carried a large, lacquered box.

“My lord,” the guard intoned respectfully.

Muzan’s gaze flicked to him, then back to you. His lips curved into a rare smile, smooth and deliberate. “For you, my wife. A gift.”

Your eyes widened as the guard set the box carefully upon the low table and slid the lid open. Inside, nestled in soft silk, a tiny bundle of fur stirred, blinking sleepy golden eyes up at the light.

You gasped, hands flying to your mouth. “A kitten…” you whispered, unable to hold back the pure wonder in your voice. The little creature gave a small, plaintive mewl and stretched, its tiny paws kneading at the fabric.

Your heart leapt. You reached forward hesitantly, scooping the kitten into your arms, cradling it close to your chest. Its warmth, its softness, the delicate weight of it—it all felt so fragile, so precious. “She’s adorable,” you breathed, eyes shining as the kitten nuzzled into your chin.

Muzan watched you intently, his smile deepening as your face lit with joy. There was a rare softness in his expression, though his eyes still gleamed with that same possessive fire. He leaned back slightly, savoring the sight of you so openly delighted by something he had given.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice low, satisfied. “You will never want for comfort. Whatever makes you smile, I will place in your hands.”

The kitten purred faintly, and you hugged it closer, unable to hide your laughter as it pawed playfully at the edge of your sleeve. For a fleeting moment, your grief and unease faded, replaced by the simple sweetness of the small creature wriggling in your arms.

Muzan tilted his head, studying you, his smile edged with quiet pride. It pleased him deeply—no, it consumed him—that he had been the one to put that glow in your eyes.

But behind that soft smile, a darker satisfaction coiled. The pet was never truly meant for you—it was for him. A distraction, a comfort, something to keep you docile. You held the kitten as if it were freedom, never realizing it was only another set of bars for the cage you lived in.

Muzan’s gaze lingered on you, on the way your laughter slipped so easily now, the way your fingers danced across the kitten’s tiny ears as if nothing else in the world mattered. To him, it was the sweetest sight—not because of your happiness, but because you looked so unaware. So obedient.

He leaned back, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you, his lips curved in a smile that never reached the hunger in his gaze. How lovely it was to see you like this—so easily pacified, so easily lulled into forgetting the chains you could not see.

When you giggled as the kitten pawed at your hair, Muzan’s smile widened. Yes. Let the small creature occupy your thoughts, let it fill your days. The less you noticed the walls around you, the more completely you would belong to him.

And as he watched you play, radiant in your innocence, Muzan thought to himself with quiet certainty: there was no need for locks or iron. He had you already, and you didn’t even realize it.

—————

The afternoon sun spilled softly into a small garden courtyard, its warmth a gentle contrast to the heavy shadows that had become your usual companions. You knelt on the smooth stone path, the kitten curled in your lap, purring softly as you stroked its fur. For a moment, the weight of Muzan’s presence, the relentless intensity of his gaze, seemed far away.

“Good afternoon,” a voice called, light and melodic, interrupting the quiet. You looked up, startled, and saw a woman approaching along the path, her steps measured and graceful. She wore the subtle elegance of someone accustomed to refinement, her smile warm and unthreatening.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said, bowing lightly. “I am Ayame, the wife of Lord Kaname. And you must be…” She glanced down at the small bundle in your arms, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

You flushed slightly, lifting the kitten a little higher. “I… I’m Y/N,” you murmured, keeping your voice soft. The afternoon light made her look almost ethereal, and you felt an unfamiliar flutter of nerves.

Ayame’s gaze fell on the kitten, and a gentle smile curved her lips. “And who is this young lady?” she asked, tilting her head toward your lap, as though the answer might reveal something about your own character.

The kitten stirred, pawing playfully at your fingers. You laughed softly, a sound lighter than you had felt in months. “This is… Um… Snowball,” you said, your voice shy but filled with a quiet affection. “She’s… new.”

Ayame’s smile widened, and she stepped closer, lowering herself slightly to stroke the kitten’s fur with delicate fingers. “She’s beautiful,” she said warmly. “I can see she has already captured your heart.” You nodded, hugging Snowball closer

Ayame’s eyes twinkled, and she let out a soft, amused laugh. “You know,” she said, leaning slightly closer, her voice playful, “you look like a little piece of cake. No wonder Muzan kept you all to himself.”

Heat rose to your cheeks, and you felt yourself blush, your lips curving into a gentle, shy smile. You looked down at Snowball, suddenly very interested in the kitten’s tiny paws, though your heart raced at the compliment.

Ayame reached out, lightly taking hold of your arm. “Come with me,” she said, her tone commanding just enough to be teasing rather than forceful. “Now that I have Muzan’s precious wife to myself, I want to know everything about you.”

You hesitated for only a moment, caught between nerves and curiosity, before allowing her to guide you along the courtyard path. Her grip was warm, steady, and there was a surprising comfort in her easy confidence.

You tilted your head, curiosity and a flicker of nerves in your eyes. “What do you mean?” you asked softly.

Ayame’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “I noticed how you walked a bit… funny when you got up just now,” she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. There was no malice in her tone, only gentle teasing.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you hugged Snowball a little tighter to hide your sudden fluster.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Ayame murmured, slipping her arms around your shoulders in a comforting embrace. Her touch was warm and reassuring, holding you steady. “It’s natural… and nothing to be ashamed of.”

You swallowed, unsure what to say, but the quiet confidence in her voice made your heart ease slightly.

“Women like us,” Ayame continued, tightening her hold gently, “we have to make the best of our circumstances. We take what we are given and make it work.”

Your eyes widened slightly at the weight of her words, but before you could respond, she leaned back just enough to meet your gaze. “And you,” she said softly, a smile touching her lips, “you are the luckiest out of all of us.”

You blinked, voice barely above a whisper. “How…?”

Ayame’s eyes softened, her smile a mixture of amusement and admiration. “Once the news of Muzan’s recovery spread, so many letters of engagement were sent to him,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “Noble families, merchants’ daughters… anyone who thought they could catch his favor. But he refused them all. Every single one. Only you.”

Your cheeks flushed, heat rushing up as you clutched Snowball a little closer. The idea of being the sole reason for Muzan’s refusal of countless offers made your heart pound strangely, both with pride and unease.

Ayame leaned slightly closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Tell me… what was it like, taking care of him when he was sick? Was… were you afraid at all?”

You hesitated, fingers still running absently through the kitten’s fur. The memory of his frail body, of the fever that had burned through him, and the searing pain of the treatments, made your stomach tighten.

“Yes,” you admitted softly, your voice trembling slightly. “I was… scared. Every day I worried that he wouldn’t… that he might not make it. But I couldn’t show it—not to him.”

Ayame’s hand lightly rested on yours, comforting and grounding. “You were brave,” she murmured, eyes glinting with admiration. “Not many could have done what you did. Not just anyone could stay by his side, tend to him, and survive the intensity of his presence without breaking.”

