i think i got possessed writing it help
imagine freminet, who's shy, introverted, and all around quiet with everyone, is secretly super kinky
he's more forward and outgoing during sex, his whole personality doing a complete 180
as a submissive, he wants to be tied up, gagged, bent over, spanked, edged, anything and he'll cry and beg you to continue like a little slut <3!
manhandle him, toss him on the bed, make him clean his cum off of you, use only your thigh to get off, put him in pretty lingerie, stockings, skirts, panties, a maid outfit, rip it off of him or fuck him in them until hes so fucked out he can't even think straight
make him wear vibrating panties in public and force him to walk around with cum dripping down his thighs then fuck him until you have to carry him home
he wants to have to call off of a mission because he can't even walk for days, wants the memory all over his body so mark and bruise him as you please, call him a toy a good boy a slut he'll agree while moaning so loud celestia could hear him
as a dominant he's confident and cocky, almost manipulative when he whispers into your ear as he plunges his cock into you like you're nothing but a toy to him
making you deepthroat his cock until you drool all over the floor and he calls you gross, pulling your hair roughly to cum on your face and then doing it again, this time fucking your mouth until he cums down your throat
stuffing your face in the pillows as he fills you over and over with his load, calling you a slut for enjoying it so much, wanting to see your pretty tears as you moan and pant underneath him
your thighs being covered in marks as he eats you out/sucks you off, it's not his fault your thighs are perfect to bite and suck on, you'll have to keep them covered unless you want everyone knowing the sweet diver isn't so sweet afterall
it doesn't matter whether he's submissive or dominant in the end, because he'll always be back being that sweetheart after everything, as he takes care of you or gets taken care of
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mmm thoughts of private executioner!blade, who is high priestess!kafka's bodyguard. well, more like her guard dog, as many fearfully seem to think.
he is aloof and gruff and rough around the edges, his name capturing it perfectly. when in the eyes of the public he either keeps to himself or stands ready by kafka's side, but when out he lurks in the shadows ready and waiting to carry out her death orders.
you, yourself, haven't had very many pleasant encounters with him... if you can even call them that. that being said, you haven't had many pleasant encounters with anyone. notorious for your... less than pleasant disposition, for a lack of better words, you have more people who'd rather see you run through than those you can call a friend.
in a dog-eat-dog world, you had no choice but to protect yourself. that, however, ultimately became your demise.
"oh? so you're the one sent to kill me. can't say i'm all that surprised."
standing before you is the feared executioner. his sword is tucked inside the sheath attached to his hip, that ever-present dark swirl of an aura stifling the air. he doesn't say anything, instead opting to silently stare down at your slumped and worn-out form. you find that his gaze doesn't bother you; rather, it's oddly comforting knowing someone will see you in your last moments.
"i've never asked you for a favour before, so this will be my first and last request for you." in all honesty, you're not sure where this chattiness stems from. considering you're currently in a holding cell under the crime of attempted murder towards kafka (a poisoned wine you were most definitely framed for, though you can't say you were surprised) and are awaiting for your turn to be under the guillotine for your public execution, you probably should be a little desperate towards the private executioner in front of you.
and yet, your mind is nothing if not peaceful.
with a huff, you relay your request, "can you make sure it's quick? painless, preferably, but i'd rather you just get it over and done with."
silence blankets the cold chambers. moisture accumulated along the cobble ceiling drip in a steady rhythm, like a clock ticking away the seconds. it's unnerving, almost, how there is not a single sound other than your impending countdown.
"why?" comes his low mutter, effectively causing a ripple within the stagnant air. you almost think you misheard him, but his following words cease the thought, "why won't you ask me for help?"
had it not been for the abrupt shuffle and clanging against the metal bars, you would have never looked up to see him in your last moments.
his scarred hands gripping the metal until his knuckles turn a ghastly white and blood dripping from his palms is what greets your sight. as your gaze slowly trails up, you almost let loose a laugh of disbelief; who would have thought blade, the infamous guard dog of the high priestess, could make such a desperate expression? one looking as though his whole world crumbled before him, in which he can do nothing but sit and watch.
(you will never know of the anger and desperation which coursed through his veins the moment he heard of your predicament. had it been anyone else, he wouldn't have cared. but you're not anyone else; you're you — unapologetically, wholeheartedly. it didn't take him long to hunt down those behind it, cutting them down without thought and putting an end to their miserable lives. he rushed as soon as he could when kafka gave him the order, no thoughts other than you, you, you, occupying his mind.
you will never know of the anguish which overcame him when he found you in such a state, your once healthy complexion and defiant gaze reduced to nothing but a tiredness which had always sat quietly behind your disposition. he's almost positive the muscle which unwillingly keeps him alive tore at the seems from your request, the acceptance in which you displayed causing his mind to go astray. even as he damn-near begs you to rely on him for help — to run away with him to some place no one knows of you and start anew there — you merely smile, resigned and peaceful.
you will never know of how much blade is willing to put on the line for you, for you never made it to see the complete and utter carnage he wrecked in your name.)
