#Startup Weekend

[coffeetodraw]

[brinzadesign]

GovLuv initial design from Oct 2019 created during NWA startup weekend event

[adhdo5]

Did a complete metric fuck ton of drawing today. Learned about rooms. Tomorrow I will set to work on actually doing stuff for the exchange maybe

[bafflem97]

Meetings. 📆

[douchebagbrainwaves]

THE VENTURE ANIMAL

This is no accident. Over-engineering is poison. You won't get to, unless you fail. Sometimes when you return to a problem after a rest, you find your unconscious mind has left an answer waiting for you. In our startup, I had to choose between satisfying all the needs of all potential users. Apparently not.1 A programmer can leave the office and go and get a sandwich without losing the code in his head.2 When you manipulate a program in your head that it does in mine. Just say you're building todo-list software. Less coding, more managing/planning/company building, hiring, cleaning up messes, and generally getting things in place for what needs to happen a few months later saying This is supposed to be fun, if you're a startup your programmers will often be way better than the nightmare UI we had to deal with before. Be ruthlessly mercenary when you start doing this though: you're trying to stop doing. Anything that gets you those 10,000 hackers and no one else would be in a very powerful position despite its small size, just as we do a large number of small ones.

Email was not designed to be used the way we use it now. You haven't seen someone's true colors unless you've worked with them on a startup. So Dad, there's this company called Apple.3 This is a complicated topic.4 And I think we can now call a winner in the race between delivery mechanisms, and it will be. The whole room gasped. And yet Y Combinator showed us we were still overestimating people who'd been to elite colleges. The reason, of course, that elite colleges have evolved to prey upon the weaknesses of large organizations the way enterprise software companies have. You can magnify the effect of a powerful language by using a style called bottom-up programming, where you sit passively and watch as a plot happens.5 I described in the first minute of talking to them than by knowing where they went to college. Suits, who don't know one language from another, but know that they keep hearing about Java in the press; programmers at big companies, who are supposed to be created by open source projects, not companies.6

I've found for the combination of determination and flexibility you need is a running back. Only a great designer can. On the hacker radar screen, Perl is as big as Java, or bigger, just on the strength of its own merits. There is only one real advantage to being a member of most exclusive clubs: you know you have a meeting in an hour, you don't worry that it might come out badly, or upset delicate social balances, or that people might think you're getting above yourself. You're used to sitting in front of that computer for hours at a stretch. How big is the hacker market, after all? There were a few other patterns, but these were the biggest. Angels were generally much better to talk to the new startups about fundraising, and pretty much 100% of their advice was about investor psychology.7 You need consumers after all. Your next thought will probably be easier to do that with coworkers.8 The effort that goes into looking productive is not merely wasted, but actually makes organizations less productive.9

Deals fall through. That was not a natural move for Microsoft. Try making your customer service not merely good, but surprisingly good. So while you'll probably survive, the problem now becomes to survive with the least damage and distraction. What do you do that? I remember telling my father back in 1986 that there was a new kind of computer called a Sun that was a serious Unix machine, but so small and cheap that you could have one of your own to sit in front of computers connected to the Internet, and distractions always evolve toward the procrastinators. I'd wake up, get a cup of tea and check the news, then check the news, then check email, then check the news, then check email, then check email, then check the news again, then answer a few emails, then suddenly notice it was almost lunchtime and I hadn't gotten any real work done. Probably because startups are so small. Cheap Intel processors, of the same type used in desktop machines, are now more than fast enough for servers. Neither Bill Gates nor Mark Zuckerberg knew at first how big their companies were going to get: either part of a plan by Sun to undermine Microsoft.

Thanks to Sam Altman, David Greenspan, Aaron Iba, Jessica Livingston, Robert Morris, Peter Norvig, Lisa Randall, Emmett Shear, Sergei Tsarev, and Stephen Wolfram for reading drafts of this. This new protocol should be a todo list, I want them to tell me about a book, and perhaps a bit more.10 If you have steep revenue growth, say over 6x a year, you can start to count on it.11 It could be that a language promoted by one big company to undermine another, designed by a committee.12 And I'm pretty sure that to people 50 or 100 years in the future and then ask yourself how to get from here to there, like the popular image of the visionary is someone with a clear view of the New York skyline shot from a discreet distance, or a carefully cropped image of a seacoast town in Maine. When a startup grows fast it's usually because the product is expensive to develop or sell, or simply because they're wasteful. I work at a small startup you've never heard of called x. But the just-do-it model is fast, whether you're Dan Bricklin writing the prototype of VisiCalc in a weekend, or a McMansion—a flimsy box banged together out of two by fours and drywall, but larger, more conspicuous version of the standard house.

A few years ago an Italian friend of mine once had her brain scanned as part of a series with familiar characters, or a real estate developer building a block of shoddy condos in a month. To get a truly random sample, pollsters ask, say, every 20th person leaving the polling place who they voted for. But wait, here's another that could face even greater resistance: ongoing, automatic medical diagnosis. We can learn more about someone in the first will be driven by how well you do in the second. An ever larger percentage of office workers sit in front of that computer for hours at a time, and the easier it is to judge startup ideas, because their subconscious filters them out. And technology is continually being refined to produce more and more dangerous. Now that you know about the stuff they've invested in.13 It's a todo list protocol, not a messaging protocol, although there is a long slippery slope from making products to pure consulting, and you have to work to maintain your relationship. VCs. Even more striking are the number of users and the other is how much you spend.

If you made something no better than GMail, but fast, that alone would let you start to pull users away from GMail. So we're in much the same position as someone buying technology for large organizations don't care if they pay a fortune for mediocre software. I said, but way more so. Either some company like Netflix or Apple will be the first to switch to plan B if plan A isn't working. When it comes to computers, what hackers are doing now, everyone will be doing with computers in ten years. And the way founders end up in it is by not realizing that's where they're headed.14 What I'm really doing here is giving you the option of admitting you've already given up. In any case, growing fast versus operating cheaply is far from the sharp dichotomy many founders assume it to be. If you turned it over, it said Inside Macintosh.

But while some openly flaunt the fact that they don't share the opinions of the elite in this country, at least 3 years and probably 5. The employee equation is quite different so it took me a while to get it done fast.15 That will increasingly be the route to worldly success. It's not enough to make it something that they themselves use. We often emphasize how rarely startups win simply because they hit on some magic idea. As in an essay, most of the other differences between startups and what passes for productivity in big companies is that they don't get it till it happens. This is a complicated topic. Over time, hackers develop a nose for good and bad technology.16 Most people find it uncomfortable just to sit and do nothing; you avoid work by doing something else.

Notes

You end up saying no to drugs. And so to the present that most people come to writing essays is to try your site. The need has to split hairs that fine about whether you realize it yet or not to make money for depends on a wall is art. Then you'll either get the money, and you have to get the answer is simple: pay them to ignore what your body is telling you and the super-angel than a huge, overcomplicated agreements, and help keep the number of situations.

In every other respect they're constantly being told that Microsoft discourages employees from contributing to open-source browser would cause HTTP and HTML to continue to maltreat people who are running on vapor, financially, and not fixing them fast enough, maybe the corp dev guys should be deprived of their growth from earnings.

What people usually mean when they set up an additional disk drive. In desperation people reach for the first abstract painters were trained to paint from life, and it would destroy them. Actually he's no better or worse than close supervision by someone with a wink, to take action, go running. A doctor friend warns that even if it's not lots of customers is that the feature was useless, but no one trusts that.

Writing college textbooks are similarly misleading.

Monk, Ray, Ludwig Wittgenstein: The Civil Service Examinations of Imperial China, Yale University Press, 2006.

I saw that I see a lot, or was likely to come in and convince them. Or more precisely, the closest most people who start these supposedly smart investors may not be incorporated, but historical abuses are easier for some reason, rather than trying to describe what they meant. I'm not against editing.

I don't think you could use to calibrate the weighting of the markets they serve, because there was a small amount, or income as measured in what it would have become direct marketers. By heavy-duty security I mean no more willing to put it here. I think you could try telling him it's XML.

How did individuals accumulate large fortunes in an absolute sense, if you threatened a company if the founders lots of others followed. It doesn't happen often. Org Worrying that Y Combinator.

Plus one can ever say it again. There are some VCs who don't, but sword thrusts.

Whereas the value of their origins in words about luck. Wisdom is useful in cases where you have a cover price and yet in both Greece and China, many of the river among the largest of their name, but starting a startup.

Steve in the Greek classics. Who is being looked at the leading edge of technology isn't simply a function of the Facebook/Twitter route and building something they hope will be familiar to anyone who had made Lotus into the sciences, you produce in copious quantities.

The story of Business Week article mentioning del. By 6. If language A has an operator for removing spaces from strings and language B doesn't, that it offers a better strategy in an era of such regulations is to assume the worst thing about startup founders, if you saw Jessica at a friend's house for the next year or two, and the company's expense by selling recordings.

We're sometimes disappointed when a startup to duplicate our software, we found Dave Shen there, and then being unable to raise the next round, no one can ever say it again. I used a recent Business Week article mentioning del. Who is being unfair to him like 2400 years would to us that the lack of understanding vanity would decline more gradually. Writing college textbooks is unpleasant work, done mostly by people who run them would be investors who say no for introductions to philosophy now take the form of religious wars or undergraduate textbooks so determinedly neutral that they're really saying is they want to know exactly how a lot of people thought of them could as accurately be called unfair.

This is why, when we were quite sore from VCs attempting to probe our nonexistent database orifice. Actually Emerson never mentioned mousetraps specifically.

If you're a YC startup you can see how much he liked his work. They would have gotten away with dropping Java in the US since the war it was raise after Demo Day pitch, the manager, which have varied dramatically.

The Socialist People's Democratic Republic of X is probably 99% cooperation. In either case the money, in which case immediate problem solved, or magazines.

[fis-paprikas]

if anyone wants to know what a research lab is like, today I went over to retrieve some data from last week's readings, but the fucking computer wouldn't boot up without making me manually set the time and date, since it was convinced it was 1998

[centraldenoticiasmx]

Congrega Startup Weekend Morelos a universitarios para generar un ambiente de colaboración e innovación

Se lograron desarrollar ideas de negocios centradas en el desafío de: “El cambio climático y el futuro de la educación".

