#Tw.sexism

[bokutoslittlebird]

Request: 😭anyway father in law osamu fucking his sons wife smth like that (im Sharing heile typing this) just imagine him taking u everywhere around the house and his son not suspecting anything bc ur just helping out his old dad. And even though he is older now he’s still a pussy pleaser with breeder balls

Dilf Osamu hits differently. Also I’m not tagging it as incest but should I? Also sorry this was late, time slipped up on me

Warnings: female genitalia, reader is referred to as “wife”, age gap, infidelity, Osamu’s wife is implied to be out of the picture/dead, sexism (brief), “traditional roles”, alcohol mentioned, creampie, degradation, overstimulation

Father-in-Law Osamu

Coming up to the older Miya household was always hassle, being forced to handle your mother-in-law who happened to never see her son in a bad light and trying to avoid your father-in-law so you didn’t end up in a conversation you didn’t want to be in. Of course, Osamu was always a better option that his annoyance of a wife, but this visit would be different since she’s out of the picture now. Just a little visit to make sure the older man could take care of himself without a wife to clean up after him, or so your husband said.

In actuality, your husband seemed more than happy to drop you into his father’s lap, leaving you two to chat as he tended to the outdoor chores, of which there were only a couple. Even in the evening, after you served dinner, Osamu helped you clean up and offered to do the dishes, but your husband couldn’t be bothered and took a seat on the couch, putting on a game show. The looks Osamu gave you were ones of pity, but you didn’t even bother, remembering how vicious his wife would get when you mentioned anything remotely bad about her precious son. Osamu wasn’t as bad, but he didn’t do anything either, just sat back and let it happen.

Late night tea always helped you sleep, especially with a cold bed awaiting you. To no one’s surprise, your husband lay on the couch, snoring away and oblivious to the world. Thankfully, Osamu had already turned in for the night, so he didn’t witness your disgusted face when you saw your husband on the couch, a beer held loosely in his hand and another empty bottle on the table. Drank himself to sleep on the couch, again.

“Seems like you’re off on your own, again,” Osamu’s voice said, making you swivel to see the man himself, clad in what you believe to be his sleepwear, leaning against the kitchen doorway. “Seems like you’re fulfilling the role of a mother more than a wife,”

“Oh, please. I’d never be his mother. Could never compare,” you say the last part, bitterly, then apologize, trying to track back. Awfully rude to smear the reputation of his ex-wife, with him right there.

“No, no, don’t worry. I know what you mean. She was furious the day we received notice of the wedding date. She, uh, didn’t let him grow up into a good man, I’m aware,”

“Well, at least someone in this family is aware,” you gave a forced smile, still stirring you tea as steam rises from it. “I should probably drink this and get on to bed. I’m sure he’ll expect breakfast in the morning, after all,”

“Y’know, you don’t have to do all this,”

“I don’t need another argument over not being a proper wife. If my parents weren’t insistent, I’d have filed divorce papers,” you then look at him, then shrug. “Sorry, bit of a harsh note to end on,”

“Well, if you ever need somewhere to get away, come on down. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you helping out his old man and you can sit down all day, I won’t mind,”

“Hm, I might have to take you up on that offer,” you gave him another smile, one that wasn’t forced as he let you pass.

That one offer changed your life. You didn’t even need to think of divorce when your thoughts were only full of spending time with Osamu. The first time you visited alone, you expected him to actually want you working, but he actually made you food and did the dishes himself, letting you make yourself at home. After a couple more visits, you couldn’t help but realize you felt more comfortable around him than you expected, but it was welcomed in your miserable life. You don’t know why you ended up spilling your guts one night, complaining that your husband often went to a nearby bar at night, leaving you unsatisfied and then he’d come home smelling like alcohol and fruity perfume, but you were just tired of dealing with the same old bullshit. You were an unsatisfied wife and Osamu was a lonely man, it seemed almost natural for you two to end up tangled beneath the sheets.

Although, you hardly ever started in the bed or even in the bedroom.

“Such a pretty thing my son has, yet he’s too stupid to realize it,” Osamu grunts right beside your ear, all while he drills his cock into you. His grip on your hips might be bruising, but you’d never tell him to stop, not when he’s putting stars in your vision with each hard thrust he assaults you with. Each drag of his cock against your walls makes your wails and cries even louder, fingers digging into his shoulders as that’s the only thing keeping you grounded. At this point, he’ll end up breaking the couch and need to get a new one if his thrusts don’t cease in ferocity. “Dumb little thing, can’t even think straight,”

“No, no, no,” you blabber, throwing your head back as he rubs against that sweet spot deep inside you that has your eyes rolling. Clenching around him, he just chuckles as one hand leaves your hip, going between your legs to rub at your clit. Even the briefest of touches has your legs shaking, back arching as you grit your teeth from another onslaught of spine tingling pleasure. Drool spills from your lips as you open your mouth, trying to say something and ending up with nothing, just more high pitched moans.

