#mitch marner x reader

[silly-mox]

This small blurb got me THINKING bro, like imagine frat boy Mitch being absolutely obsessed with you? And showing you off every waking moment when he can, or saying the most outlandish shit just to get your attention, you taking care of him after he goes on a bender at a party, him actually being a bit of a sweetie with you given his personality.

[whoresforhealy]

hockey 　 & 　 f1 　 p ! links 　 — 　 18 + 　 content

!! 　 THESE ARE LITERAL PORN LINKS, MDNI 　 !!

includes: 　charles leclerc 　 carlos sainz 　 　 　 max verstappen 　 oscar piastri 　 lando norris 　 　 quinn hughes 　 luke hughes 　 jack hughes 　 　 mitch marner 　 franco colapinto 　 .

all 　 links 　 direct 　 you 　 to 　 twt 　 / 　 x 　 　 　 you 　 must 　 be 　 logged 　 in 　 to 　 access

tw 　 some 　 captions 　 of 　 the 　 tweets 　 pertain 　 to 　 topics 　 i 　 don’t 　 write 　 please 　 ignore 　 them 　 !!

most 　 of 　 these 　 do 　 not 　 look 　 like 　 the 　 drivers 　 / 　 players! 　 they 　 are 　 concepts, 　 feel 　 free 　 to 　 send 　 in 　 links 　 for 　 me 　 to 　 add 　 !

last updated : 16th of march 2025

charles leclerc

sub!charles being rewarded after his win — sauber era

munch!charles just wanting his mouth on you

charles just needs to fuck you, please help him?

depriving charles of being inside you

oscar piastri

sub!oscar being jerked off

oscar calls you mama in bed and apologises for cummin’ — not a video but a tweet

rival!oscar being dumbed down when rival!reader sits in his lap and they eventually end up here

69 with sub!munch!oscar who just can’t get enough

making oscar eat you out before he goes on one of his long runs

oscar needs to play with your tits atleast once a week

carlos sainz

tying up sub!carlos and overstimulating him

carlos dry humping you when you’ve been a brat

carlos grunting and breathing heavily when he’s inside

franco colapinto

making him wait after a celly

franco loves when you take pictures of him

franco loves your tits, and he loves when you jerk him

franco gently eating out his girl because he just loves her so much and the only way he can stop yapping is by pacifying himself like this

max verstappen

bratty!max to sub!max hate handjob

ruining max’s orgasam

max creampie-ing you in the car

lando norris

jerking off sub!lando

the video lando sends you after his win because he misses you so damn bad :(

lando eating his girl after he gets home from aus

munch!lando once again, eating his girl as a reward

that one stream of lando in the white shirt? yeah, he’s a subby bratty mess straight after, help him, will you?

dom!lando pounding his girl after she spent so much on donos just on his stream, he has to thank her, no?

jack hughes

jack making you shake after he’s been away on a roadie

yapper jack letting his girl use his cock when he’s tired after a game

[lightsoutmatthews]

Fairytale gone bad – Mitch Marner

Part of the Game 7 Diaries Collection (masterslist)

summary: you and Mitch deal with the fallout after Game 7 against the Panthers

pairing: Mitch Marner x female!reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: this is written with the thought that Mitch already made up his mind about leaving Toronto, if you don´t want to imagine that this story might not be for you.

----------------------------

So, this might be it. The last walk down the cold, echoing halls of Scotiabank Arena. The last time you sat in that familiar family room. The last glance at those locker room doors. The last drive out of the player parking lot which your car called home for the last decade.

Mitch sat silently beside you, passenger for once. He never sat there. He always drove. Not today.

The game wasn’t just brutal, it was crushing. Not just on his body, emotionally it drained him as well.

He. You. Knew what all of this could mean. And neither of you were ready.

He never spoke about the contract. Always shut it down with, “I don’t want to get into it during the season.” Not even with you.

You told yourself you understood. Lied to yourself. Swallowed it down like broken glass.

Nothing could prepare you for leaving the only city you´d ever known. Where you found him. Loved him. Married him. The idea was hard to even picture.

You would follow him anywhere. Of course, you would. That’s what you promised him by taking the vows almost two years ago. “Till death us apart” the words felt heavier than they used to.

Steering the car through the now quiet streets of the city, taking it all in, until you reached your home. The stunning house you acquired a few years ago. It used to feel perfect. Now it felt like something you could lose while you couldn’t imagine leaving it behind.

There was a conversation coming. You both knew it. Figure out where he stood. What the team wanted. What came next.

Looking over to the passenger seat, your usually vibrant, talkative boyfriend was sitting with his head hung low, phone in one hand, the other mindlessly scrolling on the screen. You hoped he wasn’t checking social medias reaction to the game. You knew it was bad.

Arriving at the house you stayed parked in the driveway, the silence feeling heavier now that you stopped moving and you could focus on driving rather than about your thoughts and feelings. Your fists clenched in your lap, dying to reach over and pull him in. But his posture was like a wall. Chin to his chest, eyes locked on nothing, his world collapsing in on itself.

“Do you need a minute alone?” you whispered, voice foreign in your own throat from not speaking for a while. He closed his eyes and exhaled like it hurt. “Please.” You didn’t reply, just crapped your bag from the backseat and got out. Leaving him to his thoughts.

Inside the quiet felt heavy. Leaving him out there didn’t feel right but you understood that he needed a moment to gather his thoughts or calm down. The silence wasn’t peaceful. It felt like punishment. You were supposed to celebrate, now all that was left was this quiet.

