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somedaylazysomeday · 3 months

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Noisy - Part Three

Viktor is going to be busy in the lab for the next week. He comes over to tell you personally.

Viktor x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI

Word Count: 5,200

Warnings: Arguments, misunderstandings, Viktor has a chip on his shoulder, fingering, unprotected piv sex, discussions of sex with disabilities, creampie

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The knock on your door was a surprise.

Not that you didn’t have friends, but very few of them worked or studied at the Academy of Science, Technology, and Innovation in Piltover. Of that small group, even fewer of them would come visit you at your apartment unannounced.

Which meant it was probably one of your neighbors. Your downstairs neighbor was a rather bubbly girl attempting to become a professional musician. She studied under a cellist who taught at the Academy - though you had never quite managed to figure out why a school of science and engineering had a concert orchestra. In any case, she helped conduct the orchestra when she wasn’t working with the professor and gave lessons to students in her off hours.

But given that you hadn’t heard any music coming from her apartment that day, she was probably preparing for the holiday concert that the orchestra was putting on next week.

That left Viktor - scientist, assistant to the Academy’s Dean, and your upstairs neighbor.

He was also the man you had shared a brief sexual encounter with a few weeks prior. In your defense, you had been trying to force him to go to sleep so he would stop making so much noise late at night. It didn’t hurt that Viktor was devastatingly attractive, but you had really been more focused on the sleep.

Another knock shook you from your reverie. It was softer, almost hesitant, and you hurried to open the door.

Sure enough, Viktor stood on the other side. You took a moment to congratulate yourself for your deductive reasoning, then smiled at him. “Hey Viktor. What’s up?”

He smiled back, but it looked sickly. You watched his thumb strum nervously along the handle of his cane. “I wanted to let you know that I spoke to Heimerdinger and got permission to work late in the lab next week.”

You nodded thoughtfully. “I know that curfew has been the bane of your existence for a while now. Do you have a specific project you’re working on or is he just tired of you trying to break in?”

Viktor’s uncomfortable smile turned to a scowl and you fought back a chuckle. Stiffly, he told you, “I do not try to break in, I-”

A hand lifted between the two of you interrupted whatever he intended to say next. With your most serious expression, you said, “Viktor! I don’t want to be a party to your crimes!”

He gave a deep sigh. “You are a menace.”

You finally broke, and your laughter made him smile. It was a real one and you reached out to pat his arm. “There you are. I needed to see you happy, not fake happy. You’re a terrible actor.”

Viktor rolled his eyes, though he was still smiling. “And to think I was trying to be a considerate neighbor…”

“Go ahead,” you told him. He raised an eyebrow and you laughed despite yourself. “I’m serious! I’m done. Please say what you came here to say.”

Though he still looked deeply skeptical, Viktor relented. “I received permission to conduct experiments outside of the lab curfew. I will be working late at the lab for much of the next week. I wanted to tell you myself.”

A realization was tingling at the back of your mind, but like any good scientist, you needed to test it. You kept your face blankly serene as you nodded. “Thank you for letting me know, Viktor. I hope your experiments go well.”

He looked mildly disappointed. “Thank you. And I hope your week is pleasant. You will not have me around to make noise over your head.”

“That will take some getting used to,” you teased.

“And you likely will not see me very often,” Viktor added, ducking his head at your joke. “When I am home, I will be sleeping. And we work in such different sections of the campus…”

You nodded slowly, your hypothesis all but proven. “That’s good to know. I would have wondered if you were avoiding me.”

“Never,” he denied instantly.

That made you feel warm, as did the way Viktor stood in the hall, nervously shifting his weight back and forth as his thumb tapped frantically at the handle beneath his fingers. Despite his clear unease, Viktor glanced at you every few seconds, eyes bright and hopeful in a way that you found both amusing and sweet.

“I suppose I should leave you,” Viktor admitted, slumping slightly.

“You know,” you started, pausing the half-pace Viktor had taken in the opposite direction. “If you want to sleep together, all you have to do is ask. If that’s in any way what you were-”

“Can we sleep together?”

The immediacy of the question made you laugh aloud even as you nodded and stepped back. “Well, I was in the middle of grading some papers, but it can wait.”

“I can wait, if you prefer?” Viktor said, in the middle of crossing the threshold into your apartment.

“No, you’re going to be gone for the next week,” you reminded. “Besides, this sounds much better than slogging through another essay on population ecology. Come on inside.”

Viktor seemed almost sprightly as he stepped into your apartment, the tip of his cane hardly touching the ground. He looked around eagerly, studying the interior of your living room with such intensity that you were forcibly reminded that he had never seen it before. With that in mind, you did your best to look around with a fresh perspective.

