Wow Happy Anniversary! How about 3 and 6 for the Oracle boys?
(I'm getting hyped for Shigure already, let's go whiny boy!!)
3. Sunrise or sunset?
Hiroyuki — Sunset. Since he's usually at work well past when the sun goes down, seeing the sunset through anything but narrow office windows is a rare treat. That, and watching a pretty sunset while tipsy-drunk is as close to a relaxing experience as Hiroyuki gets.
Kyou — Sunset. Mornings are rough, with Kyou having to haul himself out of bed no matter how sick or achy he feels. It's hard to appreciate something like a sunrise when he's that miserable, so sunset is his "favorite" by default... not that he's too fond of either.
Xane — Sunrise. Even though he gets up at an inhumanly early enough hour to see it every day, daylight slowly creeping into the world always feels peaceful to him. There's something hopeful about the sunrise, so seeing it is a pleasant part of his morning routine.
6. Rural living or urban living?
Hiroyuki — Urban, if only because it's what he knows. Hiroyuki feels alone enough in the city, where there are thousands of people nearby at any given moment— a rural environment would surely feel even more lonely, right? Especially with no family or friends...
Kyou — Answered here!
Xane — Urban. Living somewhere rural might be better in a number of ways, but Xane worries that he'd be much too bored. His job may be miserably stressful, but at least the constant "something to do" it provides keeps him from being alone with his mind.
Ryoushi and Kyou for 4 & 6 please and thank you! (I don't know how many ocs and questions we can put in one ask >.<)
4. Neon or pastel?
Ryoushi — Either. He likes bright, colorful shades best; not quite as striking as neons, but not as light as pastels, either. Cheerful colors that bring up the mood in a room, if even a little bit. If he had to pick, though... pastels are probably the safer option.
Kyou — Pastel. Or even better, dull neutrals. Bright colors give him headaches if he has to look at them for too long, and wearing anything too colorful just makes him look even more washed-out and sickly. Spare him from eye-searing neons, please.
6. Rural living or urban living?
Ryoushi — Urban. ...probably. He's never lived anywhere rural before, but an unfamiliar environment sounds like yet another scenario where he'd be left floundering, unsure of what's expected of him and how to succeed. The city sucks, but at least it's familiar.
Kyou — Rural. He's never had a chance to try it, of course, so reality might not be as good as he hopes, but there are plenty of stories about the countryside being good for people's health. That, and "peace and quiet" sounds like paradise by now.
Prompt: Hiroyuki + a childhood friend and a marriage proposal that he never expected them to take seriously.
Hiroyuki wakes up to someone beside him. He’s in his shitty apartment. That’s the first thing he takes in. And... that’s a good sign. Probably. Even as drunk as he’s sure he was last night, at least he didn’t make the mistake of following the wrong person home and getting stuck.
But there’s still a warm body right next to his, and when Hiroyuki dares to roll over... it’s to a face that he remembers all too well.
The memories come crashing down hard. An old friend came to visit last night. He tried to drink a little to drown out his anxieties, to try to make himself a little less of an awkward, painfully stressed-out mess. And. Well.
It clearly didn’t end so well for him.
An instant later, when he curls up a little more into himself, Hiroyuki catches sight of his hand... and the ring around a very particular finger. His heart almost stops. What did he do to you? There’s no way that thing would be there because of something you chose. No, he had to have spiraled once he was drunk— and while Hiroyuki’s known himself to make stupid decisions when alcohol clouds his system, forcing some kind of engagement is new.
Panic settles in his chest and takes root in his lungs. He did this to a friend, probably the only person he knows who was truly willing to visit him and give him a chance. Hiroyuki whines. He needs to be quiet. You’ll hear him. If you wake up, he’ll have to face the mistakes he’s made, and then, he’ll have to see someone who might have cared look at him with disgust.
And then, you roll over and pull him into your arms.
Hiroyuki almost shrieks. His whole body stiffens up like a coiled spring at the sudden contact, and it’s only through sheer willpower that he avoids letting out some kind of pathetic sound. You hum and squeeze him tighter.
“Mmm... it’s nice to wake up to you,” you giggle. “I’m so happy you said yes! I was really worried there that you might not accept.”
“Wh-What!?” It’s undignified to the max, but still all he can say.
“Marrying me. That’s why I came last night, remember? I’m here because we promised... and yeah, you had to get drunk to calm down enough to properly talk to me, but that’s okay. You said yes.”