You hugged Snowball a little closer, your voice soft and hesitant as you spoke. “When he was sick… I didn’t even realize what he felt for me. I thought I was just caring for a patient… just doing what was right.”

Ayame tilted her head, listening intently, eyes gentle and encouraging.

“It wasn’t until… after my father died,” you continued, voice trembling slightly at the memory, “when Muzan… when he came to me and said he wanted me to be his wife… that I understood. That’s when I realized… everything I had done, every moment I had spent tending to him… he had been watching me. He had been wanting me all along.”

Ayame’s lips curved into a small, understanding smile, her hand brushing yours lightly. “I see… so it was never just duty. You were… chosen.”

You nodded, eyes downcast, cheeks warming at the memory of Muzan’s dark, unrelenting gaze the day he claimed you. “I… I didn’t even understand it at first. I just thought I was helping him… and then… everything changed.”

Ayame’s eyes softened, a gentle smile playing at her lips. “Yes… things have changed,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “You’re no longer just the daughter of a doctor… you’re now an adorable wife.”

You blinked, cheeks heating at the compliment, unsure how to respond.

Ayame’s smile deepened, a playful glint in her eyes. “And soon… I imagine a mother as well,” she added lightly, her words carrying an implication that made your blush deepen further. “From… how often he seems to claim you, his devotion is… intense, to say the least.”

You pressed Snowball closer to your chest, heat flooding your face as your hands fumbled nervously in your lap. Ayame laughed softly at your reaction, a low, warm sound that made the moment feel almost intimate.

“I want us to be good friends,” Ayame said, her tone softening, sincere beneath the teasing. “Even… sisters, if you’ll allow me. Someone to share these moments with… someone who understands.”

You looked up at her, still flushed, but the warmth in her gaze made you nod gently. “I… I would like that,” you whispered.

Ayame’s smile widened, and she gave your shoulder a light squeeze. “Good,” she said. “Because from now on… we’ll be there for each other. In this world, a little trust and companionship can make all the difference.”

————

Those words lingered in your mind even as you returned from town, Ayame walking beside you. The bustle of the market still clung to your clothes, the laughter of strangers and the freedom of walking unnoticed still warm in your chest. It felt normal, almost comforting—until the gates of Muzan’s estate loomed ahead.

At once, the guards stepped forward. Their eyes shifted from you to Ayame, and one gave a curt bow. “Lady Ayame, you may leave now.”

She hesitated, concern flickering across her face as her gaze landed on you. Leaning in, she whispered, “Will you be alright? I hope I didn’t get you into any trouble…”

You forced a smile, nodding, though unease curled in your stomach. Ayame gave your hand a gentle squeeze before turning away, leaving you alone to face the looming halls.

Inside, the silence was suffocating. Muzan stood waiting. His eyes locked onto you the moment you stepped through the door, sharp and unreadable.

“Where were you?” His voice was deceptively calm, though the undercurrent of anger made your throat tighten.

“With Ayame,” you answered softly, trying to keep your voice steady. “We only went into town—”

“Did I give you permission to leave?” His voice cut through yours, sharp as a blade.

You froze, lips parting, but no words came. Silence was all you could offer, and it was the wrong answer.

In an instant, his hand tangled harshly in the back of your hair, yanking your head back. You cried out as he dragged you down the hall, your feet stumbling against the polished floor. The door of a room slammed behind you, and you were thrown onto the ground, your breath stolen by the impact.

The floor was cold beneath your palms as you looked up—only to see him kneel beside you, his fury burning brighter than fire. His hand slammed against the floor near your face, his voice thundering.

“You will never do that again! Do you understand me?”

Your chest heaved with sobs, tears brimming in your eyes as you scrambled for words. The weight of his anger pressed down on you like chains, leaving you trembling beneath his gaze.

———-

You lay on the hard pallet until the dark hours folded back into gray dawn. Hunger ached through your ribs, a hollow throb that made your limbs light-headed. The door stayed shut; the silence pressed at your ears until, finally, a muffled knock sounded and a familiar voice whispered through the crack.

“You may come out now, my lady,” one of the servants said, relief soft in her tone as she opened the door and helped you to your feet. Her face was pale with worry, and her hands trembled as she guided you down the corridor.

She led you straight to the bathing room, fussing over the water and the towels as if she could stitch back the calm that had been ripped away. Her lips moved in little comforts—“I’m so sorry, my lady,”—but you heard them like a distant murmur, more numb than truly comforted. You let her undress you gently, hands quieter than your own, and ease you into the warm water. The heat soothed the sting of cold and cold floors, and for a breath, you let yourself breathe.

Then the door opened again.

“My la—” the servant started, but Muzan’s shadow filled the doorway. His expression was unreadable, the calm before some change. The servant bowed instantly. “Leave us,” he said, voice steady. The woman hesitated only a heartbeat, eyes flicking to you with something like pity, before slipping away and closing the door behind her.

Muzan crossed the room without another word and knelt beside the tub. He reached out as if instinctively, lifting a cup of water and letting it ripple over your shoulders. His touch was careful—deliberate, intimate—and when his fingers drew a long, gentle line down your back, it felt both humiliating and oddly tender.

“Do you understand now?” he asked, the softness of the water carrying the sharpness of his tone. “Do you understand how it made me feel that you left so suddenly, without telling me?”

Your throat closed. The warmth of the bath did nothing to melt the tremor in your voice. “I— I didn’t mean to anger you,” you whispered, words thin and immediate with regret.

Muzan’s lips curved into a smile that was almost indulgent as he dipped the cloth again and smoothed it over the tense muscles of your shoulders. “I only want to protect you,” he murmured, eyes on the small rise and fall of your breath. “I only want to love you. You are mine, my sweet wife. You will never anger me again.”

You felt the cloth go over your skin, felt his hands steady and sure, and in that touch there was a dozen things at once: care, ownership, and an iron certainty that left no space for argument. You wanted to lean away and you wanted, uselessly, to lean in. The water steamed. Your pulse slowed and then steadied, not from comfort so much as from resignation.

Muzan continued to wash you in silence for a long moment, the simple motions as intimate as a vow. When he finally straightened, he helped you from the water and wrapped you in a thick towel, his hands lingering at your shoulders as if to make sure you would not slip away again. The bath should have been cleansing; instead, it left you strangely raw—cleaner in body, more bound in spirit.

You met his eyes, searching for softness and finding instead an unshakable possessiveness. Somewhere in that gaze you understood the shape of what you were trapped in: protection that felt like a cage, love that felt like a claim.

