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warningsine · 22 days

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https://www.nytimes.com/2024/09/02/world/europe/france-husband-rape-drug-trial-mazan.html

For years, she had been losing hair and weight. She had started forgetting whole days, and sometimes appeared to be in dreamlike trances. Her children and friends worried she had Alzheimer’s.

But in late 2020, after she was summoned to a police station in southern France, she learned a far more shattering story.

Her husband of 50 years, Dominique Pelicot, had been crushing sleeping pills into her food and drink to put her into a deep sleep, the police said, and then raping her. He had ushered dozens of men into her home to film them raping her, too, they said, in abuse that lasted nearly a decade.

Using the man’s photographs, videos and online messages, the police spent the next two years identifying and charging those other suspects.

On Monday, 51 men, including Mr. Pelicot, went on trial in Avignon, in a case that has shocked France and cast a spotlight on the use of drugs to commit sexual abuse and the broader culture in which such crimes could occur.

The accused men represent a kaleidoscope of working-class and middle-class French society: truck drivers, soldiers, carpenters and trade workers, a prison guard, a nurse, an I.T. expert working for a bank, a local journalist. They range in age from 26 to 74. Many have children and are in relationships.

Most are charged with raping the woman once. A handful are accused of returning as many as six times to rape her.

The victim, Gisèle, who has divorced her husband and changed her surname since his arrest, is now in her 70s.

Since his arrest, Mr. Pelicot, 71, has “always declared himself guilty,” said Béatrice Zavarro, his lawyer. “He is not at all contesting his role.”

Other defendants have denied the rape charges, with some arguing that they had the husband’s permission and thought that was sufficient, while others claimed they believed the victim had agreed to be drugged.

When the police showed Gisèle some of the photographs they say her husband had carefully classified and stored, she expressed deep shock. She and her husband had been together since they were 18. She had described him to the police as caring and considerate.

She had no memory of being raped, by him or the other men, only one of whom she recognized, she told the police, as a neighbor in town.

The first time she will consciously witness the rapes, her lawyer Antoine Camus says, will be in the courtroom when the video recordings are played as evidence.

The trial comes at a moment of heightened scrutiny of the handling of sexual crimes in the country. Rape is defined in French law as an “act of sexual penetration” committed “by violence, coercion, threat or surprise.” A number of feminist lawmakers want to amend that wording to say explicitly that sex without consent is rape, that consent can be withdrawn at any time, and that consent cannot exist if sexual assault is committed “by abusing a state impairing the judgment of another.”

“There is a kind of naïveté on the topic of predators in France, a kind of denial,” said Sandrine Josso, a lawmaker who led a parliamentary commission into what is known in France as “chemical submission” — drugging someone with malicious intent. She started the commission after she says she became the victim of a drugging last year. A senator is being investigated on accusations that he slipped Ecstasy into her Champagne.

Ms. Josso hopes that the Avignon trial will draw attention to the use of drugs to prey on women, and also shed light on the wide profile of predators. “They could be your neighbors, without falling into paranoia,” she said.

Mr. Pelicot seemed like a classic man next door. He was a trained electrician, an entrepreneur and an avid cyclist. His middle child and only daughter, Caroline Darian, her pen name, described him as a warm and present father in a book published in 2022 about the case, “And I Stopped Calling You Papa.” She tried to turn her family trauma into action, forming a nonprofit association, “Don’t Put Me to Sleep,” to publicize the dangers of drug-facilitated crimes.

Her father, she wrote, was the one who drove her to school, picked her up late from parties, encouraged her and consoled her. Her mother was the stable breadwinner, working as a manager in a Paris-area company for 20 years.

When Gisèle retired, they moved to a house with a big garden and pool in Mazan, a small town northeast of Avignon. The couple regularly hosted their three children and grandchildren for summer vacations peppered with late dinners on the terrace, where the family debated, held dance competitions and played Trivial Pursuit.

“I think of us as happy,” his daughter wrote. “I thought my parents were.”

None of them harbored any suspicions. Then, in 2020, three women reported Mr. Pelicot to the police for trying to use his camera to film up their skirts in a grocery store, and he was arrested.

The police seized his two cellphones, two cameras and his electronic devices, including his laptop, before releasing him on bail.

On the devices, the police say they found 300 photographs and a video of an unconscious woman being sexually assaulted by many people. They said they also found Skype messages in which the man boasted of drugging his wife and invited men to join him in having sex with her while she was unconscious.

Over the course of their investigation, the police found more than 20,000 videos and photographs, many of them dated and labeled, in an electronic folder titled “abuse.” The timeline they built began in 2011. The list of suspects grew to 83.

Two months after his initial arrest, Mr. Pelicot was arrested again and charged with aggravated rape, drugging and a list of sexual abuse charges. He is also accused of violating the privacy of his wife, daughter and two daughters-in-law on suspicion of illegally recording, and at times distributing, intimate photos of them.

If he is found guilty, he faces up to 20 years in prison.

During interviews with the police, the details of which were included in an overview of the case by the investigative judge, Mr. Pelicot said he began drugging his wife so he could do things to her, and dress her in things, that she normally refused. Then he started inviting others to participate. He said he never asked for or accepted money.

He met most of the men, the investigating judge’s report stated, in a chat room on a notorious, unmoderated French website implicated in more than 23,000 police cases in France alone from 2021 to 2024. It was finally shut down, and its owner arrested, in June after an 18-month investigation stretching across Europe.

The chat room where most of the men met Mr. Pelicot was called “a son insu,” which means “without their knowledge.”

Over the years, Mr. Pelicot told the police, he developed rules for the visitors to ensure that his wife did not wake: no smoking or cologne; undress in the kitchen; warm hands under hot water or on a radiator, so their cold touch would not jolt her. At the end of each night, according to the investigating judge’s report, he cleaned his wife’s body.

Of the 83 suspects, the police identified and charged 50.

Only one of the men is not charged with rape, assault or attempted rape of Mr. Pelicot’s wife. Instead, that man is accused of following the same model, and drugging his own wife to rape her. Mr. Pelicot is also charged with raping the man’s wife while she was drugged.

Five of the men also face charges for possessing child sexual abuse imagery.

Mr. Pelicot is also being investigated in the rape and murder of a 23-year-old woman in 1991 and the attempted rape of a 19-year-old in 1999. He admitted to the attempted rape, according to Florence Rault, the lawyer representing the victims in both cases, but denies any involvement in the 1991 homicide.

The story has prompted some soul-searching among doctors, since Gisèle had visited gynecologists and neurologists over a series of mystifying symptoms, but had received no diagnosis, according to her daughter.