He was supposed to be a Leaf forever. His name up in the rafters one day, next to Auston´s, maybe Williams. But now? He had to decide if it was still woth it or if a fresh start was better.

Somewhere with less pressure, less expectations.

------------

He came inside nearly an hour later, quieter than a ghost. You had changed into a sweat set, let Zeus outside, watching him bounce through the year like the world wasn’t ending, giving him a treat before he went to lay down. Then, you poured yourself a glass of wine like it could drown the dread in your stomach.

You had thought about vodka. Just a shot. Just to feel something sharp in the haze of numbness. But the memory of the last time you drank that stopped you.

You weren’t sure if Mitch was in the mood to drink but you got some beer from the drinks fridge anyways.

His eyes were rimmed red. Not from exhaustion. Your heart sank. The only time you remembered seeing him cry since getting together was your wedding day when you walked down the aisle. Then, it had been out of joy. Now it was out of sadness. Out of frustration and uncertainty like it was written all over his face.

His hair was messy, like he had run his hands through many times, his game day suit was rumpled, adding to his disheveled looking form. He looked small, like nothing of the confident man he was when he left for the game a few hours earlier was left in him. This wasn’t your Mitch.

Zeus got up from his place and greeted his dad with a waggling tail. Mitch kneeled down, wrapping his arms around the dogs neck, burying his face in the brown fur. The picture shattered you even more.

Zeus didn’t know in what ways he was giving Mitch comfort right now, but you did, and it took everything in you to not walk over there and wrap both of your boys in your arms.

“I´ll go change,” he croaked. You just nodding. If you verbally replied to him, you probably would have broken.

----------------------

When thirty minutes passed and he still hadn’t returned, worry crawled up your spine.

It wasn’t unusual for him to take time for himself after games, especially after very bad ones, but this was much even for him.

A beam of light sipped through the creak of the bedroom door, but it was empty when you opened the door. Mitch´s suit abandoned on the bed, phone next to it. The beanie he was wearing to the game, seemingly thrown across the room, laying abandoned next to your makeup table. But he wasn’t in here nor was he in the en-suite.

Walking along the hallway you noticed the lights on in the office. Your brows furrowed. What did he want in there at this time?

------------

The picture that unfolded when you entered made your heart break all over again.

Mitch was staring up at the shelf that held all of his achievements he got playing for the Leafs. Various pucks ranking from his first NHL goal to the 100-point season puck he got just a few weeks ago.

Different jerseys displayed on the wall. St. Pats, Stadium Series, Heritage Classic, the jersey from his first NHL game. Everything he worked for. His entire career spread out in front of him.

You were there for all of it. In a way they were your memories too. But even that couldn’t come close to the ache that was eating away in him looking at that.

“Hey,” you mumbled softly, barely audible to not scare him.

“Hey,” he echoed, still staring straight at the wall.

“What are you doing?” you questioned, slowly taking two steps into the room.

“I don’t know, remembering, I guess?” he said, uncertainty clear in his voice.

You didn’t even remember when he looked at the wall for more than a few minutes at the time. Usually, only when a new addition came about and he tried to find a new place for it.

His breath hitched, shoulders sacked. Like he had been carrying too much for too long.

The silence between you was thick. Unbearable even, like neither if you could carry it. At the same time, it was unbearable to just watch him; remise about the time he spent with the team. His entire professional career.

“This is really it.” The finality of the statement made you shiver. He never said it out loud before. You had hoped he never would. You didn’t want it to be. He probably didn’t want it either but here you were.

“It doesn’t have to be,” you offered.

He turned at that, finally looking at you. His eyes were glassy, tired. The exhaustion from the game and from everything that happened after catching up with him.

He sighed. Loud. Tired. Final.

“You know it has to.”

The word knocked the air out of your lungs. You didn’t respond. Nothing you could say would make this any better. No matter how much he loved playing for the team, his childhood team, the team that drafted him 10 years ago, but after this season, after all that the media threw at him, all the way to the crazy fans that went all the way to managing to figure out your address you didn’t blame him. Of course he wanted out. People crossed lines that couldn’t be uncrossed.

“Mitch…” your stated, unsure what came next. “I can´t do it anymore,” he confessed. “Seeing my jersey thrown on the ice by the fans, the booing every time I touched the puck and the videos of them burning my jersey. I just…can´t.”

You felt sick. He had told you it hurt. Seeing fans turn on him. Despite the stats, the effort. But none of that mattered.

“You know I love the guys, and Chief and all the staff and I know Brad and my team are trying to come to the same point but I´m not sure if that’s what I want anymore.”

He ran his hand over his face. “Maybe I am the odd one out in the concept of the core four. Auston is signed for three more years, Willy is locked up for the rest of his career probably. John is re-sign from what he told us over the past weeks especially. Knies is the future. I guess I just don’t fit anymore.”

“Mitch, no,” you whispered out, but it was too late. He was already spiraling.

He said all this before. That he felt like he didn’t belong anymore. Probably, that the team would be better off without him too. You didn’t want to think that way. You thought Mitch was essential to this team and no one could replace him. Him, or the chemistry he had with their superstar center. Or the vibes he brought to the locker room.

“Where is all of this coming from?” you questioned, tears picking at the corner of your eyes at how deep all of this was getting to you.

You hated to see him as upset as he was right now. Teared apart over the future. Sad over the past and what came to its potential end today.