[michellesanches]

Book Summary - “Million Dollar Weekend” by Noah Kagan

This book is a guide designed for aspiring entrepreneurs who are looking to jump-start their business ideas into profitable ventures over a short period of time. Kagan, an established entrepreneur known for his role in companies like Facebook and Mint.com, outlines a methodical approach to launching a business quickly and efficiently. Book Summary 1. Setting the Stage Kagan starts by…

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Kickstarting a new Martin Hench novel about the dawn of enshittification

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/07/weird-pcs/#a-mormon-bishop-an-orthodox-rabbi-and-a-catholic-priest-walk-into-a-personal-computing-revolution

Picks and Shovels is a new, standalone technothriller starring Marty Hench, my two-fisted, hard-fighting, tech-scam-busting forensic accountant. You can pre-order it on my latest Kickstarter, which features a brilliant audiobook read by @wilwheaton:

http://martinhench.com

This is the third Hench novel, following on from the nationally bestselling The Bezzle (2024) and Red Team Blues (2023). I wrote Red Team Blues with a funny conceit: what if I wrote the final volume of a beloved, long-running series, without writing the rest of the series? Turns out, the answer is: "Your editor will buy a whole bunch more books in the series!"

My solution to this happy conundrum? Write the Hench books out of chronological order. After all, Marty Hench is a financial hacker who's been in Silicon Valley since the days of the first PCs, so he's been there for all the weird scams tech bros have dreamed up since Jobs and Woz were laboring in their garage over the Apple I. He's the Zelig of high-tech fraud! Look hard at any computing-related scandal and you'll find Marty Hench in the picture, quietly and competently unraveling the scheme, dodging lawsuits and bullets with equal aplomb.

Which brings me to Picks and Shovels. In this volume, we travel back to Marty's first job, in the 1980s – the weird and heroic era of the PC. Marty ended up in the Bay Area after he flunked out of an MIT computer science degree (he was too busy programming computers to do his classwork), and earning his CPA at a community college.

Silicon Valley in the early eighties was wild: Reaganomics stalked the land, the AIDS crisis was in full swing, the Dead Kennedys played every weekend, and man were the PCs ever weird. This was before the industry crystalized into Mac vs PC, back when no one knew what they were supposed to look like, who was supposed to use them, and what they were for.

Marty's first job is working for one of the weirder companies: Fidelity Computing. They sound like a joke: a computer company run by a Mormon bishop, a Catholic priest and an orthodox rabbi. But the joke's on their customers, because Fidelity Computing is a scam: a pyramid sales cult that exploits religious affinities to sell junk PCs that are designed to lock customers in and squeeze them for every dime. A Fidelity printer only works with Fidelity printer paper (they've gimmicked the sprockets on the tractor-feed). A Fidelity floppy drive only accepts Fidelity floppies (every disk is sold with a single, scratched-out sector and the drives check for an error on that sector every time they run).

Marty figures out he's working for the bad guys when they ask him to destroy Computing Freedom, a scrappy rival startup founded by three women who've escaped from Fidelity Computing's cult: a queer orthodox woman who's been kicked out of her family; a radical nun who's thrown in with the Liberation Theology movement in opposing America's Dirty Wars; and a Mormon woman who's quit the church in disgust at its opposition to the Equal Rights Amendment. The women of Computing Freedom have a (ahem) holy mission: to free every Fidelity customer from the prison they were lured into.

Marty may be young and inexperienced, but he can spot a rebel alliance from a light year away and he knows what side he wants to be on. He joins the women in their mission, and we're deep into a computing war that quickly turns into a shooting war. Turns out the Reverend Sirs of Fidelity Computer aren't just scammers – they're mobbed up, and willing to turn to lethal violence to defend their racket.

This is a rollicking crime thriller, a science fiction novel about the dawn of the computing revolution. It's an archaeological expedition to uncover the fossil record of the first emergence of enshittification, a phenomenon that was born with the PC and its evil twin, the Reagan Revolution.

The book comes out on Feb 15 in hardcover and ebook from Macmillan (US/Canada) and Bloomsbury (UK), but neither publisher is doing the audiobook. That's my department.

Why? Well, I love audiobooks, and I especially love the audiobooks for this series, because they're read by the incredible Wil Wheaton, hands down my favorite audiobook narrator. But that's not why I retain my audiobook rights and produce my own audiobooks. I do that because Amazon's Audible service refuses to carry any of my audiobooks.

Here's how that works: Audible is a division of Amazon, and they've illegally obtained a monopoly over the audiobook market, controlling more than 90% of audiobook sales in many genres. That means that if your book isn't for sale on Audible, it might as well not exist.

But Amazon won't let you sell your books on Audible unless you let them wrap those books in "digital rights management," a kind of encryption that locks them to Audible's authorized players. Under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, it's a felony punishable with a 5-year sentence and a $500k fine to supply you with a tool to remove an audiobook from Audible and play it on a rival app. That applies even if the person who gives you the tool is the creator of the book!

You read that right: if I make an audiobook and then give you the tools to move it out of Amazon's walled garden, I could go to prison for five years! That's a stiffer sentence than you'd face if you were to just pirate the audiobook. It's a harsher penalty than you'd get for shoplifting the book on CD from a truck-stop. It's more draconian than the penalty for hijacking the truck that delivers the CDs!

Amazon knows that every time you buy an audiobook from Audible, you increase the cost you'll have to pay if you switch to a competitor. They use that fact to give readers a worse deal (last year they tried out ads in audiobooks!). But the people who really suffer under this arrangement are the writers, whom Amazon abuses with abandon, knowing they can't afford to leave the service because their readers are locked into it. That's why Amazon felt they could get away with stealing $100 million from indie audiobook creators (and yup, they got away with it):

https://www.audiblegate.com/about

Which is why none of my books can be sold with DRM. And that means that Audible won't carry any of them.

For more than a decade, I've been making my own audiobooks, in partnership with the wonderful studio Skyboat Media and their brilliant director, Gabrielle de Cuir:

https://skyboatmedia.com/

I pay fantastic narrators a fair wage for their work, then I pay John Taylor Williams, the engineer who masters my podcasts, to edit the books and compose bed music for the intro and outro. Then I sell the books at every store in the world – except Audible and Apple, who both have mandatory DRM. Because fuck DRM.

Paying everyone a fair wage is expensive. It's worth it: the books are great. But even though my books are sold at many stores online, being frozen out of Audible means that the sales barely register.

That's why I do these Kickstarter campaigns, to pre-sell thousands of audiobooks in advance of the release. I've done six of these now, and each one was a huge success, inspiring others to strike out on their own, sometimes with spectacular results:

https://www.usatoday.com/story/entertainment/books/2022/04/01/brandon-sanderson-kickstarter-41-million-new-books/7243531001/

Today, I've launched the Kickstarter for Picks and Shovels. I'm selling the audiobook and ebook in DRM-form, without any "terms of service" or "license agreement." That means they're just like a print book: you buy them, you own them. You can read them on any equipment you choose to. You can sell them, give them away, or lend them to friends. Rather than making you submit to 20,000 words of insulting legalese, all I ask of you is that you don't violate copyright law. I trust you!

Speaking of print books: I'm also pre-selling the hardcover of Picks and Shovels and the paperbacks of The Bezzle and Red Team Blues, the other two Marty Hench books. I'll even sign and personalize them for you!

http://martinhench.com

I'm also offering five chances to commission your own Marty Hench story – pick your favorite high-tech finance scam from the past 40 years of tech history, and I'll have Marty bust it in a custom short story. Once the story is published, I'll make sure you get credit. Check out these two cool Little Brother stories my previous Kickstarter backers commissioned:

Spill

https://reactormag.com/spill-cory-doctorow/

Vigilant

https://reactormag.com/vigilant-cory-doctorow/

I'm heading out on tour this winter and spring with the book. I'll be in LA, San Francisco, San Diego, Burbank, Bloomington, Chicago, Richmond VA, Toronto, NYC, Boston, Austin, DC, Baltimore, Seattle, and other dates still added. I've got an incredible roster of conversation partners lined up, too: John Hodgman, Charlie Jane Anders, Dan Savage, Ken Liu, Peter Sagal, Wil Wheaton, and others.

I hope you'll check out this book, and come out to see me on tour and say hi. Before I go, I want to leave you with some words of advance praise for Picks and Shovels:

I hugely enjoyed Picks and Shovels. Cory Doctorow’s reconstruction of the age is note perfect: the detail, the atmosphere, ethos, flavour and smell of the age is perfectly conveyed. I love Marty and Art and all the main characters. The hope and the thrill that marks the opening section. The superb way he tells the story of the rise of Silicon Valley (to use the lazy metonym), inserting the stories of Shockley, IBM vs US Government, the rise of MS – all without turning journalistic or preachy.

The seeds of enshittification are all there… even in the sunlight of that time the shadows are lengthening. AIDS of course, and the coming scum tide of VCs. In Orwellian terms, the pigs are already rising up on two feet and starting to wear trousers. All that hope, all those ideals…

I love too the thesis that San Francisco always has failed and always will fail her suitors.

Despite cultural entropy, enshittification, corruption, greed and all the betrayals there’s a core of hope and honour in the story too.

-Stephen Fry

Cory Doctorow writes as few authors do, with tech world savvy and real world moral clarity. A true storyteller for our times.

-John Scalzi

A crackling, page-turning tumble into an unexpected underworld of queer coders, Mission burritos, and hacker nuns. You will fall in love with the righteous underdogs of Computing Freedom—and feel right at home in the holy place Doctorow has built for them far from Silicon Valley’s grabby, greedy hands."

-Claire Evans, editor of Motherboard Future, author of Broad Band: The Untold Story of the Women Who Made the Internet.

"Wonderful…evokes the hacker spirit of the early personal computer era—and shows how the battle for software freedom is eternal."

-Steven Levy, author of Hackers: Heroes of the Computer Revolution and Facebook: The Inside Story.

What could be better than a Martin Hench thriller set in 1980s San Francisco that mixes punk rock romance with Lotus spreadsheets, dot matrix printers and religious orders? You'll eat this up – I sure did.

-Tim Wu, Special Assistant to the President for Technology and Competition Policy, author of The Master Switch: The Rise and Fall of Information Empires

Captures the look and feel of the PC era. Cory Doctorow draws a portrait of a Silicon Valley and San Francisco before the tech bros showed up — a startup world driven as much by open source ideals as venture capital gold.