“What I found disturbing for us doctors was that no doctor considered this hypothesis,” said Dr. Ghada Hatem-Gantzer, a well known obstetrician-gynecologist and expert in violence against women. She and a pharmacist, Leila Chaouachi, have now developed training for doctors and nurses on the symptoms that victims of drug-facilitated assault can experience.

Contrary to popular belief, most cases occur at home, not at bars, said Ms. Chaouachi, who runs annual surveys on such offenses in France. Most victims are women, the surveys show, and around half of the victims do not remember the attack, because of blackouts, she said.

In the case going to court in Avignon, some of the accused admitted guilt to the police. According to the investigating judge’s report, many claimed that they were tricked into having sex with a drugged woman — lured by a husband for a three-way encounter and told she was pretending to sleep, because she was shy.

Several said they believed that she had consented to being drugged and raped as part of a sex fantasy. Some said they did not believe it was rape, because her husband was there and they believed he could consent for both of them.

“It sends shivers down the spine regarding the state of affairs in French society,” said Mr. Camus, who is also representing Ms. Darian and many other members of the family. “If that’s the conception of consent in sexual matters in 2024, then we have a lot, a lot, a lot of work to do.”

#Gisele Pelicot #france #rape #news tag

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iznsfw · 1 year

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above the law, (under you)

TWICE's Chou Tzuyu x Male Reader Smut

4,629 words

Categories | lawyer!Tzuyu x criminal!you, thighjob, blowjob

Quick one for TWICE's maknae. Hope you like it.

The thing about law is that it's actually quite flexible. Forget what your law professors taught you and all those fines the government threatens. If you manage to lie with just a bit of space for truth to distort your falsehoods into, you can get out of anything easily. That's certain, actually, no matter what consequences are inscribed into whatever bible juries and judges have. Maybe you'd only have to spend a few days in jail, probably narrowly avoid a death sentence.

At least, that's how it works when you've got a good lawyer.

Oh, yeah, that's what Tzuyu is for. Lucky you.

"So you understand," she says, spreading your files on the desk like it were butter across toast (don't mind the choice of comparison; your stomach is growling), "that it gets suspicious."

Actually, you don't. "Do elaborate."

Tzuyu sighs. She drags a hand along her golden hair. Normally, colored hair in the courtroom would be looked down on, but she's reached that kind of status that it doesn't matter what she does or who she represents—whether she wins or loses the trial for you, she's Chou Tzuyu, and everyone still gives her the deserved respect.

But with you, the situation is more dangerous. It's a hit or miss with you, and now, the two of you are getting closer and closer to missing.

"You've been in and out of juvie since you were in middle school," she says, one pinky up to count the factors. Another as she goes on, "And you haven't stopped robbery and physical assault since then. You raged in the divorce court, too, so trust me: when it comes to custody of your kid, it doesn't get easier."

Three fingers. Three's the charm, right?

"Well," you curl down the sides of your mouth and raise your hands, "obviously."

Again, you're lucky to have Tzuyu. She's the only one who's paid enough to put up with your bullshit. She's the only one who can get you out of said bullshit. If you said that to anybody else, they'd kick you out, and you know enough already about being excluded and rejected.

That's not to say you feel sorry for yourself, just to be clear. You're too used to this rowdy lifestyle that your own actions don't humiliate you. Neither does the fact that you haven't matured from the age of sixteen.

In that case, you do feel sorry for Tzuyu, though. She's an intelligent and beautiful young woman. She's only going forward from here on out, but you'll always hang onto the hem of her dress pants like a tail. You're a mistake that no Mongol pencil top can erase, and that's been sealed into her mind long after she accepted to represent you.

She's the one getting paid anyway. No need to muck over it.

"Did you do it, though?" Tzuyu asks.

"Do what?"

"Did you beat up your ex-wife's husband in front of her?"

Honesty is a virtue that only your lawyer is deserving of. So, "Yeah."

Tzuyu pinches her nose. "And the drunk texts?"

"Uh huh."

"The lamb blood on the yard?"

"All me, baby," you answer.

You're a bit regretful, to be honest. Not for the fucked up shit you did to coax your ex-wife into getting back with you, but with how you failed to use your own blood to write out "YOU'LL ALWAYS BE MINE, DAHYUN!" in front of her house. But you've already crossed one too many lines.

"You sound proud," Tzuyu notes. "Don't you realize how this can influence the trial?"

Do you? Probably, but you've gone to court so many times, against so many people, that it's become like a second home. The Corinthian columns looming over you don't scare you anymore. Neither do the judge and jury.

Maybe the reason you keep fucking shit up is the need for something to feel?

You haven't felt anything in a long time besides anger. Maybe that's it. Maybe that's why you keep doing what you do despite knowing it can ruin your few good relationships with the few good people who deal with you.

"You can get me out of this alright, Tzuyu," you say. Prop your feet on the opposite plush seat that stands at the front of her desk. "Just lie—you know, it's your job."

"I'm a lawyer, not a magician," Tzuyu says, speaking through her grinding teeth. "I'm not another foolproof way to buy yourself out of consequences."

"That's nice. Got that comeback off searching 'badass lawyer quotes'?"

Tzuyu stares at you. She's really too cute to be in a courtroom, but the way her full lips are set and her eyes glare through your soul make you remember that she's up there for a reason. All these certificates and awards placed on her wall and bookshelves aren't out of nothing. She deserves respect from you because she's still your lawyer, she's still your only way out of going to prison.

"You just… don't care, huh," Tzuyu remarks. "Everything about this is just one huge joke to you."

Her tone isn't far from her usual formal one, but it's mixed with realization, too. She realizes that you'll always be like this. It's not your job or your kids or work—it's you. It's all on you.

"But really," she continues, with a small, bitter laugh, "the funny thing is I actually held out hope for you."

She did?

You've been waiting a lifetime to feel something that isn't rage. You're surprised to find out that it would happen, and the thing would be guilt.

"I—I thought that if I did everything I could for you," she says, her fists curling tighter to the beat of every syllable, "for you to get away scot-free, you'd actually put some sense in yourself." She smiles sarcastically. "But I was stupid to think that, wasn't I?"

Everyone's been disappointed in you one way or another. It's no lie that your parents are. There's also a reason why your siblings won't talk to you anymore. But the disappointment riding off Tzuyu's words hurt unexpectedly. It breaks you.

It also, somehow, angers you.

"Get out of my office." She points to the door. "I'm done with you."

"No, you're fucking not," you reply.

Tzuyu's accustomed to your banter and attitude, but that actually stops her in her tracks. She looks at you with disbelief.