He turned, now fully facing you. “It´s been building over the course of the season.” His voice was barely visible. “Sometimes I looked at the guys huddled together at practice, or laughing together during breakfast or lunch, when they didn’t pay attention to me being there and I felt like they would be okay without me here. That I did my dues for the team and my role was ready to be passed down to someone else.”

His mentorship for Easton Cowan plopped into your head immediately. You probably watched him play more this year than any other Leafs prospect probably ever. The young London Knights player someone Mitch really wanted to help to become great.

You wondered if he was on his mind when he said that. Maybe Matthew Knies who had formed an incredible connection not only with your husband but also with Auston over the past season especially.

You opened your mouth, closed it again a few seconds later when the words got stuck in your throat.

“Everything about today just felt like goodbye.”

You remembered the moment outside the locker room a few hours prior. You didn’t think much about him looking back at the door with the massive Leafs logo on it. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence.

At the time you figured he was just checking if someone was following him out but now, standing here with him, still looking at the cabinet, now you realized he was looking at it because he thought this would be the last time he left the locker room after a game in a Leafs jersey.

He thought the next time he would play here it would be in a different one.

“I know,” you said, finally crossing the space between you. Wrapping yourself around him like armor trying to protect him.

“You don’t have to figure it out tonight. Free agency is still weeks away. And after tomorrow, we forgot about hockey. We take a few days to breathe and then we talk.”

He placed a kiss to your temple. He didn’t say anything but he didn’t need to.

“Whatever you decide, I will be with you every step of the way, okay?” you mumbled and kissed his side.

“Thank you for being there,” he replied. And he meant that.

--------------

Watching his exit interview the next day, seeing him talk about how much he loved his time in Toronto, about how much he loved playing with Auston, being coached by Berube and playing for his childhood team, the finality from last night settled heavy in your chest.

He spoke with love, with reverence but with the quiet agony of someone who already knew he wasn’t coming back.

Last night you already got the sense that no matter what you said, he had already made up his mind and this just made it more final for you.

Game 7 used to be a sad end, but the days after quickly felt with hope, with motivation to do better next year. To return to the team with the people he knew, buzzing with excitement for new players who came here to help the team succeed.

This year it meant the end of an era. For the Leafs. For him. For you.

Next year would be completely different and coming to terms with that would take you longer than you were ready to admit right now.

[dearstvckyx]

── Reaction to you sleeping in the floor (Short Fic ? ) / F1 , Soccer , NHl

IB :: maevebarnes on TikTok

F1

⋆°•☁︎ CHARLES LECLERC ☁︎•°⋆

Charles walked in expecting to find you in bed, but stopped short when he saw you asleep on the floor—curled up in his hoodie, half-covered by a throw blanket, with the laptop still playing your movie on mute. He blinked, confused, then let out a quiet laugh. “You have an actual bed, you know,” he whispered, crouching beside you. With a soft sigh, he brushed your hair back and scooped you into his arms, careful not to wake you fully. “Only you would fall asleep like this,” he murmured, kissing your forehead before carrying you to bed. Once you were tucked in, he slid in beside you with a grin. “No more sleeping on the floor, mon amour. I forbid it.”

⋆°•☁︎ FRANCO COLAPINTO ☁︎•°⋆

Franco froze in the doorway, panic spiking in his chest when he saw you asleep on the floor. “¿Estás bien?” he whispered, rushing over. It wasn’t until he noticed your steady breathing and the blanket around your legs that he let out a shaky breath. “Dios… you scared me.” He sat beside you, slipping his hand into yours as his worry slowly faded. You always picked the strangest places to nap, but this one had shaken him. He leaned in, kissed your temple gently, and murmured, “Don’t ever do that again, okay?” even if you couldn’t hear it.

⋆°•☁︎ GEORGE RUSSEL ☁︎•°⋆

George stopped in the doorway, brows furrowing when he saw you curled up on the floor with a blanket and no explanation in sight. “Really?” he sighed, stepping closer. He knelt down beside you, gently brushing a bit of hair from your face. “You’ve got a perfectly good bed right there, love.” You didn’t respond—just let out a soft breath, completely out cold. George shook his head with a fond smile, dropped a pillow next to you, and draped one of his hoodies over your back. “Alright then,” he murmured, sitting beside you. “But only because you look cute doing it.”

⋆°•☁︎ KIMI ANTONELLI ☁︎•°⋆

Kimi stepped into the room and froze, eyes wide for a moment when he saw you curled up on the floor like a little kid, wrapped in a blanket and clutching one of his hoodies. His heart squeezed softly—he wasn’t used to feeling this protective, but seeing you so peaceful and small made something inside him melt. He crouched down quietly, brushing a gentle hand over your hair like he was afraid to wake you. “You shouldn’t sleep here,” he whispered softly, voice almost tender. But instead of moving you, he just settled down beside you, wrapping an arm around you like he wanted to keep you safe forever. “I’ll stay with you,” he murmured, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

⋆°•☁︎ LANDO NORRIS ☁︎•°⋆

Lando burst into the room and stopped, eyes going wide as he spotted you sprawled out on the floor like you’d just given up on life. “Oi, what’s this? You starting a new floor-napping trend without me?” he joked, trying not to laugh. He crouched down and shook his head with a grin. “Mate, the bed’s right there—you sure you’re not trying to annoy me?” He plopped down next to you, grabbed a pillow, and tossed it under your head with a theatrical flourish. “Alright, floor queen, you win this round,” he said, grinning as he pulled a blanket over you. “But tomorrow, we nap together—on the bed, yeah?”