The furniture was well-worn - all of it was, in this particular housing unit - but you had done what you could. You'd used an assortment of soft blankets to cover stains or tears while comfortable pillows that shielded your back from spots where the padding beneath the upholstery had all but disappeared. The small table in front of the couch bore stacks of textbooks, reference guides, and the aforementioned papers you had been grading.

The apartment’s small kitchen was visible from where Viktor was standing, a wine bottle and an old dish sitting in plain sight on the countertop. But you were far too wary of pests to allow any kind of mess in the kitchen, so you didn’t have much to be embarrassed of in there.

Overall, it was a little messy - especially compared to the stark desolation of Viktor’s apartment - but the most notable feature of your living room wasn’t found in the furniture or in the traces of your work that were scattered around.

You had installed a collection of corkboards and dry-erase boards around the apartment. The corkboards held the results of your latest experiments while the dry-erase boards held scrawled collections of notes and ideas about relationships between criteria. Your goal was to go around and gather those musings once per week so you could erase the boards, but it had been a while and they were cluttered with your handwriting.

Anyone else might have made some bland comment about your apartment, but Viktor cut directly to what interested him. After moving to study one of the dry-erase boards more closely, he gestured to it and asked, “What are you attempting to calculate?”

“Well, each board is set up to have its own focus,” you explained. “On that one in particular, I’m trying to figure out why the toxicity in the Sump level of the Undercity is as high as it is.”

Viktor’s shoulders tightened, but his voice was bland as he said, “Perhaps it has something to do with the large levels of industrial waste and chemical byproduct that moves through or is stored in the area.”

He was here to fuck, not fight, you reminded yourself. And yet, even after you had taken a breath and bitten back your immediate harsh response, you couldn’t let the implied insult to your scholarly skills go unchallenged.

You marched to a corkboard on the other side of the doorway, tapping it sharply with your forefinger. “Yes, I realize that, but look at the particular levels of these toxins. They don’t match up with those you would expect to see from anything produced by the plants in Factorywood.”

“No Undercity industries admit to what they are truly producing,” Viktor said, eyes still roaming over your hastily written notes. They lingered on where you had written ‘Silco?’ beneath a particularly strong toxin found in some products from Priggs Industries.

“”Of course they don’t,” you agreed easily. “But the toxic by-products still generally match up with what everyone knows the factories are producing. From these numbers, someone on the Sump level is creating chemical products in a quantity that threatens the existence of the entire city, not to mention the serious health risks linked to living in the Gray.”

Viktor sighed, his dark eyes meeting yours. There was a deep sadness in their depths, and it made your heart ache to see it. “It is a noble thing to work on a problem like the Undercity’s health. But you will not get far with it. Piltover has more to gain from looking to the future rather than fixing the problems of the present or the past.”

“You’re from the Undercity, right?” you asked, needlessly. You knew where Viktor was from. Everyone did - it was one of the reasons he struggled to be respected despite his incredible intellect.

“You think I do not care for where I am from?” he asked, a sharpness in his voice. “You think I would not keep others from enduring what I endured?”

The sharp thump of his cane against the floor was loud in your living room, but you kept from wincing. With your steady gaze fixed on him, you slowly shook your head. “I don’t think that at all, Viktor. But I also think Piltover will care about these findings, even if it’s just for self-preservation purposes.”

“You realize they are more likely to clear the Undercity than make meaningful changes?”

That was something you hadn’t truly considered, though you should have. Anyone with a brain knew that Piltover’s treatment of the Undercity had been reckless and unhelpful.

Still, you lifted your chin. “I will keep that in mind moving forward, but I have to believe I can do something meaningful to help the people who have no choice but to live there.”

Viktor was quiet then, his gaze fixed blankly on the dry-erase board in front of him as his thoughts consumed him. Eventually, he tilted his head to give you a sidelong look. “Why are the boards next to doorways?”

You smiled despite yourself. “Sometimes, I get flashes of inspiration if I only catch a glimpse of a problem. Something about seeing the information as I walk into and out of a room when I’m doing another task makes me think differently about a problem. That’s why the boards are everywhere, too - so I can write down what I’ve thought of before it has a chance to get away.”

“It is a good idea,” Viktor admitted.

“The Academy has plenty more boards and you definitely have the space for them,” you teased.

The ghost of a smile flitted over Viktor’s face and the odd tension disappeared. "Perhaps I should look into having some installed. They certainly seem to be helping you."

You made a face at him, but there was no real antagonism in it. “I have to admit, I’m surprised you’re so interested in the boards. I thought you were here for other things.”

Viktor’s gaze sharpened as he turned to face you, but his tone was light as he retorted, “Talking about your research findings doesn’t put you in the correct frame of mind? I would have thought better of such a respected scientist.”

The unexpected teasing brought a delighted laugh to your lips as you gave a shallow bow. “I don’t think anyone thinks of me as a respected scientist, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I happen to have a great deal of respect for you,” Viktor said, the effort ruined somewhat by the way he was focused on your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

“So much for respect,” you said, leaning eagerly toward him. Viktor was smirking when his soft lips pressed against yours.