Your smile quakes with anger. "We're not done until I say so, Tzuyu."

"That doesn't work on me."

"Come on, let's face it, attorney," you say, stressing the title with false respect. Set your hands on the desk scattered with files and folders. "You like me."

Tzuyu rolls her eyes. "Oh, please, spare me the—"

"No."

Your steps trace a marble path to the back of her desk, to the place that should be off-limits to you. You never raped or anything, but you remain a criminal, and she remains a lawyer who has to set boundaries.

However, all boundaries are crossed when you've got her backed up to the edge of her desk, when her pretty face is centimeters away, and your hands are itching to tear the high fashion uniform off her slender body.

It's the first time you've ever seen Chou Tzuyu scared. Her face is set to a poker expression in the courtroom and out of it, but seeing her parted lips and wide doe eyes ignite your emotions. It's new, it's different, and you love it more than you should.

"Come on, Tzuyu," you press, tilting your head to the side. "You know why you want to keep defending me after all the fuckery I did."

"And what can that be?" Tzuyu asks. Her brows are raised.

Another question, you see. This girl really should stop inquiring about things she knows well the answer to, but, graciously, you say it out loud for her. You're a good guy like that. "Didn't I say it already? You like me. Admit it: you're tired of defending guys who at best stole from Walmart. You want the real horror. You want me."

It's all delusions to grope for the upper hand, but you see Tzuyu's eyes. You can read them well from all the time you've unwillingly(?) spent together, you know that her rare expression of vulnerability means something:

You've caught her.

"Oh." Smile. Your rambling holds some truth after all. "So I'm right. Of course you like me."

"Don't flatter yourself," Tzuyu snaps. She struggles to keep eye contact with you.

"No, no." Guide her face to meet your gaze. "You want some relief. It's not easy being a lawyer, definitely not easier to fall for a psychopath client. But it just happens. You can't control it."

She swallows, looks down, and shakes her head. That's something she's humble enough to admit. "No…"

"Of course. I can give you what you want, you know."

"I don't want anything from you," says Tzuyu. Her eyes fire an unspoken word of caution to you. "You don't know what you're trying to do."

"For a lawyer," you chuckle, "you're a terrible liar. I thought that was the whole thing with you people."

"I told you to leave already."

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere," you say, sliding your hands down to her tiny thing of a waist, "until you tell me what you actually feel."

You can feel Tzuyu's breaths accent the rises and rests of her tight midriff. She's contemplating this over, but she knows that she's grown fond of you. You know this, too. Like you said, there's a reason for her staying with you.

You have to admit you've grown fond of seeing her, too. Her face is more than easy on the eyes. Hearing her as well is an everyday delight; her soft voice is melodious, even when she's describing your crimes.

So, what's there to say?

"It's not right," Tzuyu says. The shakes of her head are too repetitive to be sincere. "I can't be biased towards you. I… I have to be professional."

"It's just you and me, sweet," you quip. Step closer so that her body's flush against your form and her gaze can go nowhere. "Live a little. Who cares if it's wrong?"

"My career—" she tries.

"Tzuyu. Come on. Fuck the convict you want so badly. I put you through enough already."

Understanding passes through her eyes, mingled with hesitation and a sprinkle of fear. She wonders, as she peers at your face from a taller height, how you knew about the whole crush ordeal. Was she too obvious? Flirty? Patient? It can be one or the other, and she'd still have to dial it down.

But her heart skips several beats that her words come unrehearsed. Your hands at her waist, so close yet so far to where she needs them to be, trigger her needs.

So, there it is: she needs you. She has to accept that.

"O-okay," Tzuyu finally agrees.

"There you are. You finally came around."

"Just shut up and fuck me."

"Oh, you'd love that, wouldn't you?" Your shameless kisses end up on her neck and collarbone that peek through the ends of her blazer and the neckline of her innerwear. "I know you thought about it, Tzuyu. How I'd bend you over on this desk, fuck your brains out, make you cum more times than you can count."

As you pull the blazer from her body, Tzuyu hisses, "Don't get too happy, dickhead."

How unprofessional of her. But you have to admit it feels powerful to be able to extract the most unladylike of words from a woman who'd never dare utter them. And you're just getting started—she's only sitting on the edge of her desk, and not even filled with your cock yet.

Your fingers aren't idle. They appreciate her tall curves and the fullness of her thighs. They even slip under that pencil skirt to feel around for her center.

Of course, you find it. You find it under a layer of flimsy shorts and panties. Tease her clit; have her legs join in attempts to undergo the stimulation.

And then—

"Oh my god," she whines. Tzuyu purses her lips. Curls her fingers at the cliff of the desk. "Feels so good."

"I know it does," says you. "Why don't you return the favor? Jerk off my cock with those pretty hands?"

Her posture becomes too straight to be proper as you press your fingers at her sensitive pink walls. "I've done too much for you. Y-you don't deserve any more favors."

That's fair. She's still a smart girl, even when she's soaking your fingers.

Can she be a good girl? To be a good girl or not to be—that is the question.

"You're right. My cock deserves to be inside you, not just in your hand."

The faster pace has Tzuyu's legs jerking. "Fuck you."

Chuckle. "You are."

Maybe you don't need a handjob as a warm-up. Your cock already erects by itself watching Tzuyu react and moan to your digits pumping in and out of her. Her beautiful arms, free from the blazer, struggle and strain to stay upwards with how quick you're fingerfucking her. Her unkempt whines are so unlike her that there's complete pride inside of you, an arrogance, even, that's birthed from the fact that you make her like this. You're so fucked up that it turns her on when it shouldn't, and now that you're fucking her, the immorality of everything gets her wet.

"P-please," she says. Her doe eyes are watery with need.

She's never said that outside of the courtroom, where she says that only for formality's sake. But here she is, anyway, begging you for something she'll have to spell out if she doesn't want you to go crazy and fuck her in every corner of her office.

Maybe that's what you'd do anyway.

"What is it, Tzuyu?" you ask. Your fingers strain while the heel of your hand hits and rubs her clit. "Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need."

"Please," again, "faster. Oh my god, that's all I ever want, please go faster."

No more do her legs close. Rather, they part. They welcome your thrusts and rubs. She's completely allowing you to fuck her, despite how wrong it is and how it can screw up your future trials. Bias this and bias that are things she doesn't care about anymore. All she knows is that her nipples ache to be pinched, and her pussy awaits more of your thrusts because she's close. So close that she could taste euphoria already.

"Should I go rougher, hm?"

