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wtfevenismypage · 4 years

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Curiosity Killed The Cat

request: request. i’m not sure if you’re comfortable with writing it but it’s worth a try the team is always teasing spencer saying “he’s definitely a virgin” and he’s like “wtf no i’m not” one day they’re like ok well then y/n can see for herself, y/n is like “😳i didn’t sign up for this” and long story short they come back to the bau and the team is like “ ok soooo?” and y/n is like zoning out mumbling “you were wrong”

Warnings: SMUT (Penetration, oral (female recieving), spanking, over-stimulation, choking, degrading kink)

A/N: YO SHIT’S ABOUT TO GO DOWN, I am going to start publishing fics again, but updates will be very very slow. They’ll increase eventually, but for now, they are slow. Love you all!

The night began at work. A late night with the team at the office, stacks of files mounted on all of your desks and you’re all gathered around to keep each other awake.

“Ugh. This is too much work. Seriously. Can’t killers ever take a break?”

You whine, spinning in the swivel chair and holding a file in the air. Morgan chuckles, staring at his own file before speaking.

“I need a drink after this.”

“You and me both Morgs.”

“I told you to stop calling me that Girly.”

You chuckle, stopping your spinning and standing up to stretch. It feels nearly impossible to stay awake. Not necessarily because you’re tired, but you’ve been staring at similar files all day and it’s getting boring and tiring.

“I’ll do refills on coffee. Gimme your mugs.”

You say, letting them pile different sizes of cups and mugs in your arms. You saunter over to the coffee machine and set them on the counter.

You set the pot for a lot of coffee and quickly dash to Hotch’s office, where him and Rossi are.

“Yo, I’m making coffee, y’all need refills?”

They shake their heads and you shrug, returning to the coffee machine and pouring the coffee in the mugs before adding cream and sugar.

“How much sugar tonight Reid?”

You ask, turning to the tall doctor with a smirk. Luckily, you and your team are the only people left in the bullpen so you can be as loud as you want.

“A lot.”

You snort, grabbing the box of sugar and piling it in, almost emptying it before putting it on the shelf and making a few trips to distribute the coffee.

“Here you are Spencer, sugar with some coffee on the side.”

You chuckle, sitting in your chair again and picking a new file up, only to find that this was the last file.

“Oh. Anyone else wanna give me files? I’m on my last one.”

Morgan and Emily immediately run up to you with files, dropping them on your desk and thanking you. It made you laugh, watching smiles grown on their faces.

“Okay team. We’re almost finished. Just a little bit more now.”

(SEXUAL THEMES BEYOND THIS POINT)

A few hours later you, Spencer, Rossi, and Hotch are finished with your stacks, waiting for the other three with Penelope, discussing bars to go to.

“Oooo there’s a new one downtown, we should go there.”

“Can you guys hold back your alcohol talk until tonight please? I just wanna get out of here fast and maybe get lucky tonight.”

Emily pleads, making you and the other women go “oooo” while the men groan.

“Oh boy you are right Em. I haven’t gotten laid in so long. Too long.”

You say, leaning back in your chair and looking at a flabbergasted Penelope.

“How long?”

She asks, staring at you in disbelief. You were a very beautiful woman (Don’t you fucking dare say otherwise) so people often assumed you had sex often. You weren’t private about it either. So what if people judged you? Sex is natural and anyone who says otherwise is selling something.

“Since my first time in middle school. I had a delusion that sex was gonna be this amazing thing and then it was actually terrible. I gave up all hope and never slept with anyone ever again. So you know, it is what it is.”

Everyone looked at you in shock, confused as to how you went your whole life without sex.

“Wait really?”

Morgan questions, his attention dropping from the files to you in an instant. Spencer simply stared at you in disbelief, his expression suddenly making you nervous.

“Y-yeah. I haven't had sex since middle school. It isn’t a big deal.”

You defend, but Penelope wraps an arm around you, pulling you close.

“Oh honey I’m definitely finding you someone to take home.”

“Hey, at least you had your first time, unlike pretty boy over here.”

Morgan teases, messing with Spencer’s hair. Spencer was often teased for being a virgin, but none of you knew what to believe. He said he wasn’t, but refused to tell even Morgan about any of his times.

“How many times do I have to tell you guys, I’m not a virgin!”

“Then tell us about one time.”

Morgan says, a wide smirk on his face at the disheveled state of the genius doctor. Poor Reid just wanted to be left alone but Morgan will not let this go.

“Morgan. Not all of us are public about our sex lives like you bud. Sometimes I wish you were as secretive as Reid. None of us want to hear about how you “got it on”.”

Morgan grimaces, and Spencer looks to you thankfully.

“C’mon Y/N, you aren’t even a little curious?”

Emily asks from her desk, finally finishing up the last file with JJ. You shrug, playing with your hair briefly.

“Of course I’m super curious, but, unlike you lust goblins, I stand with Hotch and Rossi and don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

Various groans come from the team as you fist-bump Hotch and Rossi, laughing at their defeat.

When Morgan finally finishes, you all head to the new bar downtown, smiling at the flashing lights of the dance floor and immediately going to a small table with the rest of the team.

“Oh hells yes! This place is already fun!”

Penelope squeals, waving a worker over to get food. Morgan sits next to you, Emily on your other side and Spencer is next to Morgan and Hotch.

“Alright my baby’s we are partying until Y/N gets lucky!”

You chuckle at Penelope’s words, raising a glass of water to your lips and taking a big swig of it before looking around. The people in there were definitely attractive, but your mind never swayed from a certain genius.

You meant it when you said you were curious, your mind had always wandered to certain images when you went to sleep, constantly imagining what he would be like.

You’re mind was so easily destroyed by him. All of your thoughts contorted by him. To the point where you can’t imagine sleeping with any of these other people, but you’re scared to ruin your friendship with him by trying to sleep with him.

“Ah guys. I’m fine. I don’t want to sleep with someone I don’t know.”

Morgan groans, nudging your side and making you laugh.

A few hours later, Spencer has abandoned ship and went to the bathroom, leaving you alone with the rest of the team as you eat some wings.

“Oh my god I know how to figure out if Reid’s a virgin or not!”

Penelope shouts, you look at her excited face, just smirking as she squeals.

“And what is your plan?”

“One of us hooks up with him!”

You all choke on your food and drinks, staring at her in shock.

“I’m sorry what? Did you just say-”

“Actually that’s not a bad idea.”

Hotch cuts you off. You turn to his smirking face in shock. Never in a million years would you have thought that Aaron Hotchner thought one of you sleeping with Reid is a good idea.

“Hotch! Wouldn’t that like, mess with work or something?”

He shrugs, turning to you and smirking.

“What can I say? I’m curious too.”

You sigh, chuckling a bit and shaking your head.

“I say Y/N does it.”

“What?”

“Yeah! Y/N is single and hasn’t gotten laid in a while, it’s perfect!”

“Guys no I-”

“Oh my god you’re right! Plus there’s plenty of sexual tension between the two of them.”

You sigh, knowing they won’t let up until this happens. When the team wants something, they make it happen.

“Okay guys, I didn’t sign up for this, I’m not your test dummy.”

You say, putting your wings down on the plate in front of you and looking around at them all.

“Please girly? Pretty please?”

Morgan begs, clutching your hand tightly and shaking it up and down like a child who wants a toy.