Your adoring tone is coming close to giving him a heart attack. There’s no way someone could be talking about his sorry self in such a way. But just the same, when he fights to think through the mild hangover clouding his head, Hiroyuki stumbles upon the memory of you saying something very similar years ago, back when the two of you were in high school.
“Y-You tracked me down for that—!?” he sputters incredulously.
“Yeah. I was serious. I needed to wait until I was sure I could take care of you, but I meant what I said back then. And you’re okay with it, right? It’s like... I really do want to make you happy with this.”
“There’s n-no way you’re serious,” he squeaks. “Y-You can’t—, this is m-me we’re talking about. I’m a drunk! I w-work a shit job and, a-and there’s no way I can afford to be a husband, fuck—” He’s rambling now, panicking even more, and Hiroyuki can’t get a grip on himself for long enough to shut up the parts of himself that are insistent he feels guilt.
“Don’t worry about money. I’m really sorry I took so long to get back to you. I needed to make sure I could do things properly, so... I can take care of things. You’re so sweet.” You reach forward and cup his cheek in your palm. “The same precious friend I knew way back then. I’ve missed you. So if you want to and you’re really okay with it, marry me. I won’t make you. You can take that ring off right now if you’d rather.”
The way you’re looking at him is terrifying. There’s so much genuine adoration in your eyes that Hiroyuki is pretty sure he could cry. Or that he might be about to. He remembers you vaguely— most of his past has sunk into a haze from stress and too much to drink, but you’re still there.
His own family doesn’t want to see him. Even growing up, no one expected him to ever bring home a spouse. If you marry him, you won’t have any in-laws. He doesn’t have any money or assets to share. All Hiroyuki has is his cramped, dark apartment and the few possessions scattered throughout it. You claim that you’re capable of handling everything, but why would you want to? What has he done to earn something like that? You don’t get anything out of it.
But the thought of someone actually wanting to have him for a husband is making Hiroyuki’s throat go tight and his chest heat up. He used to dream about that kind of thing, back before he realized it’d never happen.
Even if it’s an obvious trick, can he really make himself say no?
“I...” He hesitates, but desperation soon gets the better of him. “I-I’ll marry you. Please, um, p-please take care of me.”
It’s all he can do to whisper that plea and look away. Meeting your eyes while he still feels close to combusting is just too much. What if you take it back now and laugh in his face? Or what if he sees disgust in your eyes that someone as pitiful as him dared to assume you were serious?
“Aaah, thank you! Thank you so much!” Instead of any of that, you shriek with happiness and pull his tense body even closer to yours. You bury your face against his neck and laugh with delight. “I promise, I’ll make you so happy. I’ll do everything to take care of you. You’ll never have to be alone again.” Your grip is tight and there’s conviction in your voice. Hiroyuki is so stunned that all he can do is lie there and fight back the insistent tears.
. . .
And it does indeed turn out to be true. You marry him.
The wedding isn’t as terrifying as Hiroyuki is expecting. You keep it small, in part because of his nerves and in part because it’s not like he has any family who’d even show up. In no time at all, he’s a married man.
Maybe a couple of nights after, though, Hiroyuki’s nerves are eating him alive. Even though you went through with it, there are parts of his head that are utterly convinced this can’t be real. It’s legal. There’s a ring on his finger and you signed the papers and everything, but he still can’t stop feeling like he’ll wake up to you laughing in his face for falling for it.
So when the two of you are going to bed (you share a bed now, in your apartment), Hiroyuki brings himself to ask the question.
“A-Are you sure you want this...?”
Without alcohol in his system, it’s hard to speak. You’ve slowly been getting him to drink less, and while that does mean he feels less like shit all the time, it also means that he’s in a constant state of nervousness with nothing to dull the strain. Asking something like that is way too hard.
“What do you mean? This as in... being with you?” you ask. Hiroyuki nods and your nose wrinkles up. “Seriously? I married you, you goof. How would I not want to be with you? I love you. You know that by now.”
As you talk, you get closer and closer to him, scooting over until you’re in his space. Hiroyuki’s breath grows tight. Your bed is bigger and warmer than his futon ever was, and sharing it with someone feels entirely different than sleeping alone. You’re always holding him, getting closer and closer until he’s lost in your touch and not feeling quite so scared. This time, like many others, you lean in and kiss him. Your mouth is soft against his, and in no time you’re pawing at his shirt with reckless desire and need.
