#stand in name for husbando shimura

[shih-coulda-had-it]

Can you do a story well after the yoroi musha break up and the exposing Torino in all that for a undercover or regular mission the pro hero’s are split up into four and somehow yoroi musha gets paired with sakumo nana and his ex 😂 some (nanahiko x sakumo too )and yoroi is like >:c probably jealous idk just thought it would be funny for him to see that his ex doesn’t care anymore about the break up and has moved on while he’s probably having second thoughts

ohhh my god i'm sorry for writing in yoroi musha pov but that's what broke the writing block, so, you get what you get, my dude. quick summary for those who will go 'what on earth is shih doing to torino now' - Gran Torino (mid-30s)/Yoroi Musha (mid-to-late-20s) were in a relationship; YM staged a public break-up for publicity; the Shimuras swooped in to fully integrate Sorahiko into the family, along with Toshinori. AFO is... irrelevant to this situation for now.

wc: 1251 | prev | a/n: I am retconning what I typed in the tags of the previous post. Mr. Shimura is alive and as horny for his wife's best friend as she is. Kotarou is also present in the background.

//

“Seventh Wonder,” Yamamoto greeted. He took a seat across from her.

“Yoroi Musha,” she replied, ever courteous and graceful. There was a distinct coldness to her manner that Yamamoto admired. Seventh Wonder was more than a decade his senior, partnered with Gran Torino, and Yamamoto had always considered her a consummate professional. He was glad to be working with this particular member of the Sky High Agency.

Gran Torino could be so petty at times.

The mission itself revolved around a raid in a prefecture neighboring Yamanashi - in Shizuoka Prefecture, a villain had appropriated several antiques from the Tokugawa period. The government’s ministry of culture subsequently commissioned Yoroi Musha with the retrieval of the items; he had the training necessary to handle and transport these kinds of valuables.

Why Seventh Wonder had been pulled in, Yamamoto had several guesses.

Yoroi Musha had a history, albeit shallow, with Sky High Agency. Perhaps when they received the call, Gran Torino had chosen a path of discretion and asked his partner to fill in. After all, two-thirds of their three-man team were landlocked.

Speaking of. The Tracker Hero: Wolfheart took point at the head of the table, eyes glittering dark red under the fluorescent lighting of his office. He arranged the table to display a satellite map of their target’s location, a stack of papers listing buyers known to frequent the property, and more papers regarding the antiques’ appearances and preservation protocols if Yoroi Musha was too occupied to assist.

Before Wolfheart settled into his own chair, he looked at Seventh Wonder and asked, “Is Gran Torino not making it?”

“I wasn’t aware he was participating,” said Yamamoto.

“He’ll be there,” Seventh Wonder answered steadily, not even glancing at Yamamoto. “Here, too. He’s just taking care of the kids right now.”

Yamamoto blinked. Kids? Surely Seventh Wonder meant his students, and surely, Gran Torino did not perceive his class as anything more than the functional. Aloud, Yamamoto observed, “School hours have been over for some time now.”

Wolfheart nodded, but it was evidently in acknowledgment of Seventh Wonder’s excuse instead of Yamamoto’s pointed statement. The older pro-hero said, “He should trust Yagi more. Kota’s practically in love with him.”

“That’s because Yagi doesn’t know how to enforce bed-time,” said Seventh Wonder.

“A happy, harmonious babysitting relationship is something to be treasured,” Wolfheart countered, and it became abruptly, terribly clear to Yamamoto that he was missing some inside joke. That Seventh Wonder knew Wolfheart on a personal level, which meant Gran Torino was going to make Yoroi Musha feel like some fourth wheel on a job that was supposed to be easy publicity.

Yamamoto sat stiffly, silently, wondering if Seventh Wonder and Wolfheart knew some aspect of Gran Torino that he’d never been aware of, even though they’d shared spaces for more than a year. Gran Torino wasn’t soft. He didn’t care for children. He was lazy, unambitious, and mean-hearted.

“Should I call him?” asked Wolfheart.

“Who? Gran Torino or Yagi?”

“Torino, of course. Ah, hold on,” and Wolfheart retrieved a cellphone from one of the many pockets lining his flak vest. Its dial tone was a cutesy chirping phrase. Birdsong. From where Yamamoto was sitting, he could see the contact photo: Gran Torino, unmasked, illuminated by the setting sun.

Despite his adherence to tradition and cultural integrity, Yamamoto had bowed to logic at the beginning of his career and asked his manufacturers to ensure he’d still be able to hear things through the thick layers of metal that formed his helmet. He tapped into this quality now, in order to - ascertain the nature of Gran Torino’s relationship to Wolfheart.

“I’m on my way,” said Gran Torino with zero courtesy greetings offered. He sounded tired.

“Are you well? The boys?”

“Watching a movie. Gave Toshinori the reminder that if he gets Kota hopped up on sugar again, he’s on paperwork duty for the rest of the quarter.” A brief pause. “... Do I have to attend the meeting? Can’t you and Nana tell me the details after?”

Lazy, thought Yamamoto, and paid careful attention to the fond exasperation on Wolfheart’s open-book face. Seventh Wonder was peering over the table, inspecting the map. She clearly didn’t mind Wolfheart talking to her partner.

“Not in a way that’ll satisfy you.”

“I’m plenty satisfied by you two,” Gran Torino flirted, and Yamamoto itched to slap his hand on the table and demand that Wolfheart stop being so unprofessional - wait. Yamamoto glanced over at Seventh Wonder and startled back into his armor; she was gazing at him with cool disdain, a dare that read, ‘Say something. I dare you to.’

Wolfheart laughed. The warmth was genuine. The affection was genuine. The flirting was real. “So you say, but nevertheless, you had better hurry. Taiyaki stays hot only for so long.”

“You bought…?”

“A full plate. Yoroi Musha was looking at it earlier.” Conspiratorially, Wolfheart winked at Yamamoto. 

He ignored it; he was more invested in what reaction, if there would be a reaction to the news of Yoroi Musha’s presence. Gran Torino disliked emotional vulnerability. That’s what Yamamoto liked about him, when they first started that beneficial relationship (it wasn’t dating, not really). When Yamamoto saw Gran Torino’s floundering response to the dissolution of their life together, Yamamoto had only thought, ‘Well, that’s a touch dramatic.’

It had been logical to step away. Yamamoto consulted no less than three PR managers in the industry about moving his career forward, and they all suggested for him to adopt the role of a chaste, value-driven samurai.

“You called dibs for me, right?”

“Seventh Wonder is fending him off, no worries,” said Wolfheart.

“Good,” Sorahiko sighed. “I’m damn hungry. See you in a bit, Wolf.”

“Safe flight, Gran Torino.”