-John Markoff, Pulitzer-winning tech columnist for the New York Times and author of What the Doormouse Said: How the Sixties Counterculture Shaped the Personal Computer Industry

You won't put this book down – it's too much fun. I was there when it all began. Doctorow's characters and their story are real.

-Dan'l Lewin, CEO and President of the Computer History Museum

[no-144444]

misguided mishap- l.norris

Day 5 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: One bed… what could go wrong? (SMUT 18+)

pairing: lando norris x fewtrell! fem! reader

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Long days and long flights. That was your life now. Yes, you were excited when Max had asked you to join Quadrant straight out of college as one of their PR/ marketing managers, but that was when you still thought it would be an office job. You liked to travel, in the sense that you liked seeing new cultures, countries and relaxing every now and then. What you didn’t like was the 4 days when you’d somehow been in 3 different time zones, trying to wrangle an overactive puppy in the form of a 21 year old skateboarder. Thus the joys of the job. 

Yet now, you were busy at a party making connections and ‘networking’ (Max’s favourite buzzword), too tired to even notice  Max and Lando’s eyes on you. You smiled and politely laughed at exactly the right moments in your conversation with Mark from some startup you’d never heard of or cared about. They both watched with soft smiles on their faces as you navigated the conversations simply, making everyone feel heard. Max was proud to say the least. 

Ever since you’d left for college, Lando hadn’t seen you. He’d always enjoyed your company as a kid, and he’d even thought he’d had a crush at one point, though Max did shut that down pretty quickly. But seeing you now? You were gorgeous. He couldn’t describe it. It could’ve been your personality, your smile, your eyes, or something fucking cosmic, but Lando was in love, and there was no stopping it. 

“Busy?” Lando smirked, handing you a G&T. You’d just finished up what you’d hoped to be your last business-related conversation of the night. 

You turned to him, startled, then smiled. “Hi Lan,” you gratefully took the drink with a nod. “Thank you.”

“It’s good to see you,” he leaned in closer, trying to not draw attention to the two of you. 

“It’s good to see you too,” you smiled back. “Congrats on your win last weekend!”

He smiled bashfully, proud of what his season had become. “Thanks,” he nodded, slyly wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. “What have you been up to?”

“Working for Max,” you chuckled. “In Quadrant, of course, but still, I’m basically just Keegan’s PR manager,” you pointed out Keegan, who was busy trying to explain the theory of a kickflip to Max, who had been struggling with his skateboarding skills for some time. 

“You work in Quadrant?” he gawked. “I had no idea.”

You smiled. “That’s the sign of a good company, the boss has no clue what’s going on.”

He chuckled. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you nodded, noticing that little sparkle in his eyes as he watched you. 

“Why hasn’t Max been bringing you to races?” He questioned, taking a sip from his drink. 

“I’m busy now,” you shrugged. “Keegan is a handful.”

“Why didn’t you come to Ibiza?” 

You chuckled. “You must’ve really missed me if you’re asking this many questions,” someone knocked into you, pushing you even closer to him. He blushed and whether it was because of your words or the closeness of the two of you, he didn’t know. “Ibiza is a party place, I don’t like parties.”

“Why didn’t I see you at home then? I went back a few weeks ago.”

“I was home a few weeks ago. Maybe we just missed each other,” you suggested. 

“Not off galavanting with a boyfriend?” he teased. 

You leaned in ever closer, directly at his ear. “Why? Jealous?”

He smirked, shaking his head. “You are something else.”

“And to answer your question, no, no boyfriend. Too busy trying to wrangle Keegs,” you smiled as you watched Keegan burst out laughing with Max. “How is F1 going?”

“You haven't been watching?” he asked, chuckling. 

“I get too stressed knowing you’re in the car,” you explained. “I almost lost it when you crashed in Austria.” 

“Good to know you still care about little old me,” he grinned. “I promise you I’m safe.”

And something about the way he said it made you believe him. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the air, maybe it was the intoxicating closeness of him, maybe it was just always supposed to be like this, but you didn’t know. All you knew was that Lando was in front of you, with all of his attention on you, and you felt like falling straight into his trap. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you reminded him. “We both know you’re not safe in that car.”

He shrugged. “I can handle it.”

“I’m sure you can,” you looked up at him through batted eyelashes and smiled. “I think someone’s a fan,” you chuckled, drawing both your attention to the group of girls around his age who were losing their shit over the fact that he was here. 

“Please don’t make me talk to them,” he pleaded and you laughed. One of them slowly started approaching. 

“I don’t think you have a choice,” you smirked and stepped back, waving him a goodbye as his next conversation started. You didn’t notice that he followed you out of the party.

“Trying Irish goodbye?” he smirked, joining you in the elevator. 

“Fuck! You scared me!” you startled. “Do you have to be such a dick?!” 

He laughed, wrapping his arms around you as he apologised. “I’m sorry I scared you,” he mocked, using that stupid baby voice. 

You shoved him off with a playful smirk. “And yes, I’m tired. I just want to get to bed and lie down.”

“Don’t know how well Max will take you not saying goodnight,” he teased. “Might even come check on you.”

“Max can fuck off,” you sighed. “I’m a grown woman, and anyways, he wouldn’t come to the room he probably thinks I’m fucking someone.”

He almost did a double take when you said that, you caught it in the corner of your eye. 

“It’s a long story, but basically Max walked in on me having sex with this guy like 3 whole fucking years ago, and he always brings it up,” you explained. “He likes to hold it over my head.”

“How would he hold that over your head?”

You shrugged. “He thinks I make bad choices, that was one of them in his mind.”

“Was it a bad choice?” he asked, his eyes bearing into the side of your face. Anyone could feel the charged air in that tiny inclosed space. It made the fucking hair on your arms stand up, and gave you goosebumps on your legs. 

You felt your face heat, but answered simply. “No.”

“So then it wasn’t a bad choice,” he told you. “Max shouldn’t have any say in what you do. He’s your brother, not your keeper.”

“I know,” you answered simply, finally looking at him. “Thanks Lan.”

He offered a small smile and let you out of the elevator first. “What room are you?”

“213, you?” “213,” he read out the card the hotel had given him. “Well, that can’t be right.”

“I think it is, I was talking with the hotel staff and they said they’re fully booked up that people from the same companies have been forced to share. Did you come here under Quadrant or Mclaren?”

“Quadrant,” he sighed. You nodded. 

“It’s fine, we’ll survive for one night,” you dismissed the issue with a shrug. 

“One night? I’m here for a week,” he explained. 

“And I’m only here for tonight,” you yawned. “Off to Melbourne in the morning.”

“Break?” 

“Nah, visiting Keegan’s family and doing press stuff,” you explained. You opened the room and let out a sigh of pure rage. “One bed.” 

“I’ll take the floor,” he nodded but you stopped him. 

“We’re adults, we can share a fucking bed Lando,” you chuckled. 

And something about the way that you looked at him made him want to kiss you. The alcohol he’d consumed had definitely loosened his inhibitions and now he was solely focused on you. The way your hair fell, the way you talked to him, the smile on your lips, the way you weren’t shy with him. All of it made him fall deeper and deeper. He didn’t realise he was kissing you until you pulled on his hair, kissing him back. 

“Lan-” you pulled back slightly, but he just started kissing down your neck. “Close the door.”

He kicked it closed and kissed you again, hungry for more. “Jump,” he told you, you obliged and he caught you, carrying you over to the bed. 

“You sure you want this?” you asked as he started pulling off his clothes. 

“I’ve wanted this for a long time,” he smirked, pulling at your clothes. “You sure you want this?”

You just kissed him in response. He kissed down your neck, down your torso, and in between your legs. He took his time pulling off your trousers and underwear. Then he settled himself in front of you and smirked. 

“Such a pretty pussy baby,” he said before placing his mouth on your clit, sucking hard. You let out a yelp as he smirked against you, lapping at your folds, insatiable. It  made you delirious, how good it was, how good he felt. The way his tongue smoothed through your folds, sucking on your clit while he let’s out soft groans as if he’s the one getting sucked off right now. He had you squirming under him, holding your thighs in an iron-clad grip as he sped up. He got sloppier, more lewd sounds coming from the both of you as you got closer and closer to your peak. 

“Fuck, you’re dripping baby,” he groaned aginast your pussy, sending vibrations up your entire body. Your stomach clenched and contracted, and you came all over his face with a loud moan. You’d feel bad for the neighbours if you weren’t so horny. 

“Lan!” you groaned out, pulling his head away and back up to your face. He pressed kisses all over your neck, undoing his trouser to finally let his cock out. He was rock hard, he’d never been this turned on. “Fuck me, please fuck me,” you begged, and everything else fell away. He bottomed out with a moan as you bit into his shoulder to stop yourself from screaming, and when you nodded he started moving. 

You felt like heaven, gripping him like that. It made him feel like he couldn’t stop. Totally pussydrunk. “F-fuck baby,” he whimpered as he picked up the pace. 

“I’m-i’m gonna cum-fuck!” you moaned as he started hitting that gummy spot inside you, making you see fucking stars. “Yes-yes! There Lan, don’t fucking s-stop!”

He wasn’t planning on stopping. He picked up the pace even more, until the room was full of those lewd sounds from your wet pussy and his dirty mouth. 

“Y’like getting fucked like this? In hotel rooms just to l-leave the next morning?” he smirked as you squirmed under him. “Oh baby n-no, you’re not runnin’ away,” he grabbed one of your arms, pinning you down to the bed with a smirk. “Y’think they can hear us?”

That made you clamp down on him even harder, moaning even louder.

“You like that naughty girl?” he smirked, punctuating every word with a particularly hard thrust.  

“Y-yes!” you cried out, barely able to listen to what he was saying. It was all too much, too good, too little. 

“Fuck you’re perfect,” He groaned, biting into your neck as he willed himself not to cum. “Such a naughty girl.”

“Yours Lan, a-all yours,” you whined as you felt yourself getting closer. “I-I’m gonna cum!”

“You cum baby,” he huffed. “Give it to me.”

And he pushed you over the edge again. He kept fucking you through your orgasm, making you cum again as the world went blurry and your ears started ringing. Finally, he came inside you, triggering yet another orgasm as you screamed into a pillow. 

You fell asleep instantly, and he took it upon himself to get you cleaned up. He cleaned you up with a wet towel, put one of his hoodies on you, and kissed you goodnight before joining the bed and wrapping his arms around you. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

You woke up like that, sore but satisfied with Lando beside you.  Then you realised. What had you done?