The first time you had kissed, Viktor had been hesitant. When he had gotten over his own discomfort, the depth of his need became apparent, but not before that. This time, his intensity was immediate. After a split second of softness, Viktor’s lips firmed and he used them to part yours so his tongue could slip into the space between them.

Viktor tried to pull back at the surprised noise you made, but you weren’t having it. Your hands fisted in the front of his vest, keeping him close as you responded to his explorations with some of your own. Viktor was exceedingly sensitive, and you teased as many reactions from him as you could manage before you parted for air, both of you panting.

“There is such a reaction when we kiss,” Viktor mused, almost to himself. “It cannot be simple chemistry.”

“I don’t think there’s anything simple about it,” you countered wryly. “Besides, why can’t it be chemistry? Everything else is. Every smell or taste or touch… Chemistry is how we understand and interact with the world around us. Why should kissing be any different?”

“You are being deliberately obtuse,” Viktor muttered, mouthing butterfly kisses over your jaw and down the side of your neck. You were swaying into the sensation when his lips parted to deliver a sharp nip to the tender skin. You groaned, but didn’t move away.

“See?” Viktor asked. “Why should that feel pleasant? Simply because of chemistry?”

“Dopamine, serotonin, and oxycontin,” you informed him. “They’re a strong combination.”

He rolled his eyes, but leaned in again, working his way back up until he could meet you in a furious kiss once more. It managed to be more intense than the first, though both of your attention was split. Viktor was ruching your shirt upward while you were doing your best to unbutton his vest.

“Your skin is so soft…” he murmured, and you felt like you were on fire.

Perhaps that was why you forgot yourself, giving his vest a sharp yank. Buttons scattered across the floor and Viktor gave a disbelieving laugh. You offered an apologetic look. “This would be much easier if you didn’t insist on wearing fourteen layers at all times.”

“You are right; that was my fault,” he agreed. You smiled, though it turned to a startled laugh when his fingers tickled up your ribcage. You probably would have protested more vocally if you hadn’t been so relieved at his pulling the shirt over your head.

“No,” you said decisively, pushing his hands away. Viktor immediately withdrew, looking apologetic, horrified, and confused. “You don’t get the easy job. I’ll take off my own clothes and you deal with all of the buttons.”

Viktor’s eyebrows arched so sharply that they approached his hairline, but he obediently began to undress himself. You made short work of your own outfit and took a comfortable seat on the couch. The soft texture of a blanket teased at your buttocks and the backs of your bare thighs and you luxuriated in the feeling. Perhaps you should lounge around your apartment in the nude more often…

Then Viktor was approaching. He was completely bare and your breath caught at the beauty of him. He was pale, all long-limbs and angular joints. Dark freckles and moles dotted his skin, almost artistic in their placement. Instead of looking small and frail, Viktor put you in mind of a sculpture. He looked like a piece of ancient artwork, perfectly formed to capture a human emotion you recognized, but couldn’t quite verbalize.

The thatch of hair at his pubic bone was dark, eye-catching surrounded by the stretches of pale skin. His cock rose from that darkness, proud and erect, the slightest hint of an upward curve that promised to do delicious things inside of you.

Before Viktor could come too close to the couch, you stood and motioned for him to turn around. “Let’s go to my room. I want us to be comfortable.”

When he nodded, you led the way to your room. It was plain compared to the rest of your apartment. You tried to keep the most chaotic parts of your work away. Bedrooms were for sleeping, not thinking, and you did your best to keep the two from being combined in your mind.

But there were still touches of your personality spread around. You had specifically requested a bed that was larger than average. There were pillows scattered at the head, each one a slightly different softness so you could use whatever pillow you needed for each specific day. They were matched by different blankets across the lower part of the bed. Each one was made of different fabrics, but all of them felt like heaven against your skin.

You stepped toward the bed, but froze when Viktor let out a soft chuckle behind you. “What?”

Viktor gestured toward the bed with his free hand. “It seems they have allocated my returned bed to you.”

It took a moment for that to sink in, but then you belted out a laugh. “Thank you for your sacrifice, then. I hope to give you a glimpse of what you gave up.”

“It has a better life here than I could ever give it with me.” When you looked at him, Viktor was studying your body with obvious admiration.

Before you could tell him how utterly cheesy that was - no matter how charming you found it as well - he stepped into kissing range. Well, you had always heard it was better to show than to tell…

This kiss was no less demanding than the last had been. In fact, each touch seemed to increase in urgency, building toward a precipice. It was exactly what you wanted from someone you were about to sleep with, and you started to get impatient with the teasing touches.

“Any-” kiss “Any preference?” kiss “For position, I mean.”

Viktor looked dazed, drunk on your lips, but a concerning thought jarred you from your self-satisfaction. “Wait, this isn’t your- Is this the first time you’ve done this?”

