With the Quinn/Santana/Rachel dynamic - as much as I don't want to 'bring race/identity politics into it', optics matter and there is something sinister about a POC character being retconned as the 'ringleader' instead of the conservative, conventionally attractive blonde white girl who pretty much gets a pass. as popular as Santana is, she does get a lot of the blame for stuff that Quinn said thanks to revisionist history (obvs leaving Britt out of it because she never liked Rachel anyway).
Oh no Anon please do because way too often fandom discussions take this colourblind approach as if race isn't a HUGE part of Quinntana's perception
I have to admit that's a bit of a different approach than I would have but valid nonetheless. There are just so many layers of this and Glee considers exactly none of them. I'm endlessly fascinated and saddened by Rachel always giving Quinn the benefit of the doubt but somehow never completely finding it within herself to extend the same to Santana. I mean case in point, as far as 5x18 Rachel assumes of Santana what she'd never of Quinn. I think Quinn started out as that ultra-WASP bully as part of the satire (and I have other asks to get to about that oops) and the optics of that were her uber-privileged ass bullying the outcast overeager Jewish girl. But then of course not only was Quinn's privilege, well, sort of examined (wow that's me being VERY generous with the show) but the sidekick Latina was promoted to main. And truly, a lot of the time Glee didn't know what to do with that. See Dr. Lopez and his amazing insurance but Santana being from "the wrong side of the tracks". And that's not to even mention Glee having no idea how to treat Santana as being anything other than Vaguely Latina™ even when Naya herself was mixed-race Afro-Latina, but identities like that were too complex for Glee's token mentality. Anyway the result is, like you say, Santana retroactively getting the blame not only for the things she should be called out for but Quinn's bullying, even though Quinn was very much the Alpha Bitch at the beginning.
I think the most glaring instance of how differently the show itself treats Quinntana based on race, and by extension so does the fandom, is the commentary on appearances/sexuality. Feels like it's been a while but I have gone on many times about how Quinn, blonde Euro-centric definition of beauty Quinn is pretty and less sexualized than Santana even when the show explicitly mocks the irony of her getting knocked up. But Santana is never pretty, just "hot" and sexualized in a very heteronormative way loooong after she comes out as a lesbian. Post for another day?
Then there's also the many racist undertones of the Pezberry feud itself, from mocking Santana's Hispanic heritage to the insistence that she's "lazy". Yikes. Actually all three main WOCs get put into this faux meritocracy narrative in opposition to Rachel (West Side Story, Props, Funny Girl) but that's (another) story for another day.
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retired pornstar!Ghost who can't seem to ever keep his hands to himself whenever you're around, even when about to film.
f!reader, 18+ smut. unedited.
If you're standing at a table making coffee, he'll sneak up from behind and wrap his arms around you, his chin resting on the crown of your head.
Hi, Ghost.
G'mornin', love.
If you're walking out of Price's office with a script in hand, he's by your side in mere moments, throwing an arm over your shoulder.
"New script?"
"You should know, you're my co-star. Again."
"Lucky me, pet."
He's leading you toward his office, perches you on his desk and cups his hand over your core.
"Gonna let me eat this pretty pussy?"
"I dunno, Ghost. Gonna fuck me here too?" you smirk at him.
"Whatever you want from me," he breathes.
You stumble out hours later with swollen lips, love bites mottled over your neck and collarbone, and his warm spend trickling down your legs because Ghost pocketed your knickers.
The day of, he's texting you if you'd like a ride to the studio.
Sure thing. Get me in 15.
Yes ma'am.
He doesn't ask for your address, and you don't question why he knows where you live either. Ghost, forever the gentleman, opens the passenger door for you, and gently helps you get in. The entire drive over, his hand rested on your bare thigh, his small finger occasionally grazing your clothed cunt. By the time you arrive, your knickers are damp with your arousal.
"Somethin' wrong, love?"