⋆°•☁︎ MAX VERSTAPPEN ☁︎•°⋆

Max opened the door and saw you fast asleep on the floor, your breathing slow and steady. He just sighed softly, not wanting to disturb you, and without a word, he grabbed a soft blanket and gently covered you, careful not to wrinkle it. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the evening outside. He then reached for the stuffed animal Charles had given you after your surgery a few years ago and placed it tenderly beside your head, like a small guardian watching over you. Leaning down, he pressed a quiet kiss to your hair and whispered, “Welterusten, schatje,” before slipping out silently. Minutes later, sounds of your gentle soft snores were met with the audio from Max playing his sims.

⋆°•☁︎ OLLIE BEARMAN ☁︎•°⋆

Ollie was spending the night for the first time, and as he took a shower, you realized your bed might be a little too small for both of you. So while he was in the bathroom, you grabbed extra soft blankets and pillows, building a little nest on the floor—a cozy fort just for him. You wanted him to be comfortable, even if it meant sacrificing your usual space. When Ollie stepped out, ready to ask you a question, his eyes immediately caught the makeshift nest you’d made. Then he noticed you already curled up, asleep on the bed, and the softness you’d arranged on the floor. Smiling, he crawled down beside you, surprised by how gentle and thoughtful your setup was. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he murmured, “Thank you, beautiful,” before settling in close, feeling grateful and at home.

⋆°•☁︎ OSCAR PIASTRI ☁︎•°⋆

Oscar walked in after a long day, expecting to find you tucked into bed—but instead, he found you sprawled out on a blow-up mattress on the floor, looking far too comfy given the circumstances. The bed frame had finally given out after the last time you’d seen each other, and he couldn’t help but shake his head, laughing quietly. “Five months apart will do that, huh?” Without missing a beat, he pulled out his phone and started ordering a tougher metal frame and a reinforced bed box. “This one’s getting an upgrade,” he said with a grin, kneeling down to kiss your forehead. “No more broken beds for us.”

⋆°•☁︎ ARTHUR LECLERC ☁︎•°⋆

Arthur quietly stepped down into one of the boat’s bedrooms, the gentle rocking of the waves lulling everything into a calm rhythm. He spotted you asleep on the floor by the big windows looking out into the deep blue, colorful fish and crabs drifting lazily past, some even swimming close to the glass as if curious about the girl watching them. The camera you’d been recording with—the one he’d bought you—rested softly in your hands. Smiling softly, Arthur whispered, “Sorry, guys, she fell asleep,” as he gently turned off the recording. Then, careful not to wake you, he draped a thin blanket over you, knowing it was warm but wanting you covered. Quietly, he carried on the vlog with a gentle wave to the camera, promising the rest would be muted. Before settling down beside you, he even brought Leo down to curl up next to you both, making sure you weren’t alone in the peaceful silence. “Ciao,” he whispered to the camera whilst shutting the audio of but the camera streaming, he ends up wrapping an arm around you both.

SOCCER

⋆°•☁︎ CHRISTIAN PULISIC ☁︎•°⋆

Christian stepped inside, still buzzing from a long day shooting the ad, but the moment he saw you curled up on the living room floor—blanket loosely draped around you, your head resting on a soft pillow and a … game controller in your hand? —his tiredness melted away. He took a glance at the remote and to the tv that’s paused on fifa, the one game his girl never wins at, he smiled softly, shaking his head with gentle disbelief. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath. Without a word, he knelt down and carefully pulled a warmer blanket over you before sitting beside you, brushing a stray hair from your face. His fingers gently traced your cheek as he whispered, “I’m home now. Sleep tight, love.” Then, quietly, he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead before resting his head beside yours, not wanting to disturb your peaceful sleep.

⋆°•☁︎ GAVI ☁︎•°⋆

Gavi’s mom had told him you were asleep on the floor, and though he thought she was exaggerating, he went upstairs to check anyway. When he pushed open the door, there you were—curled up quietly, surrounded by the small things she’d brought you as a promise to pay her back later. You looked peaceful, the soft glow from the window casting a gentle light over you. Grinning, Gavi quietly pulled out his phone and snapped a picture before sitting cross-legged beside you, careful not to wake you. He settled in, watching over you like a quiet guardian, feeling strangely at home in the stillness of that moment.

⋆°•☁︎ PEDRI ☁︎•°⋆

Pedri opened the door and immediately stopped, eyebrows drawing together as he saw you asleep on the floor. “¿En serio?” he mumbled under his breath, rubbing a hand down his face. “Why are you like this… the bed exists, mi amor.” He crouched down, muttering something about back problems and how floors weren’t made for humans while gently slipping his arms under you. You stirred just a little, but he shushed you softly. “No, no, don’t wake up just because you’re stubborn,” he whispered with a fond sigh, lifting you up like it wasn’t the first time he’d had to do this. He carried you to the bed, laid you down gently, and pulled the blanket over you before muttering one last time, “Ridícula… but you’re my ridícula.”

NHL

⋆°•☁︎ COLE CAUFIELD ☁︎•°⋆

Cole walked in, humming some random tune, only to freeze mid-step when he spotted you asleep on the floor, face smooshed into a pillow and a blanket tangled around your legs. He blinked. “Bro… what is this?” he whispered to absolutely no one. He crouched down dramatically, inspecting the scene like a detective. “Are you okay? Did the bed betray you? Blink twice if it’s holding hostages,” he joked under his breath. Then, grinning, he gently placed one of his oversized hoodies over you like a blanket and whispered, “Alright, floor goblin, sleep tight.” Before walking off, he snapped a pic for future roasting purposes—and possibly to make it your contact photo.

