#trophy wive in training | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gubsbuubs · 4 months

Text

Trophy wife

Pt. 2 is out - It´s Mutual

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~ 4.5K

Warnings: Typical case descriptions, kissing and petting, enemies to lovers, a set up for a smut. Summary: When an unsub targets trophy wives, (Y/N) is asked to go undercover with her nemesis, Spencer Reid, posing as a couple to lure the killer. As they navigate a high-stakes operation, tensions escalate, blurring the lines between their professional and personal animosity.

Preview: "All this animosity, the bickering... we don't actually hate each other; we want each other.” He stared into my eyes before continuing, “And I don't think I can go another day without tasting you."

A/N: Hi everyone, this is my first-ever fanfiction. I initially wanted to write smut, but to add depth, I decided to craft this background story. English is not my first language. I hope you all enjoy it, and any and all comments are appreciated 🍒

“Are those poker chips?” Derek asked as the images from the most recent crime scene appeared on the screen behind Garcia.

"Bingo, my lucky charm! Those are poker chips, and you've hit the jackpot," Garcia continued. “This is the second woman to be found in a motel room stabbed and extremely beaten in the last two weeks.”

“The Vegas police have requested our help,” Hotch informed as he analyzed the pictures.

Ross quirked up his eyebrows as an amused smile played on his lips. "Well, either he really likes poker, or he's on a mission to prove that crime can be a high-stakes game…"

"Well, he's certainly raising the stakes in our investigation," I added, my remark eliciting another round of chuckles.

"Children, behave, please," JJ attempted to redirect the team's focus to the situation at hand.

As I scanned the pictures, my index finger reached above the image on the table. "The persistent appearance of poker chips as a signature strongly suggests a connection to the unsub’s personal experiences, perhaps indicating a deep involvement with poker, possibly even as a player. Maybe…”

“While symbolism is intriguing, we should prioritize empirical evidence. Jumping to conclusions based on perceived patterns might lead us astray." My brows furrowed in annoyance as I turned my head, hearing him cut off my train of thought. His tone carried a subtle bitterness, as if questioning the validity of my analysis.

And there he fucking was again, Dr. Spencer Reid, incessantly questioning my every move, as if my mere presence irked him to no end.

Our "relationship," if you could really call it that, was basically just a constant back-and-forth of arguing, interruptions, and tension you could practically cut with a knife. We tried to keep it professional for the team's sake, but it was obvious we weren't exactly best buds.

And what kept his skepticism going wasn't just about work competition; it was personal. He had this lingering grudge because I had stepped in after his buddy, Alex Blake, bailed on the BAU, leaving him behind.

To be honest, his animosity seemed mostly one-sided. At first, I admired Spencer's intellect and respected his dedication to the job. Plus, let's be real, I wasn't blind—I definitely noticed he was a good-looking guy. But his hostility kind of pushed me to throw up walls and respond with a guarded attitude. And then, well, naturally, I found some twisted enjoyment in getting under his skin and making him lose his cool.

"How can you have an IQ of 182 and yet be so clueless?" I scoffed, laughing. "Sure, you're intelligent, but common sense seems to elude you at times."

Reid stared for a moment, a mix of shock and rage flickering across his otherwise monotone, expressionless face. His eyes narrowed, and he responded curtly, "It's 187, and (Y/N), I would advise you to mind your manners when addressing me. My intelligence surpasses yours by far more than a number could explain." As he stood there, staring into my eyes, arms crossed by the presentation board, a surge of irritation pulsed through me. I was poised to respond, the words itching at the tip of my tongue, but before I could unleash them, Derek intervened. With a subtle shift in his posture, he leaned in towards the table, effectively redirecting our focus. A deliberate clearing of his throat signaled the shift in conversation. "The sheer brutality of these killings unmistakably points to an unsub fueled by intense rage. The way the victims were forcefully and repeatedly stabbed suggests a perpetrator with considerable physical strength and stamina.”

"The messy and disorganized scene adds another layer to the unsub's profile. Women just tend to be cleaner, so we are definitely dealing with a man,” JJ added.

“They are waiting for us, we can discuss the rest of the preliminary profile on the jet, wheels up in thirty,” Hotch said as he stood up, the team following right after.

--x--

As I focused on the files spread out in front of me, the sound of the door swinging open abruptly pulled my attention away. "We've got another body," Hotch announced, his voice cutting through the silence that lingered in the small meeting room lent to us by the Las Vegas police.

By now, we had successfully linked the unsub to the world of poker. Our victims, all married, had been last seen with their partners at casinos during poker nights, forming a clear pattern. Despite our breakthroughs, the mystery surrounding his identity and motive remained unsolved.

"Rebecca Miller, 29 years old, was last seen with her husband at Riverside Casino," Hotch added, his tone steady as he placed the picture of the victim on the board. "Witnesses report they were very affectionate. Her husband mentioned she went to get them drinks before she disappeared," he continued, his gaze scanning the room, inviting any additional insights or comments from the team.

"She definitely fits the victimology—young, beautiful, and married to an avid poker player," JJ remarked casually as she got up to take a closer look at the picture.

Rossi gazed into the distance, lost in thought. "They must be raking in serious cash playing poker. Why else would these stunners be tying the knot with someone clearly out of their league?" he mused aloud.

As I scanned the pictures of the victims, a realization began to form in my mind. Each photograph depicted a strikingly beautiful woman, always beside her husband, who often appeared much older or less attractive in comparison. "They're trophy wives," I exclaimed, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place.

I glanced to my left, where Reid stood, scoffing and shaking his head. "Trophy wives?" he immediately questioned, his focus remaining fixed on the board as he continued drawing lines for the geographical profile.

"Well, think about it," I elaborated, gesturing toward the pictures of the women. "These women, young and beautiful, carefully curated for a certain image, accompanying their husbands to the poker games, spending the entire night all over them. How had we not seen this glaring pattern before?"

"That's a rather simplistic and uninformed view, (Y/LN)," he countered. "These women had successful careers. Assuming they're merely trophy wives diminishes their individuality."

"Just because they have successful careers doesn't negate the potential of being used as accessories," I countered, locking eyes with Reid as he turned to face me. "It's not about undermining their achievements but acknowledging the potential for a specific dynamic in their relationships. We need to explore all possibilities, not just those that fit neatly into your rational worldview."

"Acknowledging possibilities is one thing, but chasing baseless theories is another," Reid retorted, his tone measured. "We can't afford to indulge in wild conjectures without solid evidence."

"Sometimes you're so buried in your 'facts' that you miss the human element of the cases," I remarked, chuckling dismissively as I shook my head to the side.

"It's called objectivity, (Y/LN)," he asserted, stepping closer until he stood before me, his hands slipping into his pockets in a gesture of dominance. "Something you might want to consider before letting personal biases cloud your judgment."

"I'm the one who lets personal biases cloud my judgment?!" I retorted, my voice rising as frustration bubbled up within me.

He remained silent for a moment, his expression unreadable.

"You've got to be kidding me," I continued, my tone escalating gradually. "You're the one who's been acting like a little bitch to me since I joined the team, so don't lecture me about taking things personally here."

Still, he said nothing, his hands now clenched into fists at his sides.

"You've had a problem with me from day one," I pressed on, "and it's about damn time you admit it instead of acting like such a child about it."

"This is about doing our job objectively," Reid retorted, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. "Your presence doesn't change the standards we uphold in the BAU, but clearly you don’t meet them."

"That's enough!" Hotch's voice boomed, commanding attention as he intervened. His gaze shifted from Reid to me, a subtle warning in his eyes. "I think we should explore that possibility," he acknowledged, nodding towards my earlier suggestion. "It seems reasonable. Apart from that, are there any more leads we need to consider?"

Spencer turned on his feet, his movements purposeful as he approached the board. "Actually, I've been working on the geographical profile," he began "And it seems that, looking at the last victim’s place of abduction, he is moving in a straight line." With a marker in hand, he started drawing on the board, "Look at this: the first victim was last seen at the Lotus Casino Central, the second victim at the Charlaton, and now Rebecca at the Riverside. It's a straight line, which means..."

"He's heading for the Bellagio next," JJ chimed in, seamlessly connecting the dots of Spencer's thoughts. Spencer nodded in confirmation, acknowledging her insight.

Rossi rose from his seat and joined Spencer by the board. "Now that we know where he's likely to strike next, perhaps we can set up an operation to catch him; he’s been striking on poker nights."

Hotch leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concentration as he considered the strategy. After a moment of contemplation, he straightened up and cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the team. "Yes, an undercover op might be our next chance." His gaze fell on me, lingering for a moment as he addressed me directly. "Y/n," he began,"You have experience as an undercover agent, and you actually resemble the victims," he observed, "Would you mind going in?" The room fell silent as the weight of the proposition settled among us.

"Yeah… sure," I responded quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Derek immediately sensed my apprehension and offered reassurance with a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Hey, it's okay," he said softly. "You're not going in alone. It has to be a couple, so you'll have someone to have your back."

"Can you come with me?" I asked, my voice tinged with a mix of vulnerability and hope.

"Actually," Hotch interrupted, straightening in his chair, "I want Reid to go with you." My head fell into my hands as I sighed, dreading the complications that might arise. The weight of Hotch's decision settled heavily on my shoulders, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the thought of partnering with Reid for this undercover operation.