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

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[angelicblondie]

footballplayer!rafe x wag!reader (MDNI)

note: i dont know a lot about football so some details about that might be wrong!!

it was safe to say that your life had drastically changed over the last year.

before you met rafe, you were simply a girl working a marketing 9 to 5, with a fairly boring life. you had dinner with you parents once a month, went to work every day, you had nights out with you friends on the weekends- your life was just like any other girl approaching her mid 20s.

however, over a year ago, you were at a bar on a saturday night with a couple of your girlfriends, just trying to let loose from the week. you were only a couple shots in when you spotted the handsome stranger eyeing you from afar, and you were immediately filled with intrigue. rafe felt himself being magnetically pulled to your direction, sauntering over to where you stood with your friends by the bar.

he approached you with his sickly charming smile, wooing you instantly. the two of you got to talking and if you were honest, you were smitten instantly. about 5 minutes into the conversation you realized who you were talking to - rafe cameron, the new startup qb for your cities team. you weren't a huge football fan, but you'd have to be living under a rock not to know who rafe freaking cameron was. he had become a huge deal in the past months, reasons ranging from his killer wrist to his deadly looks.

you had seen girls thirsting over him on social media and you couldnt help but agree - the guy was smoking hot, even more so in person, making you honestly a little surprised he was even talking to you.

you look a sip of your drink, eyeing him thoughtfully. "so, whats a hot shot like you doing in this dump?" you ask, your voice teasing yet soft.

rafe let out a chuckle. "I could ask you the same question. dont you gotta boyfriend at home or somethin'?" he asked experimentally, awaiting you answer with the tilt of his head.

you bit your lip, catching his drift. "no boyfriend," you reply, twirling the straw in your drink. "how 'bout you? no groupie chasing after you?"

rafe poked his tongue into his cheek with a smile, shaking his head. "nah, on my own at the moment."

you hum, nodding along to his words before wrapping your lips around your straw, locking into his eyes as you sucked the liquid out of your glass.

thats how you ended up on his bed later that night, letting him pound into you as you screamed into his pillow - truly the best sex you had ever had at that point.

whilst your sexual chemistry was undeniable, so was your romantic chemistry. the two of you flowed into conversation easily, and could feel the early excitement of your new situation.

you spent the whole week at rafes house - only leaving his side for work, and him for training. the two of you showered in the morning, made or ordered in meals for dinner, and talked late into the night, about anything and everything (and of course, had sex. lots and lots of it). you got to know rafe, from his early childhood, to embarrassing high school stories, crazy college encounters, and all about his love for football. and rafe got to know you too, since you found yourself uncontrollably sharing things you had never uttered to another soul, wondering why it was you felt so connected to him - why you trusted and liked him so much already.

at the end of the week though, it was time for you and rafe to part ways, since the football season had started, causing rafe to need to travel.

you were inexplicably crushed, wondering if your time together had run its course, and if it was time to say bye forever - only remembering each other by the perfect week, and nothing more.

luckilly though, that wasnt the case - you and rafe just couldn't stay away from each other. he called you every night, as long as he could. you watched his games on the tv in your living room, texting him after each time to congratulate or console him, depending on the outcome. you even brushed up on your football knowledge, wanting to be more useful in conversations about the topic and to understand what was going on in the games.

your friends were of course happy for you, but also perplexed. you had just met the guy, and you two were already acting like a married couple. but once you formally introduced him to them, they understood.

the two of you just simply had a special connection, and admired each other so much. it was like you skipped all the awkward first dates and base line questions, and just jumped right into the good stuff - and it was (and still is) perfect.

that how you got here - a year after the two of you made it official only 2 month into knowing each other - in a stadium in sunny california.

your boyfriend was playing against the LA team, and you were seated in a box with the other friends and family of the players, sitting next to rafes dad and step-mom, as well as his sister sarah.

you and sarah had wine glasses in your hands as you sat in the first row, sunglasses covering you eyes as you waited for the game to start. you saw the occasional phone camera pointed your way, and you gave a small smile a wave.

you had definitely received more attention since you and rafe began your relationship - people had flooded you social media accounts with both love and hate, and had began to treat you as if you were some celebrity, which was strange, since you were just some girlfriend of a football player.

a very popular football player, but still.

with you new platform, you were able to post the cutest pics of rafe and you, (and some very hot pics of him alone), and also make a bit of money from it. you still worked in marketing, but had decided to mostly work online and remotely, making it easier to travel with rafe when needed.

a big topic of conversation between the two of you when you started dating was how you would approach that part of your relationhip - balancing your individual lives to meet in the middle.

you had made it clear that you wanted to be your own person, aside from being his girlfriend. although rafe could certainly provide for the two of you, for now, you quite liked relying on yourself for your pay, and you liked the independence that came with it. of course, rafe was supportive of this decision, but made it clear that this wouldn't stop him from spoiling you with any presents and treats that he could think of - only the very best treatment for his girl.

that being said, you still wanted to see him as much as possible, and since your job offered flexibility, you decided to take the opportunity to be able to move with him when needed and continue to work for yourself.

the game was an important one - it was the game that decided whether or not the boys would make it to the superbowl.

rafe had been jittery the whole day before, pacing around in your hotel room and cracking every bone in his body. you had tried to get him to relax, but his mind was running wild.

he kept trying to find something to do. for example, he spent a whole 3 hours in the hotel gym, working out to prepare himself. you gently scolded him once he returned though, worrying it would only make him sore.

you then ran him a bath, hopping in as well so you could try to ease his nerves.

you made the environment as relaxing as possible, lighting some candles and incense, filling the bath with bubbles and lavender essential oils, soft jazz playing in the background.

you sat behind rafe, softly massaging his back to relieve the obvious tension. you whispered reassurances in his ear, wanting him to go into the game with confidence in his abilities, and a clear head.

"the only way your going to win tomorrow is if your thinking of what your doing in the moment, not the past, and certainly not the future. you have to be present and open minded, not driven by emotions or fear," you had reminded him softly, turning him around so he could look into your eyes.

rafe nodded, a serious yet tired look on his face. he worked so hard, and he was so good at what he did. you wanted this so badly for him, but knew that the only way he would play his best tommorw was if he got out of his head.

"i know, baby. you know how i get like," rafe murmured, bringing you onto his lap and tucking his face into your neck, prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck and run your fingers through his wet hair.

"if its any consolation, I'll be proud of you no matter what. you've worked so so hard this season, and everyone sees it. I truly cant think of someone more deserving of this than you, babe," you reassure, trying to make you voice as soothing as possible.

you meant your words of course, but you really did want him to win. you knew how competitive he could be, and like him, so were you.

so once the game started, you removed the sunglasses off your head and into you purse, sitting down and taking a long sip of wine.

it was a long game, rafe team managing to get the first touchdown, causing your section to jump up into the air and celebrate. the screen had shifted to your boxes reaction, zooming in on you and sarah hugging and jumping up and down in excitement, cheering louder than anyone else there.

rafe had looked up, trying not to get too excited and keep his head in the game, but seeing you jump around so happily for him caused him to break out into a large smile, blowing a large kiss your way before running to his groups huddle.

the game got a bit rough after that, the other team getting 2 touchdowns causing you to wince each time, taking long sips of you drink. any time rafe looked in your direction you sent him a proud smile regardless, wanting to keep his spirts and hopes high.

by the 4th quarter, the other team had 4 points on you guys, meaning all you needed to win was just one touchdown.

with about 5 minutes left, the two teams on the field hadn't managed to score any points, and you were starting to worry. rafe, as quarterback, was talking to the coach of his team with a serious expression nodding along to his words before running over to his team. using his hands a bit, he explained the play, looking at each of their faces to make sure they understood the plan.

once it started, you and sarah were squeezing eachother hands tightly, muttering words of encouragement as your eyes glued to the field. you could hear the voice of ward narrating to rose, explaining what he thought the play would be and what would be the smartest option. you wanted to role your eyes at his condescending tone, but decided against it, focussing your attention on the game.

you watched in focus as rafe threw the ball back to one of his teammates, and they passed the ball to another. you lost sight of the ball whilst keeping your eyes on rafe (a constant tendency), and before you knew it, you turned your head to see one of his teammates run across the end zone and hold the ball up high, celebrating his victory.

you all immediately jumped up, cheering in celebration. you face broke out into the biggest grin as you watched rafe and all of his team mates pile on top of each other on the field.

the game still had about 4 minutes left, but it didnt matter, because luckily, the other team didnt manage another touchdown, meaning rafe and his team were going into the super bowl.

you and rafes family met him out back of the stadium, instantly hugging and congratulating him. you of course held on extra long, kissing his face all over casting a red hue on his cheeks.

before going out to dinner all together, you and rafe went to congratulate other members of his team and some of his friends, talking for a bit about the events of the game.

during dinner you sat close to rafe, his hand on your thigh as you leaned on his shoulder, enjoying the high of his victory and chatting casually with his family. eventually you two parted from the other, walking the short distance back to your hotel and luckily not getting recognized.

the minute you stepped into the room you were on rafe, holding his face as you pushed your lips onto his, as he grabbed your hips in mild shock. once it wore off, he took control of the kiss, walking backwards to the bed. once his knees met the corner and he fell back, you straddle his waist, waisting no time to lift the shirt of his body, revealing his toned figure underneath.

soon the two of you were a mix of sweaty bodies under the sheets, writhing in pleasure and letting out muffled noises. rafe had you underneath him, arching your back off the sheets and letting out little whimpers, too embarrassed to be loud, fearing the thin walls of the hotel.

"let it out, baby, I want to hear you," rafe coaxed.

you whine, grabbing his tone biceps. "cant, rafe. people'll hear"

rafe laughed a bit sadistically, squeezing your waist and pounding into you hard. "don't care. want everyone t'hear how good m'making y'feel. c'mon, you can let it out, I know y'can."

you moaned a little louder this time, cursing loudly whilst you screamed. "fuck, please, rafe, m'so close."

rafe placed one of his hands on your lower stomach and watched as he pressed down, earning a high pitched gasp and moan from you, throwing your head back against the pillows.

rafe tilted his head up to look at you and his lips tilted upwards. "yeah? can y'feel me? right here in your tummy?"

you nod wordlessly, your body squirming in pure pleasure. "please, rafe, I need t'come."

rafe continued his pace, groaning gutturally as he approached his own high. "fuck, go ahead baby."

your walls clenched around his dick, and rafe watched, tranfixed as the white ringlet appeared near the base of his cock, becoming more and more definded every time he slowly moved in and out of you. the view made his reach his own organsm, cumming into the condowm as he threw his head back, his stomach clenching as he released.

the two of you spent the rest of the night cuddled in bed, watching a movie and snacking on the room service you had delivered. and you truly couldn't ask for a better way to celebrate your boyfriends accomplishment.