As the call ended, Seventh Wonder received a text. She grinned as she read the message, nodded at Wolfheart in a knowing manner, and relaxed into her chair. Yamamoto wasn’t sure what to do. Accuse them of engineering an awkward work-place situation? Remark on Wolfheart’s connection to Gran Torino?

“A few minutes more,” said Seventh Wonder.

He grunted in acknowledgment.

(When Gran Torino breezes into the meeting room, Yamamoto finds himself cataloging not the differences in appearance, but the unchanged details. The windswept hair, the unbending posture, the wicked sharp grin as he first greets Seventh Wonder and Wolfheart. For Yoroi Musha, Gran Torino gives a cursory ‘hey’ and sweeps past him, making a beeline for the platter of taiyaki still in the microwave.

Instead of taking the last chair at the table, Gran Torino leans against the table, parking his ass on the corner between Wolfheart and Seventh Wonder. Neither look surprised at this turn of events.

“Hey, can I get a tail,” says Seventh Wonder, and Gran Torino scoffs but obliges. He’d always had a soft spot for his partner.

Wolfheart’s questing fingers bump against an obstacle, thickly-insulated and sunny yellow. Wolfheart looks up at the opaque white lenses of Gran Torino’s domino mask, and his bottom lip juts out in a pout. At first, Yamamoto thinks to tell Wolfheart that it’s futile - Gran Torino has one favorite person, and that is Seventh Wonder.

Then, Gran Torino breaks a pastry in half and passes it over to Wolfheart.

Discipline, Yamamoto reminds himself, stifling the outrage. He draws himself up tall, straightening his spine and squaring his shoulders. Aloud, he says, “If we may proceed with the debrief, Wolfheart.”

Gran Torino crams one immaculate piece of taiyaki into his mouth and nods emphatically.)

#bnha #shimurastorino #musharino #yoroi musha #gran torino #torino sorahiko #shimura nana #stand in name for husbando shimura #shih.txt #asks #838theweirdlow #gran torino get better taste in men challenge (mr shimura excluded)

[shih-coulda-had-it]

I love Nana very much and I want to hug her. She deserves nice things. Like two hubbys :) (Husbando Shimura and Sorahiko) Or just not have Sorahiko's sidepiece kill her and her family. No, im not calling AFO anything other than Sorahiko's side piece. Cuz he's a little bitch.

Sakumo: Hi, I'm Sakumo, and this is... my wife, Nana, our husband, Sorahiko... and Sorahiko's boyfriend, All for One.

//

anon honestly i'm just impressed that you're willing to accept afo as sorahiko's side piece in general

#bnha #shimurastorino #afohiko #shimura nana #torino sorahiko #gran torino #all for one #stand-in name for husbando shimura #shih's art #asks #anon #I WILL NOT BE ACCEPTING CRIT OVER MR SHIMURA'S DESIGN #I RECOGNIZE THAT HE LOOKS EERILY SIMILAR TO AFO #BUT THAT IS A LIMIT I AM LEARNING TO DEAL WITH

[shih-coulda-had-it]

Imagine Nana’s hubby is doing patrols (I imagine him as a cop), and his coworker’s like “why does Skywalker(Nana’s hero name) call you babygirl?”

"captain pls eyes on the road"

"my WIFE IS SO STRONG AND COOL AND SHE FLIES AROUND KICKING ASS"

#bnha #shimuras #shimura nana #stand-in name for husbando shimura #shih's art #asks #plusultrayokai #man loves his wife who calls him babygirl #he has absolutely no shame in talking about this

[shih-coulda-had-it]

I wanna do a story where toshi was invited to the shimura household to have a sleepover idk and they end up watching a scary movie before bed and It didn’t help that it was already raining outside and thunder while said scary movie was playing after that they go to bed and toshi wakes up in the miss of the night to use the bathroom and in the dark somehow he manages to see someone floating but like there sleep in the air just floating towards him and he starts screaming and running to Torino sakumo and nanas bedroom to tell them so he can get help and they look and notice nanas gone so toshi starts freaking out more and they get to the floating person and realize it’s nana Turns out she was sleeping with a light blanket not a weighted blanket

the really astonishing thing is how nana's sleepfloating form busted out of the closed bedroom door, unless they left it like an inch open in case their young guest had nightmares

#bnha #shimurastorino #yagi toshinori #all might #shimura nana #stand-in name for husbando shimura #gran torino #torino sorahiko #shih's art #asks #anon #wah i love drawing tiny toshi #btw nana is wearing a tank top. i feel like i should clarify.

[shih-coulda-had-it]

Torino decides to clean out the old boxes in his closet and goes through some old outfits while sakumo and nana are at The store and he sees his old favorite clothes and decides to play dress up to see what still fits him and nana and sakumo come home to find him doing so. ShimurasTorino. Tried to lean into more of a smu t Type of story but kinda failed putting it into words😅

they're gonna have to get the scissors to get him outta that shirt

#bnha #shimurastorino #shimura nana #stand-in name for husbando shimura #gran torino #torino sorahiko #shih's art #asks #anon

[shih-coulda-had-it]

Torino decides to tease nana and sakumo all week so they decide to get back at him in the best way possible 😏. ShimurasTorino.

You responded to my last one i made I just wanted to say I didn’t mean hang up it was autocorrect I swear 😅 Ik no prompts rn

whetting the appetite, so to speak

#bnha #shimurastorino #shimura nana #gran torino #torino sorahiko #stand-in name for husbando shimura #shih's art #asks #anon #huehue it's an oreo...!

[shih-coulda-had-it]

alright @838theweirdlow you can have this one for free; wolf!torino is precious and i love him. word count is 1,332.

//

“Oh no,” said Nana in a faint voice, gazing down at Sorahiko’s lupine form with genuine trepidation in her expression. The gray wolf, winter coat in full fluff, sat politely before her feet, ears pricked up attentively. If there was any doubt over the wolf’s identity--if the yellow cape with green buttons wasn’t enough--she could still recognize the glinting pale brown irises of her partner.

Standing beside Sorahiko, Toshinori was hugging himself. Unprompted, he said, “I’m really sorry, oshishou.”

“It’ll be alright.”

“Will it, though?”

“Of course!” Nana plastered on a reassuring grin. “The earlier cases, remember them? It only took a few hours before the first one changed back and gave us the intel on Reveal-Mal. And Gran Torino could have changed into something worse, I’m sure.”

Toshinori eyed the wolf. Since Sorahiko was always up for spooking Toshinori, he swiveled his massive shaggy head and beadily glared back, eliciting a shriek from the poor boy.

“Sorahiko!” Nana chided.

A plaintive whine answered her. Guiltily, Sorahiko looked away from their intern and fixed his eyes on some distant point of interest. His pointed ears had flicked back; she hesitated to assign human characteristics, but--well, the curve of the wolf’s hunched shoulders reminded her of a sulking Sorahiko.

