sid pants

Words- Sidney Crosby

Originally posted by wonthetrade

Ok so I hope you guys like this one! Apparently a lot of people like dirty Sid XD So I went with that! So if you aren’t reading this one up next is: Tyler Seguin! If you are then enjoy!

Warning: Smut, sex, smexy time, cursing

Anon Request: I know you have a lot on your plate for writing so please take your time. But can I request Sidney Crosby post Stanley Cup smut ? Keep up the writing 😘


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Sidney Crosby - sassy pants

Originally posted by puckducky

Sassy beach day with Sidney Crosby please <3

“Scout, can you help daddy?” Sid asked your daughter.

Your little family was having a relaxing beach day before Sidney had to start the new season. You knew Sidney was very adamant when it came to hockey, but you knew he needed a relaxing day before his crazy hockey schedule took off.

“Buttt daddy, I just got my nail done.” She said sassy with a hand on her hip and her pink sunglasses halfway on her nose.

Sid just smiled as he pulled out the beach towels and handed them to Scout. She huffed but took the towels from him. You tucked two under each arm making her small body look big. You grabbed the beach bag, along with the pool noodles. Once everything was out of the back, you three made your way over to the beach.

“How’s this spot?” You asked.

“Prefect.” Sid said as he laid down the big blanket.

Scout dropped the towels on the ground before folding her arms. She watched Sid fix the corners of the blanket, before pulling her beach dress off and place it next to the towels.

“Can, we go in the water now?” She huffed.

“In a moment, Miss sassy pants.” Sid said with a chuckle.

Once everything was in place, you, Sid, and Scout made your way down to the water. You stopped to look at the different shells, as Sid and Scout went out in the middle. Scout was in Sid’s arms as you finally made your way out towards them. Scout smiled as she splashed water towards you.

“I see how this day’s going to go.” You giggled as you grabbed Scout from Sid’s arms and pulled her under the water with you, than up. Making Scout giggle like a madman.

“AGAIN!” She yelled happily with clapped hands.

You and Sid laughed as you went back under and back up like before, only to get another “again!” from your daughter. You kept at it for a while, until you saw that Sid hasn’t gotten his head wet. You gave an evil grin as you spoke in your daughter’s ear.

“Yes!” She giggled as you moved closer to Sid.

“NOW!” You yelled.

Scout pushed her hands in the water and pushed just enough water up so it got Sid’s hair wet.You and Scout started laughing as Sid whipped the water from his eyes.

“Now, my hair’s wet.” He sassed back like Scout did earlier. You couldn’t help but laugh harder as you looked at Sid’s face.

“Okay, Miss Sassy Pants.” You laughed at Sid. “At least I know where our daughter get’s it from.”

“I am not sassy!” Both of them yelled at the same time.


anonymous asked:

Is there a real life source for the whole "Sid has all his pants custom made" thing that is in all of the fic or is that just a generally agreed upon assumption because of his butt's size? This feels like a weird question to ask but it's been bugging me for weeks.

That’s actually real!

Here’s a reference to it:

…one of Sidney Crosby’s nicknames in the Pittsburgh Penguins locker room is “Creature”, which Duthie writes is a nod to Crosby’s “freakish lower body.”

“It is huge,” Duthie writes. “Gigantic. Hugantic. His caboose would make J-Lo jealous. His thighs are bigger than my torso. All his pants have to be custom made. | Article

There’s also this video from when he was 18 where he talks about how he has a place back in Cole Harbour where he goes if he wants a nice pair of jeans.

Model WIP

Geno is a model, Sid is a hockey player. They met by accident, fate, Geno always says, four years ago. 

December 20th, 2016

“You had to wear my jersey,” Sid says after the elevator door closes and a man in a business suit holding an overnight bag gets out on the fifth floor.

He holds his phone between his shoulder and face as he tugs at the knot of his tie with one hand and presses the close door button with the other.

Geno’s laughter sounds loud in his ear and Sid shakes his head.

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Chapter One

The girls all thought that Julian Devorak was a loonie, but also that he was really handsome. That was the exact word; not hot, dreamy or sexy: handsome. He appeared to have the strongest bad boy charm, with his leather boots and auburn hair, and –apparently- a smile so sweet you would have sold your mama to buy him smokes. Despite his glamour, tho, I never met a girl who actually had any first-hand experience of the boy: he was too much, they said, with his coat that looked like a cloak and that pirate eyepatch. The kid tried too hard. And he was a junkie, everybody knew that.

