#(learned behavior)

[1425fivefive]

↻FLIP FLOP for Learned Behavior

Monaco afterparty toilets scene - Oscar's POV

would love to see a little sneak into what was going on in Oscar's head, the whole Charles thing, the sex, and especially after the kiss, poor guy has been dealing with Lando's mixed signals for months

Beloved anon, this took me ages. Have 2k of the Monaco toilets scene in Learned Behavior from Oscar's perspective:

Watching Lando from across the room—glaring at Charles, sucking angrily on the straw of his drink—Oscar can’t help but wonder about it. What Lando and Charles were to each other.

When Oscar had asked about it back in Miami, Lando had gotten all weird and cagey, done this awkward, forced laugh and insisted that Charles was straight. But Oscar’s seen the way Charles looks at men. Noticed the way Charles looks at Lando, sometimes, when Lando’s not looking. Something hungry in his gaze.

A part of Oscar doesn’t really want to know all the details. The thing with Lando feels delicate, breakable. Like if Oscar pushes too hard it might shatter, Lando looking at him with watery, hurt eyes, even as he’s telling Oscar to fuck off.

And, like—things are fine the way they are, probably. Good, even. Oscar reckons he’d put up with a lot of shit if it meant he could still have Lando fuck him every weekend, call him a good boy, get off on telling him not to come. Trace a thumb over his lip, pull his hair, tell him how pretty he looks getting fucked.

Oscar surreptitiously tries to adjust his shorts. It’s just—he hasn’t come since Imola and he’s fucking aching for it, keeps dreaming about how good Lando feels inside of him and waking up hard, dripping onto the sheets. Sometimes he thinks about taking a picture of himself, hard and swollen and wet, sending it to Lando, begging Lando to let him come, secretly hoping Lando will tell him no.

Watching Lando staring at Charles, still, Oscar wants to beg Lando to pay attention to him. To forget about whatever bullshit happened with Charles and drag Oscar back to his flat, take him apart until he’s crying, finally let him come. 

But Lando can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Charles and before Oscar can really think he’s walking across the room, sliding into the pocket of space beside Lando.

Lando glances over at him and Oscar sees the way his cheeks flush, eyes going dark. It’s gratifying, at least, to know Lando’s attracted to him. But Lando goes right back to staring at Charles and it stings, being dismissed so easily.

Oscar tries to keep the annoyance out of his voice as he asks, “What’s got you all pissed off?”

“Nothing,” Lando says, still openly glaring at Charles.

Oscar glances over at where Charles is standing in a crowd of people, eyes bright, laughing and smiling. “You could at least pretend to be happy for him,” Oscar says.

Lando’s brows unfurrow slightly and he finally manages to tear his gaze away from Charles, looking over at Oscar.

It feels like a win, however small. “There you go,” Oscar says softly.

He thinks, for a moment, about letting it go. Asking Lando to take him home. 

But Lando’s been ignoring him for most of the night, and Oscar can’t resist saying, “I’ve never understood why you two don’t get along. Charles is nice—”

Lando snorts. “Charles isn’t nice. He’s polite, yeah, but he’s not nice.”

Oscar wants to say, Of course you’d think that, you two have some weird, fucked-up psychosexual thing going on that’s honestly getting extremely fucking annoying.

Instead, Oscar tries to make a joke of it. “Dunno, mate, the whole adoption thing—”

“Yeah, we’ve heard,” Lando snaps, letting out a mean little laugh. “No one’s been able to shut up about it, honestly.”

Oscar can see the flash of regret on Lando’s face the moment he’s said it, the look Lando always gets when he knows he’s crossed a line. Normally Oscar forgives him. Knows Lando says shit without thinking and doesn’t mean most of it. Especially when it comes to Charles.

But Oscar’s sympathy can only go so far when Lando won’t fucking talk about any of it. Won’t even admit the basic fact that something happened between them.

“Right, well.” Oscar knocks back the rest of his drink, setting the empty glass on the bar. “I’m gonna leave you to it.”

Lando looks like he’s about to say something, but Oscar’s not really in the mood to hear it. He turns to go, accidentally catching Charles’s eye in the process.

“Oscar!” Charles calls, waving him over.

Oscar knows how it’ll look to Lando if he goes over to Charles, but he sort of wants to make Lando jealous. After Lando’s been, frankly, a bit of a cunt all weekend, even after Oscar finished P2. Lando hasn’t even congratulated him on the podium.

So Oscar goes over to Charles, lets Charles pull him into a hug, lets Charles crow about their father-son 1-2, lets Charles grip the back of his neck and smile at him. It’s nice to have someone care, but Oscar can’t help but wish it was Lando touching him like this, smiling at him and reliving the race.

