#spare hand in marriage ma'am.... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

howyouloveyourdragon · 11 months

Note

threesome with margaery and robb please please i BEG

Taking Charge

pairing: margaery tyrell x reader x robb stark alternate universe: Margaery allies with Stark instead of Lannister, Robb survives (no necrophilia here thank you babes) pronouns: she/her anatomy: afab warnings: power dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, brief discussion of trauma (the red wedding) kinks & positions: threesome, dom/sub dynamics, brat taming, light bdsm, being gagged, oral (reader receiving), riding, masturbation, face riding, orgasm denial, fingering dividers by: saradika wordcount: 3,388

A/N: only the best for you ma'am, you told me i could go feral and i always deliver >:) i really hope you enjoy this bby! ♡ also margaery lowkey acts as a medieval marriage counsellor but we'll touch on that later ☠️

Margaery Tyrell is beautiful. You know it. Your husband knows it and the gaggle of raucous men know it as she flits her eyes over Robb. Her lips move but you are too entranced to doubt her words. You hear Robb gulp beside you and your own breath hitches as her shoulders roll back, a lithe hand exposes her neck by sweeping her hair behind her. She smirks as she curtsies--slow and deep. "Thank you, your grace for understanding my position." "Of course." Robb's voice utters but you can hear a familiar gruffness. He glances at two of his men as he gestures for two of them to lead her to a spare tent. You let a gentle hand rest on his forearm. "You need not," You tell the men, ignoring when your husband snaps his sights back to you. You smile pleasingly at Margaery. "We will find somewhere together, it has been a long time since I entertained guests." She returns your grin with the hint of surprise in her crystal eyes. The flicker across your form and her parted lips close. "Perhaps I should be entertaining you, my Queen." You feel as Robb tenses and squeeze gently. You merely hum to Margaery and begin to glide toward her but your husband snatches your arm quickly and tugs you back. His eyes stare deeply into yours as he guides a hand to cup your face, an intensity as he draws closer--prolonging each movement. He connects your lips effortlessly and drinks in the gentle gasp when his tongue treads along the seam of them. Your eyes flutter like the flap of a butterfly's wings until they shut closed. His fingers twist the hair at the back of your head and tugs just enough to let him drink in your soft whine. You don't have the chance to see as Robb's sights turn hard and warning as they lock with Margaery's. Her smirk only deepens.

Eventually you gather the inner strength to pull away with a wet smack and stumble back. As your eyelids slip open his darkening stare greets you, a quick tilt of his head permitting you to step away. His gaze stays locked on you as you leave, linking your arm with the new woman's. "He is rather protective of you." She notes as you walk throughout the camp. You hum in agreement and nod softly. "There was an incident a number of moons ago where he was supposed to marry one of the Frey daughters, we supplemented another man in his place but..." You pause, discomfort crossing your skin like a spider's thick web. Margaerys collects your free hand in the bed of her own hand and squeezes gently. It gives you the courage to continue. "The matter was not resolved. There was bloodshed and we lost a babe but we escaped and so..." Margaery steps in front of you, now holding both your hands. Your breath stutters but still you paint a sad smile across your lips. "I understand." She assures with a gentle smile. She wishes to reassure you. Two of her fingers rise to lift your chin to encourage you looking up into her eyes. "I would feel the same if I had a petal such as yourself. I would take my vows of protection over you just as carefully. And I would take those vows." Her voice purrs like a kitten curled in your lap, like it is a soft tail wrapping itself around your forearm instead of her hand.

The days pass with your forms close at every turn and under your husband’s watchful eye. Your nightly activities increase, a deeper need clawing up Robb’s chest. Tonight, you writhe in the sheets with Robb's pants fanning over your neck as his fingers bury deep within your core. He moans at the wet stickiness, letting it drip down his hand. You feel it growing–the wave about to crash–swirling deeper and deeper. It’s like a whirlpool that you are begging to let swallow you down. You want it, you need it and then–Then Robb retracts stops. “Say it,” His unusually gruff voice murmurs in your ear, ignoring your flailing legs. You try to grind back and forth but his spare hand pushes your hips down in warning. He leans up to your ear. “Say it.” He demands once more, rougher. “I love you.” You concede easily, gentle whimpers pouring out. His fingers roll fluidly again and the waves return. “Again.” “I love you.” The water spins you, an overwhelming heat distorts your sight. “Again.” “I love you.” And finally he lets the dam break inside you. Your heat gushes over his hand. His mouth drops down onto yours with a resounding kiss. His lips move sloppily but demandingly. He grumbles as he turns to lay his back on the bed and sling and arm around your own. “So good for me.” He rumbles. “My best girl, hm?” You mumble in approval while he moves to kiss your cheek before standing. Your whines return as he begins to leave you, presumably to visit the tent of your living quarters. Not for the first time you are grateful your husband is given special privileges but detest the sight of his back. He chuckles low. “A moment, my love.” He leaves, presumably to find a cloth and water. Your slick glistens down your rear.