⋆°•☁︎ JACK HUGHES ☁︎•°⋆

Jack opened the bedroom door, expecting something normal—and immediately let out the most dramatic sigh when he saw you curled up on the floor like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, one hand on his hip like a fed-up sitcom dad. He walked over, crouched down beside you, and shook his head with a crooked grin. “Why? Just… why the floor? We own furniture.” Still, he draped a hoodie over you, mumbled, “Unbelievable,” and gave your cheek the lightest tap with his knuckle. As he walked away, he called over his shoulder, “I’m not carrying you—but if you wake up with a sore back, I will say ‘I told you so.’”

⋆°•☁︎ LUKE HUGHES ☁︎•°⋆

Luke walked into the room, saw you asleep on the floor in a cozy little blanket pile, and his face lit up like a kid on Christmas. “No way,” he whispered, grinning as he dropped his bag and flopped down next to you without hesitation. “You’re a floor person too? This is destiny.” He grabbed one of your extra pillows, tucked it under his head, and shuffled close enough that your knees touched. “Honestly, beds are overrated anyway,” he mumbled happily, already halfway to sleep himself. Before closing his eyes, he reached over, poked your arm, and whispered, “Floor buddies for life.”

⋆°•☁︎ MATT REMPE ☁︎•°⋆

Matt had knocked out early, curled up beside you on the floor after insisting he didn’t mind the nest of blankets you’d made. You were tucked into his chest, one of his arms lazily draped over your waist, and despite his size nearly swallowing the setup whole, he looked completely at peace. Soft snores, messy hair, and a hint of a smile—it was the kind of quiet comfort that didn’t need words. Later that night, Alley peeked into the room and stopped dead in her tracks at the sight. Her face split into a grin as she silently pulled out her phone, snapping a picture of the two of you tangled up like a rom-com ending. Without a word, she sent it straight to your phone with a single message: this is disgustingly cute.

⋆°•☁︎ MITCH MARNER ☁︎•°⋆

Mitch quietly unlocked the door, Zeus trotting in beside him, leash in one hand and a Timbit bag in the other. He spotted you asleep on the floor immediately—blanket half over you, one arm curled under your head—and before he could even react, Zeus was already beelining toward you with his tail wagging like mad. “No, no, no—Zeus!” Mitch whispered harshly, dropping to his knees to grab the dog’s harness just as he tried to pounce. Zeus let out a soft boof, clearly offended, and Mitch gave him a look. “She’s sleeping, bud. We don’t wake her up unless it’s for emergencies or snacks.” Still holding him back, Mitch smiled softly at you, then leaned over to place the Timbit bag near your pillow and whispered, “We’re back, babe. Sorry your son tried to tackle you.”

⋆°•☁︎ NICO HISCHIER ☁︎•°⋆

It was a warm afternoon in Switzerland, the kind where the sun made everything feel slow and quiet. Luca was heading back to the house when he spotted something on the lawn—someone, actually. He squinted, then let out a quiet laugh when he realized it was you, fast asleep on a picnic blanket, shoes kicked off, a book resting open on your chest. He ducked into the house and called out, “Nico? Your girlfriend’s napping in the grass like a fairy tale character.” Nico blinked, then followed him outside—and when he saw you, a soft smile instantly pulled at his lips. “Of course she is,” he said under his breath. He knelt beside you, gently brushed your hair back, and whispered, “You couldn’t have picked a better spot.” Then, quietly, he laid down next to you, letting the sunlight and the moment wrap around the both of you.

⋆°•☁︎ QUINN HUGHES ☁︎•°⋆

Quinn walked into the bedroom and froze when he saw you lying on the floor, tangled in blankets with a sleepy, confused expression. His eyes widened, and panic hit him instantly. “Pretty, did you fall off the bed? Are you okay?” he asked, voice thick with worry as he crouched down beside you. He gently brushed your hair from your face, scanning you for any signs of injury. “You need to be more careful,” he murmured, his tone soft but firm. Then, wrapping an arm around you, he helped you sit up slowly. “Next time, I’m setting up a mattress on the floor just to be safe.”

[incloudcity]

a litte longer | mm16

requests are open summary: stuck in a marriage trying to satisfy his father's will, lines become blurred and walls carefully built begin to crumble

You thought it would be easy. A few months. That’s all you had to give. A few months of pretending to be Mitch’s wife to help him fulfill some bizarre condition in his father’s will and then a gentle divorce. He wasn’t the first famous face you’d been close to, and you weren’t a stranger to the pressures of living your life in the public eye. This was nothing you couldn’t handle.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

The PR side of things was straightforward — posed smiles, interviews about your “marriage,” and photos with your arms wrapped around him, perfectly staged for cameras and social media. You’d both agreed to keep it professional. The deal was clear: no emotions. No complications. It was a business arrangement, nothing more.

But Mitch wasn’t easy to ignore. Not like you thought he would be.

Weeks had passed, and every time you saw Mitch, it got harder to pretend.

You didn’t expect him to be kind. You didn’t expect him to be so damn genuine, like the smiles and the laughter weren’t for the cameras. But Mitch didn’t just play the part when the public eye was on him. He made sure you were comfortable, checked in when you hadn’t answered his texts, noticed the small things about you that others didn’t.