He doesn’t resist. When you’re like this, it’s better to just enjoy it... and try to block out the negative things still hovering in his head. Focusing on the feeling of your lips trailing down his jaw is better than paying attention to the persistent thought that he’ll never, never be good enough.
You suck a mark into the space just below his jaw. If he was still working at Oracle, Hiroyuki would have had to squeak at you not to do it where he couldn’t keep such a thing hidden. Now, when you’re helping him search for a new job that won’t tear him apart and leave him in pieces, Hiroyuki has no excuse. It feels good. He’s hard in no time.
Legs rubbing together to try to get any kind of friction, Hiroyuki arches up into yet another bite. You’re down to his collarbone, his shirt is gone, and he feels like he’s starting to burn up under your persistent touch.
“H-Hey, why are y-you being so... affectionate...?” Hiroyuki mumbles. His dick is twitching embarrassingly in his underwear, and if you keep this up, there’s a good chance he’ll come before you even manage to touch him.
“To prove that I love you and want you to be my husband forever,” you say bluntly, as if blurting it out doesn’t faze you for a second.
“Th-That’s—!” Hiroyuki starts, but promptly gets cut off when your mouth finds one of his nipples. The sudden shock of heat makes him twist and squeak, his cock pulsing out a shamefully large drop of pre-come from that much stimulation alone. His hips buck uselessly into thin air.
It doesn’t stop. You cover his chest in marks and bites and slick trails of your saliva left behind from kisses and the drag of your tongue. You suck and bite at his nipples until they’re pink and flushed, pebble-hard, and so sensitive that Hiroyuki swears he’s minutes away from spilling in his pants like a teenager. He wants you to touch him, but begging is just too much, and anyway, how is it his place to ask for more than this?
One of your hands finds his thigh. You rub long, slow lines over his skin, up to the juncture of his thigh and pelvis, where the aching bulge of his cock is just inches away. There’s no way you can’t see the (slowly growing) wet spot where his tip rests. Where he’s leaked so much it’s visible. Hiroyuki’s face burns at the thought... but his dick twitches once again.
“Do you want my hands or my mouth?” you ask, smiling so fondly it hurts. “Either one is fine. I want to make you feel good.”
Hiroyuki opens his mouth to say that you can do whatever you’d like to him, but he closes it slowly when his thoughts stall. He... He’s allowed to ask. You’ll do what he requests, and you won’t be angry with him for it.
“Your hand, p-please...?” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. This is beyond embarrassing. And— while he’s come to adore the feeling of your throat around him, there’s something special about your gentle fingers stroking him off like he deserves all of the kindness you can possibly offer.
“Of course.”
His underwear is down a second later, and your fingers curl loosely around his shaft. You don’t tease. Instead, you stroke him at the perfect pace, only breaking the rhythm to kiss him stupid as he whines.
This is bliss. He’s in someone else’s bed where he’ll fall asleep by their side. He’ll wake up to your face in the morning, and every morning after that. There’s someone who will touch him whenever he wants it and make sure he doesn’t break down in tears after he comes and what would have been loneliness sinks in. You care enough to keep him from drinking himself to death, and you give him all of the world you can offer.
“I-I love you,” he moans. “So much. Thank you f-for wanting me—, I’m so grateful, I-I really am. I’m happy to be your husband.”
Hiroyuki buries his face against your shoulder after that. He comes in your hand within a minute to the sound of you saying you love him in return.
Prompt: Look, just let me give Kyou a spa-day, just pamper him to death and force him to have a relaxing time. I have some more angsty ideas for later, but let's have some fluff for now.
Apparently, you're going to force him to relax.
At least, that's what seems to be happening.
Kyou knows that his health is a problem. He's been slowly getting sicker for the past five years while he's been working with Oracle, and in all honesty, he knows he's headed down a bad path. But there's no reason for you to worry about him so much. He's not that important. You aren't going to be able to solve anything, so why bother trying?
Today's his day off. As in, the day that Kyou's pretty sure you got for him via paying off one of his bosses. It's the first day off he's had in longer than he can remember. If he'd been alone, Kyou would have spent it face-down in his bed, sleeping like the dead.
Instead, you have him over at your apartment— far nicer than his own. You're also making him take a bath, which apparently entails you having to be in the room with him.