“Is he staying at the office?” Toshinori questioned, and he sidestepped away from Sorahiko, moving closer to Nana.

“I don’t think he’d like that,” she said. “Why, do you want to take him home with you?”

Sorahiko protested this suggestion with a loud snarl; Toshinori seconded with a much more demure, “Oh, no, no, I really can’t, please don’t ask me to--”

“Haha, I’m joking, Yagi-kun! I’m sure we can work something out at my house.” It was for the best, in any case. Even if Sorahiko was the master of his new predatory instincts, Nana preferred to keep an eye on him with Sakumo, whose own Quirk was somewhat related to wolves. Her husband’s observations on Sorahiko had proved insightful before, so she was certain that he’d be of additional help now.

The only issue was, of course, Kotarou, who had just reached the age where he wanted to investigate everything and anything with grabby hands.

She’d have to make a decision soon. The office was due to close in half an hour (how lucky of Toshinori, to procrastinate on filing an extensive report about Reveal-Mal and his last victim prior to arrest! Nana hopes Sorahiko turns back soon, because she does not want those papers on her desk), and it seemed callous to drop off Sorahiko at his studio, leaving him to fend for himself on four clumsy paws.

Telegraphing her every move, Nana squatted down and patted her knees, maintaining her composure as Sorahiko hop-skittered forward. He promptly fixed his posture and stared expectantly, unblinking.

“Good boy,” said Nana, half-joking.

His tail thumped once, twice on the linoleum. Quietly, Toshinori went, “Aww,” and Sorahiko twitched, head jerking to the side to shoot a betrayed glare at the new limb. Mischief overtook Nana’s common sense. With perhaps an overabundance of confidence in Sorahiko’s control, Nana slid all ten of her fingers into the wolf’s fur. Her left hand dug and scratched through the ruff, where the collar of the yellow cape pressed tight.

Her right hand went sliding upwards, scritching the base of a pointed ear.

Sorahiko made a startled sound in the back of his throat. Nana got a picture-perfect view of sharp teeth before Sorahiko snapped his mouth shut and whined again. 

“You’re not gonna eat Kotarou are you,” Nana cooed, ignoring the choked-off, ‘Oh shit, your son,’ from Toshinori. “You’re gonna be the most patient wolf ever, huh?”

He gargled, “Woof,” and thumped his tail twice.

//

The distance between the office and her home was considerable. Nana saw why Toshinori opted to keep Gran Torino’s cape visible; it was less embarrassing than buying a collar and leash, and it served as a reminder that Sorahiko was still present. Part of her anticipated an officer confronting her about the clearly undomesticated wolf, but a larger part was more concerned with the bathroom situation.

Toshinori could never find out that their old training meadow was doubling as a toilet.

“Well?” Nana asked Sorahiko, who instead sniffed at her hands. “No teething! I got enough of that from Kotarou.”

Pale brown eyes met hers. Sorahiko cocked his head in an inquisitive fashion. 

She resigned herself (and Sorahiko) to the mutual loss of dignity. Then again, they could probably sign this off as a partnership bonding exercise. Could a person truly be your significant other half without this kind of experience?

Nana pointed at a distant shrub. “Dig a hole. Pee and poop. Go.”

Sorahiko recoiled at the first order, and bared his teeth at the following commands.

“I’m not arguing with you! Better to do it now then have an accident in my living room!”

From that muzzle sang a truly incoherent string of gargled protests, but the thing that rubbed Nana wrong the most was when Sorahiko fell into a defensive stance, front paws out and hackles raised. A guttural snarl was building strength; Nana knew instinctively that she had to snap Sorahiko out of it.

“Bad dog!” she yelled, and for good measure, put her hands on her hips.

The snarl tripped into a confused whine. Sorahiko stared at Nana with widened eyes, ears flattened back on his head.

For lack of a better option, Nana glared. “If you don’t go here,” she enunciated carefully, “then your only option is the bathtub in my home. And Sakumo will be the one cleaning it up.”

Sorahiko broke eye contact and snuffled. He turned his head and pulled delicately at his cape once before glancing at Nana.

“You want to keep it clean?”

Another snuffle. She obligingly unpinned the cape and folded it over on her arm, confirmed that Sorahiko was slinking away to the local shrubbery, and turned her face to the evening sky. Nana squinted at the passing clouds and hummed.

He returned within minutes, sullenly silent but bullishly determined to get his headpats from Nana.

“Sorry,” she said while re-pinning the cape. Nana carded her fingers through the thick ruff of fur, marveled at the fluffy (if by now, a little matted) texture, then scratched under Sorahiko’s ears. “I’ll try not to say it again. But you were getting a little scary.”

A soft rumble.

“Ready to kill time with Kotarou?”

“Rrgh.”

//

Sakumo stared at Sorahiko’s temporary form with befuddlement and also, a measure of sympathy, because Kotarou had his sticky fingers and sticky face buried deep in the salt-and-pepper fur. Kotarou was singing something too, off-tune and half-nonsense. Sorahiko’s long-suffering expression hadn’t cracked yet, but both Sakumo and Nana were keeping a careful eye on the massive wolf playing pillow pet for their son.

“When’s he scheduled to change back?” he murmured to his wife.

“An hour, give or take a few minutes,” she whispered back. “Did you want to get a pet in? He absolutely melts for it.”

“Feels disingenuous to pretend I won’t know that now.”

She hip-checked him, and grinned at his reciprocation. “Find an excuse,” Nana suggested, and finished rinsing the last sudsy dish for him to dry. “We’ll have to put Kotarou to sleep soon, anyway. Let him think Mister Wolf was all a dream.”

Sakumo made a face. “Oh no. What if he wants a dog after this?”

“We’ll tell him why we can’t get one.” Nana assumed a serious frown. “‘Why, Kota-kun, didn’t you know? Our apartment’s too small for a dog to be happy in. Maybe later.’”

“Hm. So your strategy is to delay a flat-out rejection.”

“What little kid likes to be told no?”

Sorahiko finally made a disgruntled whimper. Simultaneously, Nana and Sakumo looked up and analyzed the situation: Kotarou was shaking one of Sorahiko’s huge paws, giggling whenever Sorahiko twitched it away.

“At least it’s not his tail,” said Sakumo, rueful.

“I’ll get him,” Nana sighed.

#bnha #gran torino #torino sorahiko #shimura nana #stand-in name for husbando shimura #all might #yagi toshinori #shih.txt #shih's art #838theweirdlow #well my friend i can't seem to tag you #next time pls direct your requests to my inbox than my notes #as the notifs can disappear over time

[shih-coulda-had-it]

may we have some spare crumbs about poly sorahiko/nana/nana’s husband??

i can do crumbs, sure!