“Y/N, I will make sure you get a raise in your paycheck.”

You stop and think about it for a second.

It could ruin your relationship with him forever, then again, he’s the type to forgive and forget when it comes to his friends.

And if it did work out, then things could be awkward between the two of you for a long time, or worse, he’d regret it. And like all the things he regrets, he’d ignore you until you disappeared.

And the worst you can think of, you take his virginity. Not someone he loves, not his girlfriend or wife, you. His bestfriend and co-worker.

But still, just that small percentage that everything might go completely right and you might even get a second time with him makes it feels like it might be worth it.

“Okay fine. But I don’t want a raise. If I’m doing this it’s because I want to.”

They all cheer and you just smile, taking a swig of beer before motioning for Morgan to switch seats with you so that when Spencer comes back he’ll be next to you.

Within a few minutes Spencer returns and you feel a heat travel up your neck as you look at him. He turned to you and smiled, sending shivers up your spine as you smiled back.

“Why’d you switch places?”

He asks, you turn to Morgan for help, pleading him to come up with a fake story.

“Emily kept poking her so she told me to switch.”

He says, you practically glare daggers at him, but you go with it, turning back to Spencer and nodding with a smile.

“Yep, so now, you are stuck with me.”

You joke, trying to ease the dusty pink on your cheeks, and nudge him gently in the arm.

In a few minutes you muster up the courage to let your hand travel off of the counter and onto Spencer’s thigh, feeling your entire face go crimson at the feeling of the hard muscle.

He choked on his water briefly before looking at you, his eyebrows furrowing at the sight of your red face. You were trying to hide any emotion you felt out of embarrassment.

He didn’t say anything though, you’re hand felt warm against the cool breeze of the bar, and he wasn’t opposed to your touch whatsoever.

Everyone continued talking and laughing as your hand inched upwards, and you could feel his body tense up every once in a while, and every time he did, you paused, giving him a moment to push your hand away or tell you to stop, but he didn’t. Not even when you began massaging and squeezing the muscle in your hands.

In fact, he at some point grabbed your hand and positioned it right above his own cock. You weren’t touching it yet, just hovering in slight fear.

He wants this.

You thought before slowly lowering your hand, your eyes widening at the feeling of his semi hard and fairly large cock. What the hell were you getting yourself into?

You glance at him quickly, only to find him staring straight back at you with lust lidded eyes. They were intimidating, almost scary. Usually you would have hated to be on the receiving end of this glare, but in this context, it made you feel like a match had been lit inside of you and you were just left there with a lit match inside of you.

The moment you squeezed your hands just slightly, he abruptly stood up, your hand falling from his crotch. Everyone looks at him in shock as he yanks you up.

“I need to talk to you.”

Is all he says before dragging you away. You only had a split second to turn and see the teams faces, but they were all pretty much the same.

A shit eating smile with wiggling eyebrows.

From the moment you were yanked into the private room with Spencer, you were super nervous. It had been years, you were inexperienced. What if he didn’t like it? What if he left because you were bad at it?

He seemed to notice your panicked state and sat you down on the bed, crouching in front of you and taking your hands in his.

“Hey, we don’t have to do this. As much as I would love to prove to you that I really am not a virgin, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. But if you say yes, I will pillage your body to the point that you can’t walk next week.”

Well shit, now you were fully convinced and super turned on. You had thought he was vanilla, or maybe even a bottom, but oh wow you were so wrong.

“Do it.”

Those were the only two words needed for Spencer Reid to pounce, and your plane of vision was knocked over, now laying on your back as he traps you under his body.

His lips are everywhere. They’re on yours at first, but they travel to your jaw, your neck, and his lengthy fingers work at the buttons on your dress shirt rapidly.

“Shit Spencer...”

You whine out as he works his hands across your body. They feel like fire against your skin. His lips are wet and messy, kissing and marking your neck for the world to see.

You grip his shirt, tugging at it and opening your mouth to speak, but a moan slips out instead. You shut your eyes in embarrassment as you feel his lips curl upwards on your collarbone, the suckling feeling feeling so warm and tingly.

“What is it baby? You want me to take my shirt off? huh?”

You nod eagerly, chest rising and falling quickly as he raises his body off of yours, and you open your heavy eyes to see him strip off his shirt. He isn’t muscly, but he’s perfect, he looks perfect.

“What do you want baby?”

You stumble over your words, your mind already fuzzy somehow by just his lips.

“You. I want you. Please Spencer I want you.”

You beg, your hands travelling up his torso and feeling his soft skin. He leans down again, towering over you and smashing his lips on your while his hands work on getting your pants off.

His lips were safe, careful. Not aggressive, and his tongue that tasted the inside of your mouth was warm and loving, savoring your taste as you whined into his.

He was smiling so widely against your skin, his pride booming at the way you reacted to his touch. He never once thought he could get you to react like this.

“You just wanted to see if I was a virgin huh? You curious?”

You nod and shake your head, confused on why you were doing this as well. You wanted this so much it almost hurt, you’ve wanted this since day one. You were also really curious as well though.

“You know what they say.”

He leans into your ear, kissing your neck and biting your ear.

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

You felt his fingers rub at your clothed pussy, your black cloth panties preventing him from fucking you with his fingers. His fingers rub against your clit, the cotton creating friction on it as well.

“Please Spencer! Please please please!”

You beg, feeling his breath land on your cold skin in a way that felt so raw and rigid. He tugs at your panties, freeing your cunt as a finger rubs against your clit, the bundle of nerves jolting you up.

A loud moan escapes your lips as he continues circling your clit with his long fingers, His lips kissing your open ones.

Two fingers probe into you, scissoring themselves inside of you. You groan into his mouth as they curl upwards into your wet cunt.

“Shit!”

He moves his head between your thighs, licking a wet stripe up your clit, flicking it around as you moan at the sensitive feeling. It feels like electricity lighting up the sensitive nub.

A pressure builds between your legs, a spring coiling in your stomach as he suckles on your clit, fucking you fast with his fingers.

“Spencer! I’m gonna- I’m gonna cum!”

“Do it.”

It hits you like a fiery clap of thunder, the feeling so extreme and hot it almost makes you scream and you can only hope no one heard you over the music outside.

Your breathing is labored as your high dies down, but Spencer doesn’t let up, he flips you over onto your stomach, dragging you to your knees by your hips.

“Wha-”

You get cut off by your own moan of pain, the tip of his cock slowly being pressed into your tight and wet cunt.

“It’ll get better baby, I’ll go slow, I promise. Just tell me when you want me to go, and when you want me to stop. Okay?”

You nod against the pillow under your face, tears slipping out of the corners of your eyes. A hand lands on your ass, making you yelp at the rough feeling.

“Words baby.”

You moan, palming the sheets with your fists as he pulls out completely, leaving you to feel empty.

“Okay! Please Spencer! Please I need you!”

You could practically feel his pride rolling off of him as he pushes into your sex slowly, filling you up fully.

It’s a stinging feeling, as if you were being torn apart. But he waits, he let’s you adjust to his girthy size before moving. He really was gentle. You hadn’t expected him to be rough exactly, but he was shockingly gentle and patient.

Eventually, you got used to the feeling, it felt so satisfying as well. The feeling of being so full and warm was so pleasuring, it sent little jolts of pleasure up your spine and out your mouth, making Spencer smirk.

