#fucking sid the sloth fucker

[lewishamiltonstuff]

@ F1 you can't see or wut?

[no-144444]

outbursts- o.piastri

summary: your first season as an f1 driver doesn't start the best, and you quickly realise McLaren doesn't like women very much. On top of that, your race engineer is as smug as the rest of them, and you have to deal with him all the time.

pairing: race engineer! oscar piastri x f1driver! fem! reader

warnings: lots of misogyny, lando is an asshole in this, illusions to ed behaviour, reader is not in a good head space, all of mclaren is super sexist.

pls remember this is fiction and purely for fun!

(also i had no idea what to put as the third photo and it was either the sid (max) the sloth or fernando alonso so do with that what you will!)

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven | part twelve

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Monaco. Monaco. Monaco. 

You were starting P4. Lando was in P5. You had been given your orders. Keep him in P4, or get him higher if you could. Give him DRS every lap. Don’t fuck up his race. 

“Alright Y/n, good luck,” Oscar’s voice rang in your ears as the formation lap began. Part of you was still hurt from Imola. Oscar had made you feel like you mattered to at least one person in the team, but he turned his back on you just the same as everyone else. “Just stick to the plan.”

“Copy,” you answered, slotting into your grid spot. You were officially the highest scoring woman in F1 history. You were breaking barriers. Yet, you spent your winning night alone in your hotel room feeling like you mattered less than the dirt on Zak Brown's shoe. 

The light turned red, then they were out. You got a great start, and in one corner, somehow, by some fucking grace of god, you were in the lead of the Monaco Gran Prix. 

“What the fuck happened?” you radioed in. “Where did everyone else go?”

“You’re in P1, Y/n,” Oscar explained. “Drive.”

“Where’s Lando?” you asked. You hadn’t meant to take the lead.

“P5 still.” 

“How do I get him to the front?” you panicked. You knew what everyone would say. You were officially McLaren’s bitch. “Oscar, how do I get him to the front?”

“It’s Monaco,” he sighed. “You can’t.”

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It was torture. Crossing that finish line first. You’d won an F1 race in your rookie season. You were a Grand Prix winner. 

You were terrified to get out of that car. Daniel had to run over and make you get out. Max helped you out, and you didn’t even have anything to say. 

“You did it!” Daniel cheered, pulling you in for a hug. “You fucking did it!” 

You just nodded, searching at the barrier for Zak, for Oscar, for someone. They weren’t there. You were going back to an empty garage. You were nothing to them. 

“What’s wrong?” Daniel asked, noticing the way your mood shifted. He looked at the barrier, and he saw no one in papaya. “Those fuckers…” he curseed. “Not even Oscar?”

“It’s fine,” you shook your head, trying to calm yourself down. “I didn’t stick to the plan.” 

“What plan?” 

“Help Lando,” you explained. Max rolled his eyes. 

“You’re a better driver than him, McLaren are lucky to have you,” Max told you. “Come celebrate with us, yeah?”

You nodded and continued on with your duties, diligently doing every interview, praising Lando for making up a place and joining you on the podium, while he bad-mouthed you to the press over ‘not following the plan’.

You walked into the garage and they all clapped. The first woman to do it. Highest female points scorer in history. You looked at Oscar, who offered you a sad smile. 

Someone called for you to make a speech, but you couldn’t do it. You walked into your driver’s room and you broke down. 

You’d never been the kind of person that was easy to break down. You hadn’t been the kind of  person someone wanted to break down either, but you were well past wondering why they had started to hate you. When you were signing your contract, you were so sure that they wanted you. You were positive it would be different from the last time, different from RedBull. You were wrong. A knock on the door silenced your sobs and stopped the thousands of thoughts running through your mind. 

“Y/n,” it was Oscar, of fucking course. “Zak wants to see you.”

“Fuck off,” you sighed. “I’ll talk later.”

“He really wants to see you-”

You swung the door open, angry. “For what, Oscar? For what? To berate me for being a good fucking driver?! To scream at me for not following the plan?!” you screamed, and caught a glimpse of Lando. “And another thing,” you turned your attention to Lando. “I am so fucking sorry that you can’t do things on your own, and you constantly need my help and Zak’s approval to live your life!” You turned back to Oscar. “And you, you. You can stop fucking pretending to be my friend, just to turn on me again. We all fucking know I’m not staying here next season, so let’s just get through the year and say our goodbyes, yeah?!” 

You slammed your door behind you. A few hours later you woke up from a nap you didn’t remember taking, and you saw Oscar sitting at your desk. The sun had set. 

“Evening,” he smiled. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked. 

“Everyone went home, I wanted to talk to you, so I waited,” he shrugged. 

“Why do you want to talk to me?” you questioned. 