Minutes pass, possibly twenty, possibly thirty but either way you are unsatisfied with your missing husband. You rise on shaky legs, bare all except a silk robe. Your feet lead you to the connecting tent, surprised at the closed sheets of it. Your breath hitches as you step toward the dark tent, your fingers about to part the sheets but two familiar voices interrupt the movement. “I heard you of course…” A Tyrell voice tuts and your eyes go wide. Surely she does not mean… “Denying your wife? I thought Starks were honourable.” A deep blush treads up your face with the wisps of wind. You shiver as the cold air creeps through your dress, hardening the pebbles beneath. You peek through the curtain and instantly clasp a hand over your mouth at the sight of your husband stiffened, the woman opposite trailing her fingers up his tunic. He snatches her wrist quickly and squeezes it harshly. You can hear her breath hitch. “What are you doing, Lady Tyrell?” Robb snarls to which she merely chuckles. She steps onto her tiptoes and leans into his ear. “I am going to teach you how to please your wife, how to please your Queen, how to…worship her.” She purrs the words like a playful kitten. His grip loosens enough for the highborn lady to grow bold and raise her other hand to his shoulder. He is silent as his eyes track her palm. It is almost soothing, the circles she rubs against the loose fabric. The wolf King clears his throat before he speaks. “How?” You would pity his vulnerable tone if it didn’t charge the throb of your pearl, if the pebbles of your breasts were not growing more sensitive with every word that flowed through your ears.

You almost gasp when you see her unravel two snakes of rope from beneath her skirt, letting it feed through her fingers as she pushes Robb down into a wooden chair though you are both aware it could not truly hold him unless he demanded his own body to still. Her hands glide down his arms, thick with muscle, her nails play with the top threads of his linen undershirt. The rose unlaces the ties of his shirt slowly, torturing. Your eyes hook their gaze to her fingers, mouth going dry at their graceful movements. She is a lot more experienced than she let on but it does not upset you...in fact it rather does the opposite, your pearl beginning to throb again. He watches her, eyes tracking her every motion. “Well first you are going to have to calm yourself. I would hate for her to join us too early, before we even have you prepared for her. You cannot see her face but you can imagine her serene smile. Her hands glide across his chest and push him down into a waiting chair. The bridge of rope between her hands follows down to slither between his legs. He grunts at the contact, his member still heavy from the activities before. He bites his lip. Margaery chuckles as she sinks to her knees and begins to bind his forearm to the wooden chair. “Do not worry, my King, we will fix that in a moment.” Your eyes widen and drink in the sight, watching as she binds his other arm as well. You gulp as she straddles his lap.

“Oh such a good boy…” Margaery coos, running her hand into the northerner’s hair and then gripping the curls tight. Having a King bound to a chair before you–inside a tent or not–is a rather quick way to encourage your confidence. For it to drip through your veins and pump the blood raucously. She smirks down at him as he groans. His eyes are as fierce as the wolf he is. “I almost feel guilty for playing with you but if you want to be a King, you will have to earn that right.” She licks her lips and dips a hand between her breasts. The King gasps, matching you simultaneously but then she pulls out a grey fabric and brings it to hover before his mouth. His eyes snap up to hers. “You must trust my practice, King Stark.” He growls but begrudgingly parts his lips enough to bare his wolfish teeth. Her giggling attracts your ears as she slides the gag in his mouth. She raises a single hand in the air and beckons you close. You freeze. “Come, my Queen.” Her free hand runs along his jaw then hardens it, pulling him closer with an intensity you didn’t expect. “He’s pretty isn’t he, dearest?” You merely nod, looking at your husband as the Tyrell tugs at him. Her eyes flit over to you as she smirks. “This is not the first time you have both played this game, is it?” Her grin deepens when your reluctant nod pleases her. Robb bites his lip, trying to hold back the moan. “I was wondering why you do not mind me playing with him but now I see…You enjoy it. Seeing someone else in power for once, taking him…” She slowly tilts her head. “Would you like to tame him? The big bad wolf? You will need to find your voice, pet.” A tentative step forward is all she needs to see to broaden her wicked grin. She slaps Robb’s cheek sharply and climbs off his lap. “There’s a smart girl.” Her hands reach you while her face squeals in girlish delight—a sight you are not used to.