[gallard0-5]

"The Price of a Cure"

A human Muzan Kibutsuji one shot

yandere Human Muzan

Summary: He was cured of death itself, only to find something else he refused to let go of—you

CW ! yandere themes,emotional breakdown, manipulation, obsession,

Muzan Kibutsuji had spent his life staring into the mouth of death.
Every failing heartbeat, every ragged breath, every day spent wondering if his body would give out before he reached tomorrow—he had learned to live in contempt of his own flesh.

But then the new doctor came. A man not long in practice, unproven in the eyes of others, yet unrelenting in his search for a cure. And against all expectation, he had done it—he had given Muzan a chance to live. His medicines were unlike anything before, potent enough to hold death at bay. The cost, however, was agony. The treatments seared through Muzan’s veins, left his body frail and trembling, poisoned with side effects that made each day a trial.

Still, Muzan endured. Because Muzan had always endured.

The door slid open.

It wasn’t the doctor.
It was you.

The daughter.

You moved into the room with the gentleness of a dream, carrying a tray of broth and medicine. When you knelt beside his bed, your hands trembled slightly as she dipped a cloth into water and pressed it against his fevered brow.

Muzan froze. Not from relief—he despised the idea of needing anyone. But from the pull of something primal.

Your face. Untouched by hardship.
Your eyes. Innocent, unclouded.
Your very presence—it was unbearable in its purity.

He stared, and for the first time, weakness did not fill him with rage. It filled him with hunger.

“You should drink,” you whispered, raising the cup toward his lips. “Father says you’ll be stronger soon.”

Stronger. He would be. He had to be.

His gaze tracked your every movement—the curve of your cheek, the pulse fluttering at your throat, the soft way your lips shaped each word. His body ached, but beneath the pain throbbed something deeper: a single, absolute truth.

You were his.

“Why are you here?” His voice was low, rough, carrying the weight of his claim.

You startled, but steadied yourself. “Because you need care. Not just medicine.”

Care. Such a small word. You didn’t understand what you had just bound yourself to. You thought you were offering comfort. You thought you were tending to a patient.

But Muzan’s thoughts twisted darker.

If you left, he would find you.
If the world tried to take you from him, he would crush it.
If death itself tried to reach for you, he would tear it apart with his bare hands.

Your kindness was not a gift—it was a chain. You had tied him to you without knowing, and Muzan had no intention of ever letting it loosen.

For the first time, death did not frighten him.
What frightened him was the idea of you slipping away.

And so, as he lay in his sickbed, body failing and breath shallow, Muzan’s will hardened into something merciless.

Not to survive for survival’s sake.
But to claim.
To possess.
To keep you, forever.

—-

Muzan felt the strength returning to his body. The fever that had burned through him for weeks had finally broken, and his limbs no longer shook with weakness. He could stand, could breathe deeply, could think clearly.

He found the doctor in his study, reviewing notes, and stepped forward with measured, deliberate movements. “Doctor,” Muzan said, his voice low but firm, “you did what no one else could. You saved me.”

The doctor looked up, nodding slowly, the weight of the past weeks evident in his eyes.

Muzan set a heavy purse on the table. Gold spilled across it, enough to secure the doctor’s future many times over. “Take this,” Muzan said. “It is repayment for your skill… and for your courage.”

Muzan’s gaze sharpened. “There is one more thing,” he said, almost reluctantly, though a fire burned beneath his words. “I have grown fond of your daughter. I want her as my wife.”

The doctor’s expression darkened immediately. “No,” he said firmly.

Muzan’s chest tightened, a flare of anger rising. “No?” he repeated, voice rough with frustration. “You risked everything to cure me. You knew what I am capable of, yet you deny me this?”

The doctor did not waver. “I took the risk of curing you so you would not harm any other doctors,” he said evenly. “I acted knowing exactly what kind of man you are. But my daughter—she is not yours.”

Muzan’s hands clenched. “I would never hurt her,” he growled, every word heavy with conviction. “She would be mine. I would not let anything—or anyone—stand in the way.”

The doctor remained calm, voice steady and unshaken. “I am sorry,” he said. “But I cannot give you my daughter. She will not be yours, no matter what you say or do.”

The heat of obsession coiled tighter within him, a dark promise forming in his mind.

You would be his.

———————

Weeks passed, and Muzan’s strength returned fully. But while he healed, his mind never left you. Every movement, every soft word, every careless laugh haunted him as surely as any fever had.

Then one day, the unthinkable happened.

A carriage accident, the town whispered. The doctor, her father, was gone—killed instantly. You were left alone in your home, the walls echoing with emptiness, the absence of your parents pressing down on you like a physical weight. Muzan, watching from the shadows, felt a cold satisfaction tighten in his chest.

He had sent his men. A simple command, precise and silent. He could not allow anyone to stand between him and what he desired.

He entered the house quietly, his presence filling the space, overwhelming yet composed. “You have no one left,” he said, his voice low, steady, almost soothing. “Let me take care of you. Let me be your husband. Your life should not be spent in fear or loneliness.”

Your gaze lifted to meet his, red-rimmed from grief, lips trembling. You swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper, “Y-Yes…”

Muzan’s chest tightened with dark pleasure at your answer. A small, sharp smile curved his lips. “Good,” he murmured, his voice almost gentle but carrying an unmistakable edge. “You will be happy with me. I will care for you, protect you… and you will never be alone again.”

Even now, still human, he felt the surge of possessive obsession coil tighter around him.

—-

The night of your wedding had arrived, and you stood quietly in your chamber, the silk of your gown brushing your arms as you tried to steady your shaking hands. The candlelight flickered across the room, casting soft shadows that seemed to mirror the turmoil in your heart. Tonight… you thought, your stomach twisting with nerves. Tonight would be the night Muzan expected you to be his entirely.

A servant stepped closer, noticing the tremor in your hands. “My lady,” the woman said gently, taking your hands in her own, “do not worry. He will be good to you.”

Your gaze met the servant’s, hesitant. “I know,” you whispered, a soft, almost nervous smile on your lips. “I… I know.”

The servant nodded, her expression warm but knowing. “Look at him. See the way he gazes at you? As though you are something rare, something only he has found. He wants to protect you… to claim you as his own. That is not cruelty, my lady. That is care.”

Your smile softened, a faint glow of reassurance flickering in your chest. And yet, as you turned your gaze inward, a quiet unease lingered. You could not shake the feeling that the intensity in his eyes—the way he regarded you like a secret treasure—was overwhelming, consuming, something that both enthralled and frightened you.

Why did it make you feel so uneasy?

Your fingers twisted the edge of her gown, heart quickening. You wanted to believe the servant, wanted to trust Muzan’s care. But the thought of surrendering completely, of giving yourself wholly to him, pressed on your chest like a weight you could not lift.

———-

A soft knock echoed on the chamber door. Your heart jumped, Your hands clutching the folds of Your gown. “Come in,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

The door creaked open, and Muzan stepped inside. His presence immediately filled the room, commanding and overwhelming, every movement deliberate.