Even as the table buzzes, your phone lighting up with your husband’s name, you’re oblivious as you ride your high on Osamu’s cock, completely locking your legs around his waist as he keep his hips moving, making sure you’re not denied a single second of pleasure. He doesn’t need to ask where you want his cum, you always want it pumped inside of you after you felt what it was like for the first time. Painting your walls white once more, he makes sure to go as deep as he can, bringing your face forward as he gives you a deep kiss, your phone finally going silent.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, you won’t even think about leaving,” he whispers, but he knows you’re not planning on going anywhere anytime soon, not with 20 missed calls from your husband and his cum gushing from the sides of your abused cunt.

[quirklessidiot]

some asks you can look back to while going through the story! so u guys can read through them, theyre pretty much omakes/extras/weird what if au’s hehehe (like y/n’s p.o.v, lifestyle, gojo’s looks etc. etc.) this is a long ass list but theyre pretty good asks  in case u guys get confused about the technique or something, here ya go. Also it gets with the character studies of where I base Satoru from HAHHSHSH spoilers for the series btw!

TIMELINE FOR THE SERIES! Gojo estate . new home . bedroom Garden’s! Tanabata inspiration gojo satoru’s description (manga) y/n’s kimono’s and modern wear . nightgowns idk . yukata’s . jewelry . sendai trip gojo satoru & women what happens when y/n gives birth to a girl? y/n’s p.o.v regarding concubines/harems gojo satoru’s family that one nightwear scene of gojo (thicc) teenage gojo p.o.v and marriage  sexism in y/n’s clan and her relationship with them . one . two . father inspo . ren inspo . y/n’s clan face claims in 2D virginity testing; what is it?

wedding rings whats is the minazuki technique? one. two. three what if : toji met y/n? . non-magic au . gojo’s harem . pregnancy au . Y/N cheating . naoya & Y/N marriage Y/N’s hobbies Y/N’s curse energy  one . two  Repercussions of a minazuki user dying a natural death/the hands of another Y/N’s MBTI naoya zen’in . one . two . three megumi & y/n y/n & grandpa & why she was married off a bit late Y/N and Granny L/N . one . two . the sad life  the bridal market . one . two  Y/N & Kenjaku geto & y/n . one . two . three why i won’t be writing for the shibuya arc/  one . two . three . four .

[dd122004dd]

The Princess and the Cad

Okay, so we got our first request EVER!

So the request was for two OCs of @warmed-sunstone-blog namely Linda Kirk and John Perry. Thank you for placing your characters into my hands. I hope I’ve done them justice!

Summary: Set in 1960s America. Linda Kirk, a young bright college student studying Science crosses paths with John Perry, the owner of a chain of factories. When her father names her brother as his successor will the two be able to put their differences aside? Or will their opposing personalities tear them apart and doom the Kirk family business.

Warnings: Sexism, alcoholism, addiction issues, mentions of degrading behavior towards women and African-Americans, strained parental bonds, name calling and cursing, mixing alcohol with medication, historic inaccuracies, mentions of illegal activities.

Meanings:

Call girl- prostitute

Chuckle head- a fool

Cad- a person who treats others unfairly

Air-head- a mindless or stupid person

Floozy- a young woman with loose morals

Mooch- (here) to obtain something without paying for it

~

Introducing, Miss Linda Kirk!

Introducing, Mr John Perry!

~

It was the roaring 60′s. The years in which the younger generation forged their own identities, ideas and fashion trends, separating themselves from their ancestors. It was chaotic and beautiful at the same time. The children of humanity rising against the archaic ideals of their predecessors.

But, where did she fit in all this chaos? In this psychedelic rainbow of ideas, she was still figuring out her place in the world, still trying to etch her name into history, she was unlike most of the women of her generation, because we all know, well-behaved women rarely make history. 

~

Linda Kirk made her way up the stone stairs of her university. The structure towered over many in all it’s architectural glory. It’s stained glass windows streamed colorful light into the corridors.

Her heels clacked on the marble floors as she made her way towards her first class, her satchel slung across her chest, resting at her hip, slightly jingling as she reached her first class of the day before taking a seat at the front. 

Her fellow classmates, who were mostly male shuffled into the class, most ignoring her presence but some sending disgusted looks towards her, for her mere presence in the class. She merely smiled at the glares, eyes sparkling dangerously.