“We are going to have so much fun.” She purrs and releases one of your hands to stroke her index along a lock of your hair. Her eyes darken with a sea of lust pushing desperately against a restraining barrier. She brushes back your hair and leans closer until her breath is fanning across your lips. “And so we have acquired another player.” The sea crashes—taking your kiss with it—as she presses her lips to yours and drowns in it. Margaery Tyrell is a woman of many talents and one of those talents is knowing exactly what she wants but more importantly how to get it. A gasp slips from your mouth to hers as her fingers trail up your thigh. She slowly lowers herself until she has to pan her head to look at you. Her eyes stay misty. “I’ve always wanted to taste a Queen.” With the flick of her tongue, she pushes you back to lie on the table and spreads your legs with ease, rustling the wretched grey fabric. “Always so modest.” She tuts as she dives her face beneath and skips her tongue along your inner thigh. A rumble burns at your throat, your eyes squeeze as tight as your fists in anticipation. “So sweet,” Margaery commends before darting her muscle across your hidden pearl, wetting the fabric above. “Yes, I think I would like to join you on that throne of yours, we are going to have a lot of fun, sweet blossom.” Her hands turn commanding. “Oh such a good boy…”

“We are going to have so much fun.” She purrs and releases one of your hands to stroke her index along a lock of your hair. Her eyes darken with a sea of lust pushing desperately against a restraining barrier. She brushes back your hair and leans closer until her breath is fanning across your lips. “And so we have acquired another player.” The sea crashes—taking your kiss with it—as she presses her lips to yours and drowns in it. Margaery Tyrell is a woman of many talents and one of those talents is knowing exactly what she wants but more importantly how to get it. A gasp slips from your mouth to hers as her fingers trail up your thigh. She slowly lowers herself until she has to pan her head to look at you. Her eyes stay misty. “I’ve always wanted to taste a Queen.” With the flick of her tongue, she pushes you back to lie on the table and spreads your legs with ease, rustling the wretched grey fabric of your robe. “Always so modest, hm? Don’t worry, we’ll fix that.” She tuts as she dives her face beneath and skips her tongue along your inner thigh.

A rumble burns at your throat, your eyes squeeze as tight as your fists in anticipation. “So sweet,” Margaery commends before darting her muscle across your hidden pearl, wetting the fabric above. “Yes, I think I would like to join you on that throne of yours, we are going to have a lot of fun, sweet blossom.” Her hands turn demanding, her nails sinking into your thighs. A yelp rebounds from your lips in time with a distant growl. You sit upright on shaky elbows to let your heavy-lidded eyes gaze upon your needy husband, a dribble of saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth, gag wet. Perhaps fabric is not a desired material. She rolls an ‘r’ along your bud, delighting in your sharp intake of breath. Robb rumbles once more. Margaery sighs. “You can either behave or wait even longer. I will bring your wife to her peak once more for every sound that comes from your lips but you will receive nothing until you have learned to prioritise your beloved.” Her voice is muffled but resounding. She commands him as well as she would command a disobedient mutt. Her tongue licks up your residue. “If you were my wife, I would drink from you every waking moment and if I were your King, I would keep my face tucked between your thighs. Escaping my lips would be your hardest battle.” Margaery moans. Robb growls at the rose’s words but the soothing strokes of her tongue please you.

She pulls back, smirking at the whines that drip from your mouth. “And so needy too.” She chuckles as she pulls away, her curls tickling up your thigh. You jump in sensitivity but it all makes her coo like caressing a flightless bird. “Aw, sweet darling. Need us to take care of you, huh? Is he not taking care of you? Poor thing…We’ll just have to take care of you, ourselves.” A deep growl permeates from your husband, his arms straining against his ties but as your eyes linger on his form, his cock looks aching as it strains through his trousers, the tip of it wetting the fabric. The poor man must be absolutely throbbing and yet that doesn’t make you pity him, it only entices you. Margaery raises a finger to rub pressured circles on your bud. She chuckles when you hiss and your elbows collapse you to lie back on the table again. The image of your husband’s hungry face lingers in your mind but it’s Margaery’s hair that you move to grasp between your fingers. Your hips grind as her tongue returns to lap at you. “That’s it,” You encourage, delighting in the wet noise.And then it comes again, the sensitivity crashing over your cunt. Your eyes shut tight and your face scrunches up as a long pitiful whine pushes past your lips. The whimper of the Stark King only sends another wave to flow onto Margaery’s tongue who doesn’t lessen her pace until she can swallow down every drop.