The servant, noticing him, bowed quickly and whispered, “Good night, my lady,” before retreating quietly, leaving you alone with your husband.

Muzan’s eyes immediately found yours. Without a word, his hands slid to your waist, pulling you gently yet firmly closer. You stiffened, a shiver running down your spine at the contact. His gaze darkened, intense and possessive.

“My beautiful wife,” he said, his voice low, smooth, carrying a weight that made your chest flutter. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment?”

Your breath caught, and you instinctively tried to steady herself. “I… good evening, Muzan,” you murmured, voice trembling slightly.

He tilted his head, studying you with an almost hungry fascination. “You are mine now,” he whispered, tightening his hold just slightly, enough that you could feel the strength in his arms. “And tonight… you will see how devoted I am to you.”

You swallowed hard, a mix of anticipation and unease twisting in your chest. The warmth of his hands, the closeness of his body, and the intensity of his gaze pressed against you like a tangible force. You wanted to step back, yet something in his hold held you still, as if surrendering even a little was inevitable.

Muzan’s lips curved into a small, approving smile. “Do not be afraid,” he murmured, his hands resting possessively on your waist. “I will take care of you. You will be happy… with me.”

Your hands trembled slightly at your sides, caught between nervousness and the undeniable pull of Muzan’s presence.

Muzan leaned closer, his lips pressing to yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. His hands rested possessively on your waist, pulling you gently toward him as he guided you across the room. Each step was measured, deliberate, his dark gaze never leaving yours even as your lips stayed locked.

Your heart raced, nerves twisting in your stomach, but you found yourself moving with him, drawn by the intensity of his presence. The warmth of his body, the steady strength of his hands, and the insistence in his kiss left you breathless, caught between fear and a strange, compelling trust.

“Stay close to me,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low, commanding, yet tender. “I will take care of you tonight.”

You shivered, your hands instinctively rising to touch his shoulders, trying to steady herself while your pulse hammered in your chest. Every movement, every brush of his fingers against your waist, carried a possessive weight that made the air between you both almost unbearable.

Muzan’s lips finally parted slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, “No one else matters. Only you, only me.”

Your breath caught, your eyes widening slightly. The intensity of his words, the darkness behind them, made your heart pound in fear as much as it did in anticipation. You nodded, but it was hesitant, a flicker of intimidation shadowing your features. You were painfully aware of the power in his gaze, the absolute certainty in his possession.

You laid back on the bed, the soft sheets cool against your skin. Vulnerability coursed through you—exposed not only in body but in heart—your nerves taut as you felt the weight of Muzan’s gaze on you. Every movement of his was deliberate, commanding, yet tempered with a possessive tenderness that made your pulse race.

He leaned closer, the heat of his presence enveloping you. His voice was low, almost a growl, carrying a weight that made you tremble. “You do not belong anywhere but here… with me,” he murmured, each word pressing against you like a dark promise.

Your chest heaved, caught between fear and the strange pull of his presence. You felt completely seen, completely claimed, and the intensity was overwhelming. Even in your vulnerability, a part of you wanted to trust him, to surrender to the certainty in his possessive attention.

Muzan lowered himself until he was hovering over her, his dark gaze drinking in every detail of you, unwavering and intense. “Every moment with me will make it impossible to forget how much you belong in my world,” he whispered, voice edged with obsession.

The night passed with you both together, your body pressed close to his, his presence both protective and consuming. For you, it was overwhelming—your heart and mind caught in a whirlwind of fear, awe, and the undeniable magnetism of his obsession. You slept fitfully, each movement of his, each quiet murmur, echoing in her mind, leaving you both reassured and unnervingly aware of how completely he dominated your world.

By dawn, you lay still, exhausted, and strangely comforted. Though the intensity had been overwhelming, you had survived the night, and you had felt the undeniable weight of his devotion, possessive and unwavering.

————

Morning light filtered softly through the curtains, painting the room in a gentle glow. Muzan stirred, his dark eyes opening to find you still lying there, her chest rising and falling with quiet, even breaths.

He watched you for a long moment, a rare softness touching his features. Even in sleep, you seemed otherworldly—innocent and fragile, yet somehow luminous, as if the morning itself had chosen to rest upon you. An almost reverent thought passed through his mind: you looked like an angel, untouched by the darkness that clung to the world outside.

His hands itched to brush a strand of hair from your face, to trace the delicate curve of your shoulders, but he held himself back, savoring the quiet intimacy of simply watching you. The room was still, except for the faint sounds of your breathing, and Muzan felt the pull of an obsession tempered by awe.

You were his now, in every sense that mattered to him, and the sight of you, serene and vulnerable, only deepened the intensity of his fixation.

Muzan leaned back slightly, letting the moment linger, committing every detail of your face, every gentle curve and line, to memory. You were his treasure, fragile and radiant, and even in your sleep, she held him utterly captive.

The soft light of morning grew warmer, and slowly, your eyes fluttered open. Muzan’s gaze fell on you immediately, drinking in every detail as you stretched slightly, a quiet yawn escaping your lips. Your hair fell messily around your face, and you blinked up at him, still groggy, not fully aware of his presence. Muzan’s lips curved into a small, almost indulgent smile. You looked utterly adorable, delicate and unguarded, a living vision he wanted to protect and claim completely.

He leaned closer, dark eyes fixed on you as he lowered his head and pressed a slow, possessive kiss to your lips. The kiss was gentle, yet carried the weight of his desire and obsession, making your pulse quicken.

When he pulled back just slightly, his gaze never leaving yours, he murmured, “Your warmth is mine, and I will take it as I wish.”

The words made you shiver, a tight knot of fear and unease forming in your chest. The weight of his unwavering gaze pressed down on you, leaving you feeling exposed and small, entirely at his mercy.

Before you could even speak, Muzan leaned closer, his presence overwhelming, pressing against you in a way that left no room for hesitation. You felt the undeniable force of his intent, the way he claimed you completely in that moment, and all you could do was lie there, trembling under the intensity of him.

————-

That morning, steam rose gently from the bath as your servant helped you undress and step into the warm water. Your body still felt sore, your movements slower than usual.

As the servant poured water carefully over your shoulders, she paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Does that hurt, my lady?” she asked softly, concern lacing her voice.

You blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

The servant hesitated, then brushed back a strand of wet hair, revealing the faint trace of teeth and the dark bloom of hickeys along your neck and collarbone. “Here,” she whispered, almost apologetically.

Your eyes widened as you looked down at yourself, realizing your skin bore the unmistakable marks of the night before. Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you quickly lowered your gaze, your face burning with embarrassment.

“I… I didn’t realize they were there,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above the sound of water rippling around you. The words felt clumsy, your chest tightening as the memory of Muzan’s intensity flickered sharply in your mind.

