Imagine being AJ in that picture and having to be all like "damn, Charlotte, you fuckin' fine, all sexy with your tight body and horrific androgynous monster face. I would totally have sinful adulterous sex with you, both in kayfabe and in a shoot." when all he really wants to do is lead his local congregation in the reading of a passage from the Book of Leviticus. Like seriously imagine having to be AJ and not only sit in that chair while Charlotte flaunts her disgusting body in front of you, the favorable lighting barely concealing her stretchmarks and leathery skin, and just sit there, picture after picture, Smackdown after Smackdown, while she perfected that pose. Not only having to tolerate her monstrous fucking visage but her haughty attitude as everyone on set tells her she's GENETICALLY SUPERIOR and DAMN, RIC FLAIR'S DAUGHTER LOOKS LIKE THAT?? because they're not the ones who have to sit there and watch her mannish fucking gremlin face contort into types of grimaces you didn't even know existed before that day. You've been fucking nothing but your loving, beautiful Christian wife for your ENTIRE CAREER coming straight out of the boonies in Georgia. You've never even seen anything this fucking disgusting before, and now you swear you can taste the sweat that's breaking out on her dimpled stomach as she sucks it in to writhe it suggestively at you, smugly assured that you are enjoying the opportunity to get paid to sit there and revel in her "statuesque (for that is what she calls herself)" beauty, the beauty she worked so hard for at the performance center in the previous months. And then the producer calls for another picture, and you know you could kill every single person in this room before the arena security could put you down, but you sit there and endure, because you're AJ fucking Styles. You're not going to lose your future Hall of Fame induction over this. Just bear it. Hide your face and bear it.