Your body falls imp, sprawled out. Your legs tremble as they hang off the side of the table but finally Margaery’s greed softens and she pulls back. Your glistening wetness still coats her lips as they grin up at you. Her hands slither up your body, starting at your thighs until they settle on your waist. She squeezes gently before spreading them. You hiss briefly but are quickly hushed when she kisses up your neck in soothing patterns. “I will not mark you yet.” She whispers in purring vibration. “But if you ever tire of wolves, I will be but a moment away.” She kisses the space behind your ear. A tempting little rose she is as she pulls away, cupping your hands as she tugs you to stand on your shaky legs. She tuts. “So used today, don’t worry, it’s your turn.” The scent of her hair wafts thickly up your nose, clouding your other senses as she pulls you, one arm now around your waist. When you finally look up from the floor, you see Robb’s piercing eyes waiting for you with the patience of a wild boar. She slowly winds your legs so you can straddle your husband who quickly nuzzles against your neck. Margaery delights as she wraps around you from behind, kissing up your opposing shoulder as her hands help yours to slip down Robb’s smallclothes. However, it is you who raises your fingers to tear open the offending fabric on your husband’s chest and who rips the gag away to replace it with your lips. He grunts and ruts his hips. His member throbs, the top purple and preening for attention. You can almost feel it begging. Margaery’s warm palms roll your hips, grinding you against it but you do not complain. His lips are wet with saliva and sweat but it doesn’t deter you, letting the salt flit across your tongue.

Margaery praises you as you gather the strength to slide onto his length, gasping out as it fills you for the first time in a week. He groans loudly, eyes already rolling back, it’s the final straw for him to snap off the ropes and capture your hips while you sink onto him. When you finally drop onto him, your arms hook around his neck. “Be good for me, that’s it,” You encourage as he whimpers like a pup. Margaery beams with pride as she brings her fingers to roll your nipples back and forth. “Tell her how much you want it.” Margaery prompts, voice growing gravelled. “That you want her, that you want to fill that sweet little pussy, hm?” Robb nods, and thrusts hard into you, a yelp streaming from your lips. “I want you.” He moans, hot breath panting as his grip tightens. “Want you more than I’ve wanted anything. Iw ould give up my crown and my line for you.” A high pitched noise escapes you as your hips rock faster back and forth. “Want to keep you full of me. You want that? You want me to keep you full?” Your nods are all he needs to finally let loose and spill, you tighten as Margaery flicks the pebbles of your breasts. You throw your head back but the rose of Highgarden is quick to rake one hand into your hair and tug you to face her. “That’s right, my queen. Release for us.” And you do, your womanhood spasming as a thick cream rings around your husband’s who sighs breathily and kisses up your neck. A line of wetness slides up as your companion chuckles low.

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13as07 · 3 months

Text

Our #1

(Shikamaru Nara)

[Art work is not mine! Credit to Unknown]

Requested by: Myself

Word Count: 4,198

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Smoking/A bit of smoke-play

Slight choking

Word 'dumbass' is used

Temperature Play (aka Shika burning you with his cig butt)

———————————————————————

Anxious fingers crawl under my dress and quickly find themselves along my spinal cord. Shikamaru traces the ridges of my spine, running over the lower half before sliding back down.

Thump, thump, thump.

I do my best to stay still, not letting the shiver building up escape. If it wasn't for the Nara cloak wrapped around my shoulders I'd be on display, but I don't think Shika cares much about that right now.

I spare him a glance, doing my best not to move much. The last thing he needs right now is to notice how anxious I am too. His jaw is screwed tightly shut, eyes strictly forward and as hard as his jaw. If this was a different situation I'd take the time to enjoy Shika's pissy face. He's always so pretty when he's angry.

"Shikamura," his mother says, tone light but words filled with fire. "Stop looking so mad. Today is a gracious day. A very honorable day. At least try and look happy."

A couple of blinks fill the space of his usual eye roll, but his face does soften a bit. "Yes Ma'am," Shika answers, but still gets a pointed look from his mom. The look soon flutters away, along with the inactive chieftess as she walks off to talk to the Nara Chief's advisor... Shikamura's advisor.

The thought tickles my brain. Quite a few thoughts recently have been messing with my head. It's always been a known fact that Shikamura was going to succeed his father; everyone just thought we'd have more time before that happened.

It was something that came up in our relationship a few times, the event of him becoming chief and in turn me becoming chieftess if our relationship went further. Now that it's here, Shika has insisted I take the title too and that 'we'd figure out the marriage thing later'.