You snort at his feigned innocence. "Cute. Is mercilessly teasing me fun to you?"
"Sorry 'bout tha.'" Ghost doesn't sound all that apologetic.
He brings you in tight, wrapping his arm around you firmly.
"Lemme make it up t'you in my dressin' room", he purrs.
You click your tongue. "Price'll have your head if he catches me in there, especially when we're about to make a vid."
"Be sure to keep quiet, then. Would absolutely hate to get caught."
With his smart fingers and expert tongue, you're brought to peak 3 times.
Price rolls his eyes when he spots you both walking in at the same time 15 minutes before the shoot.
"Always cheek by jowl, eh Simon?"
His piercing eyes cut to Price's. "Not a crime, last I checked."
Price lifts his hands up, palms outward in mock surrender. "Easy, Ghost. Only teasin'." He turns away, gesturing the crew to get in their places.
Ghost taps your chin with his pointer finger, drawing your attention. "Showtime, baby."
The wolfish grin on your face mirrors his.
"Showtime," you echo.
Ghost turns sex into art. He moves with discipline; every languid roll of his hips deliberate. Like a skilled painter, he transformed you into a living masterpiece, using each drag of his cock as a brush stroke on the canvas of your very being.
It's otherworldly.
He watches your face intently as he changes the angle, bites his bottom lip when he changes the pace, grunting into your ear as your walls begin to flutter— the telltale sign of 'his favorite part', as he loves to say.
"Gonna come f'me? Lemme hear that sweet, little voice of yours, pet." Almost as if following his command, you're digging your nails into his biceps, and closing your eyes in bliss as you climax. A loud, drawn-out moan escapes your lips as your cunt rhythmically pulses around Ghost's heavy length. Your soft thighs quiver around his broad waist as he works you through the aftershocks with slow, firm thrusts.
"Look at tha'. Came when I told ya to, like a good girl." Your mind is blank from your orgasm, tongue too heavy and thick in your mouth for you to even try to articulate a response.
"Creamed all over my cock, can ya hear it?" Hard not to when the wet sounds of your pussy squelching every time he bottoms out fills the room.
"You're so fuckin' tight. Cunt's squeezin' me like it doesn't want me to pull out."
His filthy words send a jolt straight to your throbbing core. "Felt tha'. What, you got a breedin' kink?"
Another jolt, so sharp it almost hurts.
"Want me to fill ya with my come? Is tha' it?" His husky voice dripping with desire. With want.
yes. yesyesyessss—
"Tell me you want me. Fuck, tell me you want me to come in you." The words fall from your spit-slick lips like a faucet.
"Come in me, oh my god, come in me. Fill my pussy up."
His thrusts lose some of their rhythm, but still not sloppy enough like when he's on the very brink.
Ghost's jaw in clenched, as if digging his heels in to hold off his climax. Well, that's simply unacceptable.
Your fingers tangle into his hair, giving him a slight tug to have his lips hover over yours.
"I want you come in me, Simon."
The change is instantaneous. His eyes widen a fraction before stealing your very breath with a searing kiss and fucks you. He puts his weight behind each snap of his hips. The tip of his cock pressing into the plug of your womb, making your eyes prickle with tears.
It's too much, he's too much, you think you've gone and bitten off more than you can chew with him when he mercifully stills with a groan you swallow— cock twitching as it pains your insides white.
He breaks away, gasping for air, sweat that beaded on his forehead dripping onto your heated skin.
Cut.
DaVinci and his muse.
Later, when he threads his fingers into your damp hair, you ask him why he doesn't record with others.
"'Cause I don't want to."
Oh?
"Besides, you and I have fantastic chemistry, dont'cha think?" He tugs on a lock of hair. "The fans love seeing us together, just as much as I love seeing my cock disappear into your sweet pussy."
He chuckles when he takes in your flustered expression. "Don't ask questions you aren't prepared to hear, then."
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