You caught him one night, walking through the apartment in the middle of a thunderstorm, trying to find the candles you’d left in the kitchen for a bit of light. He didn’t even ask, just pulled out the matches from his coat pocket, lit them, and set them down around the room. Then, he glanced at you, his eyes full of something unreadable.

"Couldn’t sleep," he said casually, but you saw how tired he looked — how the weight of all of this was finally starting to show in the small things. The way he fidgeted with his hands when he thought you weren’t looking, or how his smile didn’t reach his eyes as easily anymore.

You never meant to let it get to you.

In fact, you spent most of the time convincing yourself that his kindness wasn’t a sign of anything more. He was Mitch Marner — hockey star, national hero. He didn’t need anything from you except a face to put on for the media. But somehow, every quiet moment between you two made you wonder if this had started to mean something else to him, even if you couldn’t admit it to yourself.

You’d started to notice the way his eyes lingered on you just a moment longer than necessary. The way he would find excuses to touch your hand when you were standing close. The late-night conversations, where the boundaries felt like they were fading. But none of it was real. Not really.

You kept reminding yourself of that. But the line between what was real and what was fake was blurring more and more every day.

It was the charity event that changed everything.

You were both supposed to attend, both on the guest list, smiling for cameras, showing off the “perfect couple” image for the media. But what wasn’t planned was the way Mitch looked at you that night, the way his expression faltered when someone in the crowd asked you both if you were planning to have kids.

Mitch had frozen, his usual calm demeanor slipping just for a moment. And you, well, you’d tried to laugh it off, making a joke about how you were just getting used to the idea of living together. The crowd had laughed, and everything was fine.

Until you saw Mitch, standing slightly behind you, staring into the distance, his jaw clenched. You knew that look — the one he always wore when something bothered him but he didn’t know how to talk about it. But this wasn’t just about some question from the media. It was deeper than that.

It was in the way he stood there, looking at you like he was asking himself if any of it was real.

Later that night, when you returned to your shared apartment, Mitch seemed distracted. You’d both agreed to keep the act going in private, but something had shifted between you two. His body language was different — stiffer, more guarded. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was holding something back.

“Mitch, is something wrong?” you asked, sitting down on the couch.

He hesitated. His back was to you, but you could feel the tension radiating from him. “I’m just… tired,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

“Okay,” you said, though you didn’t believe him. “Well, we can talk tomorrow if you need to.”

He didn’t reply. But you noticed how he didn’t even look at you as he walked into the bedroom. There were no jokes, no soft smiles. Just silence.

The next few days were unbearable.

Every time you saw Mitch, it felt like he was pulling away, like the bond you’d started to build — even if it was based on lies — was slowly fraying. You saw how his eyes became distant, like he was thinking about something far away. Maybe his dad’s will. Maybe his career. Or maybe just the fact that you were both stuck in this charade that was starting to feel a little too real.

You never brought it up, though. You were too afraid to ask. Maybe it was just the stress. Maybe you were imagining things. But you couldn’t deny the sinking feeling in your stomach every time he looked at you like you weren’t really there.

It all came to a head one night when Mitch came home late after practice. The apartment was quiet, save for the sound of rain tapping gently against the windows. You were sitting on the couch, reading, trying to focus on the words on the page, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. That Mitch had something he needed to say.

When he walked into the room, he didn’t even take his shoes off. Just stood there, looking at you like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

“Mitch?” you asked, your voice small.

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of frustration and something else — something you didn’t want to admit. “I can’t keep pretending like this,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper.

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know how to do this anymore,” he said. “How to pretend… how to just be like this.”

You stood up, taking a step toward him, but he backed away, running his hands through his hair. “I don’t want to be fake anymore. I don’t want to just play a part. I don’t know what this is… but I can’t just keep going on like it’s nothing.”

Your breath caught in your throat. This was everything you’d been avoiding. The moment where everything that was supposed to stay fake was now real. And you didn’t know how to handle it. “Mitch, don’t. We agreed. This was just… just for the cameras. We've got another month or two left and then we can go our separate ways.”

His eyes met yours, full of something too raw for you to ignore. “Yeah, I know what we agreed. But I don’t want this to just be for the cameras anymore. I can’t just act like I don’t care about you. Not when I do.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Everything felt too heavy, like the weight of it all had suddenly crashed down on you. You’d been so focused on keeping everything in control, on keeping your emotions locked up, but now Mitch was here, standing in front of you, broken in a way that mirrored your own heart.

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what to do.

All you knew was that Mitch Marner had just shattered every wall you’d built between the two of you. And now, there was nothing left to do but admit the truth.

[goldielia]

headcanons: first dates version

includes: jh86, qh43, lh43, nh13, mm16, wn88, ld29, cb98, ws2

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 

jack does not like dating people he doesn’t know a least a bit so when he asks you out you’ve been friends for a minute and you’ve been to his apartment a few times. you’re still nervous when you ring his doorbell. he told you to dress casual so you’re wearing baggy jeans and a sweater and it’s your favourite outfit but there’s nerves anyway. they’ve melted away though, minutes into the date, because you’ve ditched the pizza-topping-preparing for hopping onto the counter and constructing the perfect queue of songs to play through the big speakers in the living room. soon enough the both of you are singing and dancing through jacks kitchen, eating half the toppings he’s prepared while throwing the other half on heart-shaped pizzas. all your nerves are forgotten when he twirls you into his arms, leans his forehead against yours and asks you if he can kiss you. (you might burn the pizzas because you’re making out like teenagers but that’s nothing a quick doordash order can’t fix).