But before Oscar can really say anything, he hears Lando’s voice saying, “Mind if I borrow Osc here for a sec?”

—

Lando drags him to a toilet and he’s on him as soon as the door’s locked, backing Oscar up against the sink, fingers digging into Oscar’s hips, mouth sucking at Oscar’s neck.

“Fuck, Lando,” Oscar moans, too loud by half for a bathroom in the middle of a club. But he can’t bring himself to care, too relieved at the feeling of Lando’s hands on him, Lando’s thigh slotting between his legs.

Oscar grinds down on the hard muscle of Lando’s thigh, whimpering at how good it feels to finally get some friction on his cock. 

It feels like he loses any capacity for rational thought the moment Lando gets his hands on him, the second Lando starts telling him how good he’s being, gripping his arse with his massive fucking hands. 

“You sound so fucking good,” Lando says, breath warm against Oscar’s neck, sending little sparks down Oscar’s spine. “So fucking hot, Osc.”

Oscar can’t help but whine, grinding harder against Lando.

“Fuck,” Lando groans. He slides a hand down, gripping Oscar through his trousers.

Oscar can feel his briefs get wetter, cock straining against the zipper, the friction unbearable as Lando rubs at Oscar through the fabric.

It’s insane how Lando’s hand practically covers him completely. How Lando barely has to move when he strokes Oscar’s cock, his hand so big it makes Oscar’s cock look tiny, only the flushed head peeking out of Lando’s fist. Lando calls it cute, sometimes, tells Oscar what a pretty cock he has, small and perfect. It makes Oscar feel insane, makes him want to come all over Lando’s fingers and lick it off, beg Lando to fuck him, ask Lando to never let him come again.

“Have you come since Imola?” Lando asks.

Oscar shakes his head, whimpers. “No, I—you didn’t say I could.”

“Jesus, Osc.” Lando tips his head against Oscar’s shoulder, still rubbing Oscar through his trousers.

At this rate, Oscar’s scared of coming in his clothes. But he wants it so bad, feels like he’ll lose his mind if Lando doesn’t get him off. He’d hold it, if Lando said he had to, but he feels tears pricking his eyes at the thought of not being allowed to come tonight. He just—he needs it so fucking bad. Needs Lando to make him come, needs Lando to look at him like Oscar’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen, needs Lando murmuring praise while Oscar spills over his fingers.

Lando seems to be able to tell how desperate Oscar is, because he says, “You need to come, yeah?”

Oscar nods, frantic.

Lando’s already undoing the button of his trousers, tugging them and his briefs down his thighs, freeing his cock to the cold air of the toilet.

But Lando’s palm is warm when he wraps it around Oscar and Oscar can’t help the moan that escapes him, eyes sliding shut in relief, head tipping back against the mirror.

Fingers slide through Oscar’s hair, pulling, hard, and Oscar whines, eyes flying open.

“You have to look at me,” Lando breathes, stroking Oscar firm and fast. “You have to look at me if you want me to let you come.”

Oscar forces himself to look at Lando, forces himself to watch as Lando drags him closer and closer to the edge. Lando’s spouting nonsense and Oscar can’t help himself, whining and crying out as Lando rubs a thumb over the head of his cock, brings his hand up to Oscar’s mouth and tells Oscar to spit, before wrapping his hand around Oscar again, everything slick and hot and wet.

Oscar feels like he’s seconds away from coming, his abs aching from the efforts of holding back, thighs trembling.

But Lando looks like he’s enjoying it, like he likes seeing Oscar strung out and desperate. When Oscar meets Lando’s eyes, Lando’s pupils are so wide his eyes are practically black.

Oscar realizes, then, that he might never be able to walk away from this. That he’d let Lando behave as badly as he wants, treat him like shit, never talk about anything, as long as it meant Lando would touch him like this. Firm and confident and in control, looking like it’s a fucking privilege to get to see Oscar flushed and trembling with need.

It’s never—Oscar’s always felt fucking weird about how much it turns him on to be ordered around a bit, told not to come, fucked hard and rough. With his ex he just—shoved it to the back of his mind. Watched porn and otherwise tried to ignore it. There’d been a few blokes throughout the years, but—they all acted like they were doing him a favor. It wasn’t like Lando, who stares at him in awe, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing when Oscar begs for it, whimpers and whines and lets Lando tell him not to come.

Lando’s still stroking him steadily, asking Oscar all sorts of questions—whether he likes it, whether Charles would treat him like this. Oscar barely knows what he’s saying, just knows that he’ll do whatever Lando wants, say yes to anything, as long as Lando will make him come at the end of it.