He frowned at you, color rising high on his cheekbones. “Did you not ask this the last time?”

“Did I?” Honestly, as much as you had thought about that night in the time since it happened, very few of your thoughts had centered on the conversation you’d shared before your focus shifted to other things. “And what was the answer?”

“No, believe it or not,” he grumbled. “I have managed to find at least one partner before you.”

“Oh, good.”

Viktor’s eyebrows shot upward at that. “Not quite the reaction I had expected.”

“Sorry,” you offered instantly, hoping you hadn’t hurt his pride. Viktor seemed a little sensitive about his self-image. “I just meant that I’m glad you found someone you wanted to share this with in the past.”

“How magnanimous,” he said dryly. “But I would prefer if you wanted to share this with me now instead of asking if I am virginal.”

“Virginal?” you asked, nose wrinkling. “Am I an 18th century lord? I don’t care if you’re- ah!”

With a well-placed push, Viktor had sent you sprawling across the bed. The sheer number of blankets over the mattress meant that the impact was so minimal that you hardly noticed it, but you still took a moment to blink up at Viktor in surprise.

For his part, Viktor looked so self-satisfied that his expression verged on smug. He stepped up to the edge of the bed and stooped to lean over you when you remembered your original point.

“Wait, I was asking for a reason,” you protested.

A look of genuine irritation crossed Viktor’s handsome face. “No, you are not my first.”

“Not-” You took a second to give a silent laugh. “Not that. I meant about positions. Do you have a preference?”

“Not in the slightest,” he assured you. “Now, if you were to ask for my preferences on when we get together, I have several strong opinions-”

“And your leg will be okay?” you asked softly. Viktor paused. “I don’t want this to hurt you.”

“I am not so delicate,” he said. “Any further objections?”

“Only that you’re not already inside of me.”

The stunned look on Viktor’s face at your tongue-in-cheek answer was a glorious sight to see. But it was fleeting; only a moment later, his jaw firmed with determination and he crawled onto the bed. Most of his weight was supported on his arms, planted firmly on either side of you, and the weight that remained on his legs didn’t seem to bother Viktor in the slightest.

So you didn’t feel bad for losing yourself in the sensations.

Perhaps, given the nature of your first hookup, you shouldn’t have been shocked that Viktor would want to explore. He sucked a mark over your collarbone, and you could feel his smile at the noises it pulled from you. When his clever fingers dropped to your breast, you froze under his touch. Viktor finally pulled away from the tender place on your skin, but only so he could study every microexpression that crossed your face at the feeling of his fingers on the sensitive peak.

When he finally pulled away, you arched into his retreating touch. Viktor managed to soothe you into lying against the bed once more. That made it far easier for him to lower himself onto top of you, his hips pressing squarely between your thighs. Suddenly, losing his hand on your breast felt like a fair trade.

When those talented fingers drifted down to your core, you wriggled impatiently. “I’m ready, I promise. Please, Viktor…”

He looked conflicted. “I know. I will give both of us what we want in a moment. But I- I need to feel you.”

Any further arguments you might have made faded away with the feeling of his long finger sinking into you. Your body accepted him easily, so easily that you might have been embarrassed by it if you weren’t so relieved by the feeling of something to grip with your desperate muscles.

Viktor withdrew his finger far too soon. You groaned when he studied it for a moment before putting it in his mouth. Then you were groaning together and your core clenched so sharply that it took your breath away.

“Viktor-”

He gave a decisive nod, lined the head of himself up with your entrance, and began pushing inside of you. As if your body was angry at having lost your previous stimulation so soon, the muscles of your channel contracted around his length. In fact, they spasmed so hard that Viktor paused.

“Am I hurting you?”

The real concern in his voice was sweet, but you were nearing desperation. “Only because you’re going so slow. Please, Viktor…”

He gave a stuttered half-thrust into you, clearly trying to stop himself before he drove too hard into you. With a crooked smile, he said, “Have I ever mentioned that I enjoy hearing you say my name?”

“No, but I can do better than that,” you offered. “Start moving now and I’ll scream it for you.”

Viktor’s eyes widened and he started a series of pulsing thrusts, each one driving himself a little further inside of you. When he was - at last - as deep as he could be, you both paused to soak in the sensations of it. His hips were flush against your ass and one of you was throbbing. You were too close to know which of you it was.

Most of your focus was on the realization that you had been right: that slight curve of Viktor’s length was in exactly the right place to press against your g-spot. The delicious pressure of it made your toes curl and you lifted your hips in an effort to urge him deeper.

When you remembered that your eyes worked, you smiled a little to see the intense concentration on Viktor’s face. Your hands smoothed down his back and when they were as low as you could reach, you pulled him closer, urging him into motion.