“I’m sorry,” he started. “McLaren is a complete boys club, and it’s shit. I’m sorry that I’m part of that. I’m sorry that I’m not allowed to openly support you. I’m sorry that we’ve made you feel like you shouldn’t be a good driver. I’m sorry. I really hope you can forgive me and I can be here for you. Just as a friend, or someone to stand at the barricade for you, someone to be in your corner when everyone else isn’t.”

You stared at him. “Why are you doing this?” 

He shrugged. “My mom gave out to me after she saw your win and the fact that I wasn’t there.”

You nodded, a flat smile on your face. “Great, good for you.” 

“So, friends?” he asked. 

“No. Thanks though. Can you close the door on your way out?” 

He got up and sighed. “I’m not letting this go,” he told you.

“You should,” you advised. “I’m very stubborn.”

“I know,” he smiled. “But so am I.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

In Canada, Oscar didn’t leave you alone all weekend. He ate lunch with you, speaking only about racing the entire time, though you did end up talking about his family for a little bit, and you found out he had 3 sisters. You told him that made sense, and he laughed. He walked with you everywhere, talking about the track or something to do with the car. It was nice. Not as nice as your pre-race playlist, though. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

In Spain you two went and got dinner while the rest of the team celebrated Lando getting P2, while you were in P1. He stayed true to his word, and after this win you even let him hug you at the barrier.

“Why didn’t you call anyone after your win in Monaco?” he asked after you’d both had a little bit too much wine and you were both a bit loose-lipped. 

“No one to call,” you shrugged.

“Family?”

You chuckled. “They don't care. I haven’t spoken to them in years.”

“But you’re 22?” he reminded you. 

“When I went to F3 and moved to England, they cut me off,” you explained. 

“I’m sorry-”

You waved a hand. “It’s fine. It’s just like that for some people. Tell me about your family,” you prompted. 

God, Oscar could talk for hours if someone let him. You wondered why people thought he was an introvert, he talked all the time. 

It was nice. 

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The next few races went by in a blur of points and shitty team meetings. Oscar did what he said he would though, he stood at the barrier after every race with a smile and a hand shake, with congratulations on his lips. 

You accepted them, maybe still a bit disconnected from him, but as Spa rolled around, and you rolled 8 times because of a mistake Lando had made, you were thankful that he’d been the one to ride with you in the ambulance. You’d pulled 60G. You had a bad concussion and some broken ribs. He waited with you all day, listening to everything the doctors said and taking notes for your trainer (your new trainer, he’d somehow convinced Richard to quietly leave. Maisie, your new trainer was much nicer), and sat there, watching you all night. 

When you woke up with his hand in your hand, you felt… safer. You weren’t as weary as you had been. Some part of you trusted him. 

“You’re awake,” he yawned. “Morning.”

“You stayed here?” you questioned. He nodded.  

“I was hardly going to leave you alone,” he scoffed. 

“Thank you,” you said, sincere for once. 

“No problem,” he smiled.  

And you felt something you hadn’t left for a long time. 

You felt cared for. 

It was strange, but it was wonderful. And it scared you.

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Oscar's POV:

He had to do something. He had to help you. That’s what he kept telling himself. He got Richard to leave and stop with his ED bullshit, he got Maisie, a new trainer who would actually care about you. He stuck up for you in every team meeting, getting on Zak’s nerves, but he didn’t care. 

He hadn’t been lying when he said his mom had given out to him. She’d reminded him that she hadn’t raised him to be an unkind, unjust person. She reminded him of your devastating radio messages in the Monaco GP when you apologised for winning. 

It sucked because she was right. He knew he’d been in the wrong for months and he knew it. He wanted to befriend you and help you. He wanted to support you, genuinely. He was putting his job on the line for it, for fuck’s sake. So he was going to. 

He somehow went through weekend after weekend, telling you small fun facts and talking your ear off for days at a time just so you could open up to him. He wanted to be there for you, so he became the most extroverted person he’d ever heard of. He talked more than Daniel, which was saying something. He listened to the same music you did, he ate with you, he listened to you when he spoke. 

And he enjoyed himself. You were great company. You were an interesting person. He liked making you laugh. He liked seeing you smile after a good race. He liked the fact that you went straight to him after a race. He liked your new tradition of getting an ice cream with him after a win. 

He liked you. 

So when he saw you flip 8 times in Spa of all places, his heart dropped. He’d been known to be a calm, collected, and stoic person. The way he screamed ‘fuck’ when you crashed was anything but calm, collected, or stoic. The way he spoke to you on the radio, begging you to answer him, he wasn’t calm, he was terrified. 

When you answered, the sigh of relief he let out was anything but stoic. The way he sat in your hospital room with you the entire night, waking up to check that you were still breathing, that was anything but normal. 

He was falling for you. In some insane turn of events, his quest to become your friend had taken a nosedive. 

And he was fucked. 

He knew it because he couldn’t help but smile when you reached out for his hand as you slept, and his heart skipped a beat. 