"Sir, with due respect," Spencer began, but Hotch raised his hand to stop him from continuing.

"(Y/N) needs a poker player husband; you’re the only one who could actually pass as an avid poker player," Hotch explained simply, as if it were that straightforward. "I trust you can both behave professionally and put your differences aside?" His tone sounded more like an order than a question.

"Let's get to work then," Rossi said, his tone decisive, as I let my head rest on the table. It dawned on me that this was the only option to ever catch this guy.

--x--

JJ pulled out all the strings, ensuring we had everything necessary to play our roles seamlessly. With meticulous attention to detail, she provided a stunning black dress that hugged my curves perfectly, matching pumps that elongated my legs, and exquisite jewelry that added a touch of elegance to the ensemble. Among the glittering gems, she placed an engagement ring and wedding band, enhancing the authenticity of our charade.

As I admired my reflection in the mirror, a wave of mixed emotions washed over me. The thought of spending the upcoming night with Spencer made my heart race, a strange feeling stirring within me.

My mind constantly drifted towards the way we were supposed to behave, thoughts swirling with anticipation. I imagined his touch, knowing that as a couple, he would have to be close, his hands possibly lingering on my body. How would it feel? Would I be able to maintain eye contact as he stared me down during our conversations?

I sighed heavily, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. Despite this being an undercover mission, it felt strangely intimate, as if I was gearing up for a date with him. The prospect of going out and spending time with Spencer was something I'd never experienced before, and it left me feeling nervous, even though I couldn't quite admit it to myself.

Maybe if things hadn't unfolded as they did, Spencer and I could've found common ground. Perhaps we could've forged a genuine connection, evolving into friends, or even something more meaningful. But fate had a different plan for us.

From the moment we crossed paths, our destinies seemed entwined in conflict rather than harmony, and I remember the day I met him all too well. We had just finished the tour, and Derek was now showing me to my desk.The ding of the elevator caught my attention, and there he stood. I've heard of Dr. Reid, everyone talked about him – his genius IQ of 187, his remarkable accomplishments at such a young age. But amidst all the praise for his intellect, no one ever mentioned how good-looking he actually was.

"Pretty boy," Derek exclaimed with a grin as he welcomed him. I couldn't help but agree silently. It was indeed a fitting nickname, Spencer was undeniably attractive. "Come meet our new member, Y/n Y/Ln."

With a smile I reached out my hand instinctively, ready to greet him, but to my surprise, he took a light step back. "Sorry, I don't shake hands," he said dismissively, his tone somewhat curt. "Did you know that the average person carries about 4,000 bacteria on their hands? It's a breeding ground for germs. It's actually safer to touch a toilet seat."

I stood there, utterly dumbfounded. Did he genuinely suggest that touching a toilet seat is cleaner than shaking my hand? "You really know how to make a girl feel special, Agent Reid," I retorted, rolling my eyes as Derek chuckled at the situation.

"It's Doctor, not Agent," he corrected, his tone matter-of-fact as he swiftly made his way to his desk. My mind raced, attempting to conjure a response, but he had already moved on, leaving me standing there, still processing what had just happend.

"Are you ready, or should I tell the unsub to wait because you need to keep fixing your lipstick?" a voice spoke from the darkness of my room.

“Jesus fucking Christ Reid, what the fuck is wrong with you?" I jumped from my place, surprised to see him standing there, leaning on the frame of my bathroom door. "No one ever taught you how to knock on a door?" I muttered under my breath.

"First of all, your door was unlocked, and second of all," he shook his head disapprovingly. "That's a very foul mouth you have, you should really watch your tongue," he chided. I felt his gaze lingering appreciatively on how the dress hugged my curves and accentuated my breasts.

From the corner of my eye, I lightly took in his appearance. The tailored suit fit him like a glove, different from what he wore every day. He looked more relaxed, better, hotter.

I was taken aback when I saw him move and enter the bathroom. My heart started racing as he stood by my side, exchanging a glance with me in the mirror.

"Honestly?I don't think he'd mind waiting for me” I straightened up, finally satisfied with my lipstick.

"Too bad he won't get to see it," he said, chuckling. His left hand met my hip, swiftly turning me around, and I gasped as the small of my back hit the bathroom counter. His own body caged me in, his intense gaze never leaving mine as I looked at him, confused yet strangely drawn to him. His right hand reached for a wipe, and he gently cleared any remnants of the red lipstick. I felt the cold, wet cloth on my lips, erasing any traces of the vivid stain. "If we're going to act like a couple, I don't want your lipstick all over me," Spencer remarked dryly, his expression unamused. "It's not my fault you don't know how to kiss a girl with lipstick, Doctor," I retorted, my annoyance evident in my tone.

"You look good enough," Spencer remarked with a smirk. "I'll be waiting for you in the car." With that, he turned and headed out, leaving me to gather my thoughts before joining him. "Well, this is going to be a long night," I sighed.

--x--

As Spencer drove us to the casino, we found ourselves going over the details of the plan. It was simple; our initial objective was to seamlessly integrate into the casino's scene, mirroring the couples we were emulating.

The plan dictated that Spencer and I had to project the image of a couple deeply in love, sharing glances, engaging in affectionate gestures, and creating an atmosphere that would draw the unsub's attention. Spencer would transition to the poker tables, just as the husbands of the previous victims had, all while showcasing his "trophy wife."

As the night progressed, I would strategically separate from Spencer to lure the unsub into action.

Inside the casino, Rossi and Morgan were playing their part as players, keeping an eye out. The rest of the team was in a van, ready to jump in if things went south.

The objective was clear – act like a couple. How hard could that be?

The tension in the car was palpable, and we exchanged glances, silently acknowledging the complexity of our roles. The success of the operation hinged on our ability to draw the unsub's attention, making him believe we were just another couple enjoying a night out.

The atmosphere in the casino buzzed with energy as Spencer and I entered. The dim lights, the soft murmur of conversations, and the distant chiming of slot machines created a captivating ambiance.

As we made our way to the bar, I reached for Spencer's hand and intertwined my fingers with his.

His eyebrows immediately shot up, a silent question evident in his expression as he glanced at me, perhaps surprised by the sudden display of affection.

"The more convincing we are, the more it'll attract the unsub's attention," I replied, my voice hushed but determined.

His gaze flickerd between our intertwined hands and my face. "Yeah," a small grin playing on his lips. "Just make sure you don't take it too far and end up falling for me."

"That's a good one, Dr. Reid," I chuckled softly, a hint of sarcasm lacing my words. "I'll try to contain myself."

We approached the bar, and Spencer took a seat on a stool. As I moved to stand by his side, he surprised me by pulling me closer, guiding me between his legs. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me snug against him. I was taken aback, but I didn't say a word. Acting like a couple—that was the plan. It was just all part of the plan.

"So what should I call you?" Spencer cut through our silence, his gaze focused on mine. "What should you call me?" I echoed, my voice filled with confusion as I furrowed my brows.

"I'm not going to address you by your real name," Spencer said matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "We need undercover names. So, what's it going to be?"

His eyes scanned my features, awaiting my response, while I took a moment to ponder. "How about pretty girl?" he proposed with a smirk, his gaze lingering on me. My expression must have betrayed my surprise, but before I could respond, he continued, "Or how about Angel?" The endearing term rolled off his tongue, and I felt a flutter in my chest at the sound.

"Angel seems to resonate with you," he teased, a chuckle escaping his lips, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he awaited my reaction. I felt the heat rising to my cheeks, rendering me momentarily speechless.

I closed my eyes, disbelief washing over me. Was this real? Was Spencer really saying these things to me? And during a mission, no less?

"You seem awfully quiet for someone who doesn't know how to shut the fuck up," he said, his lips brushing against the side of my neck. "If I'd known all I had to do was call you angel, I would've done it sooner."

"Sweet names will only get you so far," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. Despite the warmth spreading through me at his words, I couldn't shake off the sense of disbelief at the way he was acting. "Oh yeah?" Spencer asked, his tone amused, as I felt his breath tickling my neck before his lips brushed against my skin, leaving a small kiss on my pulse point. My breath caught in my throat, and my heart pounded in my chest as he slowly moved his hands along my waist and lower back. I couldn't focus on anything but the warmth of his body pressed against mine, sending shivers down my spine.

"Doctor Reid, this is highly inappropriate," I managed to utter.

“On the contrary, my sweet Angel," he spoke softly as his small kisses traveled up my neck. "See, this mission requires us to act like a couple, so I'm simply enjoying my time with my wife,” he lightly chuckled as he reached my jawline. “As you said, the more convincing we are, the more it'll attract the unsub's attention”

Suddenly, Hotch's voice disrupted the moment as he barked over the wire in my ear, "Guys, great job. We've got a male in his late 30s to early 40s staring at you; he's moved closer since you arrived. He could be our unsub."

I heard Hotch's words, but my brain struggled to process them as I was too focused on Spencer's eyes, his gaze fixed on mine while his hands lightly pressed me closer.

"Come on, Angel, let's give him a show," Spencer pleaded, his voice laced with a confidence that both shocked and intrigued me. It was unexpected to witness this side of him, but there was something undeniably exciting about it. Perhaps it was his confidence and assertiveness, or maybe it was the way he was taking control and leading the interaction. "Yeah.... let´s.... let´s do it" I lightly nodded my head, I swear he could feel the pounding of my heart against my chest from how close he stood to me.