The servant gave a small laugh, her tone playful rather than professional. “That’s alright, my lady. I only hope you enjoyed your wedding night.” She leaned a little closer, smirking at the sight of your flushed cheeks. “Oh, just look at you—our blushing young wife.”

Your face only grew hotter, your hands curling against the water as you tried to sink lower.

But the servant continued, voice light with teasing affection. “Well, he must certainly feel the masculine pride of having such a beautiful wife. And soon enough, you’ll make him even prouder—by giving him the most adorable children.”

Your breath caught, and you whispered almost to yourself, “Children…?” as though the word was strange on your tongue, something you had nearly forgotten existed.

The servant smiled knowingly and nodded. “Yes, my lady. Giving heirs is a woman’s greatest consolation in this life.” She poured another bowl of water over her shoulders, the warmth cascading down your skin.

Before you could respond, the servant’s grin turned teasing once more. “And by judging from Lord Muzan’s… enthusiasm,” she said lightly, “I daresay you will give him many.”

Your burned scarlet, your eyes widening as you quickly averted her gaze

[gallard0-5]

master list

“In-ho one shot series

———

(part 1)

Post by @gallard0-5 · 1 image

💬 8  🔁 2  ❤️ 174 · In ho one shot · summary: Inho’s wife could almost cry watching him watch you like that… she knew he wanted you. She look

part 2

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💬 6  🔁 2  ❤️ 157 · Hwang Inho one shot series part 2 “Debutante dress” summary: You were shopping for your debutante dress with your mothe

part 3

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💬 6  🔁 1  ❤️ 121 · “Lunch date” (part 3 of my “inho one shot” series) summary- It started of with you and your good friends from school ha

part 4

Post by @gallard0-5 · 2 images

💬 0  🔁 3  ❤️ 102 · “Young Love” part 4 of the “in-ho one shot series summary-Years of secret suffering had taught In-ho self control.. but

part 5

Post by @gallard0-5 · 1 image

💬 2  🔁 2  ❤️ 89 · “Finally understanding..” part 5 of the in-ho one shot series Summary- We’re you this naive?.. He was always known as Mr

Post by @gallard0-5 · 1 image

💬 0  🔁 0  ❤️ 1 · “His Again” part 6 of the in-ho one shot series Summary: After all her running, In ho has found her. Now your back in hi

[gallard0-5]

“Finally understanding..”

part 5 of the in-ho one shot series

Summary- We’re you this naive?.. He was always known as Mr.Hwang, now in the backseat of his car he was In-ho.

Pairing In-ho x young fem character

warning ⚠️ age gap. reader is 18 and In-ho is 40.

Mrs Hwang had a few friends over at her home including your mother..and you.

“I just know that you and your husband high five each other after seeing your daughter, she was absolutely beautiful at her debutante” They all laughed, then continued to look at the pictures from the big event

“And who’s this?” They asked asked looking at the picture of you and Dae-ho

“Aw well that’s actually her boyfriend” your mom playfully shushed at her friends at there excitement

“So when will this poor boys funeral be hm? Stealing daddy’ little girl” One of her friends teased

“You think i’m crazy? as far as he knows he’s just a friend that happened to be her date for the evening. But I don’t know how long we can keep it on the low..

I swear he’s absolutely head over heels for her” They all gushed at how sweet that was

“Have you met him?” Mrs Hwang asked

“Yes actually, his name is Dae ho, Kang Dae-ho. I met him only briefly when I had to practically sneak y/n back inside the house. I caught them outside together after a date. They looked like deer in headlights, but he was such a gentlemen and saying that he didn’t want to keep her out too late.”

Her friends went on gushing how sweet that was

“Yea, the cute love stories that y/n tells me about him. How he’s practically prince charming” her mother said making her friends laugh

“And what does he do?” Mrs Hwang asked

Your mom cleared her throat before speaking again

“Well he’s actually a builder” She said casually hoping her friends wouldn’t judge too much

“A hard hat? really?”

“So much for a prince”

Your mother rolled her eyes at her friends mean comments

“Y/n could have actually been with a prince and yet you have her with someone who only builds the castle?”

Miss Hwang saw your mothers look of shame while the other women practically were scowling at her for letting you be with such a man

“Money isn’t everything. If she’s letting her only daughter see this man, then he has got to be a prince charming” Mrs Hwang playfully winked at your mother trying to make her feel better, not letting her friends get the best of her

“Have you thought of marriage between the two?” her friends gasped at Miss Hwangs blunt question

“She’s much too young, she’s just even starting university”

“On the contrary, you were about the same age when you married were you not?”

Mrs Hwang remembered that time.. being in the same predicament you would be in too if your mother soon will realize in-ho’s desire..

You came to the table refilling their tea.

“Oh y/n your necklace for your debutante was so beautiful”

“Would you believe that Mr hwang gifted it to her himself, I tell you he sometimes spoils her more than her own father does” your mother said while she playfully pinched your face

Mrs Hwang just looked at the picture of you in the newspaper in your beautiful dress, upset that she would always know the backstory of that piece of jewelry..

“Is he working today?” your mother asked

You told them that he indeed was working.. all day actually. Pleased that she was able to keep him away from you this time..

But the familiar sound of his car in the driveway was heard.. making her realize that she spoke too soon.

Miss Hwang didn’t even bother looking up towards her husband.. being so sick and tired of this show that she had to put on for her friends

“So glad to see again, would you like me to prepare something for you?”

Mrs Hwang was about to interject telling you that he’s fine but of course In-ho was one step ahead of you..

He happily accepted and watched him follow you to the kitchen, he looked back towards Mrs Hwang as if he knew she was watching him. She gently scoffed shaking her head as she listened to In-ho gushing over how delicious the food that she made looked.

“Y/n dear, why don’t you bring that plate of pastries over here?” Miss Hwang called out

You brought over the tray of treats with In-ho of course right behind you.. Miss Hwang’s eyes widened when he casually put his hand on your lower back when you bent down with the tray

“I’m so sorry but I forgot that I had to meet someone soon”

Mrs Hwang smiled at the perfect opportunity for you to leave..

“Oh dear, that’s perfectly fine. Our driver will take you”

You happily thanked her and said your goodbyes then making your way to the waiting car.

The driver politely opened the car door open, shyly thanking him while you went inside. You got scared when your passenger seat on the other side opened

“Sorry, but I just got called for work” Mr Hwang said sliding into his seat then telling the driver to start going

He doesn’t say anything for minute, just looking forward

“Are you going to see that boyfriend of yours?” he asked still looking ahead

You look down smiling nodding your head blushing now thinking of your Dae-ho..

“You can’t be serious” he says with a deep sigh

“I’m sorry?..” Mr Hwang then looks at you with a serious expression

“Do you know what I do for work?” you furrowed your brows while gently shaking your head in confusion at the random question.

You yelped when he quickly put his arm around you, roughly pulling you to him.

“Mr Hwa-!”