"Please, fffuck, I don't know." As you squeeze one of her handful-sized breasts, she bites her lip hard. "Just fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please, make me c-cum—"

When Tzuyu orgasms, it's messy yet quiet. Her formality shows up even in sex. Her moans are tight and so is her pussy as it clenches down on your fulfilling digits, and you have to perk your ears up to hear her sounds of pleasure. She's still a quiet girl, barely talkative (though you've managed to pull a few pleas out of her already), and you're completely trying to change that with your pumps.

Your lips create a purple bruise on her neck. Tzuyu sighs and gasps helplessly. She's wetting your fingers like a flood, and you keep provoking the natural yet woman-made disaster; you drag your fingers at her velvety, weak spots and venture deeper.

You don't have to ask her if it was good. She's panting heavily, and sucks on the soaked fingers you've led to her face to calm herself down. Watching her pink lips work away at your hand, as if she were suckling something completely different, makes you more turned on. Her warm wet mouth deserves to be somewhere else rather than just your pointer and middle.

"Now that wasn't so bad," you say. Draw them out of her mouth. "You didn't leave any for me to taste. How selfish."

"You still could." Tzuyu points to her mouth.

It's clear that she's wanted you to kiss her forever. When your lips press against her mouth, she immediately slips her tongue inside. You return the favor, but also to have her own self-made taste of love.

As expected, she's fucking delicious.

You hold her head in place as the two of you kiss for seconds that felt like hours. After, you're breathless.

"You're a good kisser," she comments.

"You want me to tell you what else is good?"

"Oh, please. Show, not tell."

Your belt's off and soon, your trousers are as well. Tzuyu's gazing at your hard cock with admiration. It just boosts your pride and arrogance—you can never tell the difference between the two when they mix and match with each other so often.

"No one told me criminals had big dicks," says Tzuyu. She skates her hand on your cock, stroking it softly. Her eyes have left it and instead seal on your faltering gaze.

"You learn something new everyday." Try not to make your shuddering breaths obvious when she starts jerking you off. "You like?"

"I think… I think I want to suck it."

"Go ahead. No one's stopping you."

"There're a lot of people stopping me," she informs you. "If they find out I'm fucking a client, then what?"

She doesn't live up to her words of concern because she hops off the table cleanly and kneels anyway. Her small face looks even tinier next to your cock. And you realize now how her mouth is miniscule too after she wraps her lips around your cockhead.

You shiver.

Tzuyu's staring again.

This time, her large eyes are directed up at you. She doesn't have to focus on your dick when her mouth is doing it for her. With each harsh swipe of her tongue on your tip and the drawing of her mouth closer to the base, your cock grows wetter with her drool and precum.

"Your mouth is amazing, Tzuyu," you say. You're not afraid to admit that.

She responds to you not with words, but with more suckling. She closes her lips around your base then slowly brings her mouth up. She repeats this cycle of pleasure until your whole rod is coated with her. When she feels you throb in her orifice, she giggles—what's more satisfying than seeing the guy who put her through hell become weak?

You're in a daze of your own, too. As much as you like seeing Tzuyu dominate the court with her steady voice and no-nonsense look, she looks so much better when she's on her knees. When her hands wrap your hips to thrust her head forward and force your length down her tight throat. When the usually serious look in her eyes fades into obscurity and is replaced with an almost innocent look that says "come on, use me, fuck my mouth."

That's exactly what you do anyway. You don't need her prodding to fuck her pretty face.

Tzuyu's hums vibrate on your sensitive flesh. The back of your cock slides deliciously on her tongue and almost all of your rod slides down her throat. It bulges; you can tell even without looking down. She's a slim girl after all. It's easy to fuck and fold and use her. This situation isn't any different.

"Yeah, that's it," you say, grinning. "Take my cock, Tzuyu. Take it like a good girl."

Her ears burn. Her thighs squirm together, and that's how you find out that she might like being called a good girl more than you'd think. Stroking her hair that looks like it was personally woven with real gold has her whining. You can't believe the tough lawyer has a submissive side, too.

Has she done this before? She seems to be taking the thrusts to the back of her throat well. Perhaps she simply enjoys this. You'll never know.

"I'm gonna cum, Tzuyu," you announce. "You better swallow it all like the slut you are."

Her cheeks hollow as your cum fills her mouth. Her lips remain sealed on your tip so the flow of your semen ends up nowhere but inside her.

After you pull out, you realize then that you've just fucked your lawyer's face. It's like everything was a lucid dream that eventually blended into reality, because there's Tzuyu, still kneeling and gulping down your cum, and your cock out in the open between your bare legs. There are lines you've crossed before, but you never thought you'd do the same to the boundary that's been set between you and Tzuyu.

Where's the rage you felt earlier? Why does arousal take its place?

"I'm not a slut, by the way," says Tzuyu airily. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "I'm not your good girl either."

"Oh, alright. Does that mean you won't let me fuck you?"

"Jerk," she spits. "Your cock isn't even that big."

"I guess I should leave then. You were a good fuck, Tzuyu."

Turn your heel with faux intention to exit, like she's told you to do earlier, but you're pulled towards her again. She tugs your wrist and pulls you to herself, her ass snug against the edge of the table and you pressed against her slim frame.

Okay, so—

"I fucking hate you." Tzuyu tears the buttons off your shirt with a clean rip, and kisses your chest. Your neck. Grabs your waist to ensure that you're going nowhere. " I hate that you're so fucking annoying. I hate that I can't spend all day fucking myself on your huge cock."

"Did you just say I had a huge cock?"

"Like I said," Tzuyu snarls, "shut up."

Whatever snarky response you could have come up with on the spot is lost into an embarrassingly loud moan. She's forced your still sensitive cock inside her, and now her hips are dancing forward and back. It's a dance of death with how it bears its weight on your mind and girth.

"Thought I told you to be quiet," she says smugly.

Her skirt has ridden up her waist. You take advantage of this to get a feel for her thighs. They're slim yet round at the same time, creating the perfect balance that fits your squeezing hands. Tug on them to pull her closer. Your remaining inches make it past her folds, and Tzuyu moans in delight.

"And I thought you didn't like me," you say. But it's difficult to be cocky when her tight little pussy is just that good, squeezing you as if determined to drain your might and taking you good and well.

Tzuyu scoots her wide hips side to side, arms sedentary on the sides of the table as she rests down on it, and bites her lip. Intentional or not, it's too fucking sexy. "Things change."