His right hand reached my face, his touch gentle against my skin. "Angel," he spoke quietly against my lips, his voice barely a whisper. "I'll only keep going if you give me permission."

His eyes were dark, his lips plump, inviting, calling for my attention. I couldn't even form a "yes," but he knew what I wanted. I pulled him closer by his tie, and our lips collided in a hot, messy kiss. I was taken aback by his skill and technique, completely unable to resist him as the heat between us intensified.

Spencer pulled away and wrapped his arms around my body, embracing me in a hug. His warmth was comforting, and I felt a sense of security in his embrace. "He's standing right behind you, gray suit, red tie, black hair," he whispered in my ear, his voice low enough not to be noticed by anyone standing nearby. Suddenly, I was snapped back to reality. The mission. The unsub. He was standing right behind me

"Should we join them?" I asked softly, glancing over toward the tables of poker and motioning for Spencer to start playing, continuing with the plan. He was supposed to hit the games, and I needed to find a way to get myself alone.

"Absolutely, my love," Spencer said with a smile as he rose from his seat.

Still a little dazed from that kiss, my mind was on fire, and my panties were ruined. How was I supposed to continue my life after knowing the effect Spencer had on me? My racing thoughts were only interrupted by the sight of the suspect following us to the tables. Instinctively, my body reacted, and I found myself clinging to Spencer's arm, seeking comfort and reassurance in his presence.

As planned, Spencer sat down at the closest table and began playing, our actions subtly conveying intimacy to onlookers. I wrapped my arms around his neck, planting kisses occasionally, making it clear to everyone that I was his prize, and he was proudly showing me off as his trophy wife.

As he played, I showered him with praise and encouragement. "You're doing so well, baby," I whispered, my words laced with admiration. It was evident that he was enjoying the attention, his gameplay slightly faltering under the distraction of my praise. Despite being a skilled and experienced player, known for his prowess and banned from multiple casinos, he seemed momentarily thrown off his rhythm by my words of encouragement. It was a small victory, a slight advantage gained in my favour.

Feeling the need to draw the unsub away, I leaned in close to Spencer and murmured, "I'm going to step out for some fresh air on the balcony, honey. I'll be back soon."

Spencer nodded, his attention still on the cards. "Okay, sweetheart," he replied with a smile, not once lifting his gaze.

Before I turned to leave, I couldn't resist the urge to plant a quick kiss on his lips, just as part of the plan, playing my role as the devoted wife. After all, that's what a wife would do, right?

The fresh air hit my face, sending shivers down my arms. I didn't need to turn to know he had followed me outside; I could feel his presence on my right side. When I glanced over, he gestured to a drink in his hand, offering it to me. "You look like you could use a drink," he said.

My heart raced, and my breathing quickened as he got closer, but I kept a cool, confident attitude, determined not to let him see my nerves.

"(Y/N), don't drink that. It's laced," Morgan's urgent voice snapped through the wire, jolting me into alertness. "Just keep him talking so Garcia can check him."

My blood ran cold as I registered Morgan's warning. Without missing a beat, I forced a smile and nodded, "Thank you, handsome, but I've had enough tonight," I replied smoothly, declining the drink with a casual wave of my hand.

"That's a big rock on your finger," he pointed out, glancing at my, unknowingly, fake engagement ring. "Why are you here all alone? Where's your husband?" he continued, raising an eyebrow and asking the question directly, as if he didn't already know the answer.

"Well…" I laughed, injecting a flirtatious edge into my voice. "I could ask the same thing," I continued, "Where is Mrs…?"

"Mrs. Desmond? She stayed at home; she doesn't really like poker," he replied nonchalantly. "I'm Steve, by the way," he added, reaching out to shake my hand.

I shook his hand, my heart quickening as I heard Garcia speak from my wire: "Steve Desmond, a 39-year-old banker, is divorced; according to court files, his wife left him after he lost all of their money on poker.” The sound of clicking keyboards could be heard in the background. "The divorce dates coincide with the killings,” Garcia added.

“That sounds like a trigger,” Hotch's voice chimed in.

"Holy moly, he also assaulted a prostitute a couple of years ago, but the charges were dropped and he was never convicted," Garcia spoke nervously.

"That's our guy, (Y/N). Keep him talking; we're on our way,” Hotch said, his voice steady and authoritative.

"Is everything okay?" Steve spoke, his tone taking on a hint of aggression as he grabbed my attention. "Maybe you should take that drink."

“I'm not thirsty, thanks,” I replied firmly, stepping back in an attempt to keep my distance. However, he refused, reaching out and gripping my arm to keep me from moving.

"I'm telling you," he said angrily, his grip tightening. "You're clearly nervous. Just a tiny sip won't hurt." I tried to break free of his grasp, but he was stronger than me and refused to let go

"FBI!" Suddenly, I saw Spencer coming up behind him, his fist connecting with the guy's face with a solid punch, knocking him back into the wall. He was strong and quick; the unsub didn't stand a chance against him. Spencer swiftly pulled out his handcuffs, cuffing him without even breaking a sweat.

"Steve Desmond, you're under arrest for the killings of Amanda Crane, Juliet Sand, and Rebecca Miller,” Spencer announced, his voice firm and authoritative.

Morgan and Rossi soon appeared, Morgan helping the unsub up from the ground and carrying him out as he spoke, "Steve Desmond, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to talk to an attorney for advice before we ask you any questions. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford it…” His voice faded as they left, escorting the suspect away from the scene.

Once they were out of sight, Spencer came up to me and reached for my arm, his expression filled with concern. I winced as he touched the red marks left behind by the unsub's grip.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice full of concern and care, his eyes searching mine for any sign of distress.

"Um, yeah…" I replied softly, my voice shaky. "I just need a moment to process this." My heart was still racing from the encounter, and I needed a moment to collect myself. Why did he step in like that? I thought to myself, a mixture of gratitude and confusion washed over me. I could've handled the situation on my own—I was trained for this, after all. Yet, there he was, interfering in my work.

After the quiet ride back to the motel, Spencer led me to the door of my room. As we stood there, I realized I could no longer contain the annoyance for how he had handled the situation. The tension of the evening had been building inside me, and I needed to let it out. "Spencer," I began, my voice tinged with frustration. "I appreciate that you were trying to help, but I had it under control. I didn't need you to intervene so quickly," the frustration bubbled inside me, I couldn't help but wonder why Spencer felt the need to intervene. I felt like I had done a great job handling the situation, and his actions made me feel as though he had robbed me of an opportunity to take down the unsub myself.

Spencer's eyes widened in shock as he opened his mouth to speak. "Oh, really?" he said incredulously. "I didn't realize you had everything under control. I just figured that the guy having his hands all over you and aggressively grabbing your arm was cause for concern. But clearly, you didn't need any help."

"Oh, right, because clearly, I was in so much danger," I snapped sarcastically.

"I'm not going to sit around and watch some creepy-as-hell psychopath put his hands all over you," Spencer said firmly, shaking his head in disbelief. His brows furrowed in concern, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and genuine worry. "I won't let him put you at risk of being hurt … or worse." His tone was sharp "Get it through your head; I'm not going to let that happen."

"Oh, right, I wasn't aware this situation called for a 'white knight' to swoop in and save me from myself," I retorted, my tone laced with bitterness. Crossing my arms defensively, I met his gaze head-on. "Since when did my safety become your problem?"

"Since the moment we met, you stubborn brat," Spencer snapped back, his frustration evident in his tone.

"Since the moment we met? That's so much bullshit," I shot back, my voice rising with indignation. "Since when did you care about my safety so much?" I challenged him, my eyes narrowing in disbelief. "You've never shown me any compassion before, so why now? Hun?"

And then, suddenly, his lips crashed against mine, his body pressing mine firmly against the door with a resounding thud. I felt the heat of his body press on mine, the tension that had been building between us explode in an instant.

His kiss was messy and sloppy, but damn, it was hot. There was an urgency in the way our lips crashed together, fueled by a raw desire that couldn't be tamed. As the kiss deepened, the air grew thin, and I felt myself getting breathless. With a gasp, I had to pull away,

“What the fuck was that about?” I whispered, not being able to back away from his hold.

"When I kissed you at the casino, I finally understood," he muttered, his forehead resting against mine. "All this animosity, the bickering... we don't actually hate each other; we want each other.” He stared into my eyes before continuing, “I don't think I can go another day without tasting you."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid imagine #mgg x reader #mgg smut #spencer reid x you #mgg x y/n #mgg fanfiction #mgg

2K notes · View notes

eternalsa2z · 1 month

Text

Counter-Culture / Fight the Man

My boyfriend and I were always different. I was a tatted-up doll who broke the mold of pretty, pink, plastic trophy wives. A rockstar, counter-culture queen who needed an equal anti-establishment king. In many ways Rocky was the perfect fit. A punk metalhead who loved guy-liner and was secure enough in his masculinity to wear pink. We bonded over being different and unique.

However the longer we were together, the more my thinking changed. Could we really be alternative icons if we were presenting the same styles? Did our shared nonconformist looks actually make us standard and boring?