“You’re so tight for me. You so curious you let me fuck you huh? So eager?”

You nod, burying your face into the pillows. You want him to move, to fuck you until you break, but words won’t come out, so you move your hips forwards, letting part of him slip out of you before moving him back into your dripping cunt.

A loud groan escapes both of your lips at the feeling, his hand lands on your ass again, reddening it before taking the hint and thrusting into you carefully.

“Oh... Holy crap!”

You moan out as he continues to clench your hips, surely leaving bruises tomorrow. His thrusts remained slow and deep, but it felt just right. He let his hands wander, travelling up and down your body.

His fingers find your bra, unclipping it and letting it fall off. Your breasts move to the rhythm of his thrusts.

“Faster... Please Spencer faster!”

“What’s that my little slut? You want more? You gonna be a greedy little slut?”

You could feel your cheeks become a dark crimson color, slightly embarrassed at the degrading language he was using, but you nod nonetheless, wanting him to pound into you shamelessly.

“Very well. What a dirty slut wants, she gets.”

His pace quickens suddenly, each thrust into you sharp and hitting into you just right. Loud moans escape both yours and Spencer’s lips, the room becoming sweaty and sticky quickly.

“This want you want you whore? You just want to be fucked like a cheap whore?”

Pointless babbles fall out of your mouth, quiet “Yes” and “I’m your cheap whore” being mumbled as he pounded into from behind.

A gasp escapes your lips as he lands another smack to your ass, leaving a burning sensation that felt so damn pleasurable after the initial sting.

A familiar pressure builds up between your thighs again, Your legs trembling under the Thunderous feeling of your orgasm washing over your entire body.

You had thought that two orgasms would have been enough for him, but he doesn’t let up, even flipping you back over and thrusting into you harder.

“S-Spencer!”

You gasp and squirm as his fingers find your sensitive and swollen clit, pinching and rubbing it with his thumb and index finger. It felt like a wave of nerves jolting every bone, your back arching off of the cushion underneath you.

He continues pounding into you mercilessly, admiring the way your tits bounce at his pace, the way you so desperately panted for mercy, but your body betrayed you.

If you really wanted him to get off of you, you would have made it much more clear, you would have been pushing him off more, but you were more just clutching him closer than anything, wriggling your body around.

You couldn’t form any words at this point, chasing after your third orgasm endlessly. You manage to spot the hand that isn’t abusing your clit snake its way up your body, playing and pinching your nipples briefly before wrapping itself around your neck.

Soft squeezes are delivered to your throat, making you whimper and whine, your own hands reaching his wrist for support, feeling up the vein-y muscles.

“Spencer! Spencer I’m gonna... I’m gonna cum!”

You whimper out, his hand tightens around your throat and his fingers rub your clit faster and harder, abusing the already raw nerves.

Everything felt so overwhelming. Your body was shaking aggressively each time he rubbed your swollen nub, and the feeling of him pounding into your wet cunt repeatedly slamming your sweet spot mercilessly and choking you out at the same time was so raw and powerful.

It felt unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. And with a broken moan, you came all over his cock, clenching around him and pushing him over the edge as well.

He came right inside of you, riding out his high while slowing the rubs delivered to your clit. Your insides were twitching like crazy around his sensitive cock, making him groan while watching your entire body shake.

Soon after you both came, he pulled out, letting his cum drip out of you and onto the bed, pulling your body to sit up.

“Well, did I pass your test?”

You lazily nod at his question. You panted heavily, trying to chase after your breath.

“Holy shit Spencer... That was... Wow.”

He chuckled, grabbing your clothes off of the floor and placing them next to you.

“Need help cleaning up?”

You shook your head, meeting his starstruck eyes for the first time since he choked you. They were so bright, so in awe.

“Alright, well I’m gonna head home so I don’t have to face the others. See you at work?”

“See ya.”

Twenty minutes later, Spencer had gone home and you had finished getting all of his cum out of you, and now you were fully dressed, making your way back to the others in a shell shocked state of mind.

Everyone else was trying their hardest not to laugh at the sight of your shaky legs when you stumbled into your chair, red hickies all over your neck. You sat with a blank stare in your eyes, chugging your water.

“So?”

Morgan asked, knowing the answer already but just wanting to hear it anyways.

“You were wrong.”

You managed to mumble out. Everyone broke out laughing, even Hotch and Rossi.

You continued to eat your wings, The memory of what just happened stuck on replay in your brain.

PERMANENT TAGLIST(OPEN) @pinkdiamond1016 @spencer-reids-snow-white @sheepfather @eusuntgroot @libradolan

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writershapeholeonthedoor · 5 years

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Counting Stars - Shoot (Root x Sameen Shaw)

Fandom: Person of Interest

Relationship: Root/Samantha Groves x Sameen Shaw

Tags: Romance, dorks, idiots in love

Rating: All

Read on AO3

This is my first Person of Interest fic, so please let me know if I screwed up at some point! Also, english is not my first language. If there's something wrong, let me know.

It has been a long night. Not because she had to work – she was sure it would have gone a lot faster if she had – but because Shaw couldn’t sleep for more then half an hour at a time, waking up at every single noise she heard, expecting to see Root finally home after her newest mission. It has been three days. Only three days, Shaw tried to tell herself, but not being able to rest without Root had become a common thing.

Another thing to blame her for. She thought with a heavy sigh. The line in front of her was larger than usual, but that was the cheaper coffee around the area and she really, really, needed that to stay awake for the rest of the day. Going to that coffee shop had also become a tradition when Root was not around and her sleeping routine went all crazy.

Rolling her eyes, Shaw pulled the wallet from her pocket and looked at the coins she had there. 2,55c. She could buy a coffee and a donut, but then she would not have enough money to buy coffee for herself tomorrow. Shaw hated that she let her financial life get so out of control that she had to plan how many times a week she could drink coffee, but honestly it wasn’t her fault. The Machine really should start to add “you could possibly die” in their paycheck. Not to mention that, since she started dating Root, Shaw had spent a lot more money with things that she didn’t used to before. Like dinners in restaurants Root said she would like to meet, or the expensive stupid almond milk because turns out the hacker was lactose intolerant.

The guy in front of her finally took his final step to reach the teenager girl behind the bar, both of them looking like they could use a day off. Shaw sighed again. She would have more money in a week, she just had to tolerate that awefull coffee and the huge line for another day or two. And it’s not like she was starving, she had just spent a lot of her money to buy a new couch and was trying to save some to get the new bed she saw when she was getting the couch.

It has nothing to do with the fact that Root was complaining about her sore back. Not at all. It’s because her forniture had indeed see better days and the store started a huge sale, so Shaw took the chance. Not because Root kept rolling in bed all night. Not because Root had comment about the large Orange spot under one of the couch’s pillows (in her defence, the spaghetti slided off by himself).

Shaw watched while the guy finally – finally – moved out of her way after changing his order three times. The girl only looked up to give another sigh when Shaw took a step foward.

“Hank’s Coffee, what can we get you today?”

Shaw could not find in herself to be mad at the teenager. It was seven a.m. and she was working in coffee shop that clearly had better days, the girl could be a little grumpy if she wanted. “Coffee, black.” Understanding it didn’t mean that Shaw herself had to be polite.

The girl sighed heavly again, turning her back to go to the coffee pot behind her. “One second.”