“What’re you good for?” Lando breathes, eyes flitting over Oscar’s face, hand steadily stroking over Oscar’s cock.

Oscar takes a shaky breath, tries to figure out what the right answer is. He can’t work it out and, ultimately, he simply tells the truth. “Being used.”

Lando’s brain seems to short-circuit at that. He bites at Oscar’s shoulder, grip tightening around Oscar’s cock.

Lando’s hands are pulling at Oscar’s hair and his cock and he feels caught in Lando’s firm grip, laid out on display for him, here to be used however Lando wants. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does.

“By who, Osc?” Lando murmurs, staring at Oscar’s mouth like he’s thinking about kissing him.

Please, Oscar thinks. Please fucking kiss me, I’ll do anything you want.

And Oscar’s already telling the truth, so he says, “You.”

“Come,” Lando breathes, fingers pulling at Oscar’s hair, eyes locked on Oscar’s. “Come, baby, please.”

Oscar’s shaking as he comes, jerking forward as his cock spills messily over Lando’s fingers. It almost hurts, coming after being denied for so long but Oscar likes the edge of pain, likes how it feels almost sharp. Like he can’t do anything other than feel.

Oscar lets out a shocked gasp when Lando darts forward, pressing his lips to Oscar’s.

Lando’s lips feel incredible, warm and soft, swallowing Oscar’s desperate sounds. Oscar wants to fist his hands into Lando’s hair, pull him closer, keep him there. But his orgasm’s still rolling through him and he barely feels in control of his limbs, too overwhelmed by pleasure and the shock of being kissed to do anything other than moan into Lando’s mouth.

But Lando doesn’t seem to care, whining and licking into Oscar’s mouth, a shock of heat as their tongues slide against each other. 

Oscar doesn’t want to stop coming, wants to keep coming in Lando’s tight grip, whimpering against Lando’s mouth, surrounded by Lando’s heat and slightly-sweet scent.

But soon enough he’s slumping back against the mirror and Lando’s blinking at him with a dazed expression.

Oscar’s about to ask Lando to kiss him again when Lando’s stumbling back, grabbing paper towels and wiping Oscar’s come off his hand, tossing them in the bin and banging his way out the door.

Oscar lets out a shocked laugh, staring blankly at the closed door. “Cool,” Oscar mutters, grabbing a paper towel to clean himself up. “Really fucking cool.”

It’s classic fucking Lando. Acting like Oscar’s the hottest thing in the world, like Lando will die if he doesn’t get to fuck him, then going back to being weird and distant the moment it’s ended.

This would all be a whole lot fucking easier, Oscar thinks, if he could stop convincing himself that Lando actually feels something.

[timpaxew]

“Lady Dawn. Return my coat to its station!” - ingo probably

[pratchettquotes]

[...] Vimes had learned a lot from watching Lady Sybil. She didn't mean to act like that, but she'd been born to it, into a class which had always behaved this way: You went through the world as if there was no possibility that anyone would stop you or question you, and most of the time that's exactly what didn't happen.

Terry Pratchett, Fifth Elephant

[girldriveroscar]

awfully humiliating storytime if you wanna feel better about yourself rn

i was Actually Geeking so bad over @1425fivefive’s fic learned behavior dropping so i went to the gym to run my energy out

and i was text to speech listening to the fic while running and about 2 miles in lando (minor spoiler) was rolling and i was closing my eyes to try and block out the pain and think abt rolling instead (lolololol) and i FELL OFF THE TREADMILL?!:!@;&:&2!&:@/@

bro i never fucking acted quicker in my life😭😭😭 grabbed the sides and took a big ass jump and just started sprinting pretending nothing happened LOLLLLLL

anyways i planned to only run 2 miles but it was too embarrassing to end my run like that dhdjsjsjsn so i just kept going

YOU THINK THATS WHERE IT ENDS UR WRONGGGG

cw slight personal nsfw, at mile 3 i started sprinting and this has never happened idk if the smut in my ears had some side effect but i could 100% feel a coregasm coming on bro my face has never heated up so fast like if i was geeking BEFORE. God as my witness was rdy to lose all dignity.

ANYWAYS. i locked the fuck in at that and switched to music😭 and ended up doing my personal best distance (5 miles yay!!) so. yeah.

to top that off im still geeked abt this fic and im only like 2/5 through. but ig if there was any endorsement for you to go read this well yea. fell off a treadmill😭↕️😭↕️😭

(personal thank u to amelia for the boost to get a pb too hahaha)

[myboredgeneration]

They are racing fucking drones now. And I am 100% sure that a MAN came up with the idea. Because competition and rivalry are men's learned behaviours.