I couldn't stand the thought of being a poser. So I talked with Rocky about it. We agreed that it didn't make sense for me to become a cookie-cutter bimbo trophy doll - even in an ironic sense it was too traditionalist. But if my bf rocked an alternative look, became the very thing society said he was supposed to be attracted to, then that would be the biggest middle finger to norms. Fighting the man by fighting his own manhood.

A few months later and I'll admit, my 'girlfriend' really went deep into the role. Plastic tits, fake platinum blonde extensions, doll-like makeup and filler so no one would recognize the old Rocky. The mental training was amazing - sometimes I wondered if 'Diamond' really still believed in our cause with the way she babbled and giggled about inane material things. She fought the man and her inner feminine Barbie doll won.

Our relationship sure has changed. I now wear the pants, at least compared to the skimpy slit dresses that Diamond wears. I have to do most of the thinking for both of us when Rocky used to be such a smart alternative thinker. But as I see the two of us together, I realize we are perfect. Because nothing says 'fuck you' to the standard heteronormative patriarchy like a female-led relationship with a trans lesbian barbie doll wife. Or as my girlfriend likes to say - 'It's, like, totes metal!'

#bimboification #m2f transformation #mental transformation

108 notes · View notes

valve3nthusiast · 4 months

Note

Give us the Wife-ification world building. It makes the horny Horner.

Anon you are one of four different wifeposting asks I've gotten... what in the world

Anyway. What I like about wifeification is- it's prolly not called dehumanization when it's robots but like. you get where I'm coming from

Bots getting trained to be trophy wives for nobles and other rich and "distinguished" mecha... A sort of status symbol showcase that you have an entire person trained to obey your whims, that you unofficially own, frame and spark. Which isn't to say that they're actually spark bonded, of course

This is way more interesting to me in a non-mechpreg universe, honestly. If a noble is mentoring someone, they would want their mentee to be successful so they can profit from the connections they make. Being a wife would make them useless... Thus, wives are usually common bots of no note, who aren't going to be missed when they're "taken" for training

Sometimes it's the truly desperate who agree without understanding what they're getting into... Other times it's bots that prospective trainers judge to be worth refurbishing and won't be missed, kidnapped off the streets

There's probably an entire quiet business of trainers that make a pretty shanix off of arranging bonds with their stock. It would definitely be a cornered market, the initial startup costs of reframing prospective wives would kill a lot of competition. They would have to get their stock reframed to noble standards, possibly medical care, given they likely weren't in well repair before this, then months of obedience training and etiquette training... It could take a trainer years to make a bot into the perfect wife

#valveplug #mine #3nthusiasts inbox #au stuff #robot wifeposting

33 notes · View notes

impala-dreamer · 1 year

Note

Ok ok ok...ya know the Seb outfit yesterday? with the jacket and the coat and the all black and the scruff? Of course you do ok anywhore, picture Bucky. In that...but BUT he's like on a mission right? So who knows what he's got hidden in there. I'm just saying.

*sigh* Just for you...

It was all going so nicely and then- out of fucking nowhere, there are bullets flying past your head, people screaming, glass shattering. The gilded crowd of charity gala goers was in a panic, rushing around you to reach the exit. Jewels and fur stoles blurred in your vision, high heels and polished shoes battered the polished marble floor like so many tiny hammers as they raced to safety. Once, twice, three times, you’d been knocked aside, shoved against the wall, slammed into by careless fat cats who cared for nothing but getting themselves and their trophy wives out of the grand hall and into the cold night.

As you trembled behind an expensive piece of rubbish that some asshole was calling art, you stared at the intruders as they overtook the room. A group of men cloaked in black from head to combat boot were trashing the place, knocking over tables, grabbing at jeweled necklines, and shooting machine guns into the air.

Your heart was racing, pulse beating in your head so loudly that it hurt. You scanned the room for salvation, but you were on your own. There was only one thing to do- run.

Grabbing up the heavy skirt of your gown, you kicked your shoes off and went for it. The exit wasn’t too far, but there was an ocean of trouble between you and the giant glass doors, not to mention bullets, scared old men with gem-encrusted canes, and what now appeared to be specially trained assassins. If only your date hadn’t split…

Taking a deep breath, you pushed off the ground and broke into a run. Unsurprisingly, you didn’t get too far before you were ducking and screaming as the wall beside you was impregnated with a spray of bullets that sent the plaster tumbling down upon you. Gritting your teeth and clenching your dress, you ran like Cinderella being chased by midnight. Just a little bit further and-

Your breath stopped as you slammed into a solid wall of black-clad flesh. He grabbed your upper arm and spun with you, pulling you out of the way of an incoming chair.

When your eyes cleared, you stared up at your date. His hair was a little messier than when he’d left you, his eyes a little more focused. Bucky.

“Where the hell have you been!” you yelled, slapping at his chest in annoyance.

He looked down with a smirk. “You’re welcome for saving your life.” Leaning down, he kissed you hard, sucking at your lips in a hurry. You swooned, momentarily melting against his expensive suit, but the moment was shortlived.

Just to break you apart, a nearby table flipped in your direction and you jolted, clinging to him.

“Doesn’t feel saved yet!” you snit.

Bucky winked and despite the danger, you felt your tempterature rise with desire.

“Give me a sec, doll- I got this.” Letting you go, he turned back to the danger, black trench coat flapping in slow motion in your eyes. He reached beneath the coat and came back with a giant gun, immediately taking on the competition. He spared one more flirtatious look over his shoulder at you and then rushed forward into the fray.

You sighed and watched in awed exasperation as he went to work. “Next time, I’m taking Steve…”

He laughed. “I heard that!”

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works ~ Buy Me A Coffee ~ Feedback is Gold

2023 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@aditimukul @agirlwithdemonblood @amanda-teaches @akshi8278 @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @b3autyfuldisast3r @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @because-imma-lady-assface @bloodline1632 @charred-angelwings @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @covered-byroses @djs8891 @deanwinchesterswitch @deansyahtzee @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @idreamofdeanie @ilsawasanacrobat @impalaspixie @jawritter @justcallmeasmodeus @kazsrm67 @kittenofdoomage @leigh70 @lovealways-j @lyarr24 @mariekoukie6661 @maggiegirl17 @mistressofallthingsgeeky @pandaxo79 @peachy-vans @rachiem4-blog @roseblue373 @sacriceria @samwellwinchesterthebrave @sexyvixen7 @spideysimpossiblegirl @spnexploration @the-wounded-healer05 @thoughts-and-funnies @vulgar-library

#marvel fanfiction #bucky x reader #drabble #oops?#fluff

78 notes · View notes

witchthewriter · 2 years

Photo

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐍𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: slight mentions of violence hehe

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

SFW🌿

⭑ An Illyrian warrior and the Queen of Death decided that having only two people in a relationship wasn’t viable for the length of their lives.

⭑ With fae immortality, comes an onslaught of time. And after nearly everything there is to do, Nesta became restless.

⭑ It was mostly Nesta’s idea to come up with a third in the marriage. Even though Cassian knew of men who took many wives, he never thought he’d be one of them.

⭑ But he didn’t detest the idea -

⭑ Neither of them had anyone in mind and their search had been going on for a year before you caught Nesta’s eye

⭑ She had been frequenting the bars in Velaris, looking at how to make them better, as her job had become bigger over time. As well as being the emissary to the human world, she wanted to expand her duties.

⭑ Rhysand was more than happy to let her do so. He was incredibly open to develop Velaris, to make it better.

⭑ You were a barmaid, and even though time had gone on in the fae world, men still wanted to get drunk.

⭑ You were half fae and half- illyrian. Your parents had died during one of the wars and left the deed to a run-down bar to you.

⭑ You had sold it, and kept the money, but still wanted a job. The now-owner let you run the bar, as you knew it best.

⭑ And that’s how Nesta met you. With a sweaty red face, and a shut leaving your lips.

“If you do not LEAVE, I WILL RIP OUT YOUR TONGUE AND FEED IT TO MY DOG.”

⭑ She liked you instantly

⭑ Nesta is the living embodiment of the dark feminine, and you couldn’t resist her. Not that you wanted to resist her in the first place -

⭑ The way she spoke, her poise, the grace. It was overwhelming in the most delicious way.

⭑ Having two intimidating people as your partners makes you feel incredibly safe.

⭑ Having a sleep-in with Nesta while Cassian goes out and gets pastries for breakfast

⭑ Cassian is in the middle while you curl into his side and Nesta holds your hand while falling asleep on his stomach

⭑ Cassian always makes you two laugh and there’s always booming laughter when the three of you are together

⭑ You felt weird around Nesta for a while, the world is patriarchal and misogyny is embedded in everyone. So you learned that Nesta wasn’t the competition ... she was the end goal. The trophy.

⭑ Training together and you can barely do a few push-ups. And after 10 minutes you yell, “how the hell do you do this EVERYDAY???”

⭑ So they tell you that you do not need to. They train to be able to attack and defend - something that they would do for you without hesitation.

⭑ Therefore you do not need to train with them. During that time you can sleep, read or ... do whatever you want to

⭑ You and Cassian are such chaotic messes

⭑ Nesta always keeps you two upright

⭑ And she IS the top

⭑ Pet names for you by Cassian are, ‘honey,’ ‘sweet-cheeks, ‘pumpkin,’ ‘sugar-pie,��

⭑ Pet names for you by Nesta are, ‘my love,’ ‘darling,’ and ‘sweetness.’