I knew for a fact that he wasn’t, because my best friend was his sister Portia and thanks to her I had a much less romanticized image of him: it’s hard to find intriguing someone when you hear him constantly being referred to as “Dummy” and “Banana boy”. Quite surprisingly, though, I had never seen him. I wasn’t a “going out” girl (we lived too far from the city center) and he was bigger than us, went to med school and wasn’t simply around the time that I was. When I met him, anyway, he managed to make the whole thing unforgettable.

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anonymous asked:

Leo + Geno/Sid Porny kinky goodness pleeeeeease

Sidgeno and leo- exhibitionism (weird to think this is the last porn i’ll write as a 24 year old :/ )

The metal’s cold under his skin, a contrast to the heat of Geno’s hands and mouth where he’s running them along Sid’s sides and pressing wet kisses down the line of his spine. Sid whimpers and arches back into his touch, necklace jangling against the smooth, graduated metal of the cup he’s resting on.

Geno’s big hands cup his ass and squeeze, rolling the taut flesh in his grip and spreading the cheeks apart to bare Sid’s hole to the early spring chill lingering in the air. His mouth latches onto his right glute, teeth tugging at the skin, determined to leave a mark. Sid tries and fails to hold in the strung out whine Geno draws out of him.

Long thumbs dip into his crease, teasing at his hole. He hears geno laughing at him as he squirms- body undecided about whether to push into the sensation or away. One digit presses flat against his sensitive skin, just dipping inside his passage, and Sid bites down hard on his lip to hold in his surprised moan.

“No Sid. not be quiet.” Geno’s thumb tugs at his rim, his words vibrating through Sid’s skin where he rests against his cheek. “Let them hear, yes?”

“They’re gonna see.” Sid whines, panting, as he points out the wide open door of the guest room they’re making use of.

“Good. wan them to see like this.” Geno nips the abused skin of Sid’s ass one last time, before planting a trail of wet, wide mouthed kisses down to his hole. “watch me take you apart.”

Sid moans, unrestrained, and his sweaty fingers slide to find purchase on the edges of the cup. Geno’s tongue licks a long, slow, stipe over his hole before he blows on the skin gently to make Sid shiver at the sudden coolness on his sensitive skin. He doesn’t waste any time before he’s lapping at Sid’s hole with little kitten licks, sucking at his smooth skin, getting Sid’s hole all wet and slick.

It’s not long before he’s wet and loose enough for one of Geno’s long long fingers to sink in to the second knuckle, fuck him in small, smooth thrusts in counterpoint to his hungry mouth. Every few strokes it manages to glance against his prostate and increase the desperate, aborted movements of Sid’s hips.

“Please, please, please.” He pants out, not sure what he’s asking Geno to do, just that he needs him to do something. It’s not enough.

“Fuck.” That’s not Geno.

Geno’s face is buried between his cheeks, tongue fucking his hole relentlessly. Sid flushes and tries to move, to see who’s at the door- who’s watching Geno take him apart like this- but the finger Geno has inside him finds his prostate again and he’s slumped helplessly against the cup once again.

He’s pretty sure Geno knows someone’s there. Thinks he can feel him smile against his hole. But he doesn’t say anything, just slips another finger inside and keeps eating Sid out. It’s slightly too tight and just not slick enough with just spit for lubrication, but the friction of the drag along Sid’s stretched rim is delicious in a way that verges on the right side of painful and makes him cry out loud in the quiet of the room.

Geno’s fingers are rubbing at his prostate relentlessly now, not so much fucking him as targeting his sweet spot with pinpoint accuracy and Sid squirms back against him with a desperate whine. The head of his hard cock drags across the engraved face of the cup, the chill still a shock against his heated skin. He just desperately wants to come, wants Geno to let him fucking come.

He can feel it all building up in his belly, low and simmering and just begging for release. In his periphery he can hear the shuffle of feet on carpet and a hushed whisper he just can’t make out and all of the over-stimulation of his hole, mixed with the thought of being watched while Geno wrecks him, manages to push him over the edge of ecstasy. Come spurts across the silver face of the Stanley cup as Sid cries out his release, Geno working him through it relentlessly.

Sid slumps bonelessly against the cup, unable to hold himself upright any longer, and whines as Geno eases his fingers out of his passage. He takes his time to press a few more soft, sweet kisses to the twitching muscle before smoothing calming palms up and down Sid’s shaking thighs.