Before Shaw could do anything else, she felt her cellphone vibrate in her back pocket and quickly reached for it. Not because she was hoping it was Root, not at all. She was just hoping it would be Reese telling her he got coffee for everybody. Yet, even if she told herself that, the small side smile that crossed her face crushed it all down.

“Got back, going to meet you for breakfest, sweetie.”

Shaw didn’t bother to answer or ask Root if she needed the adress – the hacker had the best GPS in the world in her ear. Putting her phone back, Shaw saw that the girl was back, sliding a small cup across the bar. It definitelly didn’t smelled like coffee, but it looked like it, so Shaw was going to take it without complain because the day she found this place the coffee was absolutelly not black. Brown, a brown coffee. She remembered.

“Anything else?” The girl was clearly ready to move on to the next cliente, but Shaw looked down at the glass and made a small calculation.

“Give me one of these donuts and another coffee.” She was not going to be able to buy herself that small cup of coffee tomorrow, but whatever. Root is back. It sounded like a mantra in her head, even if Shaw was pretending not to hear it.

The attendent let another loud sigh go out before grabbing a paper bag from somewhere to stuff one of the donuts inside. She quickly put it with the coffee after grabbing another cup and roll her eyes. “Anything else?”

Shaw thought for a second to ask to see something else just to piss her off, but quickly changed her mind. She wanted to be out of there as soon as possible. “That’s it.”

“2,50.”

Shaw had just handed the money to the girl when she felt someone slidding to stand by her side. She didn’t had to turn around to see who was it. Her body had a way to tell her when it wasn’t Root invading her personal space and she had learned to trust it after almost punching the other woman in her chin. Not turning around while the girl moved her hand around the registrator to find her change, Shaw handed one cup to Root, before slidding the bag with the donut towards her.

Putting her 0,05c back in her pocket, Shaw grabbed her own coffee and finally turned around to leave, trying not to think how Root always seemed to take her breath away. Root waited until they were outside – a rarity – before saying anything.

“Good morning, sweetie.”

Shaw drank half her cup before replying, keeping her eyes fixed ahead. “How was it?”

She didn’t had to turn around to know that Root had a gentle smile on her face. Much of their job was to observe, so Shaw knew that it was a kind of smile that the hacker gave only to her and it was never easy to ignore how her chest seemed a little bit tighter when she saw it.

“Ah, the normal. Some shots here and there.” Root let go a chuckle, finally sipping in her cup. Shaw knew it tasted like shit, but Root didn’t say a thing about it. “You didn’t miss anything fun.”

“Would hate the opportunity to shoot someone.” Shaw tried not to show too much interest while Root opened the donut bag and took a bit of it. The coffee was shit, but their donut was actually pretty good.

“Thank you for breakfest, sweetie.” The other woman used that tone that made something inside Shaw ignite. It was a mix between sarcasm, used only to piss her off, and sincerity, that made her more confused than the sarcasm thing. Root used that voice when Shaw did something she found cute.

I kill people, I’m not cute and I don’t do anything cute. Shaw almost growled to herself. Instead of answering – because she never knew what to say when she was spoken to like that – Shaw made a turn around to cross the street. They were just two blocks from the subway now.

“Did you just got back?” Shaw drank what was left from her coffee and threw the plastic cup in the trash can.

“Yep, just out of the train.” Root took another bit from the donut, shaking her head up and down to add some affect in her answer. Shaw wanted to ask her where she was that she took a train back, but choose to bit her tongue instead. “Want a bite?” The hacker asked, already moving the bag towards Shaw.

Not the one to recuse food, the shorter woman took a large bite out of the donut, ignoring Root’s smile, not stoping her walk. “You should go rest.”

“I will, I’m just walking you to work, sweetie.” Root bumped their shoulders together, making Shaw roll her eyes.

“You will have to go back three blocks.”

Root shrugged, finishing the donut and sipping her coffee. “Don’t mind.”

Shaw had to bite her cheek to stop a smile when she saw the woman’s face when she dranked the coffee, but, again, Root didn’t said a thing about it. “Did you like it?”

She almost missed the quick frown in Root’s face. “Yeah, it’s good.”

“For someone who had used like a thousand different identities, you are a terrible lier.” The former marine actually chuckled to that, bringind a bright smile to Root’s lips.

“Maybe you just know me too well.” Root fired back, throwing the cup in the next garbage can that crossed their way. “But yes, breakfast in on me tomorrow.”

“You know I will not let you forget that you just promissed me food.” Shaw could see the subway entrancy already.

The taller woman laughed delighted, shaking her head while slowing down her pace, bringind both of them to a stop just a few feets from the woman’s final destination. “I hope you don’t, I didn’t say what we’re going to eat after all.” Her wink only made Shaw blush a deeper shade of red. “See you later, sweetie.” Root took a step foward, bringing her hands to rest in Shaw’s shoulders to stop her to take a step back unconcionsly. “Have a nice day at work.” She kissed Shaw’s lips before the other woman could react and was out of her personal space before the shorter woman could punch her in the face.

Shaw was stuck in place for a couple of seconds, watching, like it was a movie right in front of her eyes, how Root’s smile almost reached her ears when she took one step back, then another one, then another one, then another one, before turning around and walking away in the direction they had just came from. Shaw shook her head to clean her thoughts, finally turning to enter the subway. She would never say it aloud, but it was worth it to go a day or two without coffee.

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dondake · 5 years

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[mistagio] roman holiday

rating: t summary: Mista doesn’t target tourists, but he’ll make exceptions. AO3 Link

It wasn’t that Guido Mista was homeless, except - ever since he was evicted for not paying three months worth of rent (“I’ll have it next week...or the week after that, promise on my grandmother’s grave.”), he had been flitting from couch to couch to keep a roof over his head. And it wasn’t that he was penniless and couldn’t afford even a bare bones efficiency, as his stars shone over him and let him move from part time job to part time job as he pleased, but it was a hassle to negotiate lease terms and bicker with new landlords. After Bruno politely kicked him out after two weeks and Fugo forbade him from taking advantage of Narancia’s generosity for more than two whole months, Mista had taken to honing his charisma to charm his way into the beds of those who would take him. But now the girl he had been staying with, a trusting assistant baker, had hesitantly asked him when he thought the plumbing at his place would eventually be fixed and he knew his days on her borrowed patience was coming to an end.

Taking some money from her counter, he told her he would go check on his apartment and come back with pastries and espresso and trotted down the alleyway behind the building with no intention of returning. The sun was beginning to peek through the tops of the trees sparsely littering the street; the weather was going to be nice for the next few days, which was fortunate if he struck out and had to resort to sleeping in the park for the night. Of course, that was not preferable, so he did go to the closest shop and buy buttery cornetti and three cups of hot coffee.

Narancia was outside his store when Mista came up, keeping his gait casual. While Narancia was not one to notice the mood, he did not need the boy tipping Fugo off about his intentions before he had properly launched into his petition. “Oh, it’s you, Mista.” Setting up his sign, promising accurate models and other handcrafted figures if one would just step inside, Narancia straightened up and grinned. “I was wondering if you’d gone ahead and got married! That’s got to be the longest time you’ve overstayed your welcome like that!”

“Good morning to you too,” Mista said, choosing to ignore the backhanded commentary. “Have you eaten yet? I thought about you when I was getting breakfast; there’s some for the sour thistle too, before he chases me out for not being an accommodating guest.”

