#Yahoo!

[dinoburger]

OH TRAITOROUS SYNAPSES

[oldwindowsicons]

Yahoo! Messenger 4.1 (2001)

[the-heart-of-a-monster]

THoaM Issue 9 PAGE 1

NEXT PAGE –> <– PREVIOUS PAGE

new to thoam or want to reread the comic but its really awkward to do on tumblr mobile? The official website has got you covered!

[90s-2000s-barbie]

Yahoo Avatars (2004 - 2013)

[vroombeams]

free use landoscar!!

Lando's entirely-totally-completely fine with it when Oscar doesn't follow through with their little agreement.

It's kind of dumb, really, when he thinks on it. Shaking hands at the beginning of the season, both of them smirky about it. That's the deal for the rest of the year: whoever finishes ahead gets whatever they want from whoever finished behind. Gets to use whoever finishes second.

It's just that so far Lando's really the only one who's cashed it in. Like, after Miami, when Lando'd let himself into Oscar's hotel room and rubbed his dick all over Oscar's slack, sleeping mouth until he'd woken up and gotten the picture. Like at Silverstone, when Lando'd sat Oscar on his massage table and bounced on his dick like he could fuck the disappointment out of them both.

It's starting to get sort of embarrassing. A bit pathetic, isn't it? That Lando's been dragging Oscar into something that he was pretty certain they both wanted.

Maybe Oscar doesn't want it. Maybe Oscar doesn't want him.

Deeply frustrating stuff. As if Lando needs more frustration in his life.

Spa is Spa, and Lando's an idiot, and he's going to hide in his trailer until someone explicitly comes and gets him to leave. He deserves a little bit of face-down-floor-time given the circumstances. The race was bad enough, and on top of that, the team photos after—he'd looked sort of desperate, hadn't he? With his flirty little pinch to Oscar's shoulder. Batting his lashes and everything, like he could tempt Oscar into finally cashing in.

But here he is! Alonedo Norris. Sunday again, no problem.

The door creaks open and Lando doesn't lift his head. It'll be Jon—no one else just walks in without knocking. He'll figure out that Lando's not actually asleep in about two seconds, because he always does, and then Lando will have to get up. But he'll milk those two seconds.

There is, however, suddenly someone standing over him. Like, one foot on either side of his hips, squeezing a bit before they sink to their knees.

"Hi," Oscar says, and he's tugging Lando's joggers down.

Oh. Well. Okay.

"Hi," Lando says back, breathlessly lifting his hips to help, and he means finally. Finally, when Oscar grabs his arse and spreads him open, spitting a great glob of saliva between his cheeks. Is he going to fuck him like this? With just his spit? Lando's never gone quite that hard but it's in their handshake agreement or whatever, that they can do whatever they want to each other.

Oscar sighs, and Lando can picture him getting his dick out, the relief of it. He's just like the rest of them, popping boners on the podium. It's uncomfortable at best, champagne-soaked suit all stuck to your bits.

Lando braces and then tries to relax all at once when Oscar's dick comes to rest against his arse. If he breathes through it, it'll be fine. And Oscar's not stupid or cruel; he'll stop if it's awful.

He doesn't press inside, though.

It's a weird feeling, when Oscar starts to fuck between his cheeks. He's got both hands on him, squeezing Lando's arse around his cock, just enough spit to make it an easy slide.

"Oh, fuck," Lando mumbles, getting his wrist in his mouth to muffle it. It feels good—like, the drag of Oscar's dick over his hole, the way the head catches when he draws back enough, the way Oscar's already panting with it.

He sounds really, really good. It's less overwhelming than having him inside so Lando's picking up on all these sounds he's never noticed before; here and there these sharp little in-out breaths like he's been hit, long, sighing groans that barely make it to audible.

Oscar spits again. Wet splat right where the head of his dick is, slick squelch when he fucks forward.

Lando doesn't move. His dick is hard at the most awkward possible angle, pressed painfully to the floor but he doesn't move, just lets his eyes flutter shut and takes it.

Oscar moves faster. The sounds, huffing and broken, pick up until he's letting out these tiny soft moans, over and over and over.

"Pull up your shirt," Oscar says suddenly. His voice cracks and Lando would make fun of it in any other situation.

This time, he does what he's told. Awkwardly, he yanks up his shirt and it's just in time for Oscar to grunt, fucking forward once, twice, and then coming in hot spatters across Lando's back. Lando breathes into the scratchy carpet. Oscar twitches over him, dripping a last bit of come onto Lando's arse as he sits back.

"Waited long enough, didn't you," Lando says into the floor.

Oscar makes a noncommittal sound but in the next breath he's rolling Lando over, and he's getting his mouth on Lando's cock, and that's not really using him, is it? But if it's—if he's what Oscar wants, well. Lando can live with that.

now on ao3

[m4g3ofblood]

short haired jay ferin *standing ovation*

[boxedsprouts]

some of my splat guys

[zoevint]

oh how i missed you mspaint

[dipndotz]

kuma and bunch of random doodles

[mush-worm]

pilby-prototype convos i stitched together!!

[digitalfossils]

[abiding-by-the-laws-of-color]

Cowboy Courtney for a challenge where I had to simplify an outfit :)

-ghost

[paper-starz]

🎂

[mittland]

[milkymo744]

I've seen people say that Yoyo reminded them of a hamster, though he's always reminded me of a monkey,,,,,,, he kinda sounds like one too.......

[brambeag]

mommys little war machine