Soon the professor shuffled in, starting the lecture and taking all eyes off her.

It was quite frankly hard, being one of the few women in a University, even more so she was pursuing Science, majoring in Engineering which made her the only woman in the elite university to be pursuing what was considered to be a ‘manly’ subject. She excelled in her studies as well, which further painted a target on her back. 

The bell rang, dismissing the students. She slowly packed her bag, waiting for all the students to exit the class before zooming to her next class.

After the last class of the day was over, she was bone-tired. Her satchel felt heavier and as she entered the backseat of her car, she sighed in exhaustion. Her pink lace skirt spread over the back-seat as she buckled herself in and the car started to move. Her driver, Bill, gazed at her sympathetically. 

“Exhausting day, ma’am?”

“Yes, Bill. But thankfully the summer vacations are starting up soon so I will be able to relax a bit before diving back into my homework. Enough about me, how are your children? And Claire?”

“They are doing quite well, thank you for asking madam.”

The rest of the ride continued in relative silence. As they neared the Kirk mansion, Bill said, “I heard your mother is organizing a dinner party for one of your father’s business associates. Just thought you might want a forewarning, before you’re swept up in the hurricane that is Jessica Kirby.”

Sighing, she said, “Thank you Bill, for the heads-up. Here’s a 20 dollar ‘bill’, spend it wisely,” chuckling as she exited the expensive car.

Her family was incredibly wealthy, thanks to their company which designed and manufactured luxury as well as economically purchasable cars, that way they served both the elite as well as the every-day-man. Their engines were well-built and ran for years. 

The business was started by her grand-father, Walter Kirby, who had a great love for engines. His friends called him the ‘Machine whisperer’ but his true passion was cars so he started his own company, but it was only truly made successful when his son, David Kirby took over the business. He lacked his father’s knowledge of machinery but made up for it with his prowess in business. Soon their business became a house-hold brand all thanks to David Kirby’s business mind.

Linda, however inherited her grandfather’s love for machinery as well as her father’s business mind, she was quick to find errors and correct them and had foresight that almost put her father to shame. It was a pity she was not born a man.

~

She entered the mansion, seeing a flurry of servants carrying chairs, trays, curtains and a plethora of other things, all rushing to be ready for the master’s guests. 

Her mother shimmied towards her, a crystal glass of bourbon in her hand as her short styled curls bounced with every movement, her heels clacking against the marble floor as she made her way to her.

“Darling! You’re back!” she exclaimed.

“Hello mother.”

“Your father is having guests over tonight and he just told me! I don’t have enough time to prepare! He thinks it’s so easy to plan magnificent dinners, I’ll see how well he can do if he were in my place,” she harrumphed, losing her train of thought. 

Taking a large sip from the glass she said, “You’ll know one day, when you’re married. Anyway! I’ve instructed Mary-Lou to set out a gorgeous dress for dinner for you. Make sure to smile, God you always look so depressed with that sullen face of yours. Also, tell Angela to put some make up on you, nothing too heavy, we don’t need you looking like a call girl.” Saying this, her mother sauntered away to yell at a servant.

Grinding her teeth at her mother, she sullenly climbed up the mansions’s carpeted stairs towards her bedroom. Her mother had always been negligent, preferring her younger brother, Roy, over her. She was the proverbial black sheep of the family, because and I quote, ‘A woman should be married by the age of 20 at the most’ and, ‘You’re disgracing the family by going to school like a man’ and her personal favorite was, ‘What are you going to do with that degree? It’s not like you’ll be allowed to work. Quite frankly you’re wasting your father’s money ’.

She entered her bedroom, seeing the beautiful dress Mary-Lou had set out for her. It was ironic how Mary-Lou was more of a mother to her than her own mother. 

The dress was a beautiful white with light pink lace on the flow-y bottom of the dress. Next to the dress was a jewelry box, a pair of frilly white gloves with pink edging and a pair of soft pink Mary Jane’s with a 3 inch heel.

~

Dinner time rolled around faster than she expected, she sat alone in her room awaiting a servant to call for her. She’d spent hours with two maids twisting, curling and gelling her hair into place while Angela artfully painted her face with make-up, accentuating her features.

Their butler, William called her down as their guest was about to arrive.

She descended the stairs just as the front door opened and behind her father stood a man with eyes as green as a forest. He wore an unbuttoned black trench coat, a suit vest with silver buttons that shone against the black of his outfit as well as a black button-up shirt and black dress pants and a pair of polished Oxford shoes. He had bright red hair that stood in contrast to his deathly visage.

She felt herself frowning at the stranger before her mother nudged her sharply, reminding her to pull her lips into a smile.