I know I shouldn't read so much into his statement but I do. Does he want me to be his chieftess or does he feel required to give me the title since we've been together for so long? Does he feel rushed to get married now too? What if he decides he doesn't want to be with me? Would he stay with me to avoid embarrassing the clan by stripping me of my title? Or would he just leave me without a second thought?

"I need some fresh air. You're coming with, pretty girl," Shikamura whispers against my ear, his warm breath coating the side of my face. Tingles fill my chest at the pet name, tugging at the corners of my mouth.

Despite the warmth in my chest, he does startle me a bit with his sudden closeness. Shika isn't big on being all 'love-struck teen' in public, which usually leaves room between us and a lot less touching when we're out and about. Today seems to be an acceptation though.

I hum a yes getting a rough hand pushing me forward in return. I do as prompted, walking forward and sliding out a side door with Shika in tow.

Once we're out the door, Shika takes the lead. His hand jumps from the small of my back to tangle with mine. The walk to the forest edge is rough, Shikamura's nerves getting the better of him now that we're out of the sight of the clan council.

When the shade of the trees engulfs us, his shoulders noticeably relax, as does his hold on me. His fingers are back to being feathery light as they slide against mine. As Shika relaxes, he lets himself prop up against a tree.

I do the same, the rough bark of the trunk scratching against my back and my knees accidentally knocking against my boyfriend from the close quarters. My eyes cast themselves upwards, taking in the natural fairy lights made by the sun and the leaf patterns.

A click of Shika's lighter fills the silent space, quickly followed by a stream of grey smoke. "Wear more dresses," he mumbles, smoke curling out with his words. It's weird to me how straightforward and yet confusing Shikamura can be.

"I can't exactly fight in a dress, Shika," I mumble, a bit distracted by the man next to me. He's dressed up for the ceremony today, which means he's out of his Shinobi vest for once. Instead, Shika - and myself - are dressed in the muddy forest color of his clan. His hair is up in a high ponytail, like always, and the ends are their usual spikes.

In honor of the ceremony, his face is covered in clan paint, the washed-out grey color of the Nara clan instead of their signature green color. The paint focuses his cheekbones more than usual, adding to his attractiveness.

"You look stupid," he says as his own eyes wander over the paint on my face. His mother insisted I have the traditional art on my face as well. Shikamaru isn't too happy about it and threw a bit of a fit when his mom was putting it on me. "Take it off."

The order is followed by movement. Shika rests his cigarette between his lips and moves closer to me. His hands reach up to my face and quickly start smudging the grey paint. I stay still, letting him rub away the artwork.

Once he's settled on the fact that maybe his hands aren't the best way to get it off, he reaches into his pockets. It doesn't take long for him to find something else to attack my face with. Shika is gentle as he runs the cloth over my face.

"There's my pretty girl," he murmurs soft enough that I almost don't hear it.

"Your mom is going to reapply it when we get inside."

"And I'll wipe it off again," he snaps back, tone a bit pitched. The softness in his face is gone again, replaced by a look of disgust. "You don't need all that gunk on your face." The words are rough but they're meant with love. Shika appreciates when I do my makeup for him, even if he shows it in his own way. Though, at the end of the day he prefers me bare-faced.

His hands drop from my face and slide back to my spine, this time over my dress. His fingers mess with the material as his eyes rake up and down me a couple of times. They end up settling on my collarbones. "Wear more dresses," he repeats before turning his attention back to his cigarette.

Shika is always like this, making his requests sound like demands. I don't think the man could ask a question to save his life. "Okay Shika," I answer back, leaning my head against the tree.

He nods to himself in approval, his hand dipping down to the hem of my dress. Shikamura's fingers wrap around it, the material balled in his fist and his knuckles grazing my thigh.

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" I ask, bending my knee so more of his skin comes into contact with my own.

The answer is put on hold by a couple more drags of his cigarette. "You look good in our clan colors," he finally answers.

"Our?"

"Our."

——————————————

My eyes trail after my little storm cloud as he slowly makes his way back to me. Shikamura has been stopped for the fifth time on the small path from Choji back to me.

Our friends arrived a few minutes ago and he was very eager to slip away to say hello. I wanted to go with but he insisted I stay put, so I did as ordered. I don't mind it though, I know today is a stressful day and if anyone can help him with the constant reminder that his father is gone, it would be Ino.

Besides, our friends are slowly filtering towards me anyway. Most noticeably, Naruto who is trying his hardest to work his way through the crowd of people.