/dating/

Nana always goes for the Classic Date Locations, like meals at a cafe (familiar or new) or movies at the theater. She prefers casual atmospheres. It’s easier to strip off the cape and gloves and boots and slide a pair of jeans over the skin-tight suit, as compared to needing to change entirely for a formal setting. (Also, no one blinks an eye at three people sharing a table at a cafe. The fancy folk? Always, always, a lifted eyebrow.)

Sakumo encourages more outdoorsy activities, like hikes or excursions out of the city. He’s not a fan of beaches, though. Forested mountains? Grassy meadows? Hell yeah! Sand? The sneezing gets unbearable, and then both he and Sorahiko are messes until Nana’s laughingly packing them back into the rented car. These aren’t just day trips though. He prods them into camping too.

Sorahiko doesn’t differentiate between dates and meetings. They’re having lunch on the roof? Time to talk shop. They’re in a conference room discussing the repercussions of the latest prison break? Part of Sorahiko’s head is focused on kicking Nana’s ankles under the table and seeing who can get in the most pokes to Sakumo before they’re reprimanded. He’s the worst at counting anniversaries or milestones.

/the bedroom/

Everyone gets a chance to sleep in the middle! It’s just that no one wants to be sandwiched by the other two space-heaters in the middle of summer, especially with a weighted blanket in the mix (bought specifically for Nana). Sorahiko is often pressed to use Jet to provide some air circulation during those nights. He is also, coincidentally, the one most likely to be pinned down by a heavy arm or leg.

They sleep in a bed huge enough to comfortably fit ALL three very tall, very built frames. It’s one of the few genuinely luxury items in the apartment, and it has crowded out any vanity tables or decorative side-tables. Nana attributes their bed being half the reason why Sorahiko accepted--embraced--the idea of moving into the Shimura household.

Food and drink are banned from bed, and you would think Sorahiko was the one to enact this rule given how touchy he is about his car’s interior, but no. Sakumo declared it. Dessert Night got messier than anticipated.

#bnha #shimurastorino #shimura nana #stand-in name for husbando shimura #gran torino #torino sorahiko #shih.txt #asks #anon

[shih-coulda-had-it]

96 nanahiko and sakumo

96. "Your voice is so relaxing." | shimurastorino | wc: 583

a/n: WILDCARD!! The Shimuras are now werewolves (and we are talking like, Elder Scrolls Appearance), and Sorahiko isn't one, but he's not gonna lie. He's kinda into it.

//

Nana surfaces from sleep in slow waves, registering first the presence of a snoozing Sakumo sprawled next to her, then the softness of the bedding, and next the thigh pillowing her face. It is a very familiar thigh. It has gray hairs scattered across the pale skin, and it smells faintly of parfum and menthol: Sorahiko’s body wash.

Over her head, she hears a constant grumbling, the contents of which are about Nana and Sakumo.

“Werewolves. Werewolves. In fucking Japan. Can’t believe it. Well, actually, I guess I can, considering Sakumo’s entire thing, but you?” Gentle fingers comb through her hair. “Almost twenty years knowing you, and what? Now you’re some creature of folklore? Geez…”

She struggles to not smirk, fails, and turns over onto her back. Sorahiko stares down; he frowns in response to Nana’s grin. 

“You just wake up?”

“Yeah,” Nana answers. “Did you have a good night?”

“Not as bad as I thought it would be. It was sort of a shock to see you guys… grow into the werewolves instead of just transforming into a plain wolf. But apparently you’re just as cuddly. So it turned out fine.”

“No bite marks?”

“... Was that a possibility,” Sorahiko says flatly.

“Ah…”

When Sakumo first told Nana that there wasn’t any time to go on the mountain retreat, she’d worried. Being among other werewolves during a full moon was immensely helpful when it came to heightened tempers and passions. Not to mention, no one screams about monsters when the only people around are monsters.

But they couldn’t go. Sakumo had landed a last-second case, and the Sky High agency was doing its obligatory time as the ‘cavalry’--that is, Nana and Sorahiko were on-call for other agencies who couldn’t throw their weight against stronger villains.

So the alternative to spending the night running in the woods was to spend it lounging at Sorahiko’s studio.

Nana convinced Sakumo not to spill the beans immediately about their being werewolves; hell, she’s only been blooded into his line for less than a year, only a few months before the wedding. So they told Sorahiko about it being a Quirk effect. Manageable, but better when someone played chaperone.

Last night had been the first of three. She’d like to think that Sorahiko hadn’t been too traumatized about it.

“We wouldn’t eat you,” Nana says, finally, then adds, “even though you’re a treat!”

“What a comfort.” She sticks her tongue out at him. He rolls his eyes and prods her cheek with a chiding finger until Nana retracts it. “Anyways, what’s the hold-up with Sakumo? He’s usually the early bird out of the three of us, and I want breakfast.”

“Hm,” she hums. “It is weird that you’re the first one awake, Sorahiko. Did you get any sleep last night?”

“How could I? Two lazy lumps were smushing the air outta me.”

Affronted, Nana splutters, “‘Lumps’!”

“And heavy ones too,” Sorahiko says. He stretches to scruff Sakumo’s bedhead. “Hey, wake up. How can you still be asleep with all this noise between us?”

A muffled groan vibrates into Nana’s ribs, and then a brief chill elicits goosebumps as Sakumo pulls back. “Your voice is so relaxing, Sorahiko-kun,” he says sleepily. There’s the presence of Sakumo shifting his arm, moving it around Nana to pat Sorahiko’s hip. “Thank you for keeping us safe. Mind doing it two more times?”

“Two more times?” Sorahiko echoes, then catches himself. “Oh. Full moon. Yeah, I’ve got you guys. Don’t worry about it.”

#bnha #shimurastorino #shimura nana #gran torino #torino sorahiko #stand-in name for husbando shimura #shih.txt #d-december #asks #anon #little short today #i'm an old lady and the rainy weather makes my joints achey = w= #i might add a doodle later just to clarify positions #but also. boy oh boy i'm not kidding when i say my joints ache

[shih-coulda-had-it]

Please I need to know would you ever consider adding in sakumo in some nanahiko stories his name is brought up in some stories but he’s not actually in it I’m just interested in seeing it it could be any topic like him being introduced to nanas or Torino’s firends (idk if he has any besides nana bc ..yea) or chip and toshinori meetinv him or something 😅😅ever since I found out about him I wanted to see what it would be like to have the trio(sorahiko nana and sakumo )in a story together it’s ok if you don’t want to add him in if ur seeing this thank you for taking the time to read this very thick paragraph 😅.

the THING about husbando shimura sakumo is,, he has nothing going for him. nana must have loved him, but did he last long enough to make any impact on kotarou's memories? canon says no.

my characterization of husbando shimura is pretty shallow. he's literally just

... which is not conducive to any longer/plotty ot3 fics. what qualities can you give him? what history? there are cases of background characters developing into OCs being extremely well done in fanfic, but i wouldn't even know where to start with this guy.

that being said, if horikoshi ever deigned to give any details, top 3 scenarios i wish i could drag shimurastorino through:

classic canon divergence where sakumo misunderstands the relationship between nana and sorahiko, and cheerfully believes that he's entering a polyamorous relationship. sorahiko doesn't know if he wants to extract himself from this situation, and nana's not helping because, 'aha, this is what i've been missing from my other dates: sorahiko.' (this obviously leads into an everyone lives fix-it)

a scene with chiyo giving a shovel talk in place of sorahiko, as his shovel talk got lost in sakumo's eyes. chiyo says, "don't break her heart, but more importantly, don't break sorahiko's. if that happens, even i won't be here to heal you from that beating.'

established nana/sakumo in an undisclosed (bc it's. spicier than i usually take this blog.) au where they see sorahiko and go 'dibs'.

