Archive of Our Own ^beta

You had been reading in the bedroom, minding your own business, when Naoya had waltzed through. He blinked down at you, waiting for you to blink up at him almost expectantly, scoffing as the wait for your acknowledgment grew longer. 

“You may miss the dinner with the rest of the clan tomorrow,” he announced flatly. “I’ll handle it alone.”

You hummed with a shrug, turning the page of your book. “Alright.”

His lip twitched in annoyance at your impassiveness. “That’s all you’ve got to say?” he caught you, straightening his back and crossing his arms. He stared at you with slight irritation as he always did, but maybe with a hint of softness—not that he would ever admit to such a thing with you. “Not even a ‘thank you’? Just an ‘alright’?”

You shrugged once more, starting to grow confused as to why he was so bothered about your mannerisms, even though this was more or less how you both acted around one another in the last few years of your marriage. 

“Yes, because that’s what we agreed upon,” you explained calmly. “I’ll play the part of the quiet wife and give you heirs, and in exchange, you fuck off and do your own thing.”

Naoya scoffed. “Ungrateful little bitch. I could be a whole lot worse to you, so you should be thankful that I’m not.”

You blinked at him once more, though unable to push through with some snark. “Thankful that you’re committing to the bare minimum of what is expected of an average human being?”

A tut escaped his lips. “Sure,” he replied, “I’d like to continue that, you know,” he then added on a softer note, extending his hand to tilt your chin to meet his gaze, “but I can’t do that if you’re being like this.”

“I’m just reading my book, Naoya,” you calmly pointed out. “You’re making it out to be as if I’m defying you.”

“But you are,” he insisted. “Got that little attitude on you. If you’re so keen on being a brat, though, I’ll gladly put you in your place if I have to,” he promised, raising his hand at you with the intent of potentially hitting you, “unless you put at least some effort in — your choice.”

You gulped at the threat, giving it at last. “What… effort…?”

Naoya smiled at your submission, slowly lowering his hand.

“How do I put this…” he trailed off, a creepy smile spreading across his face. “I just need you to be a bit more… grateful? Dependent?”

You had to resist an eye roll just in case he would actually smack you.

“So, you want me to be involved in our relationship as opposed to it just being a shill marriage?” you asked, never quite pegging him as someone who had any interest in that sort of thing.

Naoya didn’t immediately answer you, fixing you with that same insidious smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. The look on his face made you feel uneasy, however, and you couldn’t maintain looking at him for too long.

“I just want you to show that you’re thankful that I’m letting you get away with having an easy life,” he stated.

“Fine,” you begrudgingly accepted, not too keen on him carrying out the promise of crossing the line. You always knew he had it in him, but you weren’t about to challenge him on the matter. “I’ll behave. Of course I will. I’m your wife, so I’m dependent on you, anyway, especially given the family name I have married into,” you added, hoping that this would be enough for him to leave you alone.

But it wasn’t.

“Correct,” he nodded, “you’re dependent on me for everything.”

You gave a slow nod, unsure if his tone was questioning or not. “Yes…?”

A huff of breathless laughter escaped his throat. “Then, would you really let me do everything for you and be thankful about it?”

A firmer nod gestured from your body, though you were unsure of what exactly he was talking about. 

“Y-yes?” you confirmed.

“So…” he trailed off, his eyes drifting around the room before settling back on you. “What if I’m the only one who will get you off?” 

Your brows furrowed in even more confusion. “I haven’t cheated on you,” you said, unsure what he was implying. It wasn’t like you had the option to simply leave the Zenin estate anyway, let alone meet with others. You would be found out instantly.

“That’s not what I’m asking,” he scoffed, “I know you haven’t, you can’t even leave our home alone,” he added coldly, as if reading your mind. “But… you still touch yourself when I’m not around, right?”

You didn’t reply to him then, gulping down a thick gulp of air.

His smile widened at your discomfort.

“Would you let me be the only one who lets you cum?” he asked bluntly that time.

“What? I can’t even do it myself?” you blurted out.

Naoya hummed, a strong hit of amusement lacing his voice. “Of course not,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “A good wife is dependent on her husband for everything, isn’t she? A good wife is thankful for all that he does, and because I’m so gracious—so generous—I should be the only one who can touch you, right? The only one who gets you off. The only one who makes you cum.”

Your words were lost in your throat again. You wanted to say something, but nothing left your lips. You couldn’t help but think that if he had been a normal person, his declaration might have been sweet, even if it was misguided, but because it was him, it was anything but that.

Naoya, all the while, leaned forward, tearing the blanket off your body and causing the book from your lap to fly across the room along with the covers. Before you could even regain control, he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you flush against his chest, forcing you to stand on your feet.

You felt like putty in his hands, melting right where you stood, but not because the action was tender, but because as his hand slipped to palm around your hip, it was firm enough to leave bruises behind.

“And no more getting out of bed without me,” he whispered hot into your ear, tilting his hips forward to let you feel his arousal from the situation he threw you into. “I don’t care what it’s for. You’ll wake me up and tell me, won’t you?”

You didn’t reply right away.

“Won’t you?” he repeated.