So, that's how it works out: your lawyer on the flat of her desk, above scattered piles of papers describing your crimes and issuing your statements, with her legs spread around your midriff and receiving your cock as a traveller in the desert would receive water. She's desperate, is what you're saying—her gasps are timed to the beat of your thrusts, and she's accompanying it with soft curses. This whole sex thing could be a song, you see. Tzuyu can play the vocals, and her cleavage that bounces behind her vest could be looped and made into a matching music video. It's just so perfect.

"So good, you're so good," she sighs, her mind addled with thoughts of you ruining her insides and, probably, fill her up with semen. "Fuck me harder. Touch me. Use me, my god, just fuck me."

You pull up her vest to devour her breasts. The brown nipples end up in your mouth, suckled on and chewed, while the softness of her small tits are relished with squeezes. Tzuyu whimpers quietly, volume hushed down as it always is with her. Although her quiet whines turn you on, it's the will inside you to have the silent lawyer screaming that propels your thrusts. Drives them with a purpose that's so specific your hips could have a mind of their own.

Dragging her vest off her torso is how you see that your cock is bulging through her tight midriff. The lines of her abs hide not your cock forcing yourself through her hole. Tzuyu notices it, too, and you feel her become wetter underneath you, because she loves it. She loves how wrong this is, how she's letting a person she shouldn't even be acquaintances with outside of her career use her like a doll.

"P-please," she says (for the millionth time, yes, but you'll never grow tired of hearing it.)

"Should I go harder?" Do exactly that, rutting her against the table, even without her answer. "Rub this little thing here?"

Tzuyu cries out. There's a completed mission—you've finally forced her to scream, and it's all thanks to your thumb toying with her clit.

"Oh my god!" she yelps. She looks at you with eyes filled with shock at how good it feels. "Oh my god, yes, keep doing that! It feels so—fuck!"

"Keep screaming like that and I'll make you cum. Do you want to cum, Tzuyu?"

She nods dumbly. "Yes, make me cum. M-make me cum around that stupid big dick, I love it so much, please!"

You're reaching places inside her that her own fingers couldn't embark to. The bulge on her stomach goes farther, and you think of how you're rearranging her guts so deliciously, how she's pounding at the table in frustration and pleasure and screaming, and how you can give her bliss with just a few more pumps.

Your thrusts hold purpose—they're driven by Tzuyu's boobs lifting with the creaks of her desk, the squeeze of her pussy as it swallows you whole, the helpless look on her face. She's so beautiful, really, and you're glad to be able to—

"Gonna make me cum!" she wails. "Gonna make me cum, gonna make me cum, don't fucking stop!"

Tzuyu's pleasure reaches an all-time high. She clenches as hard as her muscles can bear and screams. Her throat must be sore because of that, so you don't forget to kiss all over it as you extract a violent orgasm from her with rough, untimed pumps.

She's shivering, eyes unfocused. She's rambling senseless words that don't quite give clues to what they should be comprehended as.

That's exactly what you want.

You pull out. "I want to fuck your thighs." Show so after that: slip your dick in between her soft, supple skin, and add, "Gonna explode on that fucking stomach."

"W-why not inside me?" whines Tzuyu. She closes her eyes as your cock unintentionally brushes over her folds and prods at her bundle of nerves.

"You're already fighting to give me custody of my kid," you chuckle. "What makes you think I want another?"

Tzuyu manages a laugh. You're too laser-focused on fucking her thighs though to appreciate her first love beauty when she smiles, since you're as close as you can be. With the soft flesh holding your length captive as you pray for your soul not to be by the eyes of justice, you have no choice but to do what you said: cum on her tight midriff.

White above tan skin is a beautiful color on your lawyer.

"You're… you're a little evil, you know that?" Tzuyu makes out. She glances at the puddle of cum on her rising stomach with fascination.

"Oh, love." Lean down to kiss her, with your arm pillaring the space on the table not occupied with paperwork. "You're just now figuring that out?"

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #twice smut #chou tzuyu smut #tzuyu smut #twice tzuyu smut #idol x male reader #idol x reader #male reader #reader insert #pov smut #x reader

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kel-lance · 6 months

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TAAOTJJK FIC MASTERLIST

Most are nsfw so in general NO MINORS but I’ve got a lot planned out and seemed I work best when ovulating 😭 so updates may be hectic but I would encourage donations as I got fired for protesting and boycotting bc my job was invisibly helping 🇮🇱 so I’m glad I’m out of there but finding a job where I’m at is hella hard. I’m just tryna keep my 4 cats comfy. Anything helps thank you for reading!

Here are my socials:

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Written and Posted:

Mafia AU (up to 19 ch planned out) TW: Dead dove dont read (DDDR) Minors do not interact (MDNI): SA, Physical Assault, DubCon, NonCon, Mindbreak, Public Humiliation, Breeding, Ownership, Gaslighting, Multiple manipulation, RWORD, PTSD, a lot more toxic sh.

Premise: You’re a floater, just loving life as free as you want, until you decided to rob the wrong person. Now there’s confusion after Sukuna takes u back to his place after taking u in that alleyway. After that you just start moving through the gangs due to internal disputes. Shit just gets wild. (Almost everyone has a turn)

Ch1

Ch2

Ch3 (NEW)

Ch4 (NEW)

Ch5 (NEWEST)

Team bonding (up to 5 ch planned out) - TW: Dead dove dont read (DDDR) Minors do not interact (MDNI): SA, Physical Assault, DubCon, NonCon, Mindbreak, Public Humiliation, Multiple manipulation, RWORD, PTSD, a lot more———-

Premise: Sukuna takes over Yuuji’s body, takes u in front of everyone, and threatens them that if they don’t do their homework with you, he’s gonna show u how he wants it. (He instructs everyone to play w u and keep it away from yuuji as his little game.)

Ch 1

Ch2

Ch3

Movie night (up to 9 ch planned out) Warnings: MDNI, Group sex, camera use, teasing, humiliation, mmfmm, everyone’s bi/pan, overstimulation, worship,

Premise: u host a movie night with Megumi Toge Yuuji and yuta. You’ve already been seeing them all but never had them altogether like this before. No one’s gonna be watching the movie.

Ch 1

Ch 2

Yandere Gojo (3/3 parts) TW ——-MDNI—-DDDR——- kidnapping, dc/nc, abuse, cream pie, ownership, etc. ————

Premise: I forgot but he’s mean

Ch 1

Ch 2

Ch 3

Eyeless Gojo: TW ———Warnings: mention of death, blood, killing, morally grey, slight mind control, Gojo just reacting to his cptsd in this universe, slight grooming (adults ideals on Gojo and their children), mindbreak, yandere(?)———————-

Premise: Going back to the start of their first year, meeting, processing, feeling, learning, loving, it’s all new and too much for Gojo. He’s more pathetic and lost and needs Geto, and Geto is even more frayed from the ideals surrounding his best friend. Geto gets into gojos head, so he takes out what people think make him Gojo and not himself.