#bnha #stand-in name for husbando shimura #shimurastorino #shihpost #asks #anon #in another world he's my self insert #i get isekai'd into bnha as husbando shimura

[shih-coulda-had-it]

# 27 from the 200 lemon dialogue ❤️ sorahiko and sakumo

27. "Oh honey, you know, you really shouldn't tease me." | shimurastorino, with a focus on sorahiko/husbando shimura| wc: 725

a/n: established OT3, but Nana and Sakumo are engaged to be married.

//

This year, the N.H.A. had the novel idea to dedicate two nights to honoring their employees. Last week had been for the solo pro-heroes, which Nana had attended as Sakumo’s plus-one. Tonight is for the pro-heroes who are registered partners or teams, which means that Sakumo is now her plus-one, as Sorahiko can’t dodge the invite.

It’s probably one of the noisiest holiday gala Sorahiko’s attended in recent years.

Sorahiko doesn’t know who handled the invites, because it sounds like every pro-hero and their squad of interns is crashing the party. Cheap complimentary beer and wine and some concoction of a punch being passed around—it’s a recipe for mayhem, especially with the hired orchestra switching out to a DJ playing exclusive club music. No one notices Sorahiko and Sakumo fleeing for quieter pastures.

Like this bathroom.

“You’re not needed elsewhere?” Sakumo asks, as Sorahiko kicks the door shut behind them. Almost immediately, the party is muffled and the only real distinct noise Sorahiko hears is Sakumo’s frazzled breathing.

He turns the lock and turns on his heel, instinct telling him to take in his surroundings. “Nana can handle a potential riot. You looked like you were on the brink of a sensory overload.”

The bathroom is large enough for maybe four individual stalls, but it only houses one toilet and sink. The wallpaper is a touch old-fashioned, but the tiles and grout are clean, and the countertop isn’t even stained with the remnants of antibacterial soap. It’s pretty nice.

Sakumo stands at the center, tugging at his bowtie. Beads of sweat sit at his temple, wisps of hair stick flat to his forehead.

“I wasn’t expecting the crowd.”

“I don’t think the hosts were either,” Sorahiko says drily, and picks at his cufflinks for lack of anything else to fiddle with. “You alright, though? I saw Nana on our way out.”

She’d seen him dragging her fiancé by the hand, navigating the cliques by cold-shouldering anyone too slow to jump away. Sorahiko gestured once to the wilting, sweating, shallow-breathing figure he towed alongside him, then to the nearest bathroom. 

A quick hand-sign: Be there soon. And he flashed an acknowledgment before continuing to haul Sakumo out of the swarming young adults determined to make the best of a paid holiday.

“Anything she trusts you to handle, I do too,” says Sakumo.

“... So there’s something bothering you.”

“Not so alarming as that.” The toothy, rueful smile reminds him of Nana, though there’s a notable fanged edge to Sakumo’s mouth in comparison.

“What, can you still hear the music? Or did somebody mess with your drink?”

Sakumo lets out a laugh. “No, no, it’s, ah… You’re not wearing a tie, Sorahiko. Between Nana’s dress and your unbuttoned shirt, it’s hard to tell who I’m drooling over more.”

He processes, then concludes: Sakumo wrenched his adrenaline-fueled panic into horny mode.

Nana’s strapless gown is midnight-blue and as glittery as a night sky; it hugs her breasts and cinches at the waist and falls straight down to her ankles. There’s a slit at the front of the skirt, off-centered, high enough that Nana can comfortably kick any offenders in the gut. It is also much more sexy than Sorahiko’s standard tuxedo.

“You’re too kind,” says Sorahiko, rolling his eyes. Then an idea strikes like a match. “I’m not showing nearly enough skin to match her. Could probably fix that, though.”

Sakumo’s eyes gleam under the cold blue fluorescent lighting. He licks his lips. “Need some help?”

“Nah,” he says, and rolls his neck. He shrugs off his blazer in slow, relaxed movements, folds it in half and tosses it over to the sink. Then Sorahiko undoes and pockets his cufflinks. He takes a step back so he can lean against the door. With his hands down by his lap, he splays his fingers over his building arousal, exhales.

Instead of unzipping his trousers, though, he switches tracks and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows.

He hears the abrupt step forward first, and then feels Sakumo rushing up against him, hands going to pin Sorahiko’s by his head and tongue going for Sorahiko’s parted lips. Sakumo kisses like he’s starving for affection. Sorahiko tastes white wine and lets himself moan, rolling his hips against Sakumo’s. 

Breathless, Sakumo rumbles, “Oh honey, you know, you really shouldn’t tease me.”

#bnha #shimurastorino #stand-in name for husbando shimura #gran torino #torino sorahiko #lemon #shih.txt #asks #anon #d-december #feels like i'm tagging lemon too liberally now #with more time this would actually earn that m rating!!! #but we're on a time limit today and now i have to go run errands

[shih-coulda-had-it]

27. From the 200 lemon dialogue sorahiko. And sakumo

27. "Hey. Hey. Hey, guess what? Hey? Hey! Hey, guess what! … I love you.” | pre-OT3 shimurastorino, w/ focus on sorahiko/sakumo | wc: ~860

a/n: tw vaguely described Sex Quirk (Pollen-adjacent) but explicitly described situation (>:3c), with consent given prior to the event

//

Looking down at Sorahiko’s arched spine, all tensed muscles and flushed with warmth, Sakumo has the feverish thought that his wife really had the right idea, asking Sorahiko if he would consent to being their secondary all-purpose emergency contact.

Not that they really expected to be blindsided by a Sex Quirk, but he supposes every infamous tall tale has a grain of truth to it. 

“Come on,” says Sorahiko, a thinly-veiled plea disguised as a demand.