⭑ Rhysand quirked his eyebrow when he found out. But liked the idea. You’re a vibrant person that Rhysand likes talking to immensely

⭑ Feyre likes you A LOT, especially because you have such passion. She loves that you can hold your own, and she sees you as another sister.

⭑ I actually think Amren is a bit jealous of your relationship with Nesta ...

⭑ Azriel likes you a lot (And I can kinda see you guys having him in your relationship. And not just Nesta and Cassian, Azriel and you, but a constant shift of coupling.)

⭑ Elain doesn’t understand the dynamic and finds it somewhat blasphemous (even though she isn’t religious). But after she digests the information and sees the three of you together, she warms to the idea

⭑ Mor ... feels warmly towards you. She probably knows you from before; when you worked the bar. And she thinks you match with both Nesta and Cassian. Because you can speak up, you have your opinions and you know how to handle shitty people.

⭑ When someone insults anyone that you guys care about Cassian is the one who has to calm both you and Nesta.

⭑ Nesta buys you a lot of jewelry and clothes

⭑ While Cassian shows his love by spending time with you

⭑ Doing Nesta’s hair and she doing yours

⭑ Both of you telling Cassian to stop staring while you’re both getting dressed

“I just love you both so much-”

⭑ Relationship Tropes:

✧ Dumbass (Cassian) x Dumbass on the Rise (You) x Oh Fck I Guess They’re My Dumbasses (Nesta)

✧ The Adventurous (Cassian) x The Hyperactive (You) x The Unheeded Voice of Reason (Nesta)

✧ Big Scary (Cassian) x Medium Scary (Nesta) x Small Scary (You, still learning)

NSFW🔞minors dni!

⭑ Nesta usually always takes the lead during sex. Especially the first few times with them.

⭑ Cassian definitely likes to watch as the two of you feel the other’s body

⭑ Whining that Cassian’s cock won’t fit inside you, and Nesta moves behind you, letting you rest on your bare chest while she massages your clit. She cooes that it’s fine, you’ll get used to him

⭑ Cassian taking you up for a fly and cockwarming while you’re in the air

⭑ You definitely have a Mummy and Daddy kink and they are more than happy to play those kinks out for you

⭑ Cassian would definitely be up for pegging

⭑ Both of them eat ass

⭑ Nesta is well-groomed, as is Cassian. But they wouldn’t care about your ... hair.

⭑ In time, Azriel might be open to having a foursome.

⭑ You guys have all the time in the world ... anything is possible ...

⭑ Cassian and yourself are obsessed with Nesta’s tits and will sit on either side of her and play with her nipples

⭑ Nesta reading her smutty books out loud and Cassian and you act them out.

⭑ Cassian cumming inside of you and Nesta eating it out of you

#nessian #acotar #headcanons #acotar headcanons #nesta archeron headcanons #cassian headcanons #nessian headcanons #a court of thorns and roses #a court of thorns and roses fancast #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of wings and ruin #witchthewriter #dating would include #would include

152 notes · View notes

toofasttoocool · 4 months

Text

Hajime the Stud (Money Universe)

Some of you seem very interested in the story of Trophy wife Hiyoko and Housewife Mikan, so I decided to elaborate on the three different protagonists of this story.

Hajime:

The ultimate stud, the man, the machine.

If Catichi and Makostud are still moderate in their alphaness, Chajime just sweats testosterone. At 6'8 tall and with the muscles to go with it, Hajime is the only of the main trio who doesn't share his wealth origins with his wife (or wives in his case). No, he is a self-made man, the biggest (both literally and figuratively) man of all Japan,he is always either working or pumping some weights. Despite being by far the strongest man of all time, he never neglects his training,but that would be forgetting that Hajime is also the biggest stud.

Even compared to the already impressive, rich and pretty boys that compose the main trio,Hajime stands out, being way more "rugged and handsome" than "cute and huggable", contrary to the others, who are more passive, Hajime is a man of action, way more of a "Bullrusher" than the forever "safe bet" Makoto and the socialist*Shuichi,he has the intuition to succed, and it paid off with a fortune of 273 billions, Hajime is always on the search for a new opportunity.

And of course, no stud wouldn't be complete without sex.

Hajime is basically the ultimate sex machine. Always ready, always ready, always full and always at least half hard,he beat the impressive Catichi 35 inches and Makoto 34 by being 39,he got almost no withdrawal period and cannot be fully empty,a beast.

He is also the biggest anal and ass lover of the bunch,and his wives know it,speaking about them...

Hiyoko

The first wife of Hajime.

All started when she was 21 and started to get tired of doing loli fanservice to pay the bills. Sure, "traditional dancing." sounds good on paper, but in reality it was more of providing soft core porn for degenerate (males), and knowing she would be fired very soon due to her advancing age,ever the proud woman, she preferred to quit this idol business.

One would not expect someone like Hiyoko to work a full time job and that was the case,she quickly got relegated to doing a wage cuck job serving fries.

That was until she was reminded, catching on TV on that rising superstar of politics:Hajime Hinata.

How could that fucking low blood have succeeded when she failed?It was unbearable. Ready to kick out the client who had been waiting for his fries and burger for 10 minutes, she reminded herself that he always found her attractive, and let's be honest...;for a low blood, he was...kinda of cool,and sexy...and had a big chest...and was smart.

Trying her luck, she went for him and "seduce" him (read: bow at his feet to take her whatever way she wanted, which Hajime despite the absolute cringe of that demand, accepted willingly.

The first night together was hellish for Hiyoko as she had to play Onahole for this beast,but she was ready to endure anything to not go back to being a worker.

1 month after her relationship, thanks to hormones and surgery, her ass was already getting bigger, but to her dismay, her size didn't increase, she would stay a 4'2 shortstack all her life,to compensate for that she started to take more of those growing hormones and multiples implants, as well as wearing flashy kimonos and platform geta.

Hiyoko the trophy wife was born,and she would profit of that.

More bratty and arrogant than ever, she loves to step on people and flaunt her husband's money everywhere, she calls him "daddy" both on the street and in the sheets, with injected lips always decorated of her trademark yellow lipstick and a body made of 85 percent ass, she twerks her way through high society.

She has sex with her beloved daddy at least 10 times a day, as he uses his giant twintails as handles for rough riding.

She also developed a taste for spanking due to her bratty personality being corrected that way by her hubby.

She wouldn't fuck any other man,as none deserve her.

With her status not only back, but even better, Hiyoko is ready to be bratty until the end of her life, bathing in gold and jealousy.

Mikan

The second wife of Hajime.

Mikan made her career as a nurse, and the best one with that, until that day,a cold day of september.

People in her hospital found out about her experiment on patients, she injected them with all kinds of different products, as a way to find out how to eradicate disease.

That affair was heavily featured on TV and social media, as Mikan was convicted of the murder of 15 peoples and illegal exercise of medicine.

The whole thing was a parody of justice, as all the other nurses, doctors were dropping on the poor nurse charges that never were in question.

Neither the judge or the mass media would accept the girl crying and justification, despite her best efforts, she was truly alone on this one.

Except for one man.

Appearing with his famous kimono wearing wife under his arm, he took on the role of the defense in this trial, bringing two of the best lawyers of his generation that money can buy:Wolvang Akire and Kakeru Yamaguchi.

Against all odds, the charge of murder was dropped justifiy to an "possible accident link to medical malpractice and uncaring behaviors from the responsible for the hospitals"Mikan ended up only serving for her medical charge,and despite the 2 year sentence, she only ended up serving 1 month, thanks to...some help from a mysterious benefactor.

Mikan fell in love with Hajime at that moment, madly in love with him.

Unable to do anything related to medicine anymore, she settles for being a housewife, rarely leaving the house, she enjoys the comfort of life with her Husband.

She love him,so much, and she will protect him no matter what.

She will do anything for him, including modify her own body to grow a hyper ass to serve him well, and she did, having the biggest butt of all the dr girls,Hiyoko being 10 cm behind (a thing she never accepted).Contrary to most of them,the only thing to blame is the hormones,all of her body is 100 percent natural.

When she is not taking care of the house, she sends pornographic videos of herself to her husband, when she is not, she is rewatching their sex tape and masturbating for up to 5 hours a day.

Mikan became the perfect Yandere wife, teaming up with her rival Hiyoko to make sure no girls would steal Hajime away.

She has sex with Hajime at least 12 times a day, is completely and utterly submissive to her husband, and sees herself as the princess being saved from the dragon by the knight in shining armor.

She is excellent at domestic task, when Hiyoko is awful at it.

She has no interest in money or fancy objects, the only object she finds value in is her wedding ring, who is her treasure.

*Here to be taken in the opposite of economic liberalism.

#Money universe #hajimexhiyoko #HajimeXMikan #NsfwLight #Hajime the chad

8 notes · View notes

red-pill-to-swallow · 8 months

Text

Introduction

Hey babes,

welcome to my blog!

I’ve been lurking on hypergamyblr and leveling up blogs since forever and the advice I got from there actually helped me to achieve some of my goals.

A few weeks ago I stumbled upon a subreddit called “RedPillWomen”, and it was eye opening. Don’t get me wrong – I don’t necessarily support every theory on there but right now it just makes sense for me and my lifestyle.