“Well, I’m not going to say no to food! Come on in.”

What he needed, Mista thought, was a reliable source of income. Narancia had been every bit of a blue collar, bullet-nosed kid raised on the streets like he was, but now he was the proprietor of a humble little toy shop on one of the main streets of Naples. While it was no fancy boutique, the wooden shelves were neatly painted, polished, and sturdy, holding the metal miniatures of airplanes and trains that were imported from Spain. The shades were drawn closest to the stuffed animals on the west wall, and the middle of the floor plan held the delicate tables where the carved wooden pieces Narancia whittled and tinkered with were displayed. Narancia was good with his hands, good with a blade, but he would have been any ordinary craftsman were it not for the scowling man who glowered at Mista as he approached the back counter.

“What do you want, Mista,” Fugo said. Heir to a wealthy import company, he had since wrested his share of the family fortune to co-own Arrowsmith with Narancia as the shop’s bookkeeper and sales liaison. “No, you cannot stay the night with Narancia. Have you cycled through your little black book of friends already?”

“Oh, what’s it to you,” Mista scoffed, putting the coffees down on the counter and pulling his hands away in time to avoid Narancia’s grabbing for his share. “You’re not Narancia’s roommate and you aren’t sleeping with him, so I’m not displacing you or anything.” Only Narancia was oblivious enough to think Fugo had no ulterior motives for providing the capital for his shop and staying behind after closing to teach him how to accurately calculate his profits for the day. The comment made Fugo’s mouth twist, a mortified shade of pink coloring his ears.

“You got kicked out? Do you need a place to stay?” Narancia said, between bites of pastry.

“Maybe. I’ll get back to you. You’ll lend me your couch for a night or two, won’t you? Can’t you help your pal, who’s down on his luck?”

Narancia opened his mouth to say yes, but Fugo spoke up first and louder. “Just find your own place already, Mista. Aren’t you tired of moving from place to place? I can’t imagine what this is doing to your sleep cycle. You do know that people’s brains don’t fully settle when they’re in new surroundings for the first time, right? You’re not feeling well rested because your body is in a state of alert since you keep changing bedrooms.”

“You could have cured cancer if you weren’t playing with toys,” Mista said, waving a hand to dismiss him. “How about it, Narancia? Only if I can’t find someone to room with. You know I stay out; you won’t even know I’m there.”

Narancia opened his mouth again, before closing it and glancing at Fugo. For a horrified moment, Mista thought he had lost his closest ally to the clumsy advances of someone younger than both of them, who insisted that his clothes weren’t raggedy, they were worn and lived in. But Narancia shifted the weight in his feet anxiously and said, “Well...maybe, okay. Only for a few days. Fugo got us a contract with the tourism board so I’ve got to make some miniatures of the Duomo di Napoli that they’ll sell in their offices. You know a ton of people go through them, so it could really put...put Arrowsmith on the map.” This was Fugo’s script, for sure. “But...and don’t take this the wrong way, but when you’re around, I won’t get them all done in time. I mean, I like hanging out with you, but you really go all out sometimes and that’s fun, but…”

“I get it, I get it.” Mista shrugged. Perhaps he had taken the wrong gamble and should have visited Bruno first with the breakfast money; now he would need to needle the bureaucrat empty-handed. “That’s great, though. Can you imagine the things you make sitting in the houses of someone from across the ocean?”

“Yeah! And I won’t need to make Fugo translate for me to sell them.” Fugo, with his knowledge of several major languages, was invaluable for a little local shop that attracted tourists with artisanal tastes; Narancia was a favorite with the kids in the neighborhood, but he let Fugo do the talking for the rest of their clientele.

Mista raised his brows. “Then you’d better look for another job, since Narancia won’t need you anymore soon.”

Fugo was finished with his espresso or else he would have probably thrown it in Mista’s face. “Just get out, you freeloader.”

Bruno would most likely be busy at this point in the morning and would not be particularly generous while he was at his office; Trish was probably sleeping and her wrath at being deprived of her beauty sleep would make Bruno even less inclined to do him any favors. The shipping company he was with would not be receiving any deliveries until later in the week, so he was waiting on his heels for his next paycheck. His best bet was to linger in the marketplace and do any odd jobs and run errands for pittance to get a bed in one of the back alley hostels. If he was lucky, he’d find his next victim - he was good at scoping out someone who was good natured and trusting of his sob stories, even if they weren’t always convincing.

The marketplace was becoming busy, with older women making the rounds to snatch the freshest produce before the latecomers arrived. Hanging back, Mista took stock of the girls running the stands; he had fooled around with Maria’s sister, so she would be wary around him; Felicia was friends with two girls whom he had parted with on bad terms, so she was also a no go. He doubted Anna would want to pick up her brother’s sloppy seconds, and he was not eager to reintroduce himself into Antonio’s household anyway. There were a few fresh faces that Mista did not recognize; they were most likely tourists by the way they were looking around with careless awe. Their pockets would be picked before the sun set. Mista did not usually try to pick up tourists; they became too cautious when he suggested they return to their hotel and he had to admit he did not really look the part of a good, upstanding Italian citizen.

While most of the tourists were traveling in tight packs, there was one person wandering by himself. Holding a piece of paper, the blonde stranger walked down each aisle with careful precision, examining each table’s wares. He was dressed too well to be an American and his features were decidedly European, though Mista would not be surprised if he was biracial with his less severe cheekbones and a lighter skin tone than the Italians in the region. In fact, Mista had been about to write the man off as a native until the man came closer and Mista saw through the paper what looked to be an address and a crudely drawn map. Naples was big, but not big enough to confuse someone who had lived in the area for years. “Hey,” he called, leaning back against the fountain to expose his neck and appear open and unthreatening. The man turned to him, startled but not jumpy; this was a tourist who had been to Italy before or had a good enough head on his shoulders not to be fooled by more basic swindlers. “Are you looking for something? Do you need any help?”

The man stared at him for a long, silent moment. “I’m looking for a particular dried goods store. I was told that they sometimes sell here, but I can’t seem to find them. I’ve just recently arrived, so I’m still figuring out my directions.”

“Oh? Let me see; I can probably point you in the right direction.” Speed Wagon was an old establishment, well known despite not being on a very public street. “It’s pretty close, maybe a ten minute walk. Just go up until you get to the seamstress, then bear left and go diagonally across the square and pass the newspaper stand and the butcher. But not the butcher with the hog’s head plaque; you need to go further to the one with the wreath of grain. It should be down the cobblestone side street.” He was being purposefully vague with his directions, practiced in casually using his hands to talk. He would not offer to take him there; it had to be a request, so he knew he was not wasting his time with someone as vigilant as Bruno.

The man took back the paper with the address and terrible map and stared at it for another long moment. “I suppose you won’t help me out any more without a price. I’m a sitting duck, with how I’ve told you that I’m new to the area. But I’m Italian, just like you are; I can navigate my motherland even with that convoluted explanation.” He began to walk away, only pausing when Mista began to laugh.

“Alright, alright. I’ll help you out. For free, and you can hold that on my good name.” The stubborn ones were fun; the prideful ones made his conquest even better. This tourist could appeal to his nationalistic side all he wanted, but he was still new to Italy and Mista had no loyalty to someone who had chosen to call somewhere else home.