“I’m trying to start slow,” Sakumo chides. He tries to hide his fond smile, in case Sorahiko twists around in disbelief, and distracts himself by rubbing the other man’s back, going a little harder on the shoulders than the lower back. A shiver shakes the exhale leaving Sorahiko’s lungs as he goes from his hands to his elbows and even lowers his head.

He stays on his knees. His hips are lifted higher, enticingly. The weak orange light from the nightstand’s lamp just barely touches the slick rim that Sakumo had fingered open minutes ago.

“Just--just go,” he says. “I can take it.”

Sakumo sighs, but ultimately obliges: his left hand cups Sorahiko’s rear, groping at the muscle and fat, teasing the give of the hole with his thumb, and his right hand guides his cock. It’s slippery with lubricant, and blood-hot in Sakumo’s own hand despite the condom. He grits his teeth to hold back a groan.

“Sakumo, Sakumo, come on--please--”

“Slowly,” Sakumo says, shuddering when the tip finally pushes past the lackluster resistance, when he sees, feels, the shaft of his cock being enveloped by heat. “Oh, you feel good. You feel incredible, Sorahiko.”

Sorahiko makes a noise in the back of his throat, rough and helpless, and he tightens at the praise. In a blind attempt to get Sorahiko to repeat that moan, Sakumo grasps for handholds, finds purchase at the trim waist, and thrusts forward. He doesn’t linger long enough for Sorahiko to adjust; he pulls halfway out and fucks back in again, and again, finally satiating that vicious-edged appetite the Quirk had honed.

The exact noise doesn’t make a reappearance, but Sakumo can hear the similarities in the ragged groans that escape Sorahiko’s stranglehold on his vocal cords.

He regrets that Nana and Recovery Girl chose this weekend to have their girls’ trip in Kantonica. If Nana were here--well, if Nana were here, Sakumo would’ve turned to her for relief, not Sorahiko--if she could only just stumble home unexpectedly, and aid Sakumo in wrecking Sorahiko’s sensibilities…!

“So,” Sorahiko manages, “do you--feel any better y-yet?”

Sakumo refuses to even pause (though he flounders internally, because, what? Had Sorahiko not been picking up on all the flirtations and affirmations of his inclusion in their family? Didn’t Nana make enough throuple jokes?), instead letting out a guttural snarl, driving into Sorahiko harder. Boldly, he bends, presses his chest against Sorahiko’s back and holds them together with one arm.

With the other, he splays his hand against a trembling stomach and slides it down, following the treasure trail to Sorahiko’s own hard and leaking cock. 

Sorahiko muffles his cry into the bed. He moves jerkily into the greedy fist, unable to time it with the relentless rocking of Sakumo’s hips. His knees slip open degree by degree.

“Yes,” says Sakumo belatedly, breathless with the effort to stave off his climax until Sorahiko comes first. “Yes, I feel so much better, you’re so good, Sorahiko--”

Another bitten-off cry. A not insignificant burst of air that brushes Sakumo’s legs, and the sudden feeling of something wet and hot smearing onto his hand, but most present of all: Sorahiko’s walls bearing down on Sakumo, convulsive clenching that triggers Sakumo into coming.

The bloodrush dissipates, leaving Sakumo with a faint ringing in his ears. The both of them are gasping in the immediate aftermath, not yet settled into the afterglow, which Sakumo is determined to get. There’s no way he’s just going to let Sorahiko stagger off into the bathroom to ‘clear his head’ or whatever excuse he comes up with in misguided panic.

He noses at the sweat-damp silver hairs fluffing up at the back of Sorahiko’s head. “Hey,” Sakumo breathes, then repositions his mouth closer to the burning pink shell of an ear. “Hey. Hey, guess what?”

“Mngh,” Sorahiko grunts. His legs are still spasming, minute twitches that match the hiccupped gasps for air. Clumsily, his hand fumbles the shove at Sakumo’s right forearm.

“Hey? Hey!”

“Stop touching my dick,” he says in a rasp, squirming.

Sakumo is reluctant to move, but magnanimously wipes his hand on the folded towel they (Sorahiko) laid on the bed to protect it from stains, then hugs Sorahiko tighter. He says, insistent, “Guess what!”

“What?”

He swallows past the apprehension in his throat, but if Sakumo doesn’t say it now, if he tries to wait for that ‘opportune’ time, as Nana likes to wax eloquent about, then he’ll be waiting forever. He wants so badly for Sorahiko to stay in their bed, and their home, and their life. He needs to take the first step, so Nana has the confidence to add her voice.

Carefully, Sakumo confesses in a firm, steady voice, “... I love you.”

#bnha #shimurastorino #stand-in name for husbando shimura #gran torino #torino sorahiko #lemon #shih.txt #asks #anon #i'm not gonna make a separate pairing tag for this btw #if husbando shimura exists then he's either just with nana #or he's trying his best with nana to snag sorahiko into polyamory

[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

[shih-coulda-had-it]

Is sakumo a top like nana or bottom like sorahiko?

As far as I’ve written him, versatile. He’s good for anything, babey, but the lack of charged history between him and Nana + Sorahiko means that when Sakumo has sex, he’s not wrestling 10,000 demons of repression ‘for the sake of staying friends.’ He’s just having a good time. 😎

#shimurastorino #stand-in name for husbando shimura #shih.txt #asks #anon #bro pls i'm trying to beat the 'you've imposed a binary where there shouldn't be one' allegations

[shih-coulda-had-it]

#49 200 lemon dialogue. Sorahiko and sakumo Or nanahiko

49. "You look so good on your knees like that." | established shimurastorino | wc: 626

//

The movie’s still playing on in the background, but Nana is much more interested in seeing what’s playing out before her on the living room couch. Her husband and partner have lowered the volume--if she tilts her head, she can hear the titular hero swear revenge--and shoved the coffee table closer to the entertainment stand.

It’s still a narrow space for Sorahiko to be kneeling in, especially with Sakumo’s legs caging the way out.

She’d been gone for five minutes!

From her viewpoint, she gets a good side-profile: Sakumo sits closer to the edge of the cushion; his sweatpants and boxers must have been yanked down, because Sorahiko’s head is literally right against Sakumo’s lap, boxed between two long and lean thighs. He’s breathing in harsh, stuttery bursts and clawing at the couch instead of silver hair. Occasionally, Sorahiko pulls back, but the pause is brief; at least two-thirds of the shaft sink past his mouth again.

Nana tears her eyes from the sight and considers the three mugs of black tea. The leaves are still steeping; it’s not like Sakumo and Sorahiko have the refined palates to care about oversteeped tea, especially once she stirs in the condensed milk. 

Priorities! Decisively, she abandons the tea in the kitchen. She was going to surprise them with a mid-movie treat; it’s sweet of them to turn the tables on her.