It feels like the whole village is here to celebrate Shika's inauguration. Our inauguration. I guess a good part of the village is here; The whole of the Nara clan, fellow clan Chiefs and their families, the village council, our friends and coworkers, my family, and a good chuck of the Akimichi and Yamanaka clans.

"Hello!" Naruto calls with a huge smile on his face.

"Hello," I call back, watching him weave around a couple more people.

"You must be so excited!" His voice bombs, his volume control being very obvious despite all the other noises in the banquet hall.

"Naruto! Don't you dare!"

"Shut up, Naruto!"

My eyes snap away from the fox boy and towards the direction of the yelling. My eyes are met with a very pissed-off Sakura and a red-faced Ino. Both are quickly making their way towards us, with the rest of our Shinobi generation following closely behind.

"Chieftess Nara," Ino says, tipping her head down before snapping it back up. "Not a word," she hisses at Naruto, daggers in her eyes.

"Please don't call me that, Ino," I murmur, rolling my shoulders in an attempt to also roll the feeling off. I don't mind people I don't know calling me by my newly established title but it feels weird having my friends call me by it.

"Just stick to my name, Chieftess Yamanaka," I tease a bit, poking fun at Ino's also soon-to-come inauguration.

Ino makes a face, her nose scrunching up at the title. "Ya, okay, I get what you're saying now."

We both laugh a bit, but it's cut off by a slap and Naruto's whine of pain. "Why'd you do that?" He whimpers, rubbing the back of his head and trying to tug off Sakura's hold on his ear.

"Because you need to learn when to shut up!"

"I didn't say anything!"

"Say anything about what?" I ask, question marks going off in my head. The sudden feeling of being left clueless settles in my chest, making my anxiety flare up more than it already is.

"Nothing!" Everyone yells, which doesn't help my anxiety. Maybe my thoughts from earlier are right. Maybe Shika does feel pressured about making me his chieftess and everyone knows it.

"You guys are such a drag," Shika's voice filters into the crowd, smoothing out some of my worries but not all of them. Within seconds his hand finds my spine again, his fingers back to tracing the bumps of it, but this time it's over my dress and cloak. "Hello," he murmurs, dipping his head down closer to me.

"Welcome back," I mumble, glancing at him before looking back at our friends. What is it that everyone but me seems to know?

Thump, thump, thump.

"Calm down," he whispers into my ear before lifting his head back up.

I try my best to listen to his soft demands, taking the time to focus on my breathing and silencing my thoughts. I let my mind focus on the soft rubbing on my spine.

Thump, thump, thump.

Shika's hand ghosts over my lower back before working up the other side of my backbone.

Thump, thump, thump.

I focus on Shikamura's voice. Just the tone and the calmness of it, even though I should be working to focus on the words spilling from his throat.

"Pretty girl?" He calls after a couple of minutes, gently tapping my back to pull my attention back to the surface. I hum a yes, focusing on his face. The face paint has started to crack from drying out throughout the day. "Are you ready?"

"For what?" I ask, glancing around us. Our friends have spaced out in the room, mingling with the other partygoers, getting drinks, or just doing their own thing.

A soft smile coats his face before he turns away from me, his eyes jumping around the room. "For the feast to be served," he murmurs, his fingers curving to work their way down my back again.

"Ya, if you are."

Shika's hand jumps down to the small of my back before he gently pushes me forward. Praises and our names fall from people as we walk through the room, working to get to the head table. Six of the twelve councilmen are there; none of which I recognize.

Thump, thump, thump.

Shikamura's hand coats over my back again as we round the table. "Sit," he orders, pulling my chair out for me. I obey again, sliding into my seat before Shika pushes me in. I listen to him greet the present councilmen, following his pleasantries with my own greetings.

More pleasantries and greetings fall from him - and me - as the rest of the councilmen follow suit, sliding into their places at the table.

Out of the councilmen, only two are women; the councilmen of education and veteran affairs. I only know one of them; Honoka who is the head of the clan's education department. I make a mental note to talk to Shikamura about private one-on-one meetings with the council so I can put names, departments, and faces together.

"Chieftess Nara," Honoka says, tipping her head before she slides into her seat next to me.

"Honoka," I call back, sending her a soft smile. "Thank you for coming."

"I look forward to serving under you, and our Chief," she says, bowing her head for the second time.

Again, I smile at her before turning my attention away. Maybe I'm not made for being the chieftess, especially if Shika fills his father's shoes and takes over being the Hokage's advisor. That'll leave me to fill in the holes of the clan chief when he's busy with the village.