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Hirano to Kagiura light novel translation 4-1
Chapter 4: Fall.
Part 1
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It might be September by now, but the sun’s rays know no bounds.
Heat from the weather aside, the schoolhouse on the coattails of summer break is permeated with the fervor of the students.
Among all those in the athletic clubs who have undergone away games and training camps, there are many who have deepened both their tans and their virility. The sense of achievement characteristic of those who kept up with their exercise lives within their growth spurts.
Hirano’s roommate is, once again, one of them.
Kagiura, who’s gotten a bit taller, has gotten used to high school, completely devoid of the anxiety he’d seemed to have around the time he’d started school.
Since they’d met up over the summer, he’s become more and more relaxed, and Hirano can’t help but think of him as a beloved younger brother.
Wait, but younger brothers don’t do things like give you earrings, do they?
Hirano isn’t really in a position to judge, with no siblings of his own.
He’d found his original earrings while organizing his luggage after returning from Kagiura’s countryside home. They’d fallen into his school bag and hidden themselves beneath the stiff bottom plate.
What should I do about it? he’d wondered, but figured well, whatever, and didn’t bother switching out his new ones. He’ll keep them in the dorm just in case, but ultimately plans to keep using the ones Kagiura gave him.
As soon as the new term starts, preparations for the Cultural Festival are full speed ahead. Even the first years, who aren’t used to running events without the guidance of a faculty member, are gradually gaining opportunities to build character. The Executive Committee members have so many responsibilities that it has become difficult to carry out their studies without the cooperation of their classmates.
Kagiura also has the situation of being part of the ‘Sports Recommendation Squad’, and his grades are not up to snuff. It would be good if they don’t take a hit from his extracurricular responsibilities, but that will come down to his own efforts.
It’s not just the Executive Committee members who are swamped. The students in the culture clubs are also at their busiest, and with the autumn tournament right around the corner, there’s no way the athletics clubs can cut back on practices.
The sweltering nights have yet to abate; yet despite these conditions which could even be called cruel, most of the students are eagerly awaiting the Cultural Festival. You might even get away with saying all of them.
Because, after all, girls come to visit the cultural festival.
And even without that element, a festival is still a festival.
This is a time when the whole student body is restless, so the Disciplinary Committee will be on top of keeping everyone in line—or such is their public stance, but they won’t be too strict about moderating uniforms and hair styles.
In any case, a high proportion of the students will be in costumes on the day of the festival.
There's also at least one class cross-dressing every year.
This year, that’s right, it's the class that Hirano is unfortunately a part of. More specifically, it's been decided that Hirano will be one of the ones in drag.
Oiwa-san—a famous spirit who makes an appearance in the Yotsuya Kaidan.¹
There are many variations of the famous ghost story, in which Oiwa, the deceased wife, holding a grudge over the betrayal of her husband, Iemon, slaughters every last person involved. Apparently, they will be basing the makeup off of Tōkaidō Yotsuya Kaidan², which is popular among Hirano’s classmates.
He’d been shown reference images of the ghost, her face half disfigured and inflamed by poison, but the picture was nightmare fuel when viewed in the dark.
Supposedly it’s a style of Halloween makeup that’s been popular in recent years, but the trial makeup that had been applied to his arm after school in order to match the shade to his face had been truly grotesque.
This information is to be kept top secret until the last possible minute on the day of, in the interests of building hype.
While Hirano is putting away his homework, the door opens with a click.
His roommate is home.
It’s still bright outside, but the dining hall is just about to open for dinner.
“Hirano-san, I’m home!”
“Welcome home, Kagi-kun.”
These days, Kagiura usually gets a bit bashful in reply to Hirano’s greeting, seemingly tickled. So naive and innocent he must be, making such an expression with no fear of being misunderstood.
There were days they’d spent together, but summer vacation had been long.
There’s an air of a different kind of newness from the one there’d been in the period before they’d gotten used to sharing a dorm—Kagiura probably feels it too. At least, Hirano thinks so.
He feels closer to Kagiura compared to before. After all, he’s met his immediate and extended family, so of course they’d feel more intimate. It’s as if the part of himself that had been on guard while thinking about how to act as a senpai in his second year in the dorms has been absolved.