“Ah,” Sakumo moans, loud and then louder. “Ah, Sorahiko, she--she’s already heard--”

She uses Float to bound over, catches herself with the back of the couch so she can peer down Sakumo’s body and see Sorahiko’s eyes closed in concentration. “Having fun?” Nana asks her husband, and he shudders as Sorahiko times a swallow just right. Pulls back. One breath, and then again. Confident in her welcome, she plants her hands at his chest and lifts his shirt one tantalizing centimeter at a time.

“Yes,” he answers in a whine.

“Who asked for it?”

“Sorahiko. Didn’t like the movie, said he’d kill time another w-way.”

A valid opinion--Nana definitely hadn’t chosen the movie because it was great mental stimulation. It was just the first movie that both Sorahiko and Sakumo had zero first opinions on. Long nights of surfing streaming media’s libraries in an effort to appeal to everyone’s movie tastes had taught Nana to appreciate neutrality.

With another tug at Sakumo’s shirt, she gathers it into a fistful and holds it to his mouth like a makeshift gag. Obediently, he takes his shirt between his teeth and tips his head back, staring at Nana with adoring eyes.

“Listen,” she whispers, and all of a sudden, the sloppy, wet sound of Sorahiko sucking Sakumo’s cock gets louder in the absence of Sakumo’s heavy breathing. A muffled groan, echoed back from Sakumo whose eyes flutter at the sensation.

Sorahiko’s eyes flicker open, intent sharpening his gaze.

“He’s close, huh?”

An affirmative grunt, followed by Sakumo’s sudden jolt of his hips. Sakumo is spitting something frantic into his shirt, but Nana can see Sorahiko’s hand squirming under her husband’s ass, and she can connect the dots that way. 

“You can tease him a little longer, you know,” she tells Sorahiko over Sakumo’s protesting keen. “You look so good on your knees like that.”

Sorahiko blinks. Pulls off. Rasps, “When you see he’s ready, go ahead and hold me down,” and slows his pace, practically kissing the weeping head of Sakumo’s cock before enveloping it between his lips again. He hardly reacts to Nana’s interfering hands, preventing Sorahiko’s head from being squished between two violently trembling thighs.

It’s probably impossible (and a little mean) to ask Sakumo to hold out to the end of the movie. So Nana won’t ask, but she will keep a careful eye and ear out.

#bnha #shimurastorino #shimura nana #stand-in name for husbando shimura #gran torino #torino sorahiko #shih.txt #asks #anon #lemon #now this! this is a lemon

[shih-coulda-had-it]

3, nana, nana's husband and sorahiko pls ;-;

YEAH YEAH YEAH

3. "How do you feel about adding another person to the mix?" | ShimurasTorino | wc: 1,806 (marginally helped by the fact that i have scraps of this ot3 dating back to like. 2019.)

a/n: Yourou Sakumo (妖狼 作物) is my stand-in for the OG Mr. Shimura. He's a local pro-hero named Wolfheart (because his names are related to... Inuyasha and Naruto characters...), specializing in long-term cases connected with Quirk villains. He looks like a tall and buff Kotarou (sans the little hair forelock).

//

(nana)

Against all logic, Nana brings Sorahiko to her first date with Sakumo.

He’s only supposed to be there for the first five minutes, though, to act as a visual insurance. The shovel to the shovel talk! Nana had reasonably pointed out that she was already on a first-name basis with their fellow pro-hero, and Sorahiko sullenly agreed to remove himself after Sakumo registered the presence of Nana’s partner lurking behind her.

“Nice joint,” says Sorahiko in a clipped voice.

“It’s a coffee shop,” Nana responds, nudging him with her toe. They’ve grabbed an inside table for two, and there’s an open box of pastries sitting between them. She picks at her pain au chocolat with a fork, peeling the flaky layers with painstaking care.

In contrast, Sorahiko drums his fingers on the table’s surface, glaring daggers at the glass door.

“He’s not late,” she says, before Sorahiko can start, and Nana decides to distract herself by chasing the conversation down a proverbial rabbit hole. “What’s with you, anyway? You like Wolfheart!”

“‘Wolfheart’ can be different from ‘Sakumo.’”

“Some of us wear our hearts on our sleeves.”

“What sleeves?” he asks pointedly, switching the target of his critical gaze from the door to her bared arms. Nana flexes for him; he snorts, but he can’t hide his grin. “I just want him to know that you’re not - well. Alone.”

“You say it like I’ve just left my parents to have an adventure in the big city.”

“Wide-eyed and hopeful,” Sorahiko agrees.

“Desperate and lonely.”

“Who are we describing here? You or me?”

Nana laughs instead of answering, because banter deserves to be left on a high note. No need to drag self-deprecating humor into the ring. As she picks up her cup of latte, Sorahiko lifts his mug of coffee, the dark roast lightened with milk and sweetened with brown sugar, and ceramic meets ceramic in a satisfying clink.

“Shimura-san, Torino-san!” a welcome voice calls out, and they both look towards the entrance to see Yourou Sakumo beaming while he approaches the table. His casual wear is similar to Nana’s: denim jeans and a nice t-shirt. It makes Sorahiko the most well-dressed at the table, if only because he’s wearing a yellow collared shirt.

“Sakumo-kun!” Nana greets.

Before Sorahiko can enact his master plan of making Sakumo wait for Sorahiko to give up the seat, Sakumo closes the distance and pulls up a third chair to the table. He is still smiling.

Nana is abruptly aware that there isn’t a whole lot of space under the table. Her knee is touching Sakumo’s, and her other leg’s foot is pressed up against Sorahiko’s. It taps on reflex, which only brings Sorahiko to this realization as well.

Nana can read his face.

She can also read the crawling flush of heat spreading from his ears to his cheeks.

“I’m glad you started without me,” says Sakumo, cheerful. “The line looked very long.”

“It’s a nice - place,” Sorahiko manages to say. “We caught the staff before the rush hour.”

“We were mostly people-watching,” Nana volunteers. She’s fascinated by this development in Sorahiko’s attitude towards Sakumo, and the more she thinks about it, how easily Sakumo had accepted Sorahiko’s presence at their table.

“A good way to pass the time. Any familiar faces?”

“Just strangers going about their day.” A thought occurs to her. “Ah, Sakumo-kun… I know it’s because I don’t use a mask to cover my face, but what gave Sorahiko away? The hair?”

Sakumo shakes his head. “A full head of gray hair isn’t that uncommon today. No, I - ” he pauses, and turns pink. “I have a keen sense of smell.”

It’s not just Nana that needs to process this; Sorahiko is struck silent, and then, almost indignantly, he says, “You can’t have memorized my scent. I was in the air and upwind for all the times we’ve met.”

“You and Shimura-san have distinct notes,” says Sakumo delicately.