Her father introduced the family, the strange man was Mr John Perry who owned a chain of factories that specialized in manufacturing car parts.

He shook her brother’s hand with much enthusiasm, kissed her mother’s knuckles, whispering an ‘enchante’ which made her mother trill with delight, he also kissed her gloved knuckles which she begrudgingly placed in his hand.

Over dinner they made polite conversation, getting to know the stranger whom their father had called home. Her mother then burst out a question that made Linda freeze in her seat, “So, John are you married?”

“No, Mrs Kirk, unfortunately I have not found a woman who sings to me.”

“Oh how romantic! But surely you have your eye on someone, a well-mannered young man of 29 like yourself.”

“Unfortunately I have not had much free time on my hands to find myself a wife.”

“How tragic,” her mother said.

“Dad, so what are you and Mr Perry working on together?” Roy asked his father, curious about the business he would one day take over.

“Well, Roy, John here has come to me with a rather profitable venture. He’s asking me to license the production of our carburetor exclusively to him. If we’re able to produce the carburetor in the United States then we will be able to save millions, and of course, support American businesses,” their father replied with much glee.

At his statement she froze, the carburetor was an incredibly delicate piece of machinery that had a large room for errors. If there were any errors in construction, the car would not be able to start and it would be very expensive for them to replace. It was also not cheap to produce and they had always imported the part from Europe which guaranteed them with top quality merchandise as well as enabled them to sell their cars at a higher price.

“What a marvelous endeavor, father,” she was broken out of her thoughts by her brother’s voice.

“Mr Perry, you have never been to our mansion before, how about after dinner, I can give you a tour of our home. I’m sure you’ll find our personal gallery to be quite exquisite,” Linda said, sweetening her tone despite the venom she felt brewing in her chest.

“I would love that, Miss Kirby,” he replied, flashing his teeth.

~

After dinner was done she led the stranger away, towards the gallery. It was on the other side of the mansion so it would take them a while to get there.

As soon as she made sure that they were out of ear-shot she pounced.

“Miss Linda might I say your home is magnificent.”

“Oh, cut the bull-shit I know what you’re up to, you snake.”

“Oh really, Miss Kirby and pray tell, what is it ‘I’m up to’?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, you know well and good how important the carburetor is to the functioning of the car. Getting my father to license production to you is akin to you getting a golden ticket and the entire chocolate factory!”

“Hmm, it seems I underestimated you, princess. Let’s assume that hypothetically you’re right. What are you gonna do about it? Hmm? Run and tell daddy dearest? Please, like he’d believe you. After all, you’re just the black sheep wasting his money without even achieving anything. Honestly, Lindy you’re a freeloader.”

“How dare you?! You simply want to use my idiot of a father in order to fund your little lemonade stand of a factory. You-You-You CAD!” 

“I’m not a cad, princess,” he said walking away. 

After taking a few steps he halted and turned around saying, “Maybe your father should give you more credit, you’re far from the air-headed floozy he described.” 

Floozy? He called her a floozy? Enraged, she stated, “And you’re far from the poor hippie chuckle head he described.” 

John simply laughed at her before making his way back to the main hall.

~

That night she tossed and turned, trying to figure out a way to warn her father, but John’s words rang in her mind, did her father really call her a floozy and a mooch?

John was probably lying to get a rise out of her anyway, but it still irked her for weeks. 

Her father, on the other hand refused to listen to her regarding the licensing deal, saying, ‘You don’t understand business, Lindy’. Well, she may not have had his experience in business but she certainly understood machines and production.

Regardless of her reservations her father went ahead with the deal, which led to John spending more time in their home, most of which was dedicated to getting under her skin, it seemed.

A week into her summer vacation her father announced that he wanted to hold a grand party with all his business associates in their mansion. Her father said that he would be announcing his successor at the party.

Her mother went into a tizzy, wanting only the best for her son who was sure to be the successor of their business. Mobilizing a plethora of servants, caterers, decorators and a wide variety of other people in beautifying the mansion in preparation for the rich that would surely flood their home. Everything had to be perfect, even the smallest flaw would be scrutinized by the wives’ vulturous gazes.

The purpose of the party left a bitter taste in Linda’s mouth, her brother Roy was a mere child of 19 yet he would get control of the family business and her future. Roy was a cruel boy, arrogant in his ways, constantly tormenting the staff, particularly the African-American staff, with his borderline sadistic temper and actions. He was unfit to run the family business, he lacked the patience, grace and most importantly the foresight to successfully run their business. His personality wasn’t helped by their mother constantly coddling him and treating him like the Earth revolved around him. To put it simply, he was a spoiled brat.