“I was thinking of you today” he tightened his hold on you when you tried to get away from him

“One of my workers today had told me my mind was wandering.. I could see his mouth open and close, but I couldn’t hear a word.”

You just kept trying to get out of his hard hold while he spoke. He then brought his face closer to yours

“I could smell you. It was distracting” he placed his hand on one of your breast making you almost cry while you tried to grab his hand away

“Two men. We arrested two men at the train station today.. one of them we stabbed and killed him.. the other had his head sliced open.” he turned facing you, putting his hand on your leg sliding up your skirt

“P-please don’t h-hurt me” you closed your eyes now crying not knowing what to do

“Half his brains were gone!” he whispered harshly while keeping his tight his hold on you

“Now thinking of that piece of vermin you call your boyfriend or you with any other man..I can’t even think straight!”

You kept your eyes closed hoping this nightmare would end.

“Your young new curves.. the pheromones streaming off your body”

You gasped loudly when he grabbed your face making you look at him

“How many times have you let that shit use you?”

You had you’re mouth open but it was hard to speak

“Answer me!” You flinched at his raised voice

“I don’t know what you mean!”

he slowly smiled then loosened his grip on your face.

“Your father has worked hard on protecting your sweet femininity” saying softly while caressing your face.

“If it was up to me I would’ve never let you even step foot out the house. Making you realize that i’m the only one you need”

You stayed silent, thinking that this couldn’t be happening

“Now do you understand my sweet girl?” he said nicely while he ran his hand through your hair

You slowly just shook your head afraid of saying anything.

“I adore you..can’t you see that you’re meant for me?”

You gasped when he leaned over to reach your side of the car opening the door for you. You looked out and didn’t even realize you were at your house.

[gallard0-5]

“Young Love”

part 4 of the “in-ho one shot series

summary-Years of secret suffering had taught In-ho self control.. but that went out the window when he found out about your new boyfriend.

pairing- Hwang inho/ x young fem reader

warning ‼️ ⚠️ age gap. reader is 18 and Inho is 40

Dae ho was hard at work at his construction job, and it only took one quick glimpse of you walking across from him to forget what he was doing..

“Dae ho! what are you doing? watch out!” his friend yelled out angry for his carelessness

Dae ho still hadn’t paid attention but still had his focus on you walking. His friend looked to where he was looking at and smiled when he saw you.

“Go on” his friend said taking the box that his love struck friend was holding

“Hm? really?” His friend laughed nodding his head

“Yes, go before she goes away!”

Dae ho didn’t need to be told twice, quickly running out towards you.

“Miss!”

You didn’t realize that he was calling out for you until he ran in front of you stopping you in your tracks.

“Oh wow, are you alright?” you asked while he had his hands on his his trying to catch his breath.

Once he stood up he immediately got tongue tied

“Wow.. your even prettier up close” you smiled not expecting the sweet compliment

“Uh i’m sorry! My name is dae ho. Kang dae ho” he said quickly bowing to you

“Well hi, i’m y/n” he shook your hands with both of his

“I just wanted to tell you that you shouldn’t be walking near construction sites, it’s dangerous”

You widened your eyes then did a quick look around the work sites behind you

“Sorry I didn’t realize?..”

“Yes! such a beautiful girl like you shouldn’t walk by where people are using dangerous machinery! Because I almost lost my head because of you!”

You laughed and covered your now red face with your textbook, While he just smiled at your cute reaction and playfully patting your shoulder at your embarrassment.

“But I just had to ask you, but will

you do me honor of going on a date with me?” he asked holding both of his hands

“You want to go on a date with me?”

“Oh! i’m so sorry! of course a beautiful girl like you must have a boyfriend” he quickly realized that he hadn’t asked you that..

“No, no I don’t have a boyfriend” Dae ho jokingly dramatically took a breath of relief while having his hands on his heart

“And i’ll love to go out with you”

And after that you and Dae ho spent every waking hour together. Remembering your first kiss with him. It was while he was lunch at work, you ran up to him and he picked you up from the ground giving him a big kiss. His coworkers happily clapped at the sweet couple.

You didn't plan on falling in love with him. But once you both met, it was clear that neither of you could control what was happening to you.

You both fell so in love.

It wasn’t long until In-ho found out about him through your parents.

In-ho was about to break the glass cup he was holding while he listen to your mother going on how what a cute couple you were. How much time you were spending with him.. Then thought he had no one else to blame but himself.

He should have taken you when he had the chance.

[gallard0-5]

“Lunch date”

(part 3 of my “inho one shot” series)

summary- It started of with you and your good friends from school having lunch together. Now it ended with Inho finally deciding that you would be his.

pairing- Hwang inho/ x young fem reader

warning ‼️ ⚠️ age gap. reader is 18 and Inho is 40

You and your three girlfriends from school all were having lunch together all taking about the upcoming debutante ball.

“Look see, it’s even in the newspaper” one of her friends excitedly showed off the article of the upcoming event that they were all going to.

“My slip for my dress just disintegrated in my hands. So my poor widowed dad had to make a dash to the intimate store, I swear i’ve never seen his face so red!” You and your friends laughed

“And not cause he was running!” You said adding to more to all the laughs

“All right all right, Min-ji your turn. Not your first kiss.. but your best?” She stood up almost proud to answer

“My best kiss was with a man.. not a boy.”

You and your friends giggled and gasped at the new truth.

“Who? you have to tell us” Min-ji smiled looking down

“All i’m saying that there’s no point in waiting in boys our own age, who have no idea what they’re doing. Either find yourself a man or… take care of your needs yourself” They all chuckled trying not to laugh to loud at that

“Anyways I think it’s y/n’s turn isn’t it?”

You sighed and smiled at your friends waiting for your story

“My first kiss.. is in the very near future” Her friends awed at her innocent answer

“Kiss kiss!” one her friends two year old little sister Ha- neul, happily cheered

You laughed at her cuteness and picked her up into your lap, kissing her face making her laugh out loud. You bounced the Ha- neul on your lap making her more happier.

“Uh oh” Ha- neul said and you looked down the floor looking for the small toy she just dropped.

Someone beat you to it and before you could say thanks you looked up to who found the small toy

“Mr Hwang? hi” you quickly blinked really not expecting to see him here

“It’s good to see you, are you ladies enjoying yourself?” he said with a bright smile while giving the toy back to Ha- neul

“Yes, well these are my good friend’s from school”

In ho said hello to her friends, while carrying this natural charm the he had, even making her friends blush.

An older gentleman then came to his side and said something to him

“Well It seems i’m called back now. My apologies I was in the middle of a meeting.” he quickly then said goodbye and smoothed Ha- neuls hair and squeezed your shoulder before he left.

“Oh my goodness, talk about finding yourself a man. He’s so handsome” her friends gushed at how charming and good looking Mr Hwang was.