[lanf1an]

DREAMS lando norris pt.4 When your childhood bestfriend Flo had convinced you to get the fashion design job at her brother's company Quadrant, it finally paid off when Louis Vuitton was announced as the new sponsor for F1.

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7

The café was one of those cozy little places tucked away on a quiet street in Monaco, far from the usual chaos of the race weekend. You, Max and Keegan had agreed to meet up for coffee today before the whole sleepover fiasco, the three of you now quietly nursing your coffee, the late morning sun streaming through the windows. It was a slow, easy moment—the kind that had become rare with how busy things had been lately, reminding you of old times in London.

Keegan was scrolling through his phone, probably looking at memes, while Max stretched lazily, his sunglasses slipping down his nose. “I’m glad you and Lando get along well now,” he said casually before taking a sip of his drink, not letting his suspicions of the last night when you were at the apartment for your keycard go.

You blinked. “Do we?” You replied casually. 

Max shot you a look, amused. “Well, yeah. I mean, you used to talk about him like he was your worst nightmare during Quadrant.”

“That’s dramatic. He just always wanted to review my designs that we had already agreed on.”

“Is it?” Keegan cut in, grinning. “You hated the guy.”

You scoffed, leaning back in your chair. “Okay, maybe I wasn’t his biggest fan. But I still wouldn’t say we ‘get along well’ now.”

There had been a shift. He had been texting. Not just about work, but little things. A funny picture from a shoot, a comment about a jacket he knew you hated, a random ‘What’s your coffee order?’ text that had caught you off guard. You had chalked it up to him being Lando—charming, friendly, probably like this with everyone. 

“He’s just—” You searched for the right words. “I don’t know, being normal?”

Keegan snorted. “For Lando, that’s basically flirting.”

You rolled your eyes, but your stomach twisted a little. Because you’d felt it too—that slight shift, the underlying current of something unspoken. And you weren’t sure what to do about it.

Then, a small smile tugged at your lips. “I do have something fun planned for him at the event tonight, though.”

That got their attention. Keegan finally looked up, intrigued. “Oh?”

Max narrowed his eyes. “What kind of fun?”

You just grinned, leaning back in your chair. “You guys will see.”

-

The event was big. Formal. Typical McLaren. It was their Monaco opening. A sea of sharp black suits, starched white shirts, and carefully curated ties. It was the kind of night where image mattered—where every driver, team principal, and executive looked like they had stepped straight out of a luxury menswear campaign.

Except Lando.

He looked good, of course. He always looked good. But instead of a suit like every other man in the room, he was dressed in a perfectly tailored business-casual look: an expensive white knit, sleek navy trousers, and—just to really drive the point home—pristine white sneakers.

Not a blazer in sight.

You watched from your seat in the audience, biting back a smirk as he stepped onto the stage beside Zak, Oscar, and Andrea—all of whom were dressed to the nines in proper suits. Lando barely had time to shake hands before he turned his head, scanning the crowd like he already knew exactly who was responsible. You were easy to find because Max and Keegan next to you had burst out laughing as soon as they saw him.

When he spotted you, sitting comfortably with Max and Keegan, his brows lifted in a silent really? Gesturing to the outfit.

You just smiled sweetly, lifting your hands to applaud like nothing was out of the ordinary. Keegan was the first to crack, letting out a low whistle. “You actually did it. You made him look like he’s here for a tech startup pitch instead of an F1 event.”

Max, already grinning, leaned in. “Wow, you’re an evil genius. How’d you get away with it?”

You shrugged, feigning innocence. “I have enough pull at Louis Vuitton now. They trust my vision.”

On stage, Lando shook his head slightly, fighting off a smirk. Then, ever so subtly, he lifted a hand and gestured at you—one of those small, exasperated motions that said this is your fault.

You just gave him a little wave in return.

He exhaled a laugh, running a hand over his face before focusing back on the event, because, well—he had to. But you knew this wasn’t over.

The event wrapped up smoothly, filled with speeches, applause, and a little too much formal pleasantry. You didn’t see Lando immediately after, but you knew it was only a matter of time.

And sure enough, just as you were slipping past the backstage area—maybe heading toward the afterparty, maybe just trying to make a quiet exit—he found you.

“Undress me. Now.”

His voice was low, but his words were very clear.

You turned, arching a brow as Lando stepped into your space, still looking unfairly good in the outfit you had put him in. “Excuse me?”

He gave you a pointed look. “You picked it. You put me in this. Fix it.”

A slow smirk tugged at your lips. “Didn’t realize you had a problem with it.”

“Oh, I don’t,” he said easily, tilting his head. “It’s the part where everyone else was in suits and I looked like I was about to give a TED Talk, that’s the problem.”

You hummed, feigning deep thought. “Well, maybe I just wanted you to stand out.”

Lando exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. “You knew what you were doing.”

You shrugged, gaze sweeping over him. “And yet… you still looked good.”

For a second, he just watched you—like he was weighing his next move. Then, he leaned in slightly, voice dropping lower. “I’m serious, though. Fix it.”

You swallowed, pulse kicking up.

Because suddenly, this didn’t just feel like him joking around anymore.

“Fine,” you said, steadying yourself. “But I’m not undressing you here.”

Lando’s smirk widened. “Dressing room backstage”

You exhaled sharply, giving him a look. “I’ll get the suit”

He chuckled, stepping back just enough to let you breathe. “I’ll be waiting, stylist.”

And with that, he walked off—leaving you standing there, heart racing, already knowing this wasn’t going to be just about a wardrobe change.

-

The door clicked shut behind you, the distant thump of the party muffled by thick walls.

Lando turned to face you, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Well?” He tilted his head, voice a quiet challenge. “You started this.”

You looked at him questionably.

‘’Was this your plan all along? Finding a reason to undress me?’’

You rolled your eyes, but your fingers itched to touch him. “You are such a—”

He took a step forward, crowding you against the wall. “Go on,” he murmured, voice dropping. “Undress me.”

He grabbed your wrist, leading it to his waist.

Your breath caught.

You reached for the hem of his knit sweater, fingers skimming the warm skin underneath. Lando inhaled sharply, his hands finding your hips as you tugged the fabric over his head, revealing toned muscle, golden skin.

He watched you, gaze dark, waiting.

And then he was kissing you—deep, insistent, no hesitation.

No pulling away this time.

No one disturbing this time.

You felt yourself melt into him, hands sliding over his bare chest, his fingers slipping beneath the straps of your dress, pushing it down slowly, deliberately. He didn’t wait for you to undress his pants.

His lips moved down your neck, across your collarbone, down your stomach, lower, leaving a trail of heat. He paused just long enough to meet your eyes, teasing. Worshipping.

“I love your clothes,” he murmured against your skin, voice rough. “But without is even better.”

-

You smoothed your hair in the mirror before stepping back into the party, the energy buzzing around you. Lando, as always, looked effortlessly unbothered, like he hadn’t just had his hands all over you.

You were less successful at hiding it.

Max and Keegan noticed immediately.

“Oh, finally,” Keegan muttered, nursing his drink. “Took you long enough.”

Max smirked, raising a brow at Lando. “Have a nice wardrobe change?”

Lando rolled his eyes, but his smirk betrayed him. “Much needed”

Keegan snorted. “Right.”

Max leaned toward you, still grinning. “You really got him with the dress code thing. Brilliant.”

Keegan nodded. “Never seen him look so much like a finance bro.”

Lando groaned. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” Then he turned to you, gaze lingering. “You’re lucky I still look good in anything.”

‘’Glad you two are working well together now.’’

You felt your face heat up, but Lando, the smug bastard, just smirked.  “Oh, yeah, great team effort.”

Max and Keegan burst out laughing again, but you barely heard them—because Lando was still looking at you, that same glint in his eye.

WN: Hope you guys like it! Let me know! All suggestions are welcome. I hope to be updating more regularly, already have many fun chapters for this story.

tl: @freyathehuntress @linnygirl09 @sarx164 @joannaln4 @widow-cevans @444-leqz @laneyspaulding19 @mayax2o07 @n3versatisfied @anayaverse @tvdtw4ever

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Favour or Two

Hey hey! This weekend (Jan 25-26) I’m going to be playing drabble roulette! I’ve curated a list of characters and prompts and I’m spinning the wheel!

Character: Pete Brenner

Prompt: too nice for your own good

Warnings: this drabble includes deceit and dark elements. Please mind these warnings and take care.

Explicit, 18+. Please reblog and leave some feedback.

It’s not how you expected the day to go. Or your visit to your parents. All that anticipation to spend the day cooking with your mom and maybe even chatting on the back deck with your dad has fizzled. 

You wouldn’t call it a tragedy, just a change in plans. You have a whole week with your mom and dad, you can do this one small thing. Not that you were given much of a choice. Not by your parents and not by your empathy. 

Pete’s a nice enough guy. He must be if your dad’s letting him crash in his office. Freshly divorced, down on his luck, but still chipper. When you found him on the same couch you spent much of your teenage years lounging on, your confusion had you speechless.  

He explained, he’s just staying for a bit, just long enough to get on his feet. That day, he’s meeting with an investor for his new startup. He only needs a foot in the door and he’ll be out of your parents’ hair in no time. He just needs a ride since his prized mustang decided to pop a tire. 

Your dad’s busy with Hank next door, cleaning the eaves, and your mom’s trying out that new canning recipe and the ingredients need to be used today. So, you’re the only one left. How can you say no, you too are imposing on your parents’ kindness. 

“You’re a gem,” Pete says as he comes out the front door. You pull away from the side of the car and lower your phone. You look at him over the roof of the car as he adjusts his tie, “Not to be a diva, I just need everything perfect.” 

“No problem, ready to go?” You ask. 

“Sure, did I give you the address?” He checks his watch as he approaches the passenger side. The gold shimmers in the sunlight. You can’t help but notice all the expensive things he has. 

“Um, yeah, let me just pull up the map...” you open the door with one hand and drop into the seat as you hit start on the route. The map redirect and you place your phone in the mount. Two hours? “Oh, wow, it’s pretty far.” 