“You do so good Sid.” Sid can only wonder what Geno must look like- breathless and red faced and lips all slick and swollen. He feels Geno turn bodily in the direction of the door, wonders if their voyeur is still there, watching how good Geno looks after him. “You think so? Think he do good?”

A throat clears from the doorway,

“Yeah. yeah- he did so good.” A familiar voice chokes out, loud and hoarse in the quiet of the guest room, like they couldn’t quite get their voice out “You were… really pretty Sid.”

“Thanks, Jake.” Sid blushes heavily, not even trying to look up from his slump anymore.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to look the kid in the eye ever again.

Let alone play on a line with him next year.

anonymous asked:

Angst Gremin for shy Sid frat AU. Sidney has made a bunch of new friends at school and his confidence is really up and he's kind of getting into his own. He goes out to drinks one night with a bunch of kids from his study group, including this guy who has been aggressively hitting on him no matter how many times sid tells him he has a bf). Sid has his first drink and everything is fine until his second where he starts to feel sick and very drunk and not right. He tries to call G (1/?)

but gets no answer. Then up comes creepy guy (let’s call him Dan) and he’s offering Sid a ride home, while simultaneously groping Sid, Sid takes the offer because he just needs to be home. Dan gets Sid in the car and starts driving towards campus, when they get closer to Sids address Dan pulls over and turns to Sidney, “look I think you owe me something for driving you home tonight and taking care of your drunk ass.” (2/?)

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anonymous asked:

I want more cold Sid buried in Geno's coat but I'm also a huge fan of Geno being a giant baby about the cold and refusing to get out of bed until Sid finds the pants he unceremoniously flung at the wall the night before (and maybe also casts a warming spell on his socks because he trusts Sid not to accidentally set him on fire)

“Geno, help me find my clothes,” Sidney’s voice says, sounding like honey. Geno wonders if that’s where all the Veela-ness went to. That, and possibly his spectacular ass. “I can’t leave the castle naked–”

Geno rises finally, groaning as he did so. “I think I like you naked–wait.” He rubs his eyes. Sidney is fully clothed. “You lie to me. Sidney, why?” 

“Of course I did,” Sidney says, tossing Geno’s pants at his head. “I have Potions at 9:30. And you have Charms at that time as well. You have ten minutes.”

fuubah  asked:

Does Sid just think its ok to go pants-less because he aint got no junk, ITS NOT OK SID. PUT SOME PANTS ON. PUT SOME SKINNIES ON, PUT SOME SHORTS ON, I DONT CARE, LEAVE SOMETHING TO THE IMAGINATION COME ON. Also what is Sid's favourite piece of clothing, since its clearly not pants!

Jamie: Wow how about you fuck off, and let Sid wear (or yanno not wear) whatever the hell he wants?

Embrace the Cuff

I’ll admit it—up until I moved to New England for University, I had never really worn cuffs on my trousers. Even the lone pair of forward pleated trousers in my closet had plain bottoms (to facilitate easy alterations and accommodate my changing height during my teenage years).  I had always liked the idea of cuffs but was never brave enough to sport them on my flat front trousers. Yet, seeing photographs of Ivy League college students in the 1950s and ‘60s sporting cuffs on their slim, flat-front khakis and grey flannels was a reassuring sight.  I recall GQ “endorsing” cuffs on trousers back when I was in middle school, and from then on, every editorial featured a model in tight-fitting, low-rise pants finished with a deep cuff that ended above the ankle. Additionally, during my visit, I noticed that the guys at Sid Mashburn are large proponents of cuffing their plain front trousers, with nearly every employee who wasn’t wearing jeans sporting the look. Although traditionally a sartorial “no-no”, anchoring down non-pleated trousers with a substantial cuff gives the pant a clean line in addition to attracting attention to the wearer’s footwear.

I can recall one instance that further solidified my appreciation of a good trouser cuff. When I walked into J. Press on Madison Avenue (when it still existed, RIP) around the age of seventeen and saw the tortoise-bespectacled salesman clad in a tweed jacket and cuffed, high-rise khakis, I knew that was the look I wanted. It was traditional, yet stylish. Moreover, I always stress timelessness in one’s manner of dress, so the key is to wear your cuffed trousers like you would any other plain bottom pair. As far as cuff size goes, I’m a firm believer in the “go big or go home” school of thought. Cuffs should be at the very least 1 3/8” inches deep. Why even bother with any less? In my opinion, the sweet spot is right at 1.5” or 1 ¾”. Some guys go for more at 2”, but it’s simply a matter of personal preference. Disregard what people say about shorter guys needing smaller cuffs and vice versa with tall gents.