It's awkward enough to be unclothed in front of you. Even though the soapy water (thanks to your lavender-scented bubble bath) hides anything too embarrassing, Kyou knows that you can see just how skinny he's getting and how pale. You can see how the line of his collarbone is as sharp as a blade, how his arms are stick-thin, how every one of his vertebrae stands out in uneven lumps protruding from his skin.
"Is it okay if I wash your hair?" Your voice jolts Kyou out of his pessimistic spiraling.
"If you want to," he sighs. It's not that he doesn't want you to, not exactly. It's more like the idea of you getting any closer is kind of embarrassing.
Kyou had thought that he'd outgrown the feeling of shame by now thanks to his years of crushing his pride to scrape by at work, but apparently not. When it comes to you, he always feels like he should be better than he is.
Someone like him doesn't make a very good boyfriend.
The next thing Kyou feels is a hand on his shoulder.
"Quit thinking sad things. I can tell by your face that you're being all down on yourself." Because you're too kind for anyone's good, you lean in and kiss Kyou's cheek.
Kyou feels himself flush. On your instruction, he turns in the bathtub so that his back is facing you. This requires tucking his legs up to his chest, which... makes him feel weirdly small. Kyou buries his face against his knees. He's embarrassed in a way that's hard to process. The idea of you washing his hair, of that much contact, is intimidating.
But within the moment, your hands are in his wet hair, pulling it back and out of his face. The feeling of your fingers brushing against his neck makes Kyou shiver. With a squirt of shampoo into your palm, you rub your hands together, then bring them to Kyou's hair. First, all you do is rub it in. Kyou's hair goes down to his shoulder blades by now. He hasn't had it cut in a while, so there's plenty for you to work with.
By the time you start massaging his scalp, Kyou is already starting to feel dizzy— and not from the heat. His body heaves out a dry little cough. It's the kind that hurts.
With a worried hum, you drag your fingertips along the sides of Kyou's head, right behind his ears. It feels so good that Kyou can't help but sigh. He's glad he's not facing you right now. He's glad that you can't see his face. Slowly, his eyes flutter closed.
"Alright, gonna rinse it out."
What gets Kyou's attention this time is you reaching up for the showerhead. Rinsing his hair out is a warm, spine-tingling process that involves a lot more touching.
Kyou thinks that you might be spending a little more time on it than is necessary.
When you're done, Kyou feels a lot like he's melting. His breathing is still catching a little bit, like usual, but the heat and steam are doing him some good. He feels a little bit less sick than usual... but at the same time, overwhelmed by how much touching you're doing.
"Can I wash your face next? If that's okay?" Your smile is way too bright.
"...why do you want to?" Kyou turns to face you. He knows his voice sounds dead.
"Well... I wanted today to be kind of a spa day for you. As best as I can do. I got the lavender-scented stuff just for you, I've planned this and a bunch of other things, and... I just want to see you relax a bit." You explain it so easily, as if you're not just wasting your time. Kyou digs his nails into his palm. He's too tired to say no.
"Do what you want. If you want to spoil me so much... fine." It's stupid. Getting attached is foolish. You'll be done with a pawn like him in no time, moved on to someone better. But... for now, Kyou just wants to feel your hands on him a little bit more.
Your expression is so happy that it almost hurts to look at.
"Great! When you get out of the bath, I have this aromatherapy stress-relief lotion that I got for you, and I can brush your hair out when it dries. I have face cream too, to help with the dark circles, and once we've done all that, I got a mystery movie for us to watch— and plenty of snacks!" You sound so excited. Just listening to you is making Kyou feel sort of overwhelmed. People aren't supposed to be this nice to him. It's not normal.
But the next thing Kyou knows, you're tipping his head up to face you with two fingers under his chin. You have a washcloth with a little dribble of mint-scented face-cleaner on it, and... having you look him in the eyes like this is making it hard to breathe.
For reasons that aren't just because of his lungs.
Prompt: Could you write a short thing for Xane getting a bj?
"Y-You don't have to do this..." Xane stutters. At this point, he knows he's red-faced.
"I want to. Y'know, seeing you flustered and moaning is gonna be awfully cute~" You say it so easily that Xane can't help but groan.
He covers his face. His pants and underwear are off (he couldn't stand having his shirt off on top of that) and you're kneeling between his spread thighs. He wants to cross his legs and hide his growing erection even somewhat, but with you right there, that's kind of impossible.
He's already hard. It's pathetic. You haven't even touched him yet, and his cock is already swelling against his belly, red and drooling just a little bit of pre-come.