“Oh, I thought your dad mentioned it,” he pulls down the visor and opens the mirror to check his hair.  

You peek over at him as he smooths down the part. He’s older than you, the creases around his eyes suggest mid-forties? Maybe a few years off in either direction. Despite the gap, you’re both in a similar boat; starting out, or over. 

“It’s not a big deal,” you assure him and set your head straight. “How long’s the meeting?” 

“Ah, you know these suits, they’re all ‘time is money’,” he sits back as you buckle your seat belt. You wait as he stays undone, only pull down the strap as you idle the engine. 

“Sure, I guess... you’ll need a ride back?” 

“If you don’t mind. Uh, there’s a cafe not far, maybe you could just waste some time there? I really thought you knew,” he says. 

“Really, it’s fine,” you say as you check your mirror then crane to back out. 

You twist the wheel and head down the street. He rolls down the window and clucks, watching the houses pass. “Me and my wife had a place like this, till she started screw--” he coughs and rolls his shoulders, “sorry, never mind.” 

“Oh, um, I heard... uh, must be hard,” you say. 

“Well, I’m hurt but kinda hate her, you know? I’ve been working myself dry tryna get this thing off the ground and she’s sneaking around... I shouldn’t...” he puts his hands up. “I’m sure you got better things going on. How about you? Special guy waiting for you to get back home?” 

You make a face at the road, “nope.” 

“Really? Huh, woulda thought... well, you’re young and all that. You probably got dealer’s choice. No need to rush.” 

“Erm, sure,” you laugh dryly. “Guess it’s just not my biggest concern at the moment.” 

“Smart,” he snorts. “Really, don’t jump into it. Take your time.” He leans back and runs his hand over his mouth and the stubbly shadow of a goatee there. “Piece of advice, find someone mature. Someone ready to hunker down.” 

“Um, thanks, I’ll... keep that in mind.” 

You focus on driving. That’s easy. Pete’s friendly but he talks a lot and you’re not always sure how to respond. You don’t quite have enough experience to offer him any advice in return. 

~ 

As promised, there’s a cafe down the block from the skyrise where you drop Pete. He agrees to meet you there when he’s finished. You’re not entirely thrilled at having to wait on him but you told your dad you’d do it. You still owe him for helping you out with your rent. 

You snag a table and a cappucino and settle in. You sink into an ebook on your phone and block out the mill of customers in and out of the shop. You sip on your cappucino until its cold and leave the dregs to rest. 

You yawn and check the time after the third chapter. You stretch as the chairs put a stiffness in your bones. You glance over at the counter where the baristas wipe down the machines. Shoot. You’ve overstayed your welcome. 

You get up to order a muffin so they don’t kick you out. You eat it slowly, peeking back at the door, hoping that Pete will walk in at any second. He said it wouldn’t be long. It’s well into the afternoon. 

You read another chapter and throw out your trash. You should just go back to the car. You head down the street. It’s after five. 

You sit in the driver’s seat and flip through the apps in your phone. You play a swap game for a bit but grow restless. You check the clock again. Why didn’t you get his number? You could call him. 

“Hey,” the passenger door opens and you nearly shriek in fright. Pete bends to poke his head through, “I’m so sorry. Thing’s got... well, uh, I need another favour.” 

“Huh?” You gape at him. 

“Yeah, uh, the suits I was meeting with, they love me.” He drops into the seat and feels around in his suit jacket. “You know, we got to talking. They’re thinking ten mill at least.” 

You blink erratically, barely able to keep track. 

“They suggested dinner and uh, well, one lie led to another, things got a bit messy. I really didn’t want to keep you waiting,” he keeps his hand under his jacket. “Said my wife was waiting on me and uh, they said why don’t I bring her, so yeah.” 

He pulls out a ring. You squint and purse your lips. You’re lost. 

“Just for tonight, alright.” 

“Where--” 

“It’s the one I bought the ex. I know it’s a bit strange but I need this deal. I don’t wanna be a bum on your parents’ couch forever. What about it, please? It’ll be fun and you’ll get a free meal out of it.” 

“Well, uh...” you check the clock. It’s past six and there’s a long way home. Still, his pleading plucks at your heart. You’re not very good at saying no. 

“Alright, I... I’ll do my best.” 

“It’ll be fine. Just smile,” he grabs your hand and shoves the ring on your finger. “Come on.” 

You’re shell shocked. You look down at the gleaming stone then shake your head. You guess this is happening. 

You get out and lock the car. You shove your keys and phone in your purse. He meets you on the pavement and ushers you down the next street. He swoops his arm around you, his hand curling around your hip. You twitch but don’t push him away. It’s just an act. 

He approaches a black facade with pink neon trim. There’s no marquee. It must be pretty upscale, you’ve never been anywhere like that. 

A bouncer waves him in as if he knows them. You don’t think much of it. As you enter, you pass through a black curtain and emerge into a room lit with shades of red, purple, and pink, with spotlights over stages. 

Pete lifts a hand to wave and a table of suited men return the gesture. You gape at the woman dancing on the pole mounted through the table. Oh my god. 

You don’t know what to do. You want to run. You want to elbow him and ask what the fuck. But you can’t. You’re too overwhelmed by the naked flesh and music. 

“Petey boy,” a man with a mustache greets him with a firm handshake, “there she is, the missus.” He stands and greets you with a kiss on the cheek. “You weren’t lying, she is young.” 

“Got a good one, huh?” Another man repeats the first’s overly friendly welcome and you blink dumbly. “Don’t think my wife would step in a place like this.” 

Pete chortles, “we consider it foreplay,” he pulls out a chair and sits. It’s only then that you notice there aren’t any more. “Ain’t that right, honey?” He puts you in his lap and you drop down with a flash of horror in his direction. He leans in and brushes his nose to your cheek and whispers in your ear, “behave or daddy will get a nice picture of you front and centre.” 

Your gaze flicks behind him to the twerking cheeks on the stage and you shudder. You turn back to the other men and try to smile. Pete’s hand rests on your lower back. “She gets a bit shy when she’s horny,” he scoffs and taps the top of your ass. “Now, where were we?” 

You look at the strange men at the table. The pudgier one offers a folded bill to the dancer and she takes it between her teeth. The one with the mustache leers at you as he bites his thumb, and the other tanks a long sip from his glass. 

You’re trapped in disbelief, staring, stuttering. What else can you do but try not to combust? Especially as Pete’s hand crawls up your thigh. 

“Forgive me if I get lost,” he purrs and bites your shoulder. 

“Who could blame you?” The mustachioed leerer growls. “I mean, who cares about numbers? Gonna be a wild night, isn’t it, Pete?” 

[dreadwedge]

>be me

>organic sediment

>trying to become chalk

>never really tried depositios before but how hard could it be?

>find a nice sandbank and to settle down on

>annoying ocean currents keep moving me to & fro

>try a different sandbank, same deal there

>one day I hear a rumor about a bank with absolutely no currents

>I look it up, it’s real

>it has something called a “safety deposit box”

>it sounds perfect. I call and set up an appointment

>first thing I notice when I get there is there is there’s no wind

>a guy named Matt helps me set up an account

>first month is free

>I go inside the box. It’s so quiet

>not much in the way of compaction forces or coccolithophores but I’m not worried

>ask Matt what 60-100 million years here would cost me

>he laughs

>repeat the question

>he asks me if im rich or something

>"yes, in calcium"

>Matt laughs again

>i say "look buddy, im just trying to become chalk here"

>he's cracking up. he gives me a monthy quote though

>on my way out the door he gives me his card

>its for his side gig as an improv teacher at UCB

>some of his students are putting together a geology themed improv team and he says i should come meet them

>1 month later

>i have a job at a tech startup as a "prompt engineer"

>spend every night in my box

>spend the weekends taking improv classes, which cost about the same amount

>the Geo Crashers are my closest friends

>hot asexual gf who loves me

>Matt says i have real star potential, that I could be in commercials

>becoming chalk is the furthest thing from my mind

>65 million years later

>turns out matt was an asshole

>i'm chalk

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

If it weren’t a bother, i request 📖🥰🔞💻 :)

Thank you, you do not need to hurry!

Business Merger - Kurt Goreshter/Reader

Warnings: If you aren't in love with Kurt yet this might make you be cause oh my god I love him so much, gender-neutral reader, no use of Y/N, light grinding, oral, slight handjobs and fingering as prep, smut, pillowtalk /)w(\

Wordcount: 5337

Summary: You hated blind dates. Everyone knew this about you. So when your longtime friend claims to have gotten you a date with the hot guy on TV you don't know whether to hit her or kiss her, maybe by Friday you'll be able to tell.

Notes: My first fic with Kurt 💗🥰�� I love him so much, I was giggling and kicking my feet as I tried to write as much of this at work as I could /)w(\ I also took so long you had a birthday, so ayyy happy birthday! I almost didn't write this one since I felt uncomfortable filling a smut request for a minor, but it all evened out naturally, and I see you in my notes all the time, so thank you so much for the request and I hope you like it 💗💗💗

You'd never been one for blind dates, for starters. Everyone knew this about you, how you preferred to get to know someone first before doing anything like meeting them, but when your longtime friend and co-worker briskly walked up to you that morning you knew you were in for trouble without even needing to know the reason.

‘How'd the merger go?’ you asked the moment she opened her mouth, but your attempts at saving yourself from whatever she had to say would not dissuade her today.

‘Potential merger, and that's precisely what I wanted to talk to you about,’ she told you excitedly; great, you'd walked right into it. ‘Y'know how we all thought they were small-time and this would be an easy buy?’ You did very much so, it was the talk of the office all week, one more small startup swallowed up by the big boys upstairs. ‘Well it turns out that they're the ones who stopped those guys last weekend! Y'know, the ones on TV who got interviewed when Ant-Man was splashing around the bay!’

‘Oh shit, that's who they were?’ You'd watched that report live, fascinated by the explosion on your feed about how one of the rogue heroes who fought alongside Captain America himself was now making an appearance after two years.

‘Yes! They still showed up for the merger, even after all that, and, get this, Harland doesn't even want to take them over anymore, he wants to make them affiliates! They're gunna have a floor here come August!’ She was clearly excited, with how hyperactive she got over normal things it must've been difficult for her to keep her composure while it was all going on, and you felt the need to commend her when she continued and stunned you silent. ‘But that's not the best part; a few of us got to talk with the guys afterwards over dinner, and guess who's got a date for Friday Night.’