“How do you know him?” One of her friends asked now all hanging on there seat for the story

“He’s my dad’s good friend, I haven’t seen him till a about month ago at a wedding” you then remember how you and him were together in one of the rooms, how you even sang for him.

“Well let me tell you, none of my dad’s friends look like that!” You playfully rolled your eyes while your friends giggled agreeing

“Fishy fish!” Ha- neul started to stand up on your lap to see the fishes outside.

Her older sister was about to take her but you insisted that you wanted to take her. You stood up picking her up and kissing her

“It’s no problem, say ‘well be back’” You walked outside of the restaurant to the water fountain filled with swimming fish.

“Look at that one! and that one over there!” You knelt down behind Ha- neul pointing to the fishes.

You rubbed her back and the kissed the back of her head while she excitedly babbled at the moving fish. The people around you smiled at you both while you played together.

“Aww she’s so precious” an older women said to you both

“And such a pretty mom she has”

You didn’t even correct her, instead you just laughed and nodded your head

“She’s a lucky girl she is” You turned and looked up to see Mr Hwang

“Such a beautiful family you are” the older woman gushed and smoothed the toddlers hair and left goodbye

“And who is this?” Mr hwang playfully asked while bending over to Ha- neul in her arms

“Say ‘hello my name is Ha- neul”

In ho laughed as she yelled out her name and tightly hugged you.

“She’s one of my friend’s little sister. She was stuck baby sitting today and I told her that she just had to bring this lil cutie along”

In that moment when you kissed the little girl making her laugh, In ho let himself and everyone around them watching believe that you were the mother of his children. Thinking of the adorable children that you would give him someday, and the wonderful mother you would be.

That you were indeed a happy family.

“Y/n?” Your friends came out to find you

“You ready? Were about to start leaving”

“I can take her home” Mr Hwang answered casually before you could.

“Oh, I don’t want to be a burden..” you said while putting Ha- neul down on the ground

“Of course not, I wanted to show you the flower garden that was here actually”

You looked at him for a brief moment, still hesitating “Ok”

Your friend took Ha- neuls hand saying goodbye to you leaving

“Come” In ho gently led by the small of your back to the garden

“You know your father and I have been friends quite some time now”

“I know, he speaks so fondly of you, which only makes me respect you that much more”

He smiled at you and rubbed your back affectionately

“I could say the same thing about you. Your fathers pride and joy”

You just chuckled waving your hand. Now you both standing under a cherry blossom tree

“No i’m serious. I remember when you were just born your mother said ‘sorry it’s a girl’. But then your father being so happy said ‘no it’s alright, this is better.. our y/n”

You smiled at him, remembering that story too.

“Oh!” before you both could say anything else the wind blew hard making the petals from the flowers blow onto you.

“Even the cherry blossoms are envious of you” he said while wiping off the petals from your blouse.

He started to take off some petals from your hair. In ho then gently took your chin with one of his hands, using his thumb to softly caress you.

The unexpected sound of thunder following hard rain made you get closer to him. In ho quickly took off his jacket and wrapped over you.

“C’mon let’s go” he took your hand and led you out

You followed him out the restaurant outside to the waiting car. He then told the driver your address and drove off.

“Oh my goodness I’m soaking wet” You said while wrapping his jacket tighter around you.

He then put his arms around you and pulled you closer to him while rubbing your arm in trying to keep you warm.

“You know my friends liked you” You said while he smiled rubbing your arm that was still around you

“Ha- neul seemed like she could’ve played with you forever”You laughed a bit at that

“She’s just one of the many kids I babysit”

You went on to talk about how you used your backyard to play with the kids and picking out vegetables to cook together. In ho pleasantly thought how much different you were compared to girls your age, how you truly enjoyed being so pure and innocent. He continued to smile while you kept talking about the cute stories with the children you took care of.

In ho would be forever grateful for his friend for raising such an angelic daughter.

“How is miss Hwang doing?” He was a bit taken back from your question. He cleared his through trying to get snap back into reality

“She’s doing well..already wanting you both to come over soon”

You nodded smiling

“You both are so great, I just hope i’ll look as happy and striking with my future husband”

He then thought to himself that did it not mean he was losing his darling, just when he had secretly made her his?

They now were in front of her home, She took off his jacket and quickly said goodbye. You ran out in the rain towards your home and while you waved back to him from your porch In ho just thought that he would fight.

To better to destroy everything than to surrender you.

[gallard0-5]

Hwang Inho one shot series part 2

“Debutante dress”

summary: You were shopping for your debutante dress with your mother and her good friend Mrs Hwang.. It was a good day without worry until her husband Mr Hwang came to you looking like his darkest desire.

pairing- hwang inho/x young fem reader

warning ⚠️ age gap. inho is 40 and reader is 18



Mrs Hwang smiled watching her dear friend looking so proud of her daughter looking more beautiful in every dress that she tried on.

Her mother sat down gushing that she couldn’t believe it was time for her debutante ball. She just smiled nodding while looking at you picking out another dress to try on. Now that she really had the chance to sit and to get a good look at you.. she realized why her husband chose you.. like a prey.

“This moment would have been better if it was my daughter and yours going together”

She smiled nodding her head looking down at the all too asked question.

Of course In ho wanted children.. but not with her. So to everyone else they just think it was a mutual decision to not wanting them.

“It’s such a shame tho. In ho would be a good father, I remember how he even danced with y/n he loves little girls”

She almost coughed in shock at what she said.

Now Remembering that day.. How her husband practically wanting to kidnap the young girl. It was only a shame that your mother thought it was just him being nice.. when in reality it was a terrifying scene that she was seeing. But that was a side she only knew..

“Mom!” You called out from the dressing room.

Mrs Hwang took a deep breath to herself while her your mother went to help you. Miss Hwang kept thinking of that day with you and In ho, hoping that was the last time he would see you.. but something in the back of her head told her it wouldn’t be.

“Oh what a surprise!” Mrs Hwang looked behind her to not a surprise

“In ho did you come to surprise your wife?” your mother greeted happily

“Well thank goodness my wife told me she was coming to the shops today, it only reminded me that I needed to have my jacket tailored”

Mrs Hwang furrowed her brows.. she had never told him where she was going.

“Ta da!” you came out in a beautiful dress not realizing you were practically looking like bait to your catcher that was now here..

“Oh y/n, you are a vision” Her husband said practically in a trance looking at you.

You twirled in the dress for In ho while your mother gushed how beautiful you looked, all while Mrs hwang just wanted to scream to take you away from this monster.

“Doesn’t she look amazing?” your mother asked Mrs Hwang

“.. Y-yes, my dear you look perfect” Before she could say anymore wanting them to leave, her husband then spoke.

“She does, but she’s missing something, don’t you think?”

In ho smiled while you looked over at your dress in confusion. He then took his hand out for you take, leading you to the jewelry department.