~

The day of the party was filled with much anticipation, her mother took more than the prescribed amount of Valium to ‘calm her nerves’. It was surely not a good idea to be mixing her meds with alcohol so early in the evening but her mother seemed to be in a jolly mood and off her back for once so she said nothing.

The mansion was tastefully decorated with twisting fabrics, flowers and lights. It seemed like it was right out of a fairy-tale. 

There was an open bar at one end of the room with the bartender performing tricks. Waiters and waitresses served the rich attendees with hors d'oeuvres on fancy silver platters.

Linda was on the upper floor of the mansion, looking down at the guests from the balcony. Wearing a breath-taking soft pink gown with white lace on it, she practically screamed ‘royalty’. Her transparent elbow-length gloves and the heavy jewels around her neck complimented the dress beautifully.

As she descended down the steps all chatter seemed to cease in awe of the beauty that had seemingly descended from the heavens. 

On reaching the ground floor she proceeded to mingle with the wives of the businessmen, each scathingly complementing her outfit and jewels. She wasn’t one to back down and returned their compliment’s with equal venom.

Soon she headed to the bar, looking agitated.

“Bourbon, on the rocks,” she barked at the bartender.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here? My, my, princess never thought you’d be a hard drinker.”

“Johnny-boy. Please take your plague-doctor costume and sicken someone else, I do not have the patience for your antics tonight,” something in her tone seemed...almost defeated. He then did something unexpected, he took a seat next to her and ordered a drink.

“What are you doing here, all alone, princess? Aren’t you supposed to be out there dazzling all the rich young men with your fancy dress?”

“Shove off, Johnny boy.”

“Oof, such harsh words coming from such a pretty mouth. What would your mother say? Speaking of which, where is your lovely mother?”

“She’s off getting shit-faced and clinging onto one of father’s younger business associates,” she said, taking a sip from her drink. God, she needed that.

“I thought ladies of high society didn’t curse as much as you do.”

“And I thought cads were supposed to be charming, but we’re all faced with disappointments.”

“I AM NOT A CAD!” he exclaimed, his tone dangerous, almost like a snake coiling, ready to strike.

“You’re right, you’re not a cad-”

“Thank you.”

“-you’re an asshole,” she finished, looking smug as he grew angrier.

“I would say you’re wrong, but then again, I suppose you’re right,”

Her eyes widened. Had he just admitted that she was right. “Who are you and what have you done with John Perry?” she asked playfully.

“You never answered my question.”

“Hmm?”

“What are you doing here?”

Sighing she said, “Father is going to announce Roy as his successor.”

“And that’s a bad thing because?”

“Have you met Roy?”

“Unfortunately, I have.”

“Then you get it. He’s a spoiled brat who gets everything he wants served to him on a silver platter.”

“So, who do you think would be better suited for the job? Hmm? You?” He asked.

“Please, anyone is better than Roy. But yes, I would be better suited for the job.”

“Not that I’m doubting your capabilities but you’d do more harm than good. Most, if not all of your investors would pull out and what would be left other than a mere shell of a company?”

“Don’t you think I’ve thought of that?” she said, exasperated. Pausing to take a drink, she said, “You know, if you weren’t an evil self-serving cockroach and my nemesis, then I might’ve called you an evil genius.”

He chuckled saying, “Thank you, princess. If you weren’t an irritating, head-strong brat, then I might’ve told you that-”

He was interrupted by her father holding a glass on the stairs, calling for a toast.

“Hello everyone,

I hope you’re enjoying the celebrations....,” she zoned out, not wanting to listen to the speech until she was snapped out of her thoughts.

“I invited you all here, to announce my heir, the one who will be taking over my company after I retire. After much deliberation, I have decided that the heir and successor to my company will be my son, Roy Kirby!”

At his declaration, the room burst out into cheers, their mother clapped and cheered at her husband’s declaration. Roy on the other hand was elated and John looked disappointed, standing besides Linda.

And Linda, poor Linda, she was stunned into silence. How could their father to do this?! Give all their family’s hard-work to a her arrogant brother? 

She was fuming over the news when her father continued his speech.

“Now, I know some might be surprised by my decision, but by watching Roy grow up to be the man that he is I know and trust that he will take our business to new heights with his innovative spirit and acute business sense. So, I raise my glass, to Roy and the future of our company!”

The guests raised their glasses to Roy and drank. 

Linda felt sick and retired to one of the unoccupied guestrooms. She had expected this outcome, their father may have been great in business but regarding his children, he was often blind to their faults, especially those of his beloved son.

She paced across the room, thinking of a way to persuade her father when she heard the door creak open. Glancing up she saw John, smiling at her with that infuriating grin of his.

“Tense, princess?”