“Then you should share your good name,” the man prompted. Mista laughed again; everyone here knew of him, and he had done most everyone a favor once or twice. His enemies would be the enemies of any tourist, prepared or not, so he had no fear of revealing himself.

“Guido Mista. Call me Mista; that’s what everyone else does.” The man did not volunteer his name, but Mista looked at the piece of the paper with the address that had an elaborate letterhead. “I’m going to assume that GG are your initials; care to return the favor?” A nice letterhead - and the man was wearing nice leather shoes and a nice pressed shirt. Tourists with money were hard to crack, but the payoff was always worth it.

“Giorno. Giorno Giovanna.”

“Alright. Matches your hair.” The sun was just as bright a gold as Giorno’s head, a neat plait as perfect as a meticulously shaped challah. It was appropriate, Mista thought; he appreciated a good looking man when he saw one. It was natural that those who were blessed with classically beautiful features attracted people to themselves. Bruno was polished and put together and Trish had good proportions; she might have had inherited roots in government with a politician father, but Mista always thought they would have had their names in the papers by look alone. To contrast, Abbacchio was a peace officer who operated alone because he was just too gloomy.

“So how long have you been in Naples?” Tourist marks got nervous if you were too quiet. And frankly, Giorno’s guardedness and understated privilege suggested that Mista might get the jump on if he wasn’t careful himself.

“Only a few days. My...father has a few affairs he wants me to take care of at his house.”

“Your family house is in the area? How can you say you’re new? Where are you coming from?”

If Giorno was put off by his questioning, he did not show it. “I’ve spent some time in Florence and Rome, but I’ve returned from Japan after visiting my mother. It is unfortunately time I cannot get back.”

“Tell me about it! My mother will never get off my case when I go home; she’s always asking what I’ve done with my life. Nothing, apparently, since I’m still alive, huh?”

That made Giorno chuckle, though level and restrained. Still, the sound had a funny way of sticking in Mista’s ear. A passing thought wondered what Giorno’s genuine laugh would sound like. He felt Giorno’s eyes case over his head at the hog’s head sign over the first butcher and then at the grain wreath over the second butcher’s door. What a little fool - only a novice thief would lie about everything from the start. They arrived at Speed Wagon, tucked away in a back street with only a flickering light illuminating the spoked wheel crest. “Thank you,” Giorno said. “For helping me find this place.”

“No problem. Actually, now that I’m here, I guess I’ll grab some jerky for a snack. May as well, since I’m never over here.” Again, Giorno’s apprehension of Mista sticking around didn’t show on his face, and he held the door open for Mista. Wandering into a back corner, he kept his ears alert as Giorno approached the counter.

“Pick-up? Under what name?”

Giorno paused. “Dio,” he murmured. Mista heard the crumple of the paper in his hands and looked between the shelves at Giorno pushing it into his pocket.

“Ah...our least favorite regular. Will he be visiting the house soon?”

“I guess so. His business is none of mine.”

There seemed to be some unspoken understanding between Giorno and the shopkeep. Mista had never heard of the Giovanna name, nor of a Dio, but he was not one to rub shoulders with the elite. He’d keep the names in mind to ask Bruno, who had his hand to the pulse of the city. “I only ask because...his order was three cases of red wine. Now, I’m not doubting your strength but this is a tall order for a single person and I know your father is...particular of who fetches his things and enters his house.”

“Wine? I thought this was a dried goods shop.”

“We are. But you must understand we also have connections and will carry what we’re asked of.” The man brought out each case of bottles and set them on the counter with a significant weight behind the sound of them settling on the wood. “You could carry them individually but I suspect it will take time for each…”

“I’ll help,” Mista volunteered, stepping out from where he had been watching. Giorno did not seem surprised at his suggestion. Mista thought that Giorno had been aware of his whereabouts the entire time they had been in Speed Wagon. “I’m currently working out at the docks; two cases should be no problem.”

The shopkeeper turned to Giorno. “A family friend?”

“That would be generous.” Giorno studied the wine. “I suppose I have no choice but to rely on you again, Mista.”

Upon leaving Speed Wagon, Giorno did not return to the main road, where most of the cars were parked. Hitching the crates of wine under his arm, Mista hoped whatever penthouse suite Giorno was returning to was far enough away that he could really flex and show off his muscle definition to sweeten the deal. But Giorno merely continued walking, a crate of wine in his hands, and walked right out of the center of the city. Mista was no slouch, he worked out in his spare time, but he did not usually carry heavy items for significant distances. Just as he contemplated asking Giorno for a break, they emerged from the road to a grand villa on the outskirts of Naples, right where the buildings began to move further and further from each other. “Welcome to my father’s house,” Giorno said, gazing up at the gate in front of them. He turned back to Mista, quietly and expectedly.

“You aren’t going to invite me in, give me a drink or nothing?”

Giorno sighed, but he allowed Mista to follow him into the main house. Mista had gone to a nice house like this once, when he was temping for a catering firm, but the constant flow of guests had kept him from really taking in the extravagance. The pillars bordering the little courtyard inside, where a red clay fountain bubbled in the center surrounded by lush shrubbery, had to be made from stone straight from the source, smoothed by hand. The floor was marble tile, with barely a scratch. Giorno’s shoes were real leather, but Mista’s sandals were almost dirt cheap and boldly striding across enough stone worth a month’s paycheck. They bypassed the kitchen and Giorno led him to a small, cool wine cellar at the foot of a flight of wooden stairs. The three crates of wine seemed insignificant against the already impressive collection displayed around them. Giorno set his crate on the ground and Mista stacked his on top, casually rubbing his biceps with as little expression as he could muster. He would be sore tomorrow, for sure.

“Thank you again,” Giorno said.

“Sure thing.” Mista stared up at the dirt ceiling, his voice sinking into the soil and brick around them. “Do you wanna fuck?”

“Here?”

“Uh, no, unless you want to. I’m sure there’s got to be a bed or something in this huge house.”

Giorno blinked his beautiful blue eyes at him. The adrenaline was really coursing through his blood if he was being this reckless, calling Giorno beautiful despite knowing the man for less than half a day. Mista knew his way around many a beautiful Italian, but there was something different in the way Giorno carried himself - ethereal, yet the gold around the edges could be pure and soft or gold plated pewter. Mista wouldn’t know, but he did want to take the risk and sink his teeth in. “I thought you said you wanted to come in for a drink,” Giorno said, finally. He cradled his arms in front of his chest, defensively, but it wasn’t a no.

“We can get a drink and then we can fuck. What, do you have an order you like to do these things in?”

Giorno poured two tall glasses of water, as they had been lifting wine in the sun, but they were left mostly full on the table next to the window. Mista doubted the bedroom Giorno brought them to was his own, personal one, but with the different rooms they had passed, Giorno could sleep in a different bed for each night of the week and it wouldn’t matter. Tourists scrambled to explore Naples on a budget, but lucky boys like Giorno only had to to book a flight and fall right into his father’s house for a quick holiday. It made Mista feel less guilty fucking Giorno right into what felt like expensive sheets, paid for by a faceless older man. Giorno’s skin was hot in his hands, a flash of fire, like the setting sun. He hadn’t timed it right, Mista though, wiping his brow with his wrist, buried halfway into the boy beneath him. If had bided his time and waited until the sun was completely below the horizon, he could spin a tale that it was just worth it to stay the night.

“You’re distracted,” Giorno said, reaching back and pulling Mista close by the hip. “Finish what you started.”