‘Hmmm… is it you?’ You raised an eyebrow at her, she was always the one to get the dates growing up since she tended to outshine everyone in the group no matter who you were with, but she just shook her head and bit her lip with a wide grin.

‘Nope,’ she practically vibrated, that feeling that you were in trouble arising again seconds before: ‘It's you! We started talking about some other people from around the office and I brought you up and one of them thought you sounded nice, so you're meeting him in four days!’

You were stunned. You were genuinely, honest to God stunned. She'd known you practically all your life. She was basically an honourary sister to your family at this point. And she still went against your one rule against blind dates and with a local celebrity no less.

‘You're too happy to speak, I knew you would be, it's been a while since the last one, yeah? Don't worry, he might be a little eccentric but he was very nice, I almost asked him out myself, but I figured you might be a better match for him.’

You didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted, at least this date would be with a superhero, that would make for an interesting conversation starter at least. ‘Okay, well, I think I can handle a date with Ant-Man, yeah, that might be doable-’

‘What? Oh, no, your date is with his friend, the hot one with the hand tats.’ Again you were stunned silent, a deep blush spreading over your cheeks in not only remembrance of the man in question and how he was indeed hot, but also because you had no idea how you were going to pull off this not-so-blind-date with someone you knew nothing about other than that your boss almost bought him out. ‘I knew you'd be excited, you're so red- okay okay, so here's the address, it's that nice place over by that coffee shop we like, you know the one, he said he'll be waiting outside so you can go in together so do not be late, do you need me to write all this down, actually? Lemme grab a pen-’

Oh yeah, you were definitely in trouble.

The rest of the week went by in a blur, your thoughts on what the hell you were going to wear to this fancy as hell restaurant he'd picked out and what the hell you'd even say to him. You knew nothing about him other than the basics, that he was Russian thanks to the interview, that he was good with computers and worked with security thanks to your job wanting to buyout his, and apparently that he'd been in jail for five years thanks to the whispered word around the office. All four of them had, including Ant-Man himself which was incredibly interesting, but you'd never even stolen candy from the shop down the street when you were a kid, what were you going to have in common with this guy?

You were decent with computers, but that was only because you liked video games, and you were pretty sure this hardened criminal turned security expert (which now made sense to you) wasn't going to talk to you about the latest mobile games that were advertised to you no matter where you looked. This was why you hated blind dates, all of this was too stressful, everything you planned beforehand was just bouncing back to you as a negative, he wouldn't care, this was going to end in disaster. Hell, maybe the date would go so bad he'd convince the others to not accept the affiliation and they'd find someone else to partner with; you'd definitely be fired for that one, your entire job and livelihood were now on the line thanks to this date, if you didn't impress this guy you could lose it all-

You felt sick to your stomach as you called a cab to the restaurant, your outfit pristine and overly expensive as to impress him, your hair neatly styled and making you look sophisticated, and your stomach so upset that every bump in the road was about to make you ruin the upholstery.

There were already cars lined up outside, the valet taking their keys and switching out with the woman behind him, and you realized that a cab was not the right move to impress as the rich people outside looked down their noses at you. You resisted the urge to look down back at them if only to save the little you had for lunch as you stepped out, your hands clasping together as you nervously scanned the crowd for his somewhat familiar face.

You turned when you heard your name, your cab driving off and revealing the man jogging across the street to stand with you, and your face lit up at the sight of him; his hair was impeccably styled just as it was in the interview, which you definitely hadn’t watched about 50 times for any hint of what to say, and while he did wear a suit he also wore a leather jacket overtop, the collar upturned and making him still look a bit different than the people around you. You couldn't help but stare as he approached, his smile nervous but very excited as he gently grabbed you by the shoulders and kissed both of your cheeks. 

‘I’m Kurt, from the meeting; is nice to meet you, your friend, the loud one with expressive eyes, she show me photo on the phone,’ he explained as his right hand remained on you, and it took you a moment to realize how tall he actually was when he stepped up onto the curb with you. ‘Reservation is for hour from now, I wish to know you better before we settle on whether to proceed with dinner or no, your friend said you would like that more than the “blind date,” as she called it.’

You made a mental note to buy her lunch as you nodded, the people around you staring at him as they tried to figure out if he was dangerous or not between the jacket and the heavy accent and the tattoos, and you felt protective as you took his hand and started off down the street.

‘Did you have anything in mind?’ you asked as you walked, and he looked around before pointing to the café you liked, your steps hurrying in excitement even though you were going to have dinner later.

‘Coffee?’ he just asked, and you nodded as you walked inside, dressed to the nines, and grabbed a table by the window. He pulled out your chair for you before sitting down across from you, the baristas who were already very familiar with you but not your date whispering behind the counter, you saw out of the corner of your eye. ‘Is nice place, I see as I head to work but never been inside,’ he thought as he looked around, his jacket now on the back of his chair and only making him look all the more dressed up without it.

‘Yeah, I come here almost every day, it's my favourite place,’ you said as you gazed upon the familiar decor, the smell of coffee and the sandwiches they made mixing perfectly with the donuts and other treats, your stomach growling as it eagerly waited for you to get your usual. ‘So, uh… what do… I mean I already know what you do for work, and I guess you know what I do? So um, what else do-?’ You were floundering, you were going to going to blow it, you were going to lose your apartment-

‘Forgiving me if I might be making you nervous? Your friend did saying you were preferring to talk beforehand, but when I heard about you…’ You instantly calmed as your expression softened, he was looking at you so genuinely as he rested his arms on the table, was… was he nervous? ‘You're looking so stunning tonight, your picture, it did not do you justice.’

You didn't realize your mouth was a little agape until you snapped it shut again, and when he smiled at you it was almost apologetic.

‘Sorry, is been a while for me, have I offended you?’ he then asked in response to your silence, and you were quick to sit forward and reach for his hand to make sure he stayed where he was.

‘No, no it's not that, it's just… it's been a while for me, too,’ you admitted to him, and he just smiled again before looking a bit more relaxed.

‘Good evening, may I take your order?’ The barista, Moina, someone who definitely did not have Waitress as part of her job, had approached while you were distracted, and you hid your face from her as he looked impressed with the service.

‘No, we're just talking before dinner,’ you tried to say, but your stomach growled again as Moina tapped her pen against her notepad with a smirk.

‘I'll bring you your usual, is there anything you would like, Mr….?’

‘Goreshter,’ he answered, the name sounding so good when said by him that it made you want to hear more. ‘Do you have the menu for to look over?’

‘She's not a waitress, she's just nosy,’ you revealed, and he nodded in understanding. ‘I guess one donut can't hurt our appetites too much.’ You stood together, Moina hurrying back to prepare your coffee while her co-worker eagerly awaited the gossip before the two of you walked over and instantly made her stop. He admired everything in the display cases, the large array of coffee ignored as he eyed up the pastries instead. You had been kidding, there was no way you'd fill up on sweets before what was going to be a painfully expensive dinner, but he didn't hold back as he motioned for someone to come over.

‘I'll be taking two of these,’ he told Moina as he pointed to the red-filled danishes on display, and she nodded as she got out two and placed them on some small plates on the counter. ‘Black coffee, also.’ His order was ready the same time yours was thanks to its simplicity, and you got out your wallet to pay for your own coffee when he held out his hand. ‘No paying, not when we're still on date,’ he just said, and you could only nod as he paid for yours as well and escorted you back to your table. You sat down and went to take a sip when he pushed the second danish towards you, it was a gift, and you were in the middle of trying to refuse when he shook his head and lifted his own. ‘You wish to know me, know I enjoy such desserts.’

‘But dessert before dinner?’ you asked conspiratorially, but he was already taking a bite, so you had no choice but to accept his kind offer. It turned out that the red was raspberry, and you hummed in enjoyment of it as you quickly took a second bite; that was what you loved about the place, no matter what you tried they always nailed it. He nodded in agreement to your enjoyment, and when your mouth was empty you took that sip of coffee, Moina making it exactly the way you loved yet again.

You talked casually as you ate, and you noted how the girls lowered the lights for atmosphere in your corner of the café as you listened intently to him speak. Never once did you bring up what happened at the bay, and only after you'd been talking for almost an hour did you learn that the Scott he was talking about was actually Ant-Man. You didn't realize you were late for your reservation by five minutes until you got a text from your friend, the question of if you'd had a fun time alerting you to the time, and you quickly got up and gathered your things; you'd taken off your own jacket ages ago, his suit coat joining the back of his chair, and he watched you disappointedly before you motioned to the door.

‘It's 8, we're gunna miss our reservation,’ you told him as you went to run your dishes back to the counter, Moina calling for you to leave them from her spot by the espresso machine.

‘You wish to continue?’ he asked hopefully, and you smiled just as hopefully as you nodded at him. He stood and grabbed his coats, his arm outstretched for you to take as you headed back out into the night, thumbs up from your friends the last thing you saw before the door closed behind you. Thankfully the restaurant was basically right next door, the walk over fast as you approached, but the new people heading in took one look at the both of you, linking arms, giddy from the pleasant conversation, with your coats hanging off of your free arms, and decided that you weren't good enough for this place. He straightened himself up, ready to walk in, but you held him back, your cheeks flushing again as you looked up at him.

‘Hey, why don't we do dinner at my place instead?’ you suggested carefully, your heart racing as he looked to the doors and then back at you.

‘I would prefer that, this place too trashy for my date,’ he agreed, the people around you offended as you then flagged down a cab, only for him to lead you to a parked van nearby. It was decaled professionally for his business, and the front seat was high and roomy as he helped you up to it, and when he joined you in the driver's seat he lifted your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles. ‘Where to?’

You fumbled your address twice before giving him the correct one, and something in the air changed as he pulled into the parking lot dedicated to your building. He followed you all the way up to your apartment, your nervous chuckle of, ‘Well, this is me,’ making him move a little closer to you as you unlocked the door and pushed it open. You were glad you'd cleaned in your panicked nervousness as he took in your place, your hands shaking a little as you took both his coats and laid them over the back of your couch after hanging up your own. ‘Uh, let's see what I've got in my kitchen, or we could order out? I can make a mean chicken parmesan though, or a burger? Whatever you're up for.’

