#IT'S EIGHT MINUTES BEFORE MIDNIGHT PST IT COUNTS

[shih-coulda-had-it]

142 nana and her husband ❤️

142. "Okay, I did it. I restrained myself until our wedding night. Now take off the damn dress." | nana x sakumo [oc] (pre-OT3 with sorahiko) | wc: 1,313

a/n: I am sorry to say that the most lemony this gets is regarding Nana's underwear; along the way it definitely picked up 'we're adding Sorahiko to this' vibes, but is it legitimate lemon? not really.

a/n 2: maybe it's not very perfect of them, but i do think it'd be funny if both Nana and Sakumo came to the conclusion that if they agree not to fuck each other for the month, they can definitely work off some stress getting Sorahiko to come (ha) around to the idea of polyamory.

//

In the second-to-last month leading up to Sakumo’s wedding to Shimura Nana, he and his fiancée had what Sakumo would consider to be a gloriously indulgent life together. Her apartment was home; he’d cooked in her kitchen and slept in her bed for several years now, and Sakumo’s sense-memory was smug, knowing that nearly every square-foot had born witness to them having sex. 

They were all but married, in Nana’s eyes. They were somewhat married, in Sakumo’s.

Which made this last month… tense. If Sakumo was generous, he’d label the feeling as anticipation. If he was being completely honest, he was terribly horny.

(“It’s a challenge,” said Nana, her eyes creasing with amusement over Sakumo’s initial protest. Given that he’d been basking in an afterglow, his arguments weren’t as polished as they could be. “I’m not saying we should put chastity belts on each other, silly.”

“Easier that way,” he muttered.

She made an obnoxious error sound and nudged him out of her preferred side of the bed (the warmed side). Sakumo rolled sideways for a brief moment, allowing Nana to slip under the covers, and then held her in a tight embrace. She tucked her head under his chin. Their legs tangled together.

“... Sakumo,” his beloved fiancée said, “I meant for the challenge to start right now.”

He stifled a whine of discontent in the long raven-black locks of her hair, and instead counter-offered, “What if we started in the morning? One late night, to kick off a month of many early nights.”

“That sounds nice.”

“But we’re not doing that?”

“Nope,” she answered cheerfully. “It’s a matter of principle, the principle being our wedding night! I’m for sure not coming to you as a blushing virgin,” and here, Nana ignored the way Sakumo scoffed, “but it’s a special day that deserves to be capped off with a special night. Am I right?”

“You’re not wrong,” he sighed.

“It’s gonna be tough for me too, y’know! You’ve spoiled me! Ah, stop laughing, we really should get to sleep…!”)

It didn’t help that Nana liked to tease. If their nights had transitioned purely to cuddles before sleep, then Sakumo wouldn’t be feeling the loss so keenly. But because Nana was an incorrigible flirt who liked to tease, she kept coming to bed in different lacy lingerie sets; she dropped by at work and kissed him like he was a secret that needed to be kept. 

And he couldn’t even complain to Sorahiko about it! Because Sorahiko would have Jetted away the instant he connected the dots about the situation, and because part of Sakumo was still thinking about that trailing thought Nana had, concerning Sorahiko’s future in their relationship.

The only relief Sakumo found was in teasing her back, and that was a temporary solution since it just led Sakumo to want more again.

So he simmered in his want, grimly putting one foot forward at a time, all the way up to the wedding.

At his request, they performed the ceremony at a local Shinto shrine. Sakumo’s surviving parent and closest sidekick attended as his witnesses; Nana had both Sorahiko and Recovery Girl for hers. Before Sakumo turned his attention to reciting his vows and drinking from the nuptial cups, he met Sorahiko’s wistful stare.

A long moment. Sorahiko blinked away first. The only thing that gave him away was the slow flush of red blossoming in his ears and cheeks.

Sakumo restrained himself from reaching out and dragging Sorahiko between them.

There would be time for that later, surely. Sakumo was already breaking from tradition by marrying into Nana’s family; he’ll scheme with Nana on another day to court the man from the best-friend-zone.