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 

quinn likes romance but not cliches. your standard dinner and a movie would be too predictable so he tells you to wear your comfiest outfit you want to leave your apartment with and picks you up right on time. you’re both in his car in sweats and hoodies and you make a pit stop at your favourite chinese restaurant (he made you put your order into his phone the second you stepped foot into his car) before he pulls into the drive-in. he tries to keep the movie you’re seeing a secret but once you drive by the sign reading pride and prejudice in big black letters, he watches you gasping quietly and smiling to yourself out of the corner of his eye. if by the end of the night you’ve snuggled up together in the backseat, front seats reclined so you can still see the movie, and he tells you he picked pride and prejudice because he caught onto you quoting it in a text a few weeks back, maybe this becomes the best first date of your life.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 

luke needs that slightly competitive edge so he takes you to his favourite arcade. you’re going on a random wednesday night when the sign says closed (luke’s made friends with the guy at the front desk, a college student who’s working a side job to pay his rent) so you’re in there alone. it’s a little awkward at first, you’re slightly nervous and luke’s a little like a shy puppy, talking away until his brain catches up with what he’s been saying but after a few minutes you’ve found the dance dance revolution nearly hidden in the back and it prompts a night of endless giggles. lukes long limbs trying to keep up with the instructions look objectively hilarious and you can’t imagine you look particularly graceful dancing while doubling over and heaving with laughter either. you try out most games in the room, trying to one-up each other and not so subtly staring in the colourful glow of the neon lights. luke orders you two a pizza to share and you find yourselves sitting on the floor of the arcade, stuffing your faces and sharing a diet coke (because it’s your favourite) and somehow you end up kissing each other goodbye (tentatively and very much like the first kiss that it is).

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 

nico goes all out. i can’t explain why i think so but once you say yes to a date there’s no holding him back. he takes you to a pretty well known restaurant in new york city, you've never been there so he sends you a menu and dress code ahead of time which you gladly appreciate. it’s semi-nice, jeans and a button up look great on him and the watch on his wrist only adds to it. he’s got a light hand on your lower back when he follows you and the host out onto the rooftop terrace to your table. the people you see along the way are dressed similarly to yourself and nico, there‘s suit pants and button ups and fancy dresses everywhere. you’re pleased to know he described the dress code well and you fit right in (you were slightly anxious in front of your closet a few hours before) and thanks to scouting the menu out beforehand, you know which dish you’re most interested in. you end up splitting two of them, a pasta that’s almost not a diet plan violation and a bowl that most definitely is. he also insists you pick a bottle of wine so you’re pleasantly buzzed by the time you also order a chocolate dessert to share. conversation flows nicely, always has, even when you were only texting, and his very slight accent only adds to his charm. you decide to walk home, the way not being too long (and maybe he wants to spend a little more time with you and maybe hold your hand and maybe bring you to your door and part with a kiss on the cheek, like the gentleman he is).

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 

you didn’t know about the term “meet-cute” before you met mitch, but looking back that’s totally what happened with you two. you were out with your best friends dog, they had gone back home for a few days to sort out some family matter and left you in charge of their adorable goldendoodle athena for the time being. with a hot drink in your left hand and her leash wrapped around your right, you braved the cold canadian november wind to spend your free saturday at one of torontos dog parks. you were deeply engrossed into the podcast you’d been listening to through your earbuds and you walked a few steps back and forth to keep warm while keeping your eyes on athena, who was playing idly with a few dogs you met at this park regularly. after a few minutes you noticed she favoured playing with one dog more than any of the others. when you called her over after you’d been getting colder and colder and even athenas happiness didn’t seem worth this torture anymore, her favourite friend even came over to you. it trotted over a few steps behind athena, seeming almost shy as it walked slowly towards you. as you crouched down to clip athenas leash back on, a voice sounded out from the other end of the clearing the dogs had been playing on. a few minutes later you’d found yourself next to the man, who introduced himself as mitch and the adorable chocolate lab athena had been playing with as zeus. it hadn’t taken the both of you long to decide to get coffee together, both of you not wanting to separate your dogs, who kept on playfully nipping and nuzzling each other. you’d ended up exchanging phone numbers over that exact cup of coffee and would later name this your first date.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 

willy seems like a huge quality time guy to me, i think he’d like just being able to do his thing while you do yours. it’s how you end up because you try scheduling a date where you both find time for literal weeks but he has to manage practice and games and all sorts of media stuff and you’re busy yourself so you end up on opposite sides of his couch. your laptop on your lap, headphones in, typing away at school work or some project for your job while he takes calls and gives interviews and watches tape on the other end of the cushions, feet meeting in the middle. you indulge in some lingering looks and staring but also a game of footsies. there’s small breaks for a drink or a snack and of course a bit of chatting between the two of you and you’re surprised by how much you got done even though he can be pretty distracting if you peek over your laptop for too long (it also makes it even more rewarding when you both are able to close your laptops for the night and order some takeout for dinner and actually talk).