“How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not a princess?” she said, infuriated.

Ignoring her statement, he continued, “Well, princess, I may have a solution to your problem.”

“Oh? And what solution would that be?”

“Your father has merely announced who his successor is to be, he hasn’t written it into his will.”

“And how would you know what he has written in his will?” She asked curiously.

“I have...sources.”

“So, what is your plan? Hmm? Write me into the will as his successor?”

“Yes,” she burst out laughing at his response, thinking it was a joke yet his face remained serious. She quickly sobered after glancing at his face.

“You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“You do realize that if I am written into the will our business will reduce and our high-level clients will pull out, not to mention our investors! What you’re proposing is corporate suicide.”

“Maybe, or maybe a certain someone proposed that Roy works in the office before he takes over to ‘win over’ the investors and clients.”

“And when they see Roy’s ‘marvelous’ capabilities, I will look as a much better option as compared to him, since I have the qualifications required to understand the engines, as well as the business side of things.”

“Exactly, princess. You’re a quick learner.”

“I knew you were a wolf in sheep’s clothing, Johnny-boy but I never expected this from you. You truly are an evil genius.”

“Thank you for your compliments, princess,” he turned to leave the room when she suddenly said,

“Johnny?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you doing this? What’s your motive?”

“Why do you think I have a motive, princess?”

“There is no such thing as a free lunch, and you are a man driven by profits.”

“Guess.”

“If Roy were to be the CEO he would be easily manipulable but that wouldn’t be good for you because if he could be swayed by you he could be swayed by anyone furthermore his temper and arrogance is what makes him dangerous, a wild card, hard to predict. He is not far-sighted either, choosing to make decisions in the moment on pure whim as opposed to reasoning out his decisions. Who’s to say what he would do? He may even revoke your contract on a whim if you agitate him too much. My brother plays checkers while his opponents are defeating him in chess.”

He slowly clapped his hands at her answer.

“Well done, princess. Placing you at the top will be beneficial to the both of us. It’s a win-win.”

“Fine, I shall agree to your scheme, but what guarantee do I have that you won’t stab me in the back, Johnny?” 

“I guess you’re gonna just have to trust me, Lindy.”

“No chance in hell. I need a guarantee.”

After thinking for a moment, he said, “What guarantee could be better than an alliance forged in marriage?”

“What?!” She exclaimed, shocked at his audacity.

“Think about it, it would ensure that we do not move against each other, because a move against you is a move against myself also your business would be able to make use of my factories to manufacture the parts you need in-house,” he said simply, as if he was discussing the weather and not a life-altering decision.

“You would also gain control of the company, at least partially,” she said, smirking at the man.

“How about this, since our alliance will be purely for business we’ll set up a pre-nuptial agreement in which you can clearly state that I do not have any control of your company unless you grant me said control.”

“Fine. But you are to in no way manipulate the agreement with your ‘connections’. Do you understand me, Johnny-boy? Or I WILL make your life a living hell.”

“I’d expect nothing less, princess.”

[meowdarame]

hi! do u have any book recommendations like illicit flirtations? loveddd your fic and the inspiration behind it!!

if not do you have any other book recommendations? ur taste is so *muah* big brained i want to study it under a microscope

anyways can't wait for the next chapter :)

AHHH hello anon!! thank you so much for your kind words :,) it really means a whole lot to me that you 1) are enjoying the fic and 2) are interested in learning more about gender and race based issues!!

i’d highly, highly recommend reproducing race by khiara bridges! it doesn’t talk about the exact same topics as illicit flirtations, but it does cover themes of intersectionality (via race, class, and gender.) it’s also extremely relevant right now, considering the recent roe v wade overturning. (fuck SCOTUS fr!)

but yes once again THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT!! i appreciate it so, so much <3

[idolizerp]

[ LOADING INFORMATION ON OLYMPUS’ LEAD VOCAL ANTONIO…. ]

DETAILS

CURRENT AGE: 28 DEBUT AGE: 19 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 13 SKILL POINTS: 25 VOCAL | 05 DANCE | 00 RAP | 15 PERFORMANCE SECONDARY SKILLS: Lyric writing

INTERVIEW

antonio is a representation of duality.

he’s born with sharp eyes which are able to carry the coldness of the midnight moon. a look that fits the aesthetic of an untamable artist who always wears black leather and ripped jeans. but he is more than someone who howls melodies both soft and hard with grace and heart. they decide to put him in silky button downs and designer loafers when he’s not buried by the insistent bright lights that chase him. mold him into becoming fitzwilliam darcy — cold and calculating at first glance but a generous and kind soul deep down. the deeper you go, the more he reveals that he’s a soft romantic who writes floral prose about idealized love; the type that gives little signs of endearment than big shows of love; the one whose eyes become dewy with tears during a slow ballad; a man with stars swimming in his eyes.