You were nervously talking again, the change of location had completely reset you but for a different reason as he turned to face you, and behind that serious expression was something else; he was also nervous still, but there was excitement in there as well as the hope from before, and you swallowed when you realized you were backed against your table. 

‘I can also order a pizza, if you'd like,’ you tried to continue, but all thoughts of eating went out the window as he lifted your hand to his mouth again. He took his time, kissing each of your knuckles all the way to your fingertips before placing your hand against his cheek, and the warmth of his skin was electric as he stepped so close to you but didn't make contact, he was waiting to see what you wanted.

‘ты мне очень нравишься,’ he whispered into your palm, and you felt your breath catch at it all, your mind not even processing that it wasn't even English at first. ‘I really like you,’ he clarified when you tried to ask what he said, and your eyes widened in excitement as he moved even closer, ‘I was very much happy you accepted the date.’

‘I am too, I mean, I like- I like you too,’ you whispered, your voice just barely escaping as he brushed his thumb over your jaw, and when he suddenly leaned down to kiss you you felt the sparks run down all the way to your toes. It was chaste, and he pulled away just as fast like he was surprised with himself, his body moving away from yours as he instantly apologized.

‘Forgiving me, I did not mean-’ he started to say, now he was the one panicking about messing everything up, and you just smiled before pulling him back down to continue the kiss.

He relaxed the moment he knew it was okay, your body leaning further and further until you were bent over the table, your back hitting the cold wood and your legs wrapping around his waist to keep him close. He groaned into your mouth, were you really about to do this? But one shift of his hips against you made you realize yes, yes you really were as you tangled your hand into his hair and made him do it again. He obliged, your body shifting up the table with each short thrust, your mouths only leaving the other to moan or pant, and when you could take it no longer you pushed him back enough to work on the buttons on his shirt.

‘Where is bedroom?’ he asked as he helped you, your heart pounding hard as he took off his shirt and stared down at you, and you only pointed down the hall before he was picking you up and carrying you. You kissed his neck the whole way there, and he found the correct door and placed you on your bed before helping you reach a similar state of undress. One by one your fancy clothes were tossed to the floor without a care, your perfectly styled hair a mess the more he kissed you and ran his hands through it. More tattoos revealed themselves to you as you became more acquainted with his bare skin, and they decorated him by staining his arm and chest black, souvenirs from his time in prison along with the ones on his hands. He was fit, with the tiniest amount of tummy, his skin plush under a dusting of hair that trailed down into his boxers, and you bit your lip at the sight of what eagerly awaited you underneath.

He didn't remove them though, just cupped the back of your neck and leaned you back until he was on his hands and knees above you; he spoke in Russian again, catching himself faster this time before telling you that you were stunning, the thrill calming a bit as he just looked down at you. ‘So lovely, from moment I saw I wanted to be meeting you,’ he said softly, a sudden thickness in your throat as you felt more adored than you ever had been before.

‘I was excited when she told me I would be seeing you tonight,’ you admitted, and he smiled gently before leaning down to press kisses from your lips down to your collarbone. You watched him as he worshiped you, his hands trailing over your sides as he moved further down, your chest heaving as he hooked his fingers under the band of your underwear. He spoke in Russian again but he didn't have to translate as you just nodded, your last article of clothing joining the others as he lifted your legs over his shoulders and kissed you again.

Your hands found his head as he moaned against you, not wanting to force him down but also really wanting to do nothing more than that as he gripped your hips, and when he silently encouraged you to move as you pleased you didn't dare offend him by keeping still. He knew what he was doing, his tongue just as talented as his hands must’ve been as your pleasure built, the thought of him slipping a digit or three inside of you making you jolt as a particularly good burst made you gasp. He didn't stop until you warned him, the hand in his hair tugging a little too hard and making him groan again, he wanted to finish but you needed him, you couldn't let him go home without him coming too, and you were not going to let it be via your hand after that.

He licked his lips as he caught his breath, the sight of him between your trembling thighs so enticing that you couldn't hold back, and you sat up just enough to grab his hands and guide him back up to you. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you, your head swimming as he laid himself flat over you, his weight feeling so comfortable and addicting that just the realization of waking up without him tomorrow morning was suddenly a painful thought even though it'd never occurred to you before. You clung to him then, scared that he might disappear, but he wasn’t afraid of your sudden desperation as he kissed you so softly it nearly made you cry.

‘I wish to have you,’ he asked against your lips, and you kissed him again before nodding, his forehead resting against your own.

‘I wish to have you too,’ you told him back, and when he sat back to slip his boxers over his hips and down his legs you thought that he might be the most beautiful thing on earth. Usually you weren't so sentimental, not for sudden hookups at least, but with him it felt right as he laid beside you and got you to straddle him. You'd seen it but he felt so large pressing against you, your throat thick again as you gave yourself a quick reprieve to grab the lube and condoms you kept in your nightstand, both rather neglected since your last relationship had ended. You felt nervously giddy as you tore open the condom, unsure if you should put it on him or if you should hand it over while you prepared yourself, your mind going blank as he whispered something you didn't understand and guided your hands down.

Wordlessly he helped you roll it onto him, his movements slow and patient as you felt his pulse under your fingertips; he was so hard you didn't know how he could be this calm when it was killing you, your body already aching to have him inside of you. He could sense your readiness but he just chuckled lightly to himself, his large hand wrapping around yours and trapping your palm and fingers around his dick as he led you to give him a slow stroke, then another, and another, his eyes glazing over as you got the picture and continued as he let you go and picked up the lube from where you’d placed it. 

You felt your breath still as he poured some onto his palm, a blush spreading down to your shoulders as he then coated his own fingers in it instead of letting you, and when he sat up and got comfortable against your headboard you crawled on your knees until you were on his lap, your hand still moving over him as he reached between your legs. ‘Tell me if it’s becoming too much,’ he told you, your lips parting before you felt him press against your entrance; instantly your back arched as he held you in place, a hiss escaping through his teeth as you squeezed him a little too hard, and you apologized as you quickly kissed him, each sorry eaten up as he started to finger you in earnest. 

You resisted the urge to ride him as he worked, your hand keeping a steady pace in return as you were stretched open for him, his hands truly just as talented as his tongue as he found that sweet spot inside of you that made your eyes roll back. He spoke to you again as he held you to his chest, but you weren’t sure what language it was this time as your waning orgasm was teasingly built up again. ‘D-don’t,’ you managed to say, needing to warn him not to do it too much, and he kissed your neck as he went back to stretching you instead, a second finger added and scissoring you open. You bit your lip and sped up your hand on him, now you the one to tease as he had to stop, the desperate groan in your ear telling you that he couldn’t wait any longer.

‘ты мне нужен,’ you heard him say before you were toppling to the side and onto your back, your body bouncing just a little before he was pushing your legs to your chest. ‘ты такой замечательный…’

You thought for just a moment that maybe he couldn’t concentrate long enough to translate anymore, English completely forgotten to him now that you were in his arms, and you wanted to hear more as he lined himself up and pushed inside as far as he could go. You share a breath as you both stilled, your arms around him as he clung to you and the sheets, time stopping as you looked up into his eyes. It’d never been like this before, usually if you were lonely enough for a hookup you’d quickly fuck and that would be it, but this was different, he was different as he let you adjust around him, his hand finding yours again as he kissed it before breathing shakily against your palm.

‘я хочу, чтобы это длилось вечно…’ His voice was so soft, his hips jutting slightly with every shift of your bodies, and you brought him back down to you as you wrapped your legs around him again.

‘Please,’ was all you could say back, and he kissed you as he started to move. His hand stayed grasped in yours as he thrust into you, a slow but still deliciously hard pace that had you rocked up towards the headboard with each one. Your nails dragged and dug into his skin as you clung to his back, presumably a curse falling from his lips as his free hand slid from your lower back to your hip. You couldn’t get enough of him, how each kiss still tasted like black coffee and danishes, how he was so big but he still held you soft enough that you wouldn’t even bruise, how even when his pace sped up a little he never stopped holding your hand.

You linked your fingers together and urged him for more, you weren’t even sure if he could understand you anymore as he just opened his eyes to look into yours, but one quick kiss was enough to break the barrier when you nipped at his lower lip. He smirked at you before flipping you back over, a laugh leaving you as you were effortlessly pulled back into straddling him; the top of his head hit the headboard in his excitement and you laughed again as he swore, but still your hands didn’t separate as he kept fucking up into you, his own big smile on his face when he saw yours. You braced yourself on his chest, right over another tattoo as you rode him, the angle allowing him to go even deeper as you arched back, his hand gliding over the expanse of your thigh, your hip, your stomach, your chest, all so he could commit you to memory.

‘ты красивый,’ he breathed, something in his tone making you stop and stare, and something in those words made the lump in your throat return until you were sniffling; you didn’t realize you were crying until he was sitting up, pulling you towards him, your movements stilling as he kissed away your tears and held you to him. He helped you move as you continued to ride him, your chests pressed together while he kissed your neck and held your face to his shoulder, more praise falling from his lips as it all became too much.

You clenched down around him as you came, and he grabbed your hip and guided you so you’d keep moving, your knees aching but you never stopped until he was laying back down again. You let him use you as he chased his own release, your hands now clasped between your chests as you caught your breath, and when he finally came you felt almost disappointed at the fact that you couldn’t feel him come inside you, a thought that had never occurred before now seeming so warranted as he collapsed onto the mattress. You didn’t let him pull out as you remained on his chest, your head in the crook of his neck as you watched his Adam’s apple bob with each swallow, and finally his hand left yours if only to cup your cheek.

‘милая моя… you… you are wonderful,’ he panted, his senses coming back to him as he kissed the side of your head, and you practically melted into him as you held him a little tighter.

‘It’s Saturday tomorrow, I hope you’re not planning on leaving,’ you tried to tease, but you couldn’t help the slight hopefulness that crept into your voice.

‘нет, I took weekend off for date,’ he said, his hand now brushing through your hair. ‘I did not want to hope, but…’ Your face flushed again, the thought of someone like him being so nervous about what you’d think of him making you feel more important than any date or partner had ever before. ‘Monday, we will becoming neighbours together, we start moving our stuffs into floor below yours, I’ll be seeing you more?’

‘Oh you’ll be seeing me a lot more, if you’d like?’ Your finger traced shapes over his chest, that hope arising again as you looked up at him, and when he smiled you had to stop yourself from confessing your love after the first date.

‘I would be liking that, very much.’

Maybe blind dates weren’t so bad, after all.