And seeing as Nana was the one who’d closely interacted with Sakumo throughout the Ithoru case, that meant - Nana joins the other two in blushing. Really? Really! Sakumo had picked up Sorahiko’s scent off Nana? And he hadn’t jumped to the wrong conclusions? He’d still agreed to this date?

“Good to know,” Sorahiko croaks. He clears his throat. “Shimura, this is a sign for you to stop hugging me.”

“Who hugged whom last!” she shoots back, and out of the corner of her eye, she sees Sakumo’s smile soften, like the two of them squabbling is a precious sight.

(sorahiko)

His partner (and his partner’s… partner) refuse to let Sorahiko tipsily catch the last train back to Yamanashi City, and instead coax him into staying at their now-shared apartment. He is tugged back from the genkan, and sat on the sofa by Sakumo. Nana tosses a quick excuse over her shoulder (getting him Sakumo’s pajamas) before leaving them alone.

Sakumo places a glass of room-temperature water in Sorahiko’s hand, encouraging Sorahiko to use a firmer grip by demonstration.

“Mrgh,” says Sorahiko dazedly. “Did I ask for water?”

“I don’t think it’s a question of wanting it,” says Sakumo, amused and not hiding it very well. His fingers are thick. Broad like Nana’s. Long enough, Sorahiko thinks, and then saws off the train of thought.

He wrinkles his nose. “I don’t need it, then. I didn’t drink that much.”

“You’re not very good with hard liquor, are you?”

“I’m good,” Sorahiko insists, and obligingly sips the water. He rolls it in his mouth to wash out the lingering floral note from the gin cocktail, then swallows, hard. He looks expectantly at Sakumo, who is sitting beside him. Dark eyes blink in bemusement, then…

“He drank the water, right?” Nana’s voice rings through the apartment.

“Ah,” says Sakumo, and checks Sorahiko’s waiting expression. His mouth quirks into a smile. “You’re good, Sorahiko-san.”

A tiny shiver of something curls in the pit of his stomach, and Sorahiko tilts his head, trying to puzzle out the meaning. At that moment, Nana returns with sleepwear, a spare blanket, and a pillow. She circles the sofa and sits by Sorahiko’s other side, soft things gathered in her lap.

Nana studies Sorahiko; whatever she finds must satisfy her, because then she also says, “Good job, Sorahiko.”

“For hydrating myself properly?” He ignores the urge to preen over the praise.

“For not running away given half the chance,” she answers, dry, and then transfers her items to Sorahiko. “C’mon, Sakumo, let’s bounce. Sorahiko, you remember where the bathroom is?”

“Yeah,” he says, and watches them leave. He curls his hands into tight white-knuckled fists, resisting the impulse to clutch at their shirts. The both of them run insanely hot. Consequently, they like their apartment freezing, and Sorahiko - who prefers his jumpsuits with full coverage and thickly insulated - suffers the brunt of the chill.

He checks the quality of the clothes and the blanket; Sorahiko exhales with relief when he finds them suitable for the couple’s arctic habitat.

(sakumo)

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Sakumo crawls back up from between Nana’s legs to kiss his girlfriend, his fiancée, one of the loves of his life—Sakumo freezes mid-kiss. “Um,” he says against her lips, torn between committing to open, honest communication and risking getting thrown out of bed.

“What’s up, honey,” says Nana, dazed but slowly regaining her equilibrium.

“Just a… thought,” he mutters.

She pats his cheek good-naturedly, and then licks the corner of his mouth. “Missed a spot,” is her excuse. “What are you thinking?” Slowly, her hand creeps to his unattended erection; Sakumo jerkily thrusts into her grip, a shaky exhale leaving him.

“I can tell you later.”

Nana hums, and she flicks her wrist on the upstroke, tightening her grip at the head. He groans against her throat, but it doesn’t stop her from threatening, “I can start guessing.”

“It’s not - appropriate.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she says. Her pace is drawing to a halt, but the trade-off is that she’s dragging out each touch, the sensation heavy and electrifying to Sakumo’s cock. So, slowly, he constructs a question she won’t feel pressured to answer.

“How do you feel about adding another person to the mix?”

She completely stills.

Sakumo fumbles with the beat of silence, blurting out, “Not like an open relationship! I’m thinking more of, ah, a genuine third person. Who we would love, and they’d love us. They’d move into our bed, and we’d go out for meals, and even if we couldn’t all three get married - ”

“You have someone in mind,” Nana realizes.

He cringes. “I. Yes.”

“... Who?”

“Sorahiko,” Sakumo confesses, and he hastens to correct any misconceptions. “It’s not because I thought about cheating, whether it’s me and him, or you and him, but I am thinking that… that we should court him.”

“Huh,” says Nana.

““He’s absolutely devoted to us, I can smell it,” Sakumo keeps babbling. “You’re his best friend, and he loves you a lot, and he looks at us when we touch, and he looks sad and longing—”

“Wait, wait,” she interjects, “slow down. You’re—this is a lot to unpack, Sakumo, especially when I’ve got your cock in my hand.”

“I’m sorry,” he responds, miserable. “But your best friend is very attractive and attracted to us, and it’s not something I can stop thinking about.”

Nana studies him, and behind those storm gray eyes, she’s probably contemplating whether or not she should kill him for thinking impure thoughts about her closest, longest, bestest friend in her life. Sakumo isn’t even jealous of their bond; his nature admires it, and wants to be a part of it, and when Nana organized their dates to include Sorahiko, Sakumo endeavored to make sure the man didn’t feel like a third-wheel.

But after Sakumo proposed to Nana, he suspects he made a wrong turn somewhere and left something—someone—behind.

Yet he didn’t know if Nana held anything beyond an intensely platonic affection.

“Okay, we’re talking seriously about this later,” she declares, “but for now, let’s fuck.”

Sakumo flushes pink. He lets his hips grind forward. “Whatever you want,” he agrees and catches the slow widening of a white-toothed grin.

“Yeah? Tell me what you want to do with Sorahiko,” she dares, and his hips stutter.

“What?”

She spreads her legs, lifts one to press against his side. “I’m still wet,” she breathes. “Fuck me, and tell me what you want Sorahiko to do.” Nana reels him in; he moans at the heat and the slick tightness, and she gasps at the breach, whining as he pushes further in. “Tell me,” she repeated.

Sakumo is already out of breath. But he had entertained not a few dreams about Sorahiko and Nana and him altogether, so he figures he owes them to his fiancée.

#bnha #lemon #shimurastorino #shimura nana #torino sorahiko #gran torino #stand-in name for husbando shimura #shih.txt #asks #anon #things that might not have translated through the writing: #(1) sakumo believes he's being courted by nanahiko #(2) they were celebrating the shimura engagement in sorahiko's pov #he is a lightweight due to op projection #(3) it should go without saying but #my prime torino definitely wanted to get railed by both of them