 For a bit of historical background: the trouser cuff, or turn-up as the Brits say, has its origins at the tail end of the 19th century, with Edward VII of England boldly having his tailor create a sartorial invention to prevent the bottoms of his trousers from getting muddied in foul weather. English gentlemen concerned with soiling the floors of their grandiose country estates after trudging through mire along with city-dwellers alike rapidly adopted the style. By the early 20th century, almost no trouser bottom went by un-cuffed. At traditional institutions like Brooks Brothers, J. Press, The Andover Shop, and Paul Stuart, the cuffed, no-break flat front trouser has been a standard since the 1950s—the latter two, however, being more progressive and English-inspired, tended to embrace the British trait of the forward pleat with their cuffed trousers. For most of the 20th century, Brooks Brothers’ best-seller, the rather shapeless No. 1 sack suit, was standardly equipped with flat front trousers and a generous cuff.

 Whereas in previous decades, flat front, cuffed trousers transcended geographic location, these days there seems to be a regional divide. In my time spent between New England and the region south of the Mason-Dixon line, I’ve noticed that the South restricts cuffs on trousers solely to those with pleats. Upon my arrival back down South from my first semester of college, I chatted with my sartorially adroit former guidance counselor. A UVA man and a Brooks Brothers devotee from birth, he had finally retired the habit of wearing reverse-pleated trousers (rather thankfully). When I suggested that he try putting cuffs on his flat front trousers, he replied, “I’ve already stopped wearing pleats, and I draw the line at restricting cuffs to pleated trousers.” Much to my chagrin, I observed that this was the opinion of most men in the South. However, in the Northeast (specifically New England) cuffs are embraced on trousers of all varieties. Furthermore, it should be noted that pants with a higher rise (i.e. sitting at the natural waist) look best with cuffs. They provide that leg-lengthening look that flatters the more vertically challenged or average height folks like yours truly.

 When contemplating fabric choices, a cuff weighs thicker cloths like tweed, corduroy, or flannel down beautifully, but they’re just as at home on seersucker, khaki, tropical wool, linen, madras, and a wide variety of others.

 Do yourself a favor and get your tailor to put some cuffs on your pants with no trouser break. Whatever you do, don’t roll them up.

(images via leffot, Sid Mashburn, Social Primer, and oxfordclothbuttondown)

anonymous asked:

Geno insists that they go as like and 80's couple Dany/Sandy style. He just wants to see Sid in tight pants and the letterman jacket he's supposed to wearing

geno would die for that ass 

steorran  asked:

Magic Mike!! I don't care what ship but I require glitter trash makeouts in my life

As a general rule, Sid hates clubs. They’re loud, and all the surfaces are sticky, and all the women are scary. And grabby.

Colby won’t take no for an answer though, says, ‘But it’s my birthday,’ in a borderline whiny tone.

Sid rolls his eyes, pulls a shirt over his head and says, ‘Okay, fine,’ if only to stop Colby from bugging him. He’d figured it would be a standard team night out, he’d have a couple of beers and bow out early to chirps from the French-Canadian club lurking in the corner with shots and smirks.

Apparently, this is not a standard team night out, unless things have changed drastically since the last time he allowed himself to be dragged to downtown Pittsburgh.

There’s a low, circular stage in the middle of the club, and Sid eyes it suspiciously as they all crowd into a couple of booths, and Biz clatters off in the direction of the bar.

Sid unwinds a little halfway through his first beer, has a proper look around the club. The music is familiar, at least, the same banging stuff that seems to play at every club, and that makes it’s way into the Pens locker room with alarming regularity. Until… suddenly, it’s not. The music changes mid song into something a lot more… innappropriate. Cheers start up from a group of women, and… is that a smoke machine?

Sid turns round to squint at Colby. ‘What kind of club is this?’ he asks.

Flower cackles, loud and obnoxious, but fails to enlighten Sid in any way, shape or form. Sid has a sinking feeling in his gut that he knows exactly what kind of club this is.

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anonymous asked:

i don't understand how sid's pants are capable of falling down? I'm 100 and twelve percent sure that ass could hold up the world's biggest pants

some mysteries are unsolvable