just because they’re not too predictable.

but these blueprints were planted into hwanhee when he was young and impressionable. he was just barely on the cusp of developing into his own self when they dressed him in this carefully sewn costume. they groom him to become whatever they want him to be, and he naively submits to it all. he gives them the consent to sell his own self-worth as a person in exchange for fame and shallow affection. when they tell him to jump, he jumps. when they tell him to sing, he sings. when they tell him to act, he acts. he is what they tell him to be and he is what they want him to be. and they don’t want a person. what they want is a pretty, picture-perfect mold full of absolutely nothing – no real opinions, no real emotions, and no real personality. an empty shell.

so he’s vulnerable – vulnerable to the colors that come in contact with his blank canvas; vulnerable to chisels that attack his fragile ego; vulnerable to changes; vulnerable to reality. and when it all comes crashing down, who will he be? what will he be, other than a malleable chunk of aged plaster?

BIOGRAPHY

tw: sexism

hong hwanhee is different from his family’s men. he prefers the silence and the company of books, unlike the rest of his brothers, who enjoy soccer and mindless noise. he’s the shortest, too – only reaching 170 centimeters by the age of ten when the rest of his brothers were well over 180 by that time. the realization shakes him, makes him wonder if he’s really part of the hong family.

father has always been image conscious – maybe it’s because he grew up with the old-fashioned ideologies that boys should fight for their honor and girls should sit in their flowy dresses and sing – so when hwanhee returns home one day with a report card that reads c-minus in phys ed and an a in music, the man wonders what he has done wrong. he doesn’t talk to hwanhee for a year, and this was the only time hwanhee preferred to hear mindless noise.

despite what hwanhee promises to himself, he finds solace in music. and he keeps coming back to it even though he shouldn’t. he saves eight weeks’ worth of allowance and birthday money to spend it all on self-guided piano lesson books and cds; he hides them deeply under his mattress so his father doesn’t find out, scared that his silence will extend for another year or two. but hwanhee loves music too much. he loves that even the simplest melodies can touch his heart.

he doesn’t know why, but he prefers the traditional glitz of gwangju more than the over-westernization of seoul – all that glitter exhausts him. he would leave right now if he could, but he’s there for his cousin’s wedding, and he doesn’t want to disrespect the happy, soon-to-be wedded couple. but he leaves right after the reception anyway to play with his brothers and cousins. (it’s funny how every child in the hong family are boys, and they’re the rowdy types who like to crowd around a single video game.) hwanhee sits off to the side, not really waiting for the turn he knows he will never get until he’s told by a flamboyant man, colorfully speaking about the potential he sees in hwanhee (how this man detects this is something hwanhee will never know). he tells him about the wonders of the industry and how hwanhee is just the perfect fit. the man gives him a card, too.

he sings, because he does not know how to do anything else, not yet anyways. it’s his first performance in front of an audience and he doesn’t do that well. they push him out the door, but he keeps the card and he looks them up when he gets home. he goes back the next year (this time, they kick him out because they tell him – with an astonished gasp – he’s too young) and again the year after that. they say they like the uniqueness of his voice and they tell him to pray that it doesn’t change when he gets older.

hwanhee gets in one door, but is sent out of the other; sent out of his own home with a cold gaze and colder words that leave this young, impressionable boy scarred and feeling unloved.

but he finds love with them – the company, or at least he thinks he does. he’s promised fulfillment, fame and fortune. frankly, those don’t appeal to hwanhee but the protection they promise to give him, the endless love and praise they paint him for the future is what makes hwanhee bend to their will. and he’s not proud of what he does to secure that spot. he snaps at the others, tells them to leave if they’re going to play around and waste the company’s time and resources. he’s aiming for perfection and praise, and he can’t get either of those with these slackers around. but he doesn’t necessarily regret those words, either.

by the time he’s seventeen, he’s worried about lots of things. things like the upcoming evaluation, whether he’ll ever lose the unpleasantries of a jeolla dialect, when he’ll be able to debut, if he’ll ever debut, the state of his throat, and whether or not the change in his voice is as noticeable as he thinks it is.

they say it’s slightly different than his initial voice (the part that makes him unique). they write it down too, and it’s the loudest a pen’s ever been on paper.

his debut is decided a couple of years later. they also give him a new name and a slightly sharper face (he doesn’t like either of these, but he submits, reluctantly), but he’s forever sour over his given position: a lead vocal. what a joke.

he thinks it’s getting better and better as he goes on — the first win for olympus opens up more doors; more opportunities for himself. he decides 2015 is the year for him: the year he’ll be known as hong hwanhee rather than antonio, lead vocal of olympus. but he overestimates himself — flies closer and closer to the sun until he finally incinerates. the burn starts from the inside – the fatigue he brushed off as a simple side effect of exposure weighs heavily, and he feels pushed down due to the failure to meet his own foolish expectations. and when these burns come forth, it makes him appear like a sour, arrogant child who disrespects a senior mc. and when one rumor arises, others begin as well.