For someone who had a tendency to be oblivious, Viktor took the hint beautifully. With an audible sound from where you were joined, he pulled out. His motions were achingly slow, but he thrust back in before his head could leave you entirely. This push of his hips was made up of more mini-thrusts. The next only had a few. Then he was driving full-force into you at a pace that took your breath away.

And his.

Getting a little winded during sex wasn’t exactly uncommon, especially when things were as heated as they were with Viktor, but it worried you. The legs you had wrapped around his waist - though you couldn’t remember exactly when you had done that - could feel tremors wracking the right side of his body. They seemed to stem from his weaker leg, and it was quickly growing more severe. He was frowning, and while it seemed to be mostly concentration, there was more than a hint of genuine pain buried in the wrinkles of his forehead.

“Viktor,” you started, cutting off with a low cry when he slammed into you. “Viktor, wait.”

It took another half thrust for your request to filter through the fog of good sex. When it did hit him, Viktor slowed, though you could see the strain of it in his muscles. “What is it?”

“Roll over,” you said. “I can tell you’re hurting.”

An expression of displeasure crossed his face. “I told you: I am fine.”

“You aren’t,” you argued, watching his face turn incredulous. “Viktor, I can see it. It’s not a bad thing. I like being on top.”

“I don’t need you to pretend you know what’s best for me!” he snapped.

Arguing with someone who was currently buried inside of you was a new experience. From the stubbornness in Viktor’s eyes and the set of his jaw, he wasn’t going to let you win. You would bash yourself to pieces against the stone of Viktor’s personality. But maybe you could try a different tactic…

“Please, Viktor,” you murmured. “I promise, I’ll still make things feel good for both of us. Just let me do this. Let me take care of both of us, even if you don’t need me to.”

You watched him think that over. A direct and combative approach wouldn’t get anywhere with Viktor, he had spent too much of his life fighting. But the one-two punch of logic and emotion helped you get through the walls he had built around himself.

He didn’t agree verbally - that would be too much like admitting defeat. But he carefully withdrew from you and settled onto the bed beside you. When you realized what was happening, you scrambled upright and straddled his thighs as soon as he was fully horizontal.

The brief pause had done strange things to your libido, but it came roaring back as soon as you saw Viktor lying beneath you, his body still hard and eager and shining with remnants of you.

You sank down onto him so quickly that it pulled a startled noise from both of you. And then you were moving, surging up and down so quickly that the muscles of your legs started aching almost immediately. That wasn’t enough to stop you, not nearly, especially when you saw the stunned pleasure on Viktor’s face.

You rested your hands gently on his chest, using him more for balance than a true counterpoint, but Viktor thrust his hips sharply. The force of it knocked you off balance, pushing you forward until you were braced against him.

His hands covered yours, keeping them planted over his heart. You glanced up at him, unsurprised to see Viktor’s intense gaze fixed on you. “I will not break.”

You nodded, taking the low promise as truth. With the additional weight resting on your hands, your legs lifted you far more easily, working up and down on his shaft. Pressing your hips backward let you brush your clit against the thatch of coarse hair at Viktor’s base, but it also pressed that slight curve against your g-spot. Your inner muscles tightened so hard and fast that Viktor made a shocked noise and you started having trouble keeping your rhythm.

“Are you close?” he asked, chest rising and falling more rapidly under your hands.

You didn’t quite trust your voice, so you nodded again. He nodded with you. “Me too. Where-?”

“Inside,” you interrupted. You used birth control for several reasons, but sex actually wasn’t one of them. Having someone come inside of you wasn’t a sensation you particularly enjoyed, but you were close and pulling out was always tricky when you were on top. And Viktor felt so good…

His eyes widened. “Are you-?”

Before he could ask if you were sure, you had fallen over the edge. You fingers curled against Viktor’s skin, legs tingling so badly that you almost stopped moving on him. But as if your body was willing to circumvent your brain to keep the stimulation going, your legs and hips and torso kept going. You were moving up and down and forward and back all in an effort to chase the incredible pleasure that wracked your body and made your movements stutter.

Somewhere in the middle of your orgasm, Viktor reached his as well. He stiffened under your hands and between your legs, thrusting into you to drive you both higher. You felt his length twitch and pulse inside of you, along with a general sense of warmth as he spilled.

When the incredible flood of endorphins began to fade, you collapsed like a puppet with cut strings. You slumped forward onto Viktor’s chest with him still buried deep inside of you. His hand came to rest on your back, stroking your overheated flesh. You stayed like that for a long while, your ear pressed to the reassuring sound of his gradually slowing pulse.

“That was incredible,” he said eventually. His voice was low, but the awe in it was unmistakable.

“It was pretty good,” you agreed.

A displeased noise escaped him and you lifted your head to look at him, wincing at the way your sweaty skin had stuck to his. “What’s wrong?”

“There is a considerable difference between ‘incredible’ and ‘pretty good’,” he told you, the disgust clear in his voice.