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[msookyspooky]

Is it weird I never found stu hot with the spitting and he sticking his tongue out and he looks like Sid the sloth a bit lol xd

No it's not weird I can understand bc at first I didn't see the appeal either. HOWEVER, now I want him to stick that tongue down my throat while choking me ~

I definitely think with Matthew Lilard in general it's a personality appeal and his vibes that make him so fine (And his looks imo). He's so fucking charming and funny and sweet <3

NOW HEAR ME OUT; He is not NOT attractive but he is definitely unconventionally attractive aka he has features that are not everyones cup of tea as opposed to Billy/Skeet that ik makes hetero men question things bc he is so conventionally attractive that most ppl with eyes can agree on that. (I remember talking to a friend and agreeing that if Skeet and Jamie switched places as roles that Randy's role would go from annoying geek to poor misunderstood boy played by Skeet to the fandom in a heartbeat and Billy played by Jamie would be hated on as much as Charlie was in Scream 4 ppl are shallow at the heart of it all and Billy's weird ass character DEFINITELY got away with pretty privilege the entire movie.)

But Matt is attractive to me, not smoking hot at first glance but everyone has they're own taste! At first glance he's just okay but when he speaks and moves and you see that swagger naturally pour out? 8 out of 10 easily what a fucking cutie I would be blushing if he spoke to me and when he's Stu and being crazy? Solid 9 out of 10. The character is so hot. I may not be the ultimate Stu simp but a simp I am for sure.😏🥴

I feel the same way about Eddie Munson. When I saw a pic of him I thought "Oh he's alright I guess. What's the hype tho?" BUT WHEN HE SPOKE AND HIS PERSONALITY AND CHARISMA SHOWED? I fell in love istg 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Another one is Lazlo from WWDITS there is nothing about him I usually find attractive (Again my preference; don't hurt me-) but I fully understand Nadja and he could smash anytime if I was in that universe. The sex is just oozing from him no matter what he does.

Gomez Addams is another example, I would FOLD for him even tho to most ppl he's not 'attractive' but omfg that man was the blueprint for me and still is ~

Def not hating or trying to change ur mind but It's the vibes. The sex appeal. The charisma. You do not have to be conventionally beautiful to be sexy as a mother fucker and I fully stand by that.

[fanfictionlive]

Sid x Nemo

Sid x Nemo

no homo

It was my first day of school. I wanted to stroke my fat chode but my b***h dad wanted to do that little poke out of the butt hole gay shit. I noticed there was a new student. he was one hot mother fucker. He was kinda shy but i could see he had a sexy personality deep in their. The second i saw his face my ass hole was soaking wet. God i wanted that green hairy ass and that furry chode.

It became lunch time and i saw he was all by himself at a lunch table with a boner. I came over and sat by him and then he whispered to me with the sexiest sloth voice, "Suck my ass". We then rushed to the janitors closet where we saw the old fuck killed him self. We decided to keep him for a little "Spice". Then he quickly and viciously ripped open my ass hole and used his anteater ass tounge to eat out my fishy ass hole. i was trying to hold my mouth shut with my little rtard fin because my good fin was lodged in big papi sids anal cavity. all of a sudden without a word he stopped. then FLURP i felt the janitors entire body go right inside my stretched asshole. By then i knew if he pulled the janitor out, my ass would prolapse like a "snake in a can". i fingered sids ass so hard he moaned then took a fat shit right on my fishy face. sid pulled the janitor out of my ass and i prolapsed faster than a mortar being shot at a crowd of nggs. speaking of n*ggs all of the fishy shit made the janitor look like more of a nggr than the king of africa. sid asked if when we left if we wanted to play fortnite. i then chocked him to death with my prolapsed asshole because i hate fortnite. i left to go home and my prolapsed asshole was waving around like a flag on one of those planes at a state fair. i went in my house. shot my dad in the lung and went in my room. i then fucking killed my self

submitted by /u/RiqqedxAqart [link] [comments] from FanFiction: Where Magical Ponies battle Imperial Titans https://ift.tt/2lPp9Cy

[hxrryspotter]

Listen you flat faced sid the sloth looking mother fucker, pictures are one thing but random 'sightings' etc. Are bullshit. Especially surrounding Skam, people troll to create frenzy and excitement, regardless of which country Skam fans are living in. I was saying it's pretty obvious to most here, that jodel is a regurgitatates bullshit and its not to be believed, pictures only young one. So your self parodic attitude can pull up a chair and Sit the fuck down.

SID THE SLOTH LOOKING MOTHERFUCKER SFMFNDNFNFN oh anon this made my day you truly made me laugh afmgdnfngn. Anyways as i was commenting on that ask - i never said i believed every single rumor, judt that the rumors have been mainly coming from norway so lol excuse me for standing up for someone and lettin them kno that they didnt deserve your stupid anon. You're gonna get it comin to you anon you really are :)