But let me tell you something about myself, so you get an idea:

I am a white woman in my early twenties

I have a finished degree

I live in Europe

I am in a longterm relationship with my man (+3 years)

We live together in our own apartment

My man is very succesful and has his own company

I love to cook and to bake but I don’t really like cleaning

I am a homemaker and a spoiled girlfriend (can you be both?)

I am happy and content with my life but I want more. I promise you, that I’ll always tell the truth on my blog and the truth is, that the relationship with my man isn’t the best right now.

We’re not constantly fighting and there is no toxicity or jealousy in the relationship but it is lacking affection, gratitude, sexual attraction and date nights.

Sometimes it just feels as if I’m living with my platonic best friend which isn’t bad at all but I want to bring this sparkle back into our relationship.

I am a firm believer that every relationship needs work. It’s never like in the books or movies, where everything just comes together and somehow works out for decades. It’s hard work.

I also understand if someone would rather break up with their partner than try to fix the relationship, there is no shame in doing so. Especially if there is any sort of abuse, toxicity or lack of attraction to the partner involved.

However, that’s not how it is in my relationship. I still think my man is hot, he never was abusive or nonsupporting to me. Never.

Besides that – he is financially stable, he has goals he wants to achieve and he works hard to provide for us. It would be dumb as hell if I would break things off with him, just because I don’t feel “the” spark right now.

Yes, maybe I would have more fun with another man, who is not working as much and has more free-time – but I have to think about my future and my goals. I have to think about my life in 30+ years.

I know what I want from my life and I know that if I’m staying with my man this life could come true!

What I want from life:

I want a soft life without worrying about being able to pay the bills

I want to be a homemaker

I want children and I don’t want to worry about being able to afford them

I want my children to be able to experience everything they want. No, I don’t mean spoiling them rotten with materialistic things, more like being able to finance them an exchange year in another country or attending a boarding school – if they want to do so. I also want them to be able to pick their hobbies freely, without worrying about money.

I want a stable relationship without drama

I want to be able to buy the clothes that I want

I want to be able to do all the beauty treatments that I want (maybe shallow but it is what it is)

I want to have the house where everyone feels safe and welcome

I know that I have the right foundation to achieve all of those goals, I just have to work hard for them.

It’s going to be quite a journey but I’m very excited about it. I will start to apply Red Pill theories to my life immediately and see where this is going.

I hope to meet some mutuals through this blog – so please comment if you are one, so I can follow your blog!

See you soon!

81 notes · View notes

ilikemcdanno · 1 year

Text

It’s Steve’s birthday!! And also the celebration @mayberrycryptid is holding!! 🎉🎉🥳 happy Hawaii Five-0 Day

Here’s my 10 fanfic recommendations!! I’m also doing my three favorite episodes. :)

1. Situational awareness, summary: Steve McGarrett has a soulmark from the moment he’s born. He has a mark that his dad covers up when he’s a baby, an ugly black thing in the shape of knuckles splayed across his cheekbone. Danny Williams gets his mark a few months after he’s born. There’s a black smear across the back of his hand and down two fingers and Danny dreams of the day his soulmate will touch him for the first time and set the mark alight with color. Steve McGarrett grows up hating his soulmark, Danny Williams dreams of the day he'll meet his soulmate. Somehow, against all odds, they find each other.

2. The morning after (the night before), summary: If, after you’ve been pining for going on a decade, you turn over in bed and end up nose to nose with the secret object of your affection, it’s no less than perfectly reasonable to yell “eep!” and flail wildly until you topple over the edge of the mattress and land with a loud thump on your back on the floor…. Naked.

3. Returned: one diamond ring, summary: I’ve seen a lot of people coming in and out of my shop over the years. Tourists looking for some souvenir jewelry, distrustful trophy wives wanting to see if their diamonds are real, young kids wanting to buy something nice to impress their girlfriend, eyes shining with nerves as they prepare to pop the question. Every so often, I get someone particularly memorable. A young man so nervous about picking out the right ring he nearly hurled on the display case, a blonde woman so angry when she tried to fence the diamonds off a tennis bracelet her husband had given her only to find out they were fake that she cracked the glass on a case holding earrings, and the tall, dark haired man with the edges of tattoos peeking out from under his sleeves.

4. Forever in paradise, summary: Danny Williams is tired of being stuck in New Jersey while his daughter is 5,000 miles away in Hawaii. When an undercover assignment with Honolulu PD becomes available, he jumps at it, even though he could write a book on how much he hates reality TV… And then he meets Steve.

5. Letting go, summary: He shifted, pressing a kiss against Danny's shoulder. "How did you know?" he managed… Danny didn't need to ask for clarification. "I know you." His hand curled protectively around the back of Steve's head. "The rest is just details." In the wake of Aunt Deb’s funeral, Steve finds some healing.

6. Ho'oponopono, Summary: Groundhog Day AU. Danny finds himself trapped in the same day over and over again.

7. Kill shot, summary: Steve's a mob assassin who just got his latest target - a former New Jersey detective named Daniel Williams. Unsurprisingly, that's when things get complicated.

8. the art of leaving and saying goodbye, Summary: 2007 is the year Danny learns that choice can be the worst kind of heartbreak. AU.

9. Love's a Battlefield (and the Navy Did Not Train Steve for This Shit), Summary: The Kalakaua-Kelly clan are determined to matchmake Steve. Out of desperation, Steve makes up a boyfriend named Danny… It doesn't quite go according to plan.

10. A Beautiful Thing, Summary: Tani catches a private moment between Steve and Danny—and she can't not look.

#h50 March 10 #fic rec #mcdanno

28 notes · View notes

thepixelelf · 2 years

Note

hi casey!! i’d love to do a title swap with you! the title of one of my prev works is “to still a beating heart”. i originally wrote it as a hyunjin (skz) fic but i think you could make it work for just about whoever you want (: i posted it on my writing side blog (linked in bio) if you want a bit more context!

please read the following warnings: lots of blood, violence, knives and arrows, descriptions of death, attempted murder[?], animal cruelty[?], reader gets fucked up is what I'm saying

[to still a beating heart] It was not always Seokmin's intent to kill the white wolf.

His father had tried to hunt down and kill the beast for years, and he had trained Seokmin with the skills to do the same. At first, Seokmin would hang onto his father's every word, eyes filled with childlike wonder whenever his father shot an arrow with his trusty bow. Seokmin didn't even know, then, why he was training or what he was meant to do with the skills his father wished to pass onto him.

When he grew into his teenage years, he began a habit of scoffing at his father. There was no such thing as the white wolf; it was an old wives' tale of a beast the size of ten men. It would terrorize the village every full moon, yet, young Seokmin had never seen such a beast. No evidence of the so-called monster ever made itself apparent to him.

His skill for archery would be of better use as a warrior, he'd complain to his mother. There was no use in hunting down a beast that did not exist.

But his mother only shook her head. Just like all the parents in his village, she too believed in fairy tales. She looked out the window of their home, which faced the endless forest lit only by moonlight.

Each full moon night, her husband would enter the forest in search of the white wolf, and every morning, he would return empty handed. She was content, as the sun rose, with her love home safe and unharmed, despite his self-proclaimed failure.

Seokmin was not content. He did not join his father's hunts when the full moon shone, neither did he wait for him in the morning with his mother.

He did not care about the white wolf.

Until his father returned one morning -- not with the wolf's head as a trophy like he always promised, nor like every other morning he would return, into his loving wife's arms.

Seokmin awoke that morning to his mother's horrified shriek, and when he ran to the door, his only thought to protect her, he was greeted with the sight of his father crumpled on the doorstep, bloodied and broken and...

...dead.

That was when Seokmin decided to believe.

Now, years later, Seokmin's lungs do not burn as he runs through the thick brush. His feet do not hurt, and his eyes, though he's been awake for two days and a night, do not threaten to drift shut. He is alert.

On his last hunt, he saw a mass of white fur that glowed with the light of a full moon. His arrow, flying straight as it always did, barely managed to graze its skin before the beast disappeared in a blur, but the bloodied arrow was enough to prove what Seokmin saw was no trick of the moonlight.

The beast was real.

And Seokmin was able to hit it.

Tonight, he will not miss. The white wolf that killed his father and its reign of terror over his village will finally be put to an end.

Seokmin draws his bow and holds his breath. He waits, hidden in the brush, for the beast to appear in the spot he's studied for years to be its drinking place. The small dip of water coming off the creak shines under the moonlight.

When the beast appears, Seokmin does not hesitate. His silver-dipped arrow fwips off his bowstring, and the wolf lifts its head fast enough to watch it fly into its throat.

The beast roars and stumbles back, but does not lose its footing entirely. Seokmin draws another arrow, letting it fly less than a second before dinnerplate-sized paws tackle him to the ground. A loud, low growl rumbles from right above him as he screws his eyes shut, spittle and blood dripping onto his face and neck.

This isn't the end, his beating heart protests. He sunk two arrows into the wolf's neck, but it's not dead yet. Even if he will not make it home tonight, he refuses to die before finishing the beast off first.

His bow is useless this close, but he wrenches his hunting knife from his belt and raises his arm. The beast snarls again when he sinks the knife into its side, snapping its teeth at him and pressing itself heavier upon his chest. Before it can bite into his neck and take him out for good, Seokmin tenses his arm, trying to tear the knife through the beast's flesh. Warm blood trickles down past his wrist.