You were already smiling at the way ‘pretty good’ sounded in his accent. “Sorry, I meant it was the single most mind-blowing experience of my entire life. Is that better?”

Viktor hummed, but his amber eyes sparkled down at you. “That seems like a lie. But it is fine. We can work up to incredible.”

You chuckled at that, and Viktor pressed a kiss to the back of your hand as you settled back against him.

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Author's Note - You'll note that this isn't a two-part fic, but there will be another Viktor fic this Fanfic February because I had two ideas that I liked.

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought!

#fanfic february #fanfic february 2024 #arcane #arcane 2021 #arcane netflix #arcane viktor #viktor x reader #viktor x you #fem!reader #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert fanfic #lemon #not suitable for minors #minors dni

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year

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Venture predation

Tomorrow (May 20), I’ll be at the GAITHERSBURG Book Festival with my novel Red Team Blues; then on Monday (May 22), I’m keynoting Public Knowledge’s Emerging Tech conference in DC.

On Tuesday (May 23), I’ll be in TORONTO for a book launch that’s part of WEPFest, a benefit for the West End Phoenix, onstage with Dave Bidini (The Rheostatics), Ron Diebert (Citizen Lab) and the whistleblower Dr Nancy Olivieri.

They said it couldn’t happen. After decades of antitrust enforcement against Predatory Pricing — selling goods below cost to kill existing competitors and prevent new ones from arising — the Chicago School of neoliberal economists “proved” that predatory pricing didn’t exist and that the courts could stand down and stop busting companies for it.

Predatory pricing — the economists explained — may be illegal, but it was also imaginary. A mirage. No one would do predatory pricing, because it was “irrational.” And even if there was someone irrational enough to try it, they would fail. Stand down, judges of America — predatory pricing is solved.

Chicago School economists — whose job (to quote David Roth) is to find new ways to say “actually, your boss is right” — held enormous sway of the federal judiciary. The billionaire-backed Manne Seminars offered free “continuing education” junkets to judges — all-expense-paid luxury vacations salted with lengthy your-boss-is-right econ seminars. 40% of the US federal judiciary got their heads filled up at a Manne Seminar.

For monopolists and other predators, the Manne Seminar was an excellent return on investment. After attending a Manne Seminar, the average judge’s legal decisions tipped decidedly in favor of monopoly, operating on the Chicago bedrock assumption that monopolies are “efficient,” and, where we see them in nature, we should celebrate them as the visible manifestation of the entrepreneurial genius of some Ayn Rand hero in a corporate boardroom:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/13/post-bork-era/#manne-down

A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. Even as post-Chicago economists showed that predatory pricing was both possible and rampant, a “rational” and effective strategy for cornering markets, suppressing competition, crushing innovation and gouging on price, judges continued to craft tortuous, unpassable tests that any predatory pricing case would have to satisfy to proceed. Economics moved on, but predatory pricing cases continued to fail the trial-by-ordeal constructed by Chicago-pilled judges.

Which is a shame, because there are at least three ways that predatory pricing can be effective:

Cost Signaling Predation: A predator tricks competitors into thinking they’ve found a new way to cut their costs, which allows them to drop prices. Competitors, fooled by the ruse, exit the market, not realizing that the predator is merely subsidizing their products’ costs to trick them.

Financial Market Predation: A predator tricks the competitors’ creditors into thinking the predator has a new way to cut costs. The creditors refuse to loan the prey companies the money needed to survive the price war, and the prey drops out of the war.

Reputation Effect Predation: A predator subsidizes prices in one region or one line of goods in order to trick prey into thinking that they’ll do the same elsewhere: “Don’t try to compete with us in Cleveland, or we’ll drop prices like we did in Tampa.”

These models of successful predation are decades old, and have broad acceptance within economics — outside of Chicago-style ideologues — but they’ve yet to make much of a dent in minds of the judges who hear Predatory Pricing cases.

While judges continue to hit the snooze-bar on any awakening to this phenomenon, a new kind of predator has emerged, using a new kind of predation: the Venture Predator, a predatory company backed by venture capital funds, who make lots of high-risk bets they must cash out in ten years or less, ideally for a 100x+ return.

Writing in the Journal of Corporation Law Matthew Wansley and Samuel Weinstein — both of the Cardozo School of Law at Yeshiva University — lay out a theory of Venture Predation in clear, irrefutable language, using it to explain the recent bubble we sometimes call the Millennial Lifestyle Subsidy:

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=4437360

What’s a Venture Predator? It’s “a startup that uses venture finance to price below its costs, chase its rivals out of the market, and grab market share.” The predator sets millions or billions of dollars on fire chasing “rapid, exponential growth” all in order to “create the impression that recoupment is possible” among future investors, such as blue-chip companies that might buy them out, or sucker retail investors who buy in at the IPO, anticipating years of monopoly pricing.