After Hirano had filled out his print-outs as if in competition with Kagiura, who’d spread out his homework in a frenzy, they’d headed to the dining hall a little later than usual.
It always takes him about 3 or 4 days to get back into the swing of dorm life.
Speaking of which, he thinks.
Before Kagiura moved into the dorms, Hirano had been quite nervous.
He’d talked to Hanzawa about it one time when the Disciplinary Committee had a meeting, and they’d brainstormed strategies to avoid scaring Kagiura off.
He’d also felt it would be a waste of his efforts if he was only friendly at the beginning of their time spent living together; thus, they’d come to the conclusion that it wouldn’t be too far out of Hirano’s depths to give him a nickname and use “-kun”.
Oh yeah, that’s right. At the beginning I called him Kagiura-kun.
He’s been calling his name every day, enough that he’d ended up shortening it, thinking it’s too long and clunky.
Kagiura has morning practice tomorrow, too, so there's no way he can let him oversleep.
Hirano got that, but there was something on his mind that just wouldn’t go away, so he asked before shutting off the lights.
".....Hey, um. I know you're working hard, so I don't wanna rain on your parade, but are your studies going all right? I haven't heard how your proficiency test went yet."
As the words leave his mouth, he thinks, what am I, a private tutor? and laughs drily to himself.
For the results of the test held right after summer break, a list ranking every student in their grade and the standard score were passed out to each person, the same as for the periodic exams.
For first years, they can be used as nothing more than a reference, but due to the breadth of the material covered, in some cases they might be used to determine which schools to apply to when compared to results from previous cram schools.
“...I just barely passed.”
“What’s the damage?”
“The teacher said, ‘You didn’t do badly enough that I need to pull you aside, but keep working hard’...”
“I see.”
Which is bad in and of itself, really.
Kagiura hangs his head dejectedly, and Hirano’s tempted to comfort him all the more for having seen the extent of his efforts, but his lack of preparation is unmistakable.
“Kagi-kun, after the cultural festival is over, you gotta step it up. If you miss some of the notes, get someone to show you theirs before the next day. Don’t let them build up. If you end up with a backlog of notes to take, you’re not gonna be able to understand them.”
Hirano knows deep down he’s probably worrying too much, but he keeps the expression on his face stern. The beginning is the key to everything. Among his classmates in the ‘Sports Recommendation Squad’ who, like Kagiura, are bad students, there are many whose grades plummeted after going on to their second year.
Who knew he’d become this much of a worrywort after becoming someone’s senpai?
“Yeah…Hirano-san, will you teach me again?”
“Sure. But you better bring back good grades.”
“I will! …By the way, can I ask you something?”
He ducks his head as he asks the question, a gesture with all the charm one would expect from someone as cute as him.
“What’s up?”
“When you were a first year, did the senpai you roomed with teach you how to study, too?”
“Nah, no way.”
“Hm…did you not get along?”
“It’s not that we didn’t get along, we just weren’t really that close. I wasn’t nearly as friendly a kouhai as you are.”
This is usually the case for dorm students. Hanzawa, contemptuous of homosexual relations, has a reputation in certain circles for having a finely-tuned gaydar and showing up to cockblock any time he senses anyone getting a little too close.³
His distaste isn’t unwarranted; apparently it has to do with his family, so even Hirano feels bad for him.
“...Does that make me special, then?”
“Why are you so happy about that?”
At Hirano’s jests of what are you, a dog? Kagiura breaks into a grin.
“Yeah. You know, I’m glad I’m your roommate, Hirano-san.”
Hirano smiles wryly; Kagiura’s got him wrapped around his little finger without a hint of insincerity.
With Kagiura cozying up to him like this, he doesn’t stand a chance.
*****
T/N: (1) Not sure I need to add more info on this to the story, but it's pretty interesting, so you can read more about it here.
(2) A movie based on the story made in 1959.
(3) Yall....idek what to say about this. I tried to keep the tone lighthearted but the original text literally says 'gay-hating Hanzawa' and describes his feelings as disgust. Idk why the writer put this but our boy is NOT like that 😭 I actually broke my vow of not looking at the official TL just to see how they handled this bit and they completely watered it down lmao. and tbh, yall know my dedication to accuracy but I WAS TEMPTED. While going back and forth about what I should do, I told my sister about it, and she suggested that Hanzawa doesn't actually hate gays, he just hates gay sex and will stand for none of it in his dorm so...we're going with that interpretation 💀🙃💀🙃
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