Hundreds of pounds lift off him in part of a moment, and a strangled grunt fills the clearing, though the sound does not come from Seokmin. Just as he dares to open his eyes, the warm, wet flat of a blade presses harshly against his jugular, and the beast--

No, you pant above him.

The arrows he'd sunk into the beast's throat protrude horrifically from your neck, which flows blood like water from a ringed washcloth. The blood drips onto Seokmin's chest; his neck; the knife you'd ripped from your own side to hold against his throat. It stains the moonlight fabric wrapped around you.

"You." Your voice shakes, hoarse, and your lips tremble with an anger that reflects in your eyes. "You smell like him."

Seokmin can only gawk up at you, eyes wide.

"He hunted me for years-- do you understand?!" You choke on the words, blood coating the inside of your mouth and trickling out in what would be disgusting globs if Seokmin could register any emotion outside of his shock. "He tried to kill me every full moon. Shot arrow after arrow after arrow." The shafts of Seokmin's arrows bob with every syllable, probably tearing at your throat from the inside out. "I tried," you plead through a gurgle, swallowing down your own blood and spit. "I tried to leave him alone. All I did was take one sheep when I was starving because of the drought. All I did was what I needed to survive. Is that so beastly? Is that so monstrous? Is that so... so wrong?"

Seokmin gulps down his fear and does the only thing his mind can think to at the moment. His hands reach up to your neck, one cupping the uninjured side of it and the other threading his fingers between the two arrows. He tries in vain to hold them still, to place enough pressure to stop the bleeding and keep the sharp arrowheads from tearing further into your flesh. But your body shakes. Your breaths tremble through you with vigour. The knife you have pressed against his throat feels like it's barely there. You're not trying to kill him.

You just want him to listen.

"I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to hurt him." The look in your eyes has shifted. Seokmin can hardly see your eyes past the glistening sheen over them. "I just-- I didn't want to. He attacked me and I tried to get away, but he-- he held on and when I finally threw him off, he--" You try to breathe, but choke on the air as it tries to force itself past the blood in your airways. "He hit his head, and there were scavengers waiting--" Tears trail down your cheeks, mixing with the blood on your neck and disappearing. "I'm sorry," you whisper, faltering. Your head sways from the blood loss. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to return him looking like that. I thought-- I thought it was better than never knowing...

"But..." Your lips tremble once again as you curl them inward, shutting your eyes. "Don't I deserve to live, too?"

Seokmin doesn't react, doesn't nod or shake his head. He only tries harder to stop the bleeding from your neck. Deep within him, however, he knows it's not enough. Even if he could help with the wounds on your neck, there's still the open gash on your side, unattended.

"Don't I get to defend myself?" you whimper. "Even beasts... don't we deserve to live..?"

You remove your hand holding the knife from his neck, landing it next to his head just as you collapse, the last of your energy draining from you. Seokmin feels the weight of you on him, but his breath was already stolen the moment you became... you.

Your face hidden in his shoulder, Seokmin wraps his free arm around your middle, holding you close. He has no words. He wishes you wouldn't cry.

He wishes the white wolf was just the white wolf.

Through emerald leaves and swathed in the navy waves of night, the full moon smiles down on him, kissing his face and your back with cool light.

He curses the moon, for showing him this. For not letting her beast die as a beast but as a human in his arms.

You're still warm, breath shallow against the skin of his neck. He holds you tighter as the tears fall.

"You killed my father," he whispers up to the sky.

"I'm sorry." Your words are nothing but air. If you were an inch further from his ear, he would not have heard you. "I hope my death heals your heart."

It won't.

#yeah anyway directly after the moon heals you wooOOooOoOO but I'm too lazy to write anymore I want this DONE #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #lee seokmin scenarios #lee seokmin imagines #lee seokmin x reader #seokmin scenarios #seokmin imagines #seokmin x reader #dokyeom scenarios #dokyeom imagines #dokyeom x reader #svt scenarios #svt imagines #svt x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios

60 notes · View notes

longliveblackness · 1 year

Text

At its height in the 1840s, the West African kingdom of Dahomey boasted an army so fierce that its enemies spoke of its “prodigious bravery.” This strong force, known as the Agojie, raided villages under cover of darkness, took captives and slashed off resisters’ heads to return to their king as trophies of war. Through these actions, the Agojie established Dahomey’s preeminence over neighboring kingdoms and became known by European visitors as “Amazons” due to their similarities to the warrior women of Greek myth. They were also called Mino, or Minon, "our mothers".

During their membership, they were not allowed to have children or be part of married life (though they were legally married to the king). Many of them were virgins.

The Mino trained with intense physical exercise. They learned survival skills and indifference to pain and death, storming acacia-thorn defenses in military exercises and executing prisoners. Discipline was emphasized. Serving in the Mino offered women the opportunity to "rise to positions of command and influence" in an environment structured for individual empowerment. The Mino were also wealthy and held high status.

The women's army consisted of many regiments: huntresses, riflewomen, reapers, archers, and gunners. Each regiment had different uniforms, weapons, and commanders. In a later period, the Dahomean female warriors were armed with Winchester rifles, clubs, and knives. Units were under female command.

In 1890 King Béhanzin started fighting French forces during the First Franco-Dahomean War. European observers noted that the women "handled admirably" in hand-to-hand combat. The Amazons participated in one major battle: Cotonou, where thousands of Dahomey (including many Amazons) charged the French lines and engaged the defenders in hand-to-hand combat. Despite the compliments given to them by the Europeans, the Amazons were decisively crushed, with several hundred Dahomey troops being gunned down.

By the end of the Second Franco-Dahomean War, special units of the Amazons were being assigned specifically to target French officers. After several battles, the French prevailed and ended the independent Dahomean kingdom. French soldiers, particularly of the French Foreign Legion, were impressed by the boldness of the Amazons and later wrote about their "incredible courage and audacity" in combat.

The troops were disbanded when the kingdom became a French protectorate. Oral tradition states that some surviving amazons secretly remained in Abomey afterward, where they quietly assassinated some French officers. Other stories say the women pledged their services to protect Agoli-Agbo, the brother of Béhanzin, disguising themselves as his wives to guard him. Some of the women married and had children, while others remained single.

The last survivor of the Dahomey Amazons is thought to have been a woman named Nawi. In a 1978 interview in the village of Kinta, a Beninese historian met Nawi, who claimed to have fought the French in 1892. Nawi died in November 1979, aged well over 100.

•••

Estando en su mejor momento en los 1840, el reino Dahomey ubicado en África occidental, presumía de un ejército tan feroz que hasta sus enemigos hablaban acerca de su “prodigiosa valentía”. Estas fuerzas poderosas eran conocidas como las Agojie, atacaban pueblos mientras que iban cubiertas por la oscuridad de la noche, tomaban cautivos y cortaban cabezas para llevárselas como trofeo de guerra a su rey. A través de estas acciones, las Agojie establecieron preeminencia sobre los reinos vecinos y fueron conocidas por los visitantes europeos como "Las Amazonas" debido a sus similitudes con las mujeres guerreras del mito griego. También fueron llamadas Mino, o Minon, "nuestras madres".

Mientras que fueran miembros de las fuerzas, no se les permitía tener hijos o ser parte de la vida matrimonial (aunque estaban legalmente casadas con el rey). Muchos de ellas eran vírgenes.

Las Mino se entraban con ejercicios físicos intensos. Aprendieron habilidades de supervivencia e indiferencia al dolor y la muerte, asaltaban defensas en ejercicios militares y ejecutaban prisioneros. Se enfocaron en la disciplina. Servir como Minons, le ofreció a las mujeres la oportunidad de "ascender a puestos de mando e influencia" en un entorno estructurado para el empoderamiento individual. Las Mino también eran ricas y tenían un alto estatus.

Este ejército de mujeres consistían de varios regimientos: cazadoras, fusileras, segadoras, arqueras y artilleras. Cada regimiento tenía diferentes uniformes, armas y comandantes. En un período posterior, las guerreras de Dahomey estuvieron armadas con rifles Winchester, garrotes y cuchillos. Las unidades estaban bajo mando femenino.

En el año 1890, el rey Béhanzin comenzó a luchar contra las fuerzas francesas durante la Primera Guerra Franco-Dahomeana. Los observadores europeos notaron que las mujeres "se manejaron admirablemente" en el combate mano a mano. Las amazonas participaron en una gran batalla: Cotonou, donde miles de Dahomey (incluidas muchas de las amazonas) atacaron las líneas francesas y se enfrentaron a los defensores en un combate mano a mano. A pesar de los cumplidos que les dieron los europeos, las amazonas fueron aplastadas de manera decisiva, y cientos de soldados Dahomey fueron asesinados a tiros.

Al final de la Segunda Guerra Franco-Dahomeana, se asignaron unidades especiales de las Amazonas específicamente para atacar a los oficiales franceses. Después de varias batallas, los franceses prevalecieron y terminaron con el reino independiente de Dahomey. Los soldados franceses, específicamente los de la Legión Extranjera Francesa, quedaron impresionados por la audacia de las amazonas y luego escribieron acerca del "increíble coraje y audacia" que mostraron en combate.