In other words, the Venture Predator constructs a pile of shit so large and impressive that investors are convinced that there must be a pony under there somewhere.

There’s another name for this kind of arrangement: a bezzle, which Galbraith described as “the magic interval when a confidence trickster knows he has the money he has appropriated but the victim does not yet understand that he has lost it.”

Millennial Lifestyle Subsidy companies are bezzles. Uber, annihilated tens of billions of dollars on its bezzle, destroying the taxi industry and laying waste to public transit investment, demolishing labor protections and convincing people that impossible self-driving robo-taxis were around the coner:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/16/ring-ring-lapd-calling/#uber-unter

But while Uber the company lost billions of dollars, Uber’s early investors and executives made out like bandits (or predators, I suppose). The founders were able to flog their shares on the secondary market long before the IPO. Same for the early investors, like Benchmark capital.

Since the company’s IPO, its finances have steadily worsened, and the company has resorted to increasingly sweaty balance-sheet manipulation tactics and PR offensives to make it seem like a viable business:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/05/a-lousy-taxi/#a-giant-asterisk

But Uber can’t ever recoup the billions it spent convincing the market that there was a pony beneath its pile of shit. The app Uber uses to connect riders with the employees it misclassifies as contractors isn’t hard to clone, and it’s not hard for drivers or riders to switch from one app to another:

https://locusmag.com/2019/01/cory-doctorow-disruption-for-thee-but-not-for-me/

Nor can Uber prevent its rivals from taking advantage of the hundreds of millions of dollars it spent on “regulatory entrepreneurship” — changing the laws to make it easier to misclassify workers and operate unlicensed taxi services.

It’s not clear whether Uber ever believed in robo-taxis, or whether they were just part of the bezzle. In any event, Uber’s no longer in the robotaxi races: after blowing $2.5B on self-driving cars, Uber produced a vehicle whose mean-distance-between-fatal-crashes was 0.5 miles. Uber had to pay another company $400M to take its self-driving unit off its hands:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/09/herbies-revenge/#100-billion-here-100-billion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

Uber’s prices rose 92% between 2018–21, while its driver compensation has plunged. The company is finding it increasingly difficult to passengers into cars, and drivers onto the road. They have invented algorithmic wage disrimination, an exciting new field of labor-law violations, in order to trick drivers into thinking there’s a pony under all that shit:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

To Uber’s credit, they have been a wildly innovative company, inventing many new ways to make the pile of shit bigger and the pony more plausible. Back when Uber and Lyft were locked in head-to-head competition, Uber employees created huge pools of fake Lyft rider accounts, using them to set up and tear down rides in order to discover what Lyft was charging for rides in order to underprice them. Uber also covertly operated the microphones in its drivers’ phones to listen for the chimes the Lyft app made: drivers who had both Lyft and Uber installed on their devices were targeted for (strictly temporary) bonuses.

Uber won’t ever recoup, but that’s OK. The investors and execs made vast fortunes. Now, normally, you’d expect company founders and other managers with large piles of stocks in a VC-backed company to be committed to the business’s success, at least in the medium term, because their shares can’t be liquidated until well after the company goes public.

But the burgeoning “secondary market” for managers’ shares has turned investors and managers into co-conspirators in the Venture Predation bezzle: “half of Series A and B deals now have some secondary component for founders.” That means that founders can cash out before the bezzle ends.

The trick with any bezzle is to skip town while the mark is still energetically digging through the shit, before the pony is revealed for an illusion. That’s where crypto comes in: during the cryptocurrency bubble, VCs cashed out of their investments early through Initial Coin Offerings and other forms of securities fraud. The massive returns this generated were well worth the millions they sprinkled on Superbowl ads and bribes for Matt Damon.

But woe betide the VC who mistimes their exit. As Wework showed, it’s entirely possible for VCs to be left holding the bag if they get the timing wrong. Wework blew $12b on predatory pricing — promising tenants at rivals’ businesses moving bonuses or even a year’s free rent, all to make the pile of shit look larger and thus more apt to contain a pony. The company opened its co-working spaces as close as possible to existing shops, oversaturating hot markets and showing “growth” by poaching customers through deep subsidies, then pretending that those customers would stay when the subsidies evaporated. But Wework’s “product” was temporary hot-desks, occupied by people who could (and did) move at the drop of a hat.

To its competitors, its competitors’ creditors, and credulous investors, it appeared that Wework had developed some kind of “efficiency advantage” — a secret sauce that let it sell a product at a price that was far below its rivals’ costs. But once Wework filed for its IPO, its S-1 — the form that discloses the company’s finances — revealed the truth. Wework’s only “advantage” was the bafflegab of its cult-like leader and the torrent of cash supplied by its VCs.