[kash-heals]

tw : (toxic) relationship vent. (no back story… not yet.)

hate how toxic we used to be, hate that i remember those days at the worst times, like .. idk we were kids when we started messing around and it’s so fucked up that we were doing the things we were doing instead of idk.. doing kid shit? idk. idk. we deserved a chance at normal love too ya know..?

but it’s okay right..? we learned how to cope the way that was deemed … safe by society… as long as we looked like we were getting better … that’s what counted..

but truth is.. we never got better.. and i find so much comfort and belonging in our chaos… you know..we’re just as toxic as we were at 11 & 13… that we are at 17 & 19.

but can you blame us.? we learned to love the best way we could.. we were kids !? trying to build our dream home.. a house of cards .. but the deck we were dealt… was full of abuse .. learned behaviors .. behaviors that were forced on us at the hands of people that we’re supposed to love us .. and yeah you guessed it.. that turned into hyper sexuality and obsessive aggression.

we maybe toxic to others, unhealthy, bad for each other.. whatever, but on the worst nights of our lives, when the rest of the world we knew ignored the signs, the cries, the pleas, and left us with literally fucking nothing but broken dreams and destroyed childhoods - we had each other.. and we built ourselves back up, took every broken and fucked up piece back.. and shit.. if you ask me.. we created something beautiful… it wasn’t the house of cards we dreamed of.. but .. it’s ours.

so what’s a little fucking toxicity when you know you have someone that would destroy the whole fucking world for you?

[killemall1945]

sending my mom slightly photoshopped pics of myself to the family group chat to sow chaos and discord

[trauma-culture-is-blog]

trauma culture is feeling like nothing is ever actually “water under the bridge” until you’ve received punishment

.

[pastormike1976]

quote on habits from the work "You Are a Bad Ass"

[youweremadetosoar]

I love the idea that, for as intelligent as Clark Kent is, he’s a bit oblivious to what actual humans are capable of. He knows he’s physically superior but his only true frame of reference is the people he interacts with.

A Clark who meets someone while he’s reporting that attempts to shake his hand extra-firm to assert dominance and Clark, unthinking, casually copies the man’s strong grip because that’s what he’s trained himself to do.

A Clark that reads all the way down the eye chart at the doctors office because he thinks everyone can read the minuscule letters (why else would they be there) (which leads to a confusing conversation between the doctor and one Mrs.Kent who has to reason why her child wears glasses when he doesn’t need them)

A Clark who just doesn’t stop to take a breath when he walks up the stairs because Jimmy Olsen doesn’t.

A Clark that aced every test because he studied really hard when his parents told him that all the human kids study (they may have been fudging on that one, but sue them for wanting a studious child)

Just a Clark who is ordinarily extraordinary because he can only hide amongst what he knows, and those around him are spectacular.

[eric-sadahire]

In 1908 the New York Times reported a story about two dogs in Paris who regularly pushed children into rivers, only to rescue them for the treats they received at the end.

[1425fivefive]

Learned Behavior

Landoscar/Charlando, 59k, Read on AO3

That's always been the problem, hasn't it? Lando wants so much, too much. Everything, all the time, so badly it makes his stomach hurt. But he’s never seemed to work out the art of getting any of it.

Excerpt:

“I’ve never understood why you two don’t get along,” Oscar says. “Charles is nice—”

Lando snorts. “Charles isn’t nice. He’s polite, yeah, but he’s not nice.”

“Dunno, mate, the whole adoption thing—”

“Yeah, we’ve heard,” Lando says shortly. “No one’s been able to shut up about it, honestly.”

Oscar frowns and Lando knows he’s being a brat, but he can’t help himself. Not after a shit race, not after watching Charles win, not after hearing Oscar call Charles nice.

It makes Lando’s teeth ache. Lando’s never—he’s never thought of himself as a particularly “nice” person. Thoughtful, funny, a good friend. But he doesn’t have that easy charm that makes every person he meets want to like him. If anything, he feels like he has the opposite. Like there’s something about him that pushes people away rather than drawing them in.

READ ON AO3

fic playlist

[menacetosocietyy]

Wanted someone to be the slytherin to my hufflepuff, but now I'm just getting gaslit during arguments.

What the fuck, man. What gives??

[eliemo]

what happened to learned behavior-

its been 2 years

Answered here

[lilanxiousramennoodle]

i used to hiss at people as a child just in case anyone thought i was ever sociable

[originalhermitess]

Credit: unknown