The longer he sits on the edge of the bed, internally debating if he can handle what you're about to do, the more panicked he starts to feel. He's always been prone to anxiety. Having you that close to his cock, staring right up at him with a smirk... it's nerve-wracking. Xane feels his breathing start to quicken— a panic attack incoming.
"Hey, Xane. You're okay. We don't have to do this if you don't want to." Your hand rubs the outer side of his thigh soothingly. "Calm down, sweetheart. I'm not going to force you."
Your touch does something to snap him out of it. Xane sucks in a tense breath. Really... he wants this. It's just that the very idea of your mouth on him makes him feel like he's going to come in seconds. That, and it's embarrassing to have you looking at what's between his legs so closely. Way too close to the kind of fantasies he's had that fill him with guilt.
"It's... it's okay. You can do it. I'm just nervous, you know? Like usual." Xane gives a tense little laugh at his own self-deprecating joke. "I trust you."
In response, you kiss the stand-out line of his hipbone, just inches from his cock.
Xane sucks in a long, sharp breath.
"I'll do it if you're okay with it. But, Xane, honey... I'm going to make you scream."
Just hearing that makes Xane's cock twitch against his belly pathetically. Suddenly, he's way more desperate than nervous. He swallows. You're really going to put your mouth on him. You're on your knees because you want to see him feel good. It's enough to make him squirm. This is his first time getting anything like this.
You get one hand around his cock, angling it down toward your mouth. Xane tenses. He can't stop staring, even though he knows it's just making him all the more flustered. His cock gives an aborted little twitch in your grip.
And then, you're kissing the tip of him, soft and wet-lipped. A little lick follows, and Xane knows, knows, that he's going to last for maybe two minutes, tops.
You trace your tongue up the underside of him in a long, slow, heated path. Xane whines. His fingers dig into the sheets, his hips twitch, and he feels himself tremble at the pleasure. Another lick draws out a little moan— sharper this time when you linger for a moment on a sensitive spot just below the head. This is too good. He's already dripping, wet all over your tongue. The idea that you can taste him makes Xane want to combust then and there.
From there, you draw his foreskin back, pressing your tongue up against his tip. Xane groans and twitches all over. He barely resists the urge to thrust up into your mouth. You close your lips around the head of him, and he moans even more loudly. He can feel himself drooling already.
The next thing he knows, you take over half of him into your mouth.
The heat is incredible— the softness and suction even better. Xane squeals, his head tipping back as he tries to stay upright. Already, he doesn't know how much he can take. You draw back, up and down, wet and soft and perfect against his tender skin.
Slowly, you take him down to the base. When all of his cock is engulfed in your mouth, Xane can only pant and whimper. You're not moving yet, but just being held there is pushing him to the edge. He wants to thrust, wants to take what he needs and come already, but he can't do that. You're being kind enough to spoil him, so he has to be good.
You draw back, leaving just his tip inside your mouth as you breathe. Your tongue presses up against that spot again, rubbing cruelly at the place that makes him feel like screaming.
It doesn't take much after that. You hum lightly against him, the vibrations shocking him down to the core. Xane shrieks. He thrusts up once, sharp and quick, then it's over. His orgasm hits him hard, and he spills into your mouth way too quickly.
Xane watches through bleary eyes as you swallow all of it— every drop. Just seeing that makes him moan. You still haven't pulled off. Your mouth is still on him, hot and slick, and—
"A-Ah—!"
The noise that leaves him is humiliating.
You lick at his cock a couple more times. Xane doesn't tell you to stop. You're the one doing him a favor, so he has no place to say no. The overstimulation so soon after coming has him whimpering in short, sharp bursts, but he can do it. He can be good.
Then, you're pulling off at last. Xane collapses from how he'd tensed up, flopping back on the bed, and breathing hard. He didn't realize he'd gotten so wound up.
"Did that feel god?" you ask laughingly. Xane sees you lick your lips.
"Y-Yes! Um, thank you." He doesn't know what he's supposed to say. You just sucked him off, he came in like two minutes, and you still act happy. This is foreign territory.
"Kiss me?"
Xane gets himself up on his elbows. You crawl up onto the bed and press your lips to his. Xane tastes himself in your mouth— but that only makes him moan. He wants to make you feel good too. He's thankful, so thankful, and feels surprisingly far from panicking like he would have expected. You always do make him feel safe.