Wework’s IPO was a disaster. After canceling a real IPO, the company eventually went public through a scammy SPAC, saw its shares immediately tank, and continue to fall, as its balance-sheet is still blood-red with losses.

Another Venture Predator is Bird, the company that flooded American cities with cheap, flimsy Chinese scooters, choking curbs and sidewalks. 25% of the gross revenues from each scooter ride had to be written off as depreciation on the scooter. As a Bird spokesperson told the LA Times: “There are very few unique companies for which you can build global scale really quickly and build a dominant market position before other people do, and for those rarefied companies scaling quickly matters more than short-term profits.”

Bird was another company that could never recoup, whose executives and investors could only cash out if they could maintain the faint hope of the pony underneath its pile of shitty scooters. It drove the company to some genuinely surreal lengths. For example, in 2018, I reported on the existence of a kit that let you buy an impounded Bird scooter for pennies and retrofit it to run without an app, so you could take it anywhere:

https://boingboing.net/2018/12/08/flipping-a-bird.html

Shortly thereafter, I got a legal threat from Linda Kwak, Bird’s Senior Corporate Counsel, claiming that publishing a link to a website that sells you a product you install by unscrewing one board and inserting another was a violation of Section 1201 of the DMCA, which was an astonishingly stupid claim:

https://www.eff.org/document/bird-rides-takedown-boing-boing-dec-20-2018

It was also an astonishingly stupid claim to make to me, a career activist with 20 years experience fighting DMCA1201, a decades-old professional affiliation with EFF, and a giant megaphone:

https://boingboing.net/2019/01/11/flipping-the-bird.html

But Bird was palpably desperate to keep its bezzle going, and Kwak — an employment lawyer with undeniable deficits in her understanding of copyright and cyber-law — was their champion

Fascinatingly, one thing Bird didn’t worry about was competition from Uber and Lyft, who piled into the e-scooter market. Bird circulated a (leaked) pitch-deck reassuring investors that Uber/Lyft weren’t gunning for them, because they ““won’t subsidize prices” as they prepared for their IPOs, which involved disclosing their finances to their investors.

Bird’s investors either lost money or made small-dollar returns, but they were outfoxed by Bird founder Travis VanderZanden, a superpredator who cashed out $44m in shares just as the VCs were piling in.

Venture Predation is another stinging rebuttal to the Chicago School’s blithe dismissal of Predatory Pricing as an illusion. Private firms — of the sort that VCs back — whose boards are made up of founders and VCs who stand to benefit from the pile-of-shit gambit are perfectly capable of spending huge fortunes to make Predatory Pricing work. VCs make a practice of repeatedly co-investing in businesses together, which fosters the kind of trust that allows for these gambits to be played again and again.

For later stage, pony-thirsty investors who get stuck holding the bag, the lure of monopoly profits is both powerful and plausible — after 40 years of antitrust neglect, monopolies are the kinds of things one can both attain and defend (think of Peter Thiel’s maxim, “competition is for losers,” or Warren Buffett’s terrifying priapisms induced by the mere thought of businesses with “wide, sustainable moats”).

In a world of Facebook and Google, dreaming of monopolies isn’t irrational — it’s aspirational.

VCs are ideally poised to play the Venture Predation gambit. They are risk-tolerant and need to cash out over short timescales. What’s more, VCs’ longstanding boasts of their ability to identify companies who have invented new, super-efficient ways to do boring things like “rent out office space” or “provide taxis” gives the pile-of-shit pony-pitch a plausible ring.

The Venture Predator gambit isn’t just a form of plute-on-plute violence in which billionaires fleece millionaires. Like any anticompetitive scam, Venture Predators are able to pick winners in the marketplace — rather than getting the taxi or the office rental service or the scooter that serves you best, you get the scammiest version.

Workers who are roped in by the scam also suffer — the authors raise the example of a cab driver who leases a car to drive for Uber, based on the early subsidies the company offered, only to find themselves unable to make payments once the bezzle ends and Uber starts clawing back the driver’s wages.

Then there’s the cost to society: during the decade-plus in which Uber was pissing away the Saudi royal family’s billions subsidizing rides, cities dismantled their public transit, even as residents made decisions about where to live and work based on the presumption that Uber was charging a fair, sustainable price for rides.

The authors propose a bunch of legislative fixes for this, but warn that none of them are likely to get through Congress or the Manne-pilled judiciary. But they do hold out hope for a proposed SEC rule “requiring large, private companies to make basic financial disclosures.” These disclosures would make it impossible for companies to pretend that they had built a better mousetrap when all they had was a bigger pile of shit.

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Toronto, DC, Gaithersburg, Oxford, Hay, Manchester, Nottingham, London, and Berlin!

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/2023/05/19/fake-it-till-you-make-it/#millennial-lifestyle-subsidy

[Image ID: A giant pile of manure with a pony sticking out of it.]

Image: Eli Duke (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/elisfanclub/6834356283

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

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