Finally, you were able to choke out a weak, “Yes.”

Naoya nodded and released you abruptly, forcing you to stumble forward from the sudden lack of stability. 

However, you tried to retain at least some sliver of independence, bringing up a point that you thought was relevant.

“You get…” you started, taking a deep breath. “You get upset if I’m not put together, though, don’t you? I need to be up before you anyway to put on makeup and get dressed to look presentable, and—”

He scoffed once more. “Frankly, I don’t give a shit about that stupid paint you smear on your face — it makes you look like a fucking clown,” he went on to say, making you flinch slightly with his bluntness. “I like you better like this,” he added softly, even if the tone slipped right past your recognition.

“I-I understand,” you nodded.

Naoya stared at you for a long moment before his expression softened even more, but only slightly, going as far as to step back to give you some breathing room. However, just as you were about to sigh a breath of much-needed relief, he reunited with you by closing the gap once more, his face fixed with a new sort of determination that bordered on a near-frightening intensity. 

He brought to cup your face with both of his hands, finding the way your breath caught from his touch to be all that he wanted, even if he was bothered on a deeper scale that you couldn’t relax around him. His thumbs smoothed softly along your cheekbones, looking at you with a possessive gleam in his eyes.

All the while, you simply couldn’t help but wonder what must have spurred this on.

Naoya then pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight against his chest once more, and then, his hand slid down your side slowly, down the slope of your back before settling on the front. His fingers brushed over your clothed sex, causing you to flinch into a tense stance that you couldn’t unlock yourself from with the only movement being the shocked gasp that escaped through your parted, trembling lips. His touch felt intrusive even if it was scarcely familiar, and though you did try to pull away reflexively, he didn’t let you do so.

“I mean it,” Naoya murmured. “I want you to be dependent on me for absolutely everything.”

Not giving you time to think about your reply, his fingertips started to rub slow and sensual circles in a way that he thought might be pleasant for you, reaching to fumble around your clit through your thin pyjamas. To your reluctance, you found yourself responding, too, but your mind was still reeling—caught between not wanting this because he was being too much—then at the same time, questioning if attention from your distant husband might be what you wanted deep down.

Though—this was surely the wrong way to go about it—he wasn’t giving you a choice.

“Tell me that you understand,” he pressed, seeking your acknowledgement. “Tell me that you won’t touch yourself when I’m not around. That you’ll wait for me.”

You took a deep breath in an attempt to ground yourself, both so that your mind could catch up but also so that it could process the weight of his words. If you had to admit it, this level of control made you feel violated and maybe even a bit sick.

“I-I don’t know,” you hesitated, trying to be honest. “This might be too much, and I don’t think, I can’t—”

But he didn’t let you finish, let alone continue your complaints. He just kept stroking and rubbing against your concealed heat, his touch gentling and becoming somehow more tender as if trying to coax you into it. He pressed his lips against your neck, an action that he thought to be sensual, completely misreading the goosebumps that formed on your skin to be reluctant arousal rather than the fear it truly was.

“Yes, you can,” Naoya corrected you. “You can give yourself to me. I’m your husband, aren’t I?”

Again, he moved quicker than you could think, let alone reply. His touch grew braver; his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear, touching the bare skin beneath. His thumb then found your clit properly that time, and he started to circle it slowly, steadily, and relentlessly. You writhed in his hold, but then your breathing started to betray you, rolling out in shuddering gasps. Your body shook in confusion, but you weren’t sure if this was from fear or from the pleasure he was adamant that you must have been feeling.

Then, he walked you back to the bed, pushing you down slowly, gazing at you with a look that made your heart race.

“What… what has gotten into you?” you tried to ask, your question coming out a little too quickly.

Instead of replying and soothing your concerns, however, he kneeled a bit away from you, his hands sliding up and down your thighs as he teetered on the edge of touching you even further. He didn’t seem to be interested in forcing you into anything further, which both comforted and unsettled you. This, after all, was a marriage of convenience, and that’s what you treated it as: a joining of two relatively powerful clans. You didn’t ever expect him to start acting this way—never—especially considering that he didn’t even make eye contact with you during his own wedding.

And now, he was acting as if he had been denied something.

Like he was owed your attention.

“I’m not asking for anything horrible,” he added, “just a promise.”

And reluctantly, you gave in to it, hoping that he would put a lid on the intensity at last.

He would leave you alone if you did, right?

“I-I promise,” you confirmed.

His hands crept up further, his thumbs smoothing around your thighs and then sliding close to your heat, but not quite. “And what is it that you promise?” he asked.

“Th-that I’ll be dependent on you and wait for your touch, I’ll beg for it, even,” you begrudgingly gave in, “i-if that’s what you need—want.”

Finally, Naoya smiled and pulled back, his hands leaving your body.

“Good,” he simply said, “because I want you to be desperate for me. I want you to be aching. Wanting. Living for my touch like you need air to breathe.”

Before you could grovel a bit more, he stood up and left the room, leaving you alone with your own thoughts.

You shuddered out a deep breath, feeling terrified out of your mind.

But also…

Also…

At the same time—

—Not as much as you thought you’d be.