"Calm down," he repeats, hand snaking back into its previous spot.

"Yes sir," I mumble, my eyes jumping around the room. The decorations are pretty; forest greens and greys with vines all over the place. Deer-themed decorations and bones are twisted around the walls as well. It looks like the Clan threw up from all the stereotyped decorations.

Shika's hand works a couple of laps before settling on the center of my back. It only settles for a couple of seconds before running around my spine again. "Maybe you need to calm down too," I murmur, leaning closer to try and get any sense of privacy.

"I'm fine. Today is just a drag," he answers, eyes flickering to me before looking forward again. "It won't be a drag for much longer though."

"Ya?" I push, my focus shifting to Shika's mother. Her lips are pursed as she looks at me, disapproval of her son rubbing my clan paint off again very evident on her face. She's waving her hands around, trying to get her son to stand. "Your mom-"

"I know." Shikamura's words are clipped but still soft. His mom has been getting on his nerves today. They've been butting heads all day long because Shika isn't doing everything how she wants him to.

I let my attention skip away from her. Instead, I focus on the servers littered around the room, handing out plates of food and drinks to our guests.

Once Shikamura is done eyeing the room again, his focus shifts to me. "Give me your hand," he orders, his hand falling from my back and resting in front of me. I lift my hand and slide it into his. Shika's face scrunches up a bit before he drops his hold on me. "No, your left one."

"You could have been more specific," I tease, sliding my - left - hand into his hold.

His eyes stay focused on it for a second before he digs around in his pocket. When his hand is pulled back out, a small black box is in Shika's hold. "What are you-"

"Be quiet," he murmurs, setting the box on his lap before flipping the lid open. Inside the box are two beautiful rings. Shika tugs the thinner of the rings out before sliding it on my finger.

"Sh-"

"Be quiet," he repeats before sliding the other ring onto his left hand. "We'll talk about it later."

My eyes drop down to my ring finger, taking the time to soak in the new jewelry. The edges of the ring are silver with the familiar antler print between the silver bands. Small stones are stamped into the print. I do a quick tally; eight diamonds are pressed into the band.

Despite my focus being on my hand, my eyes catch on Shikamura's movements. He slides the box back into his pocket before pressing his hand into my spine again. The newly added ring adds extra pressure as he slides his fingers up and down my back.

Thump, thump, thump.

Shika's ring snags on my spine a bit, sending a new kind of relief through me.

Thump, thump, thump.

"Shika?"

"We'll talk about it later."

"Shikamura?"

"You're being a drag right now, pretty girl," he murmurs, glancing at me, and then my hand, before going back to having a silent conversation with his mother across the room.

"I'm being a drag right now?" I hiss quietly, tugging on his arm to try and get his attention.

"Ya," the answer is short, but I get what I want; Shikamura's undivided attention.

"You just... what? Proposed? Without actually proposing, in a room full of people, and I'm being a drag?"

"Ya. I'll propose again later, with all that lovey-dovey stuff," he shrugs, eyes skirting around the room again. "I just knew if I didn't do it now Naruto would have ruined it."

I hold my tongue for a second, only letting it loose to thank the server for placing down our plates. "Why'd you propose?"

Shika's face snaps toward me, eyebrows knotted together and his lips pursed like his mother's were a few minutes ago. "What kind of question is that? I swear you're one of the smartest but dumbest people I know. It's a bit of a drag."

I blink at him a couple of times, rolling his words over in my head. That did not answer my question. Shikamura sighs before dipping his head backward, resting it behind my ear. "Stop stressing so much, pretty girl." The words are followed by a light kiss pressed behind my ear.

Before I can answer back Shika stands up, tugging me along with him. His arm is loose around my waist, but the weight of it is still present. I scan the room as Shika taps his glass a couple of times, pulling the room's attention to us. "Thank you all for coming," his voice rings out the start of his first official speech as Chief.

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For the millionth time tonight, Shika's fingers dance over my back, hand pushing me through the side door before we get stopped by someone again.

My nic-fein has been antsy for a cigarette the last hour. Every time we'd get close to escaping the party, someone else would stop us to congratulate us or to talk about Shika's plans to 'better the clan'.

A sigh of relief is let out of the new shadow king once the door clicks closed behind us.

"You know if you stopped smoking-"

"I know," he cuts me off, his hands already digging in his pockets for his pack and his lighter. "Tonight has just been-"

"A drag?" I tease, leaning against the wall.

Shikamura hums a yes, cigarette already pressed between his lips as he tries to light it. I watch his chest puff out from his inhale, my eyes trailing after the smoke that's released when he exhales. "It hasn't all been a drag."