Afterwards, they returned to the city for dinner. Giorno was leaning against the wall, the buttons on his shirt done low so Mista could see dark red hickeys where neck met shoulder, staring out the window of the pizzeria when Bruno walked up to the table.

“I heard from Fugo that you would be looking for me, but it looks like you won’t be needing my help.” Bruno was not one to judge openly, but Mista knew he had seen them from a distance and had studied Mista, hunched forward in his chair over his plate, and Giorno, practically sprawled along the booth. “Who is your acquaintance?”

“Bucciarati, this is Giorno. Giorno, here’s the man who practically runs all of Naples. Effectively.”

“A pleasure,” Giorno said, taking the hand Bruno extended to him. “Bruno Bucciarati. I’ve heard of you. If you’re here, then you must also be with--”

“We should order pick-up next time,” Trish said, sliding up to Bruno’s side and wrapping an arm around his arm. “Ugh. They’ve got a new girl taking orders and she’s seen me perform before. I could not get in a word edgewise. She’ll get her mother, or her father, so be careful and don’t engage. We’ll be here until midnight if we let her chatty family catch us.” Trish let her complaint trial off, recognizing Mista, who had returned to eating. “Oh, hello Mista. Haven’t seen you in a while. Who’s your catch now?”

“Trish,” Mista said, giving her a look. Bruno clasped a hand over hers on his arm and squeezed - subtly, but Mista saw Giorno follow the movement with his eyes. “Giorno. Giorno, Trish.” He hated introducing the people he was sleeping with to the gang. Without labels, it became awkward and troublesome to describe. Not that there was a label for someone he had only slept with once, but he was regretting not going somewhere with a lower likelihood of running into someone he would know.

“A little...no, a lot out of your strike zone, Mista. Oh, I’m kidding!” Trish threw her hands up. “Can’t a girl make a joke! It’s nice to meet you, Giorno. Don’t mind me, but I hope you’re keeping Mista in check. He’s really not for everyone.”

“He’s not,” Giorno agreed.

“I haven’t seen you around,” Bruno said. “Are you new to Naples?”

“My flight landed two days ago. I’m just getting over the jetlag.”

“I see. I welcome you to the city. As Mista so generally put it, I do work in administration so it’s my duty to make sure your time here is enjoyable.”

“There’s so much more to see than Mista’s random assortment of haunts,” Trish said, laughing when Mista began waving her off. “I’m not performing until Thursday, so hopefully you’ll be free then and can come watch. Bruno always reserves a table, and I’m sure he’d love the company.”

“You’ll love his company until Trish is done performing, then you’re a third wheel,” Mista groused. “Hey, Bucciarati. I actually think I will come over. When will you be home?”

Giorno turned to him. “How long are you planning to be out? I’m a little tired as it is, so I don’t know if I can stay out too late.”

Closing his mouth before it was obvious he had let his jaw drop, Mista put down his piece of pizza. “You...want me to come back to your place with you?”

Trish leaned into Bruno’s shoulder. “I think we should leave them now,” she whispered, loud enough for Mista to overhear. Bruno offered a polite farewell before excusing the both of them. They sat a fair distance away, and for Trish’s credit, did not look back or watch them.

“I just,” said Mista, “didn’t think you’d...I mean - I had a good time, but you’ve only got so much time before you’ve got to go-” He was shooting himself in the foot; he wanted a place to sleep, and now he was talking too much. There had been others who had been enamored early, whom Mista had taken full advantage of, but it was the unlikely combination of Giorno’s means and options he was bound to have - and Trish was right, boys like Mista could be found on any block in any neighborhood.

“Go? Where am I going?”

“You’re on holiday, aren’t you? Staying at your father’s house?”

Giorno studied him. “I’m not on holiday. I’ve just moved here. My father’s gifted me his house, so yes, I’ve got some of his affairs to take care of, but I own that property. It’s big to be alone in, and while I must admit you wouldn’t have been my first choice…” He folded his hands, and Mista felt rooted in place, caught in Giorno’s snare. “Unless, you mean to say that you only slept with me because you were expecting never to see me again.” He wore a frown, but there was no real heat in it. Giorno could find someone else and forget him with a blink of an eye.

Mista felt able to breathe again, exhaling with a shaky laugh. “It would have been easier,” he admitted. He followed Giorno back to the villa, back to the same room, and they fucked again, lazily because Giorno was tired. What a brilliant stroke of luck, Mista thought. He had a roof over his head for the night. But more than that - he was known to be a bit laser focused when catching someone in his sniper scope, unrelenting until he’d gotten what he wanted. It had been a while since he’d been caught in the crosshairs of someone else’s aim, and the gaze Giorno had on him wasn’t besotted but one of conquest. Giorno had full intention of making him kneel, pledging his loyalties to a golden haired golden boy - and while Mista had no intention of bending to another’s will, the thought of submitting to Giorno made him shiver.

“I hope you won’t mind,” Giorno yawned, swadling himself with pillows as Mista laid next to him, staring at a curious star-shaped birthmark on his nape, “but I’ve offered board to one of my closest advisors while I’m here. Polnareff knows to be discreet, but I’d rather keep my private life private.”

“Is that all you think of me as?” Mista asked, grinning cheekily. “An on-call booty call, kept man that you can summon at any time, left to wander on my own when you don’t want me?”

Giorno ran his fingers through his hair, curly from the braid. “Is that such a bad life?” He rolled over, coming up so close that he pushed Mista onto his back and splayed his fingers out on his chest. “Tell you what - I know this estate’s been the place of many attempted break-ins while my father wasn’t around. You can be the hired muscle to keep my enemies away from me. In exchange, I won’t expect you to be at peak performance whenever I want you.” Giorno leaned in, and Mista remembered they hadn’t kissed - and in spite of himself, his breath caught in his throat. It was the kiss of death, and he was signing away his life to be in Giorno’s services. It wasn’t exactly what he had in mind for a carefree life, but as he kissed back, he thought it was excusable for now.

#mistagio #giomis #giorno giovanna #guido mista #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo #canadino fic #ao3 link recommended since this is a long one

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christoffer-thygesen-impreg-blog · 5 years

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Christoffer Thygesen Impregnated me and then Abandoned his son

Christoffer Thygesen a Data Scientist at Square Inc. impregnated me then abandoned his son. Christoffer refused to wear a condom and ejaculated inside me w/o telling me. He then left me stranded at the Abortion Clinic and then blocked me when his son was born.

Disclaimer: Since Christoffer blocked me from all outlets I have no choice but to voice my grievances online.

I matched with Christoffer on Tinder on 2/14/18, he called that night and was available to hang out on Valentine’s day but I ended up hanging with other friends.

Christoffer then invited me to a concert that Friday in Oakland but I ended up flaking and went to dinner at “Waterbar” instead.

He texted “ I’d hate for us to be a misconnect “ and to keep him in mind when I was back in SF. I had a procedural matter the following week and ended up in SF again.

We met in person on 2/28/18 and went to “The Snug” in Pacific Heights.

I thought he was fun but only 25 as I was 35. Christoffer texted to meet the following night, and then again the night after to ask me to a 4-star dinner, I had plans both those nights but on my last night in SF I agreed to meet him for dinner on 3/4/2018. We went to dinner at “ Bar Crudo” and after dinner, I went to his house in Inner Ridgemont.