Las tropas se disolvieron cuando el reino se convirtió en un protectorado francés. La tradición oral dice que algunas amazonas sobrevivientes permanecieron en secreto en Abomey, donde asesinaron en silencio a algunos oficiales franceses. Otras historias dicen que las mujeres prometieron servir y proteger a Agoli-Agbo, el hermano de Béhanzin, muchas disfrazándose como esposas para protegerlo. Algunas de las mujeres se casaron y tuvieron hijos, mientras que otras permanecieron solteras.

Se cree que la última sobreviviente de las amazonas de Dahomey fue una mujer llamada Nawi. En una entrevista de 1978 en el pueblo de Kinta, un historiador beninés conoció a Nawi, quien afirmó haber luchado contra los franceses en 1892. Nawi murió en noviembre de 1979, con más de 100 años.

Source | Fuente: African American Registry

Spanish translation by Long Live Blackness

Traducción al español por Long Live Blackness

26 notes · View notes

patrochillesvibes · 1 year

Note

Hi. Are you in for a modern AU where Achilles is a spoiled bratty trophy husband for real? He could be like 19 or 20 years old(early 20s at best) and there is a 20+ age gap here between him and Patroclus. If u r okay with it, care to share more of your thoughts or HCs?

This is gonna be tough bcs to me that’s a sugar daddy scenario, but I’ll try. Let’s see…

Plot scenarios…

Perhaps Achilles is an athlete. Maybe he’s training for the Olympics (gymnastics, track) or is a professional soccer player. There’s a competition. Something goes wrong (perhaps he’s distracted by a fight with his coach), and he has an accident (broken ankle). Pat is his physical therapist. They slowly fall in love through his appointments. Soon after, he retires from his sport and lives with his philtatos.

Or maybe Pat is a high-profile lawyer. Rich and successful. He’s not corrupt per say, but he cares a great deal about money and winning. So corporate law? Or you could continue TSOA Pat’s SJW attitude and have him as family law/divorce attorney. In any case, he does some trust administering for an important client (or if you want it spicier, one of the firm’s partners). This includes dishing out a monthly annuity to the mysterious son, Achilles. If you want it dark, Achilles would have a drug problem or is a sex worker. For lighter fare, he’s a nepo baby. Pat can see that he’s hurting inside, and he starts to help him heal over the course of their monthly meetings. Pat eventually “rescues” him from his situation and they fall in love.

Hm. Pat is an executive for some company. Achilles is interning in the marketing department. He hates it. He’s a gen z in a room full of gen x. They just don’t get the nuances of ig and tiktok. Maybe Pat oversees marketing? Achilles would be a shameless flirt, trying to seduce him. For extra spice, instead of a typical college student Achilles is the son of a member of the board! How forbidden. I see a runaway lovers angle here. They uncover a scandal with the company. Achilles anonymously calls the Feds. Achilles and Pat run off to one of those islands billionaires hide in. Achilles’ took his dad’s secret stash of money for them to live off of. For an extra twist, there actually was no corruption. It was a setup. By Pat and Achilles for the purposes of getting Peluses’ money (think of the movie Wild Things)!

General HCs…

Achilles is extremely high maintenance. He requires attention 24/7. He’s a princess.

Lot’s of texting. It varies between bratty pouting for something (new designer shoes, a vacation), telling Pat he misses him and just being generally clingy, and sexts. There is always some level of sexting daily. If he’s out and about, it’s pictures of his feet. When he’s getting ready, he always includes a pic of the underwear he’s wearing. If Pat is working late, then it’s sexy pics of what he’ll be finding in the bedroom when he gets home. Innocent suggestive pics (e.g. drinking a cocktail through a straw) are also common. If Pat is away at a conference, then there’s video with toys. And they absolutely have nasty phone sex. Oh, and Achilles likes to film them fucking without Pat’s knowledge or consent. In Achilles’ mind this is okay bcs the vids are for use during conferences.

Pat has a foot kink, so Achilles frequents exclusive spas for regular pedicures. There’s lots of “live tweeting” of this. The first chance he gets, Pat will head to the men’s room at work and jerk off. Achilles has an entire closet devoted to shoes. There are quite a lot of high heels (for play).

Work functions are quite intense. Achilles’ doesn’t play well with other girls, so-to-speak. He’s catty and all the other wives hate him. Pat is his and he will cut a bitch if she even thinks about trying. Pat’s colleagues have mixed feelings. His boss (who’s very old) doesn’t understand that they’re gay and finds Achilles BPD personality extremely entertaining. This works somewhat in Pat’s favor bcs he’s somewhat of his boss’ favorite now. There are a few colleagues that Achilles considers an enemy coughBriseiscoughOdysseuscough. These are the ones who keep telling Pat to divorce Achilles. Anyways, at these functions Achilles tends to hang off Pat’s arm and grope his butt. Achilles likes (expensive) alcohol and has a high tolerance. Pat has to keep an eye on his consumption so that he doesn’t go too far beyond tipsy. Hungover Achilles is no fun.

Achilles regularly wears a bit of makeup (eyeliner and mascara). He also has a variety of lipsticks and lip-glosses. All of this is for blow job aesthetics. Does choaking on cock really count if your mascara isn’t running? Speaking of blow jobs, Achilles has Pat trained. Achilles always pulls his hair back into a ponytail for bjs. So whenever Pat sees hair elastics or Achilles putting up his hair, he gets hard. It’s an involuntary reaction at this point.

Pat is a pretty brutal dom in the bedroom. This Pat fucks. He likes to call Achilles dirty, naughty, slut, cock whore, hole, cocksleave. There’s a lot of possessiveness over property (this is my hole, your orgasms are mine). There’s a lot of bondage, blindfolds, breath play, and impact play. There’s some sissy play too (Pat likes to refer to Achilles’ anus as a pussy). Achilles is regularly turned into a senseless drooling mess. When it comes to punishment, cock cage. Pat will do this especially when he’s away for a long time. They both enjoy public sex. Members of the mile high club. In restaurants there’s a lot of touching under the table and restroom sex. In traffic, there’s a lot of bjs. And when they’re shopping or running errands, Achilles wears a vibe that Pat controls with an app.

Achilles is active. He’s in the gym daily.

Achilles has a small core group of friends, all trophy wives.

(This is actually a topic I’m passionate about. Achilles really doesn’t have any friends. He just has Pat. Sure he’s fighting alongside others, but let’s face it he’s a prima donna. When they get back to camp he goes directly to their tent. Now when he was young before he met Pat there were admirers, but once Pat came along that was it. The only time in TSOA where he interacts with others in a “casual” setting is Skyros. So in AU settings I don’t see Achilles as having male friends. He has a few female friends, but the dynamic is perhaps more of Mean Girls (or maybe there was comradery and they bonded over forbidden love). If he has any male friends it would be with his cousin Ajax.)

Back to the friends… Monday is brunch, Tuesday is Yoga class, Wednesday is spa day. They also watch the Bachelor and get into heated debates over it. Most of them are low-key alcoholics.

Date night is Friday night. Every. Week. It’s a whole event for Achilles. He spends the whole day getting ready (special bath soak, special skin creams, hair mask and salon visit, douching, etc.). Pat always gives him flowers (roses, peonies). His ig is full of all his beautiful bouquets and arrangements. They go to an expensive restaurant. Then it’s back home for some play.

Gifts are important. Achilles is expensive. Lingerie is probably the most common gift. Then maybe jewelry (anklets, earrings, necklaces, some bangles, watches)… Pat is a health-conscious Dom, so there aren’t too many sweets being gifted. No drugs. No smoking (which is a crime bcs a cigar belongs in Pat’s hand). But Pat will splurge on very expensive wine and champagne. Pat enjoys bourbon and brandy.

Achilles is particular about clothes and has excellent taste. Pat gives him a big clothing budget. Except suits, Achilles selects most of Pat’s clothes (lots of coordinated outfits). Pat’s suits are bespoke, but Achilles usually goes with him for fittings. He will give input on colors and styles.

Achilles does not drive. Pat will drive him, or his friends will pick him up. In a scenario where Pat is extremely wealthy, then they have a driver. Feel bad for the driver because there is a lot of nasty things happening behind the partition. Pat drives expensive cars, but he has class so none of that sports car bs with flashy shit like Lotus or Ferrari or Bugatti. Pat is more of a Maserati and BMW guy. Maybe a Porche. Extremely wealthy Pat might go for an Aston Martin but it will depend.

And obviously Achilles does not cook and clean. There’s a lot of uber eats. Achilles does know how to make drinks. On stressful days Achilles will have Pat’s favorite drink ready for him. Maids come in to clean. They go through a lot of maid companies. They’re the weird gay guys with weird stuff going on in their house and no one wants to work for them. For this reason, laundry is a pickup/delivery dry cleaning service. It is used frequently.

They do a lot of traveling. There’s always a winter ski trip and trip to the islands. Summer is for trips to Europe. They have visited the big cities in Asia as well. And Dubai. But they have to be careful with their destinations as not everywhere is queer friendly. They do a lot of shopping and touristy stuff when they travel. Achilles isn’t afraid to get dirty, but physical activities (hiking, kayaking, paddleboarding, cycling, sky diving etc.) is not the main event of their travels. Remember, as a trophy husband his main purpose is to be pretty.

#ask #patrochilles hcs #my hcs

6 notes · View notes