"Ya?"

"Ya."

His eyes flicker down to my hand pressed against the brick building. When Shikamura doesn't see what he wants, he moves to the other side of me. He falls into place next to me, back to the wall, fingers lazily overlapping mine as he messed with my ring. My wedding ring.

"You never answered my question," I push the words out and into the dark. I let my focus shift to the stars stamped into the sky above us, letting them distract me.

"It's a stupid question."

"Shikamura!"

"What?" He groans the cackle of his cigarette following his words. Soon another cloud of smoke fills the sky, cutting off the clear view of the stars for a second. "Why does it matter?"

"You're a dumbass," I hiss, tearing my eyes from the sky to glare at him.

"Sometimes," he answers, his normal bored look on his face as he looks down at me. "I proposed because I wanted to, pretty girl. Stop letting your mind mess with you."

"Did you?"

His answer is pushed back by three deep puffs of his cigarette. Shika's eyes are still locked on me, the smoke from him wrapping around us when he exhales. "Did I what?"

"Want to propose?"

Shikamura rolls his eyes at me, glancing to the forest edge before settling on me again. "Pretty girl?"

"Shika?"

"Why don't you believe that I want to marry you? Do you not believe I love you?"

"I know you love me."

"Do you?" He asks, inching closer to me. Smoke coats my face when he exhales, promising to leave the smell of it in my hair.

"Yes."

His eyes jump around my face for a second, followed by another puff of smoke before he pulls back. "Isn't it good enough that I proposed because I love you? Because I wanted to? What do I need to do to make you say yes, pretty girl?"

My cheeks heat a bit at his question. I'm well aware that Shikamura comes off as self-centered. I'm well aware he comes off as bored or even egotistical because of his lack of motivation. I'm also well aware all I have to do is ask for something and it'll happen, even if he does it in his normal moody way. Shika coats his love with attitude, even in moments like this.

"Ask."

"Ask?"

"Yes. You didn't ask me to marry you. Ask me," I answer, a smug smile growing on my face.

Shika's eyes stretch out before falling back to their normal narrowness. I watch as his eyes settle back on mine, his head inching forward. Before he gets closer he stops, inhales his smoke again, and then leans his forehead against mine.

"Shika?"

His free hand snakes up and gently wraps around my throat, squeezing it once, twice, before he dips his head. "Open your mouth," Shikamaru orders, his voice chipped as he inhales again to keep the smoke in his lungs.

I let my lips part a bit, which seems to be good enough for him. Shika tips his head to the side, pressing our lips together as he exhales into my mouth. The smoke he was holding burns my lungs, a cough forming from the action.

"Marry me, pretty girl?" He asks, barely pulling away so that his lips still brush against mine.

"Yes," I answer, his smoke seeping out with the word.

Shikamaru hums in approval before pulling away slightly. The small fire at the end of his cancer stick brightens the space between us as he takes another drag. Once again, he holds the smoke in his lungs and squeezes my throat. I let my mouth fall open a second time and get rewarded with a kiss and another smoke-packed exhale.

When I exhale, the smoke coats Shika's face, a small smirk covering it as his eyes skip around my body.

His head dips down again but before I can get a kiss the door slams open. "Shikamaru?!" Naruto yells, pulling an eye roll and a sigh from my boyfriend - fiancé.

"What do you want, Naruto?" Shika groans, his hand tightening and relaxing against my skin a few times.

"Lord Sixth has arrived and is asking for you two!"

"We'll be there in a minute, Naruto. Now go away." Naruto does as told, the door slamming shut as he leaves.

Shikamaru's eyes widen again before settling back to their normal shape. "Pretty girl," he murmurs, pressing a small kiss to my lips before pulling away.

"Shika?"

His hand slides further up my throat, pushing my head up to stretch out my neck. Shikamaru hums to himself, the hand not around my neck coming up to trace my collarbone. "You are beautiful," he murmurs, running his cigarette against the wall next to us. Once he's sure it's out, - running it against his hand first - he gently pressing the dead butt against the bone he was previously tracing.

The still-warm cigarette makes my skin tingle slightly; a promise to leave pink and irritated skin behind for the next few days. Shika takes his time, pressing more marks along my collarbone before throwing out the now cold butt.

"Pretty girl?" He calls again, covering my now sensitive skin in kisses.

"Shika?" I call in return, trying to bite back the whines sizzling up from the pain shooting across my skin.

"I can't wait for our wedding."

"Our?" I murmur, the pain and growing pleasure fogging the events of the day.

"Our."

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