We had intercourse that night and Christoffer never offered to use a condom.

After I left San Francisco, Christoffer kept in touch by sending a numerous dick pics/nudes on SNAP chat he would SNAP “ I have to see you again”, I replied but did not send any photos in return. On 6/16/2018 he texted he was going to be in New York, and asked if I was going to be there. I replied I was going to be in London, and he asked when I was going to be in San Francisco again, and that if I should visit and he’d make it worth my while by taking me to a 5-star restaurant instead of the 4 stars one he previously took me to.

On 6/20/2018 I found out I was pregnant and informed him the same day.

He wanted an abortion and though I was hesitant I agreed.

I was in Utah at the time and due to the stiff abortion laws, I had to drive to Las Vegas to get the abortion. Christoffer never offered to accompany me to get the abortion and I had to hound him for the abortion costs. I then drove 400 miles to Las Vegas alone to get the abortion. When I called the abortion clinic they estimated the cost of the abortion to be $550. Christoffer wired me $550 via Venmo on 6/21/2018.

I went for the abortion on 6/22/18, and after the ultrasound, the nurse told me the baby was 17.6 weeks old and the cost would be $1100. I then texted Christoffer asking for the remaining cost of the abortion. He texted “ how much do you need”? and when I responded he went silent. I called, and texted but was met with only silence. The nurse told me if I did not pay the full $1100 that my appointment will have to be canceled and that if I decided to reschedule the abortion would be $1500 as the baby was going to be 18 weeks old. Christoffer did not respond for almost 3 hours and my abortion appointment was canceled.

Christoffer was frantic when he did reappear, and though he stated he was not ready to be a father, he also texted that if the baby was coming he wanted him/her to be set up for the best possible life. He also texted that he would not live with himself by just being a paycheck and doing the bare minimum of being a father.

In the remaining 5 months of my pregnancy, I did not hear from Christoffer until 9/11/18 he asked how I was doing. I then informed him of my delivery due date of 11/25/18 and sent him ultrasounds of the baby, he did not respond to the ultrasounds.

He last texted on 10/11/18 and offered to pay for a Pre-natal Paternity Test. I was taken by surprise as he has been completely absent my entire pregnancy.

Christoffer told me the reason why he wanted a paternity test before the baby was born is that he was in between job and before taking any offer wanted to know if he is the father. He then said that if he is the father he’d like to be there and that he wanted to get his parents on board as this will be their first grandchild. I called several clinics about this Pre-natal paternity test and was told that Natera is the lab that conducts this test and results are almost always inconclusive. I informed Christoffer that it would be better to just wait until the baby was born and he never texted back.

I found out later that Christoffer Thygesen was trying to take a lower paying job/ one that pays predominately in stock to lower/avoid Child Support.

Such a shady move, he is already a 100% absent father now he wants to manipulate his income too to avoid paying child support.

I can only pray that the courts see through this sham and can impute the order to his earning capacity. This is Christoffer’s attempt to avoid financial and emotional support. He only care about himself and doesn’t care if his son suffers.

He then NEVER texted about the birth of his son and blocked me from all outlets.

I then reached out to Christoffer’s parents and sent them pictures of their grandson and was subsequently blocked by his father, Allan Thygesen and then Christoffer blocked me on Instagram.

Did Christoffers father block me because I was Asian? Did he think his Grandchild that Christoffer Thygesen created was ugly?

It’s shocking when Christoffer has been the one that initiated 100% of our communication pre/post finding out about my preganacy.

Then after the baby was born he blocks me on Instagram for no reason?

This shows what kind of man Christoffer Thygesen really is, his actions speaks volumes as to his concern about the well-being of his child, his character, and his self-respect as a man.

Does he have any idea what this has put my family through???? I’ve had to ask my parents, who are on a fixed income, to help me out physically and financially with Christoffers Son. I’m trying to plan for the rest of my life that I am not able to work and cannot afford daycare.

He just came inside me and left me with this baby.

Christoffer Thygesen irresponsibly ejaculated inside me and left me with his Baby!!!!!!!!

It also breaks my heart to look at my son and see that his father Christoffer, abandoned him and he will grow up with no male role models.

We live in a time where dysfunctional kids shoot up schools, it frightens me to the core that Christoffer created a son and left him as if getting a women pregnant is equivalent of taking a shit in a public toilet.

Apparently those are the morals Christoffer was raised upon.

Going around on Tinder matching with thousands of women and having unprotected sex and cumming inside them; then leaving them stranded as if they became pregnant by themselves. After all his nick name among his friends is “ Tinder Man Tiggy”. Makes sense.

Christoffers son will grow up without a male role model.

Are those the values Christoffer Standford Thygesen was raised upon?

Wasn’t Terry Thygesen, Christoffers mom the President of Board for the Menlo Park school district?

So Christoffers mother is in charge of securing funds for all the children in her neighborhood and yet with her own Grandchild, her own flesh and blood, she teaches her sons to just flee from their responsibility when they impregnate women?? Apparently.

And Christoffers father who blocked me after I sent pics of his Grandson. Women don’t get pregnant on their own, your son, Christoffer, irresponsibility ejaculated inside me and then left me stranded at the Abortion Clinic, but yet your automatic reaction after learning the news was to block me then have your lawyer send me a Cease and Desist Order?

Doesn’t the Thygesen family donate to organizations to underprivileged children? WELL, your GRANDSON is on WELFARE!!!!!

Let’s start with this: A woman’s egg is only fertile for about two days each month. Yes, there are exceptions, because nature. But one egg which is fertile two days each month is the baseline. And those fertile eggs are produced for a limited number of years. This means, on average, women are fertile for about 24 days per year. And I’m 36 yrs. old I have a lot less eggs than that.

But men are fertile 365 days a year. In fact, if you’re a man who ejaculates multiple times a day, you could cause multiple pregnancies daily. In theory, a man could cause 1000+ unwanted pregnancies in just one year.

Christoffer Thygesen irresponsibility ejaculated inside me that’s how he got a 36 yr. old pregnant.

Does he have an idea what an 18-week baby looks like? It is fully developed with all of his/her organs.

This is an 18-Week Fetus; Christoffer Thygesen pressured me into killing his fully developed son.

I didn’t choose this any more than he did.

He has put me and my family through so much, and I am stranded with his child.

It is so selfish of him to act like none of this is going on that he can just go on with his life and just ignore all of this. His public image as a man who grew up in Menlo Park, from a family of 4 who is a part of the community, a graduate from Carnegie Mellon University in the frat Delta Sigma of Sigma U, currently working as a Data Scientist at Square Inc. Christoffer Thygesen who is in the band Eastend Mile…….who cares… but really he went MIA after I told him I was pregnant and he has willfully decided to be a deadbeat father in every way possible.

Christoffer who was willing to take me a 5-star restaurant when he was trying to sleep with me, to contributing nothing to his son…..this is truly heartbreaking.

I am left with no choice but to fight him in court.

I am deeply saddened that Christoffer will not see his son and he is trying to avoid paying support all together.

@christofferthygesen @notorioustig @tiggamaroo @eastendmile

· Abortion

· Child Support

· Christoffer Thygesen

· San Francisco

· Tinder

50 claps

Applause from Ji Tae Kim

Christoffer Thygesen’s ChildChristoffer Thygesen Impregnated me and then Abandoned his son