Prequel:

Part 1

One shots: (TW)

Stepdad Nanami: ——MDNI——GROOMING, not really incest, Age gap, manipulation, broken home, slut shaming (at ur mom lol), drug mention

Premise: Your mom starts dating this guy and he’s nicer than anyone she’s ever kept around, really nice. The best even, sucks how they’re getting married. (Until they split for part 2.)

Divorce Lawyer Hiromi: Warnings: MDNI, Age Gap, StepDad mention, Public, exhibitionism, idk have fun. (Pt 2^^)

Premise: Your stepdads too busy for u but he brought his lawyer home. For work right? Or for you?

Quickie w Yuta: -- Warnings: MDNI!! DC/NC, exhibitionism, cream pie, humiliation, manipulation, ownership, etc...

Premise: Yuta’s some boyfriend.

Tutor Gojo: ——MDNI——WARNINGS: DUBCON/NONCON, implied prof/student relationship, bullying, degradation, blackmail, a few more ——MDNI——

Premise: Gojo overhears that you need a tutor

Sub!Choso: MDNI——collars leashes whip’s edging stomping humiliation blindfolds restraints gags overstimulation pegging taunting slapping blood play period sex {all mentioned}

Premise: He walks in on your date (sub!Nanami) and begs for his own collar.

Yandere?!Yuta: Wrote this months ago and don’t want to reread or fix it up but I feel there should be some warnings though I wouldn’t really know what they’d be other than lying? (NEW)

You decide: (finished)

Poll 1

Poll 2

Poll 3

Poll 4

Writing currently:

- Toge x reader: Toxic!Dom!Toge bein a classic ♏️

- How the JJK Men React to you Waking Up From a REALLY BAD injury

- 1 request

Requests are: OPEN. Updated 06.11.24

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anadrenalineslut · 30 days

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i think the thing i hated the most about the public abuse campaign against amber heard in 2022 is that even well-intentioned but ignorant people to the entirety of the details in the case were saying things like "amber is an imperfect victim but she is still a victim" because they knew she would fight back and would try and negotiate with her abuser sometimes instead of just leaving like society thinks you should do.

and this is building off the previous post about the two types of child abuse because it allows applies to how we treat domestic violence as a society as well. amber heard was a perfect victim, her abuse story was textbook open and shut.

she grew up in an household witnessing DV between her parents. she is a bisexual woman. she was a young starting actress when she met johnny depp, at half his age. at this time, depp ALREADY had a history of public drunkness and violence because he was well into his 40s, maybe 50s at the time.

he was amazing to her in the first months of dating, maybe even a year. then he hit her for the first time after she makes a joke at his expense and she was shocked.

she knew abuse was wrong. she knew the behavior was unacceptable. but this wasnt her boyfriend. this wasnt the man she knew. she had never seen him act this way before, there were no signs up until now. he was so loving. he was drunk and probably high anyways. maybe it was a one time thing. he was so sorry afterwards. she gave him another chance because it had been months of living together (or at the very least spending weeks holed up with one another only!!!!!! red flag af) in perfect harmony at this point.

he goes back to normal. things are better than before. he pulls out all the stops. hes caring towards her friends and family. she feels like he cares about her safety still at this point. obviously he didnt want to hurt her. obviously he just lost control.

it happened again. and again. and again. each time the cycle gets faster. each time, the abuse more violent.

it leads to sexual assault. she's married him at this point. this is on their honeymoon i believe. she feels embarrassed. she spent 5 years putting up with him. she feels the most violated ever. she doesn't know what to do. she's ashamed. she tries to make it work again.

it leads to the worst attack on her life. she was worried she was going to die. over a dog shitting on their bed when she was out of town. her friend called the police to de escalate the situation because he wasnt listening to anyone's explanations and accusing everyone of conspiring against him. it sounded lethal over the phone. they were worried for her safety.

the police come but everyone has already calmed down at that point. she is ashamed of what has happened so publically at this point. she knows she cant stay. she knows he doesnt care about her safety finally. she leaves. she files for divorce and alleges abuse as the reason why.

she has YEARS of testimony. he paid doctors to drug her. he wrote awful texts about wanting to rape her corpse. he called her a lesbian camp counselor and made her apologise for being bisexual and having women friends. there are videos of him being violent and slamming doors around her drunk and incoherent rambling. you can tell she doesnt want him to see the camera but she needs the proof. she knows nobody will believe her without proof.

she has dozens many hundreds of photos of the abuse. she has MEDICAL TESTIMONY FROM HER THERAPISTS AND HIS THERAPIST HE FORCED HER TO ATTEND WITH HIM.

he convinces her to drop the abuse allegations and sign AN NDA after a hours long conversation his lawyer would leak to the public in a future lawsuit as part of a smear campaign against her.

she waits until he speaks publically about the abuse allegations in an interview before she writes an article about protecting women legally who are abuse victims and states she was "a figure representing domestic violence publically" or something to that affect.

he files a defamation lawsuit against her and the newpapers calling him a wife beater as a result. he loses in a country where liberaci won his defamation lawsuit for the press calling him gay publically.

he files another defamation lawsuit against her, a tactic that is well documented as an abuser DARVO tactic online with advocacy groups everywhere. he files it in a country with terrible media laws and in a state with even worse laws protecting DV victims.

he gets a famous alt right misinformation company to spend thousands of dollars running a social media smear campaign with bots.

he wins the defamation lawsuit because people genuinely believe a grown woman alleging abuse shat in this man's bed as an elaborate plot to abuse him and steal his money and fame or something??????????????

this is like clear cut perfect victimhood. if amber heard isnt a perfect victim, who the fuck is??????

not that i agree with perfect versus imperfect victimhood because its such a gross concept imho to ascribe to but like she is definitely a perfect victim.

and it all stems from the fact that society doesnt understand how someone can choose to stay with an abusive partner for years before leaving that relationship. society doesn't understand how someone can grow up witnessing abuse as a sign of love and that changing their perspecting on what real love should look like.

idk like i genuinely think about amber heard all the fucking time and all the abuse victims that summer destroyed emotionally and mentally witnessing yall behave like that. and yall just moved on. yall moved on. you ruined that woman's life and all she wanted to do was be honest about her truth and be believed. yall stole that from her and you told every abuse victim watching that you are not a safe person to be around and then yall just... moved on.

well im still at the restaurant, this is the corner im haunting for the rest of my life. i cannot accept it, it breaks my heart when i think about it.