(it’s funny how people become so “observant” during these times – not when he’s caked in concealer, trying to hide bruising limbs, hollowed cheeks, and dark circles.)

there are a couple of things they do to make the backlash die down, but none aren’t as effective than when they announce his departure to the navy. (because his entire family is involved in the navy. everyone who’s anyone knows that, duh.) it’s unfortunate, how he’s punished to be cut off from the rest of the world as soon as he decides he wants to leave his own mark on it.

he returns two years later, somewhat shaken by how disposable he is and how they’re able to increase their relevancy without his existence at the same time despite selling his entire life and soul to them. he feels betrayed. he feels like a complete fool for biting from the tempting fruit instead of carefully reading their perfectly-manufactured smiles.

but he’s earned too much; gained love (even though it’s hollow. he knows this, but he disillusioned himself. because love is love, and that’s what he craves the most). and it pushes him into a corner, bubbles inside of him; threatens to explode at any minute. but he knows he won’t; knows he can’t because he needs them more than they need him. so when they tell him that he’s not in his best state to be a part of their first promotion in 2018, he sits back — pretends to be what he was before: compliant, obedient, and passive. he doesn’t fully believe their words, but he still waits and waits and waits, until they dress him with hot pink hair for the summer.

he threatens to ask himself how far he’ll let them go, but he buried these thoughts when they start reaching the surface. because he doesn’t need this — not ever.

[inthecentreofthegalaxy]

Beverly’s death pisses me off SO MUCH, like it’s just the most obvious example of fridging I’ve ever seen. She dies so that Jack and Will can mourn her and blame themselves and so that Hannibal can kill a significant character. Her death doesn’t conclude her plot in ANY WAY, it’s just there because the writers want her to die. I loved her and seeing her die just so males can feel guilty makes me want to THROW myself off a TOWER. And then she got like 10 minutes dedicated to her and was forgotten for the rest of the episode, and as far as I know ever! ARRRRRGGGGGGH WHY

[quirklessidiot]

I'm getting madonna whore vibes in minazuki's narration, replacing whore with troublesome or vindictive woman. A lot of guys see y/n as this passive virginal maiden that has no wicked thoughts while gojo is going through a roller coaster on his opinions on her. First it was the boring good girl, pitiful good girl that can't fight back, scheming bitch, pitiful girl that never enjoyed life.

i wouldn’t say that this applies he madonna-whore complex but i sorta do get ur point! Altho some men get off with y/n’s matriarchal thingies and how obedient she is, i do see some men liking her bcos of her nurturing and motherly type (but not actually getting sexually aroused by it and after getting her preggy, theyll be taking concubines and mistresses in for sexual pleasure)

Also gojo doesn’t like that side of her that much since he knows its fake sjkskdjsd 😩🖐 minazuki!satoru actually just wants his wife to stop with her act in front of him since the beginning

Oh if u guys dont know what madonna-whore complex is, its basically a complex created by Freud wherein men apparently cant desire their own loving partner (aka madonna, its called madonna bcos apparently from the virgin mary who symbolizes all good and pure, something like ur mom so apparently its rooted on the oedipal complex) but they get sexually aroused by someone who has been degraded or used (whore) . Basically what freud is trying to say here, “Where such men love they have no desire and where they desire they cannot love.”

Basically this complex is rooted on sexism. Thats it but it applies pretty well to the story when u look at it.

[quirklessidiot]

Oh that is interesting. So if she were married to someone else after she gives birth she'll stop being seen as a woman to be desired and more of a mother figure you'd never want to have dirty thoughts about.

yeah basically, for some men (if she had married someone else) she’s now deemed less in their eyes and not as attractive before. Sort of like how men have this thing wherein oh i wont be thinking dirty stuff about u bcos ur like a mom to me or smthng HSHAHAHAA (TRUST ME THE OEDIPAL COMPLEX IS SO WEIRD BUT WERE PROVIG FREUD RIGHT EVERY SINGLE TIME A GUY LIKES A WOMAN AND DOESNT THINK SEXUALLY OF HER BCOS HES REMINDED OF HIS MOMMA WHENEVER HE LOOKS AT HER 😭😭)