with your palm my altar

all’s fair in love and war.

you have no intention of marrying zen’in naoya.

he finds this out the hard way.

pairing: naoya zen’in x f!reader 

wc: 3.5k

notes: i used terminology from omiai for this but it is in fact run very differently from omiai, which i am hand-waving by virtue of sorcery clans doing things differently, which i have Thoughts about.

warnings: 18+ for allusions/mentions of smut. one brief pov change, naoya is his own warning, misogyny, arranged marriages & (failed) arranged marriage negotiations, parental death from a vague illness & a brief non-explicit deathbed scene, borderline dubcon kissing(?) and a brief moment of dubcon touching, pregnancy mentions/mild descriptions throughout. 

“She’s old,” Naoya drawls, tossing the rirekisho aside. “Thought ya were supposed to be good at this.”

“Zen’in-sama,” the nakōdo says, wincing, “she’s not that much older than you a—”

“Ya deaf? She’s old. Next one.”

The nakōdo hands over the next rirekisho silently.

Naoya slides the picture out first; pretty is the most basic of his requirements.

And you are pretty. There’s a hazy familiarity to you, too, especially with the way the silk of your hōmongi drapes over your form. The understated wisteria motif sweeps over your shoulder like a path, and he follows the soft cascade of flowers to the swell of your breasts. Perfectly accented, perfectly framed.

But it’s the sweet timidity to the tilt of your lips that snares his attention.

It’s easy to imagine you wide-eyed in his bed, being molded to his touch, his wants, his needs. He can shape you as a sculptor does clay.

Because Naoya knows you’re malleable. The promise of it is in the elegant positioning of your hands, the downward tilt of your shining eyes. He can press you into easy compliance, leave his fingerprints on more than just your skin.