#personal #abuse #domestic violence #amber heard

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someone-will-remember-us · 25 days

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https://www.nytimes.com/2024/09/02/world/europe/france-husband-rape-drug-trial-mazan.html

France Confronts Horror of Rape and Drugging Case as 51 Men Go on Trial

A man is accused of drugging his wife and then inviting dozens of men to rape her over almost a decade. The questions raised by the case have unsettled the country.

For years, she had been losing hair and weight. She had started forgetting whole days, and sometimes appeared to be in dreamlike trances. Her children and friends worried she had Alzheimer’s.

But in late 2020, after she was summoned to a police station in southern France, she learned a far more shattering story.

Using the man’s photographs, videos and online messages, the police spent the next two years identifying and charging those other suspects.

Most are charged with raping the woman once. A handful are accused of returning as many as six times to rape her.

The victim, who has divorced her husband and changed her surname since his arrest, is now in her 70s.

Since his arrest, Mr. Pelicot, 71, has “always declared himself guilty,” said Béatrice Zavarro, his lawyer. “He is not at all contesting his role.”

When the police showed the victim some of the photographs they say her husband had carefully classified and stored, she expressed deep shock. She and her husband had been together since they were 18. She had described him to the police as caring and considerate.

She had no memory of being raped, by him or the other men, only one of whom she recognized, she told the police, as a neighbor in town.

The first time she will consciously witness the rapes, her lawyer Antoine Camus says, will be in the courtroom when the video recordings are played as evidence.

When she retired, they moved to a house with a big garden and pool in Mazan, a small town northeast of Avignon. The couple regularly hosted their three children and grandchildren for summer vacations peppered with late dinners on the terrace, where the family debated, held dance competitions and played Trivial Pursuit.

“I think of us as happy,” his daughter wrote. “I thought my parents were.”

None of them harbored any suspicions. Then, in 2020, three women reported Mr. Pelicot to the police for trying to use his camera to film up their skirts in a grocery store, and he was arrested.

The police seized his two cellphones, two cameras and his electronic devices, including his laptop, before releasing him on bail.

If he is found guilty, he faces up to 20 years in prison.

The chat room where most of the men met Mr. Pelicot was called “a son insu,” which means “without their knowledge.”

Of the 83 suspects, the police identified and charged 50.

Five of the men also face charges for possessing child sexual abuse imagery.

The story has prompted some soul-searching among doctors, since Mr. Pelicot’s wife had visited gynecologists and neurologists over a series of mystifying symptoms, but had received no diagnosis, according to her daughter.

(archive)

#radfem #radblr #radical feminism #gender critical #terfblr #radical feminist #radfem safe #terf safe

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feralsteddie · 1 year

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to hold on

modern!AU, no Upside Down, set in 2017, pre-steddie

There were a lot of things Steve Harrington had been expecting out of life.

He’d been expecting to be forced to join his father’s firm. He’d been expecting to marry a daughter of his father’s business partners that his mother approved of. He’d been expecting to acquire roughly six little Harringtons that his parents could show pictures of in the office like they’d ever been capable of a parental emotion in their lives.

Granted, roughly none of those happened, except sort of maybe the last one what with his accidental babysitting gig, but… that was what he’d been expecting.

What he hadn’t, under any possible conception of his life that he could’ve, in a thousand years, thought up in his rattled little head, was ending up with custody of the younger stepsister of the guy who’d tried to turn his brain into a slushy his senior year.

He couldn’t figure out how it happened. One second he was serving ice cream. Trying not to think of an entire stack of college rejection letters, hitting on anyone with a pulse, and trying with all his might to ignore the snark from the asshole lesbian he’d been sacked with for every shift. The next, he had an armful of crying toddler and all he could think was “Same, kid.”

It wasn’t like he was exactly shocked that his dad had knocked up some random woman, there were only so many times you could toss one out before accidentally nailing the bullseye, but the odds of her moving into the same nowhere town? Fucking astronomical.

He probably would’ve never even known about it too, was the thing. Could’ve gone his whole life in ignorant bliss if Billy Hargrove hadn’t aggravated assaulted the wrong guy at the wrong time with a baggy of coke in his pocket and got cracked for two level four felonies. If Susan Hargrove hadn’t been desperate to keep him from the 4 to 24 sentence and tried to blackmail the one lawyer she could. If Steve’s mother had trusted any man a day in her fucking life and didn’t go through his mail and messages with all the intensity of corporate lawyer used to finding every single point of weakness and pointing out how to exploit it.

But they all did, and the fallout of Cynthia Harrington and Neil Hargrove both discovering little Max Mayfield’s true paternity left two divorces, four people skipping town, and Steve in possession of a whole baby who clearly just wanted her mother.

He could sort of relate. He’d been missing his mom since he was old enough to feasibly microwave himself dinner. He didn’t know how to tell Max that it’d become a sort of numb spot one day, that the abandonment would become background noise, a pain easy to ignore as long as they didn’t poke at it. He didn’t know how to do a lot of things with Max.

He didn’t even know why he’d been the one with a kid dropped in his lap. He knew she had a grandmother and an uncle back in California, both adults with maybe more money and more experience. He knew his father had the money to hire out a nanny or something to watch her at his new loft in Chicago. Or, fuck, maybe the mother she’d been with for the entirety of her life could’ve taken her with her to wherever she fucked off to.

He was eighteen for fucks sake. He was making slightly more than minimum wage to wear some cheaply made slutty sailor outfit and scoop ice cream to every snot-nosed brat in the county and the mall rats who popped over after haunting the Hot Topic right off the food court. His free time was taken up by watching his ex-girlfriend’s little brother and all his playmates because he was freshly a loser with zero friends. He barely managed to keep himself alive and that was only through the power of having a near decade of practice.

And he was expected to actually raise a baby? A fucking toddler?

It probably could’ve been, like, the smallest, tiniest bit better if he’d been given any notice at all. A phone call, a text maybe. Hell, he would’ve settled for an email or messenger pigeon. Pretty much anything other than him walking in the door to the house he was trying to move out of, still covered in bubblegum ice cream and hair somehow greasy despite the lack of actual grease and the sub-zero temperature of Scoops Ahoy, to his mom gone and his dad tossing the tiny, screaming red head towards him like he could make it stop.

Steve had been left with the deed of the house he’d hated his whole life, a promise for money to be deposited into his account for childcare and utilities, and any dream he had of leaving shitty little Hawkins, Indiana in the dust crushed under his dad’s Berluti’s.

“Fuck.”