For now: it was Nana, swathed in conservative traditional white like a chrysalis, smiling as she swallowed the first of three servings of sake. She slipped the gold ring onto his finger and smoothed her thumb over the gleaming surface. He slid her own ring onto hers, and he watched the diamonds glitter as they caught the sunlight. 

For now: it was the reception, where Nana emerged from a dressing room wearing a Western-styled wedding gown, baring her shoulders and arms in all their muscled glory. Their co-workers filled the seats, both pro-heroes and civilian staffers alike, but their toasts failed to distract Sakumo from admiring--longing, really--the arch of her neck as she bent her head to hear Recovery Girl’s low commentary.

Sorahiko delivered a succinct speech over dessert: an anecdote over how he met Nana, a recount of meeting Sakumo, and a conclusion that perhaps nobody had ever deserved each other more.

“You two are enablers,” Sorahiko joked, and pulled off a truly heroic smile. “I expect you both to break any limits set before you. Happiness, and good fortune--plus ultra.”

“Plus ultra,” Nana and Sakumo echoed. Under the table, their feet collided in a meeting of like-minded, ‘DID YOU HEAR HIM?!’, which was matched by a mutual clutching of each other’s closest forearm which communicated, ‘WE’LL TALK ABOUT THAT LATER.’

But for now: Sakumo suffered the end of the reception until he was shooed away from the clean-up by Sorahiko, whose warm hands likely hadn’t meant to brush Sakumo’s wine-flushed cheeks with that much tenderness but did anyway.

“Sober up,” said Sorahiko firmly. He was oblivious to Sakumo’s trembling control. “You’ve been on edge this whole month, and I think I’m finally understanding why. So get. I’ll kick Nana out after you.”

“Thanks,” Sakumo managed, paying strict attention to Sorahiko chewing his bottom lip in consternation--Nana was floating, no, Floating over the dance floor. She was less than a meter off the floor, thankfully. Recovery Girl was latched onto her like the world’s most inefficient anchor.

“Go,” the man ordered, and Sakumo obliged.

The trip from the reception hall up to their reserved suite was blissfully easy and absent of lingering well-wishers. Sakumo staggered into an elevator, arrived at his floor, and found his and Nana’s room freshly decorated with rose petals. He sneezed.

By the time the door swung open again to reveal Nana, Sakumo had splashed his face with water to sober up and swept the petals off to the carpet. He was still in the black and gray kimono robes when she glided into the bedroom, and was sitting on the edge of the mattress.

Sakumo spoke before she could. Hoarsely, he said, “Okay, I did it. I restrained myself until our wedding night.” His voice slipped into a growl. “Now take off the damn dress.”

Her eyebrows jumped, but Nana took it in stride, grinning at her new husband. “This damn dress cost a bit of money, you know! You should enjoy the view for as long as I’m renting it!”

“Nana.”

“Strip yourself,” she teased. “I’ll match you.”

And she did. When Sakumo jerkily moved to undo the ties keeping his kimono layers intact, Nana stretched her arms and rolled her shoulders, deftly unzipping her gown and letting it drift down to reveal a nude-colored strapless bra, practically all lace surrounding a ribbon over her nipples. 

He stood to disrobe; Nana shimmied the dress past her hips to display the rest of the lingerie, but instead of letting the gaze linger, she immediately stepped out of the rental gown to save it from further creases.

“Pass me your robes, I’ll hang them too,” she told him, cheerfully bypassing Sakumo to open a closet. He inhaled, sharp, just in time to catch a whiff of jasmine. Shadows played on the exposed flesh, flesh that Sakumo was now beyond ready to get his hands on.

… What was stopping him now?

Sakumo licked his lips. He threw his robes onto a chair, uncaring of how they fell, and stalked towards Nana on silent feet.

“Come and get me,” Nana dared out loud, and daintily set the Western gown onto the hangar bar.

#bnha #shimuras #shimurastorino #shimura nana #stand-in name for husbando shimura #gran torino #torino sorahiko #shih.txt #d-december #asks #anon #IT'S EIGHT MINUTES BEFORE MIDNIGHT PST IT COUNTS