In ho looked briefly looked over the variety of jewelry then pointing to a necklace to take out.

Mrs Hwang had to stop herself from running up to you as he put the necklace on you.

“Mr Hwang… it’s so beautiful” You said while looking at your reflection in mirror with the necklace on.

Mrs Hwang wanted to smack her friend some sense into her when In ho bought the expensive necklace for her your daughter like it was nothing but an act of kindness.

“Thank you so much!” you reached out and hugged him tightly making him laugh

“Um. Dear let’s get you ready” Mrs Hwang said as she gently led you away from her husband.

You went back to the dressing room to change back. You tried a few times to unzip your dress but it just wouldn’t budge…

You popped your head out of the dressing room looking for your mom but couldn’t see her..

“Do you need something?”

You smiled a bit embarrassed at In ho who was the only one near by.

“Help my zipper is stuck. Can you call my mother?”

He smiled and started walking towards you

“Here I can help”

You didn’t think anything of it when he gently motioned you to turn around.

“Oh!” With your fast reflex you caught your dress from falling in the front.

You quickly thanked him and went back inside the dressing room.

“What are you doing?” Mrs Hwang asked already knowing the answer…

She had watched him watch you while you were in the dressing room. She had wanted to come sooner but your mother held her up. She had seen the way he was looking towards the dressing room, putting two and two together that you were in a vulnerable state undressing..

In ho ignored her as usual and went to see if jacket was ready for him.

“Mrs Hwang are you ok?” You asked concerned at her worried look

“Yes dear..let’s go get your mother and get you ready” she said putting her arm around your shoulders.

You and your mother went to the counter to talk about final details of your dress. Mrs Hwang looked around for her husband before he could get another chance at you again..

“The sleeves could use a bit of hemming” Mrs Hwang said while she ran her hand over his jacket

“I see the way you look at her” Inho slowly turned around and faced her

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

Mrs Hwang was about to stop it right there being scared of what she was about to start

“Not how a grown man should be looking at a child” she said confidently standing her ground for once

“And what do you know about how men are suppose to look at women” He said getting closer to her

“An older woman jealous of a young girls beauty”

“I am not jealous, I am scared!” she had to then contain her anger realizing they weren’t at home where they usually argue..

“Im scared of how her beauty could entice certain men. The wrong men”

In ho was no fool and smirked when he knew she speaking of him.

“Thank you so much again Mr. Hwang!” You came and happily hugged him.

“Oh my sweet girl”

Mrs Hwang just watched as he cupped your face telling you how beautiful you looked in your new dress.

“Now whenever you wear the necklace, you’ll think of me” Her husband said rubbing his hand through your hair.

Hopefully you wouldn’t ever wear that necklace again.. and In ho.

[gallard0-5]

In ho one shot

summary: Inho’s wife could almost cry watching him watch you like that… she knew he wanted you. She looked sad for your sake, not hers

pairing- hwang inho/x fem reader

Warning- Age gap. Reader is 18 and inho is 40

Authors note: There will possibly be more one shots of this concept. Just wanted to put this idea out there.

In-ho’s wife couldn’t get the worried look off her face.. She was worried for you, a young girl that her husband with hungry eyes was looking at.

You were the only daughter of In-ho’s friend. She watched her husband shamelessly watch you dance with your father.

“Where are you going?”

In-ho ignored his wife like he usually did and made his way to you and your father dancing.

She silently cursed at your father for letting him cut in and dance with you

“Well my dear y/n, I haven’t seen you since you were in grade school”

In-ho placed his hand on your hip smiling at your fresh young curves and holding your other hand while you both slow danced together. You smiled nodding your head while you both swayed to the live music

“I’m actually starting university soon, can you believe it!”

His wife watched closely at you two, not for her sake but for you. Her husband laughed and smiled, slowly taking you in closer and closer while you both danced. As soon as she was about to stand up to intervene the song was done and everyone clapped.

“D- darling our friends are asking for us” She took her husband’s arm and gently leading him away.

She looked over her shoulder and did a quick breath of relief when you went dancing with another younger boy

While her and her husband spoke with the others she noticed how he tried to sneakily look behind him to see you.. the others didn’t notice but she did. You were now dancing in a circle holding hands with a group of young girls laughing

“In-ho” she gently nudged his shoulder

Of course him being the smooth manipulator he easily made an excuse to where he really had his attention on

You and the rest of the younger adults all sat together. They all spoke about starting college and excited of some of them moving out from home.

“You know, this parlor is a great place for hide and seek”

They all laughed

“Really are we five years old now?!”

“No really, it’ll be like a farewell before we all go c’mon!”

They all got up laughing getting ready to run and hide.

You tried to hide your giggle while running to another room.

“Y/n? Y/n I can hear you!”

You kept quiet listening to the footsteps walking away just on the side of the wall where you were hiding.

You looked to your side and saw a familiar face.. In-ho smiled and placed his finger on his lips for you to stay quiet.

“C’mon” he mouthed and took your hand leading you to another room.

“Wow.. from the outside, you’d never even know this part of the parlor existed”

You looked around at the large almost abandoned looking room.

“How many rooms are there you think? you asked turning around and smiling

“I was told that it would be vulgar to count” you just smiled and nodded her head in response

In-ho watched you..happy to believe that he could have been Zeus himself in that moment. That he could’ve transformed into a white bull and taken you right then and there

“So, what do we do now?” you asked almost making him laugh at how innocent you were.

He got up from his seat and walked past you to another entrance to a room, he then motioned his head for you to go inside. You smiled brightly at

him as you walked past him into the room.

“Do you like the music they were playing?” You asked while running your hand threw a soft curtain

“Well it’s too fast for me. I prefer much slower music”

“I do too”

In-ho walked closer to you and gently moved a stand of your hair from you face

“Tell me what kind sweet girl” he whispered

You giggled shyly while looking down feeling your face get hot

“Can I sing for you?” you asked happily surprising him

“Really?”

You nodded and led him to have a seat. You took off your shoes and stood in front of him. You danced swaying back and forth, playing with your dress while you sang. He kept staring at you as you sang and danced, he realized that he wanted you more than anything he had ever seen or imagined on this planet—as evidently as he knew that he would die.

You slowly knelt down having him forget to breathe for a second.. You continued to sing now squeezing his hand smiling up at him with those eyes. He smiled back using both of his hands to hold yours.

He took a quick deep breath before clapping. He looked at you for a brief moment while you still sat on the floor looking up at him. Before he could reach down to touch you the door burst open.

“A ha! we got you finally!”

Your friends that you made found you. In-ho quickly put himself together as your friends came to you

“C’mon, let’s go with the others” Before she left, you quickly waved back.

Not knowing this wouldn’t be the last time he would see you. In-ha was now a man possessed. He made a decision, that he would want to ruin every inch of kindness and hope for humanity you had left in you. You were so perfect.