#steve harrington #max mayfield #pre steddie as in eddie isn't even mentioned here #but it's coming #pyreposting #to hold on #no one:#me: how many characters can i make steve's secret half-sibling?#idk i got bored and am clearing out my drafts here ya go

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mellowwillowy · 5 months

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Life Characters and their reaction to someone flirting with them? Bonus if they say they have a lover but the person said they don't mind being the side chick?

Blue will just be that one guy meme (@/leejunng) who asks you, "What was it called again? Ah yes, old hag!" Might one punch man the chick.

Eleanor will just shrug, "I'm not into secondhand brandless goods."

Yulian: "I'm not into polyamorous by nature and I'm not a divorce lawyer."

Seth will just walk away. He has answered her out of respect and what beyond is not something he should care.

A-01 will just tease (read: assault) back, "So you want to become one of my many... lovers? I'm afraid you are barely classified to be a toy, let alone a prostitute. I don't pick street rats."

#LIfE Project #Theatric Guest #Blue the Boyfriend #Eleanor the Finale #Yulian the Corruption #Seth the Resistance #A-01 the Omission #i cant link the video because the account is now age restricted ;-;

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jleedslawfirmtx · 5 months

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leedslawfirm · 9 months

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If you’re grappling with questions about the taxability of your settlement, our legal professionals stand ready to guide you with clarity and assurance. For more information contact our personal injury lawyers or call us today at 713-930-2550.

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leoblooms · 6 months

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Paul family lore dump

woooo ok here's the lore dump about his parents and sister under the cut! It's a little stream of conscious but yea maybe I'll edit it a smidge

Amelia and Isaac

Amelia Allen (maiden name- Kaminsky) met Isaac Allen at the same community college. He was getting his start studying for a law degree while she was getting a liberal arts degree. While somewhat differing in views, they hit it off fairly well. He found Amelia well-spoken, not putting up with getting talked down to. Both came from Jewish households, but Isaac had a more traditional upbringing that showed in his approach to religion in Paul’s childhood up until their divorce.

They eloped in 1957 after Amelia graduated, and had their first child at ages 21 (Amelia) and 23 (Isaac), Jennifer. Both were incredibly excited to have their baby girl and Amelia took to taking care of her as Isaac continued his law degree studies. Over the next six years, Isaac saw success as a corporate lawyer and their quality of living only grew. Needless to say, they were comfortable, living in a New Jersey suburb as an upper middle class family. So much so, they decided to have their second child in 1963, Paul.

However, a year or so later Isaac grew colder and more distant. He spent less and less time with his family much to Amelia’s annoyance.

Amelia became more outspoken of her own beliefs, becoming interested in keeping up with politics along with developing an affinity for the folk scene. She was what some would label a hippie. Isaac had little interest in politics, humoring her but not feeling one way or the other. He felt things were pretty good in terms of the opportunities he’s had even with some obstacles and hardships. He’s a believer in the bootstrap ideology and claims a lot of people should just suck it up and get a job.

This would cause heads to butt more and more especially as he withdrew from his role in the family. On nights, he’d come home and isolate in his study, listening to records and keeping to himself. Amelia on the other hand, would do her best to be there for both of their children but it wore her down. The fighting increased but they tried to not do it in front of the kids, but that wasn’t always successful. Isaac would begin to take his frustration out on Paul, as he viewed him to be too soft (despite being a child) because of him mostly hanging around Amelia and Jen. This would result in verbal abuse that made it so Paul avoided him as much as possible. Amelia of course found this to be horrible, but did little to intervene in the moment.

This would all accumulate until around 1970 when the two filed for divorce, Amelia getting full custody of both children. Isaac had no interest in fighting her on that, ultimately being absent from their lives post-divorce.

Amelia did everything she could to make things as painless as possible for her kids, and through alimony they were able to still live a fairly comfortable life and send both of them to college. She didn’t try to keep much contact (outside of any legal obligations) with Isaac after everything until he reached out in 1987 to tell her he had been diagnosed with cancer and wanted to make ammends. She would let him stay with her in 1989 up until his death, cared for by hospice nurses in the guest bedroom.

Jennifer

Jennifer Allen is Paul’s older sister (6 year gap), she took on a lot of responsibilities after their dad left including babysitting Paul a lot. She’s always been protective of Paul and of course never wanted him to believe he had to fight his battles alone. After an assault in college, Paul begged her not to tell their mom and she obliged. A part of her still wishes she had, wondering if she only made things worse by not pushing him to seek help. As he got older, a rift began to form between them especially after their dad was back in the picture. Jen does her best to keep them close, and Paul similarly but there will always be something lost.

The one thing her and Paul truly disagreed on was their dad. Jen had 6 years on Paul and thus, had a different experience of their dad before things went downhill. Blinded by nostalgia, she can’t bring herself to fully hate him like Paul can so when he tries to make ammends, she scolds Paul for refusing. This has always been a thing between them, even as kids when she blamed him for the divorce. In her early teen mind, he came along and caused strain and she wasn’t afraid to tell him that. She grew past this as she got older and feels guilty for how she treated him, but doesn't broach the subject.

Jen studied fine arts and now runs her own small studio. She also volunteers a lot to help foster kids find homes, having a soft spot for them despite having no interest in having her own.

She also cannot stand Patrick and has voiced her views of him to Paul in private. But really, it's not very subtle anyway. She's happy Paul's not as in the closet but he could do better in her opinion.

Both her and Amelia know Paul's gay. Amelia walking in on Paul kissing a boy he had over in high school and Jen finding out shortly after. His mom was embarassingly supportive and both tried to coax him into living as his authentic self (something Paul doesn't truly feel he can ever have if he wants to keep his current lifestyle). Jen being bisexual can relate to Paul's conflicted feelings about this, but is nowhere near as in and out of the closet.

Other things about Paul

Paul got carsick a lot as a kid. Like he threw up more than once to the point where his mom would have to pack plastic bags and medicine.

He has curlier hair, but would straighten it in high school. In college, he let it go and by his late twenties he gelled it down.

Since he was a teen, Paul was a huge hair metal/ heavy metal fan. His favorite bands being Motley Crue and Judas Priest.

Paul would sometimes read comics with Jen, who was much more into them than Paul was.

Despite not having much of a connection to religion, he does get together with his mom and sister for Yom Kippur, Passover and the weekend nights of Hanukkah. Mostly because their mom wants to celebrate and be with them like when they were kids.

He'll never say, but he always worries about becoming his father. There are moments he can see such a thing happening, but he can't stand thinking about it too long.

#paul allen #hi lol heres the dump #lore notes #this is also just nice as ref for myself ngl

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