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 

i’m convinced leon hates dating, especially first dates. i think he’d just take you out for coffee or drinks regularly without ever telling you about his intentions, mask it as friends going out together. maybe you were friends with a teammate or a wag before and he started out inviting them as well but soon it turned into just the two of you to the point where you’re creating routines. drinks after wins, coffee after losses. lunches or dinners after special occasions - a hatty or a night with many points. it takes your friend complaining about how nobody ever puts effort into dates anymore for you to realize that maybe you’ve been subconsciously dating leon draisaitl for months. you’re hesitant about it for a few days but you can’t hold yourself back one night so you ask him for a real date, drinks at your favourite bar, one that’s a little bit of a hole in the wall. you’ve discovered it a few, well, dates in and you’ve frequented it ever since, trying yourselves through the drink menu and this time you spend a night actually flirting instead of dancing around each other.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 

you’re up early and just getting ready for your day when you receive connors text, “so i kinda broke my jaw last night, rain check on tonight?” and you’re instantly worried. usually you’d watch the blackhawks games but you’d fallen asleep over your work last night. “what do u mean u broke ur jaw? are you okay?” it takes him a while to answer and by the time you’re on your daily commute your phone vibrates again. “in a shit ton of pain and probably needing surgery but doing okay. sorry to have to reschedule, i was really looking forward to tonight :(” it’s your lunch break when you look at your phone again and you find a message by connors sister, who was the one to initially introduce the two of you. “hey, would you mind visiting connor sometime soon? we’re not getting in until the weekend and he’s been talking about your date a lot. he’s really bummed about his jaw so could you maybe cheer him up a little?” you instantly tell her yes and as soon as you’re able to log off you pick up some soup and ice cream and anything you hope he can eat before you make your way to connors. you’ve kept up a steady stream of texting to make sure he wouldn’t be asleep and he truly does look sad when he opens the door for you. after he’s eaten the soup and the two of you have curled up on his couch with the ice cream watching greys anatomy (you find it slightly out of place but he says he likes it because it reminds him of how much worse off he could be) he looks a little more relaxed.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 

you’d been taking cycling classes for basically your whole college career, liking the way you could fit so much exercise into so little time, especially during your sports off season. will had seen you leave the cycling room of the gym red-faced and on shaky legs multiple times and never failed to throw you an amused smile or a light chirp. he still didn’t believe it was all that exhausting though, no matter how many times you told him about it so for your first date you insisted on taking him to his first cycling class (and treat him for a juice at your favourite cafe when he inevitably has to admit it’s fucking tiring). you had the actual time of your life, watching your oh-so-athletic-hockey-player-date sweat buckets and gasp for air on the bike next to you and he vowed to never make fun of you ever again for your classes if he could take you ice skating for your next date.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 

feel free to let me know if you would like reading other players / scenarios!

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ��� ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 

[oscquinn]

For ur writing event! ❛ tell me what you want. ❜ with Mitch Marner and uhh breeding kink 😚

raw next question

"tell me what you want" from this subtle smut list. part of my mini writing event, now closed!

mitch marner x f!reader, NSFW 18+. p in v, breeding kink, lil bit of sweat kink, praise, dirty talk, swearing. unedited, srry for any mistakes!

you mentioned wanting a baby to mitch one night about a week ago. every morning since then you've woken up messy, your hair tangled, fresh and faded marks alike littering your skin, with a pleasant ache in your thighs.

it became a routine for mitch. come home from morning skate, practice, the game. whatever it was, he made sure to drop his bags and come straight to you.

that's where he is now, above you with one hand cradling your waist as he drives his cock deep inside you. his skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, damp strands of his brown hair clinging to his forehead. he looks impossibly sexy, abs flexing with every thrust, his lips parted with quiet, desperate grunts.

you whine, babbling out, "f-fuck—mitch!—oh my god," before your voice breaks. your mouth falls open but no sound comes out, back arching off the bed as the sping in your core coils up.

"aw, what is it, hm?" mitch mumbles, ducking his head to look in your eyes. he bites gently at your lower lip, drawing out one of those sweet little whimpers he loves so much. "words, baby. tell me what you want."

you can't speak. can't even think when all you feel is his fat cock dragging through your walls. mitch angles himself to hit deeper, and his tip nudges something electric inside of you. you cry out, finally finding your voice. "please! need you, w-want you to fill me up," you whine, desperate as you cling to his bicep.

"shh, that's my girl," he murmurs to you, soothing your whines with the steady press of his lips.

mitch kisses you once, twice, then pulls back onto his knees. he drags your ankles up over his shoulders, one arm gripping them tight to his chest as the other sneaks down to the peak of them.

you nearly scream when his thumb circles your clit, your orgasm suddenly washing over you. "fuck! fuckfuckfuck—" your thighs shake in his grip, sounds of skin on skin enveloping the room as you clamp a hand over your mouth.

"fuckin' perfect, look at you," mitch says in awe, his hand receding from your poor puffy clit to drag your hand from over your mouth. he slips two of his own fingers inside, resting them on your tongue. you taste your own arousal and whine as he leans close again. "so fuckin' tight, squeezing me like you want it. that what you want? want me to fill this pretty pussy?"

you can only nod weakly, too far gone to beg anymore. and it's only the first round. your boyfriend's stamina is unmatched. but you don't have to say anything. his fingers slip from your mouth to be replaced by his own lips, tongue licking into your mouth while his hips begin to stutter.

as he parts from you for air you manage to whisper one quiet word, "please," your voice hoarse and wrecked. that's all it takes for him to break.

mitch digs his fingers into your thighs, his cock spills inside you and twitches violently, and a final, choked-out gasp spills from his swollen lips.

© oscquinn, 2025. click here for my inbox.

[papis13]

HAILEY KNOWS WHAT WE WANTTTTT

everyone say thank you mrs. mf bieberrrrrrr

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐈𝐀𝐍.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — MITCH MARNER x reader (est. relationship) wc — 4.5k synopsis — think hilary duff’s balcony engagement circa 2007

note — this belongs to the i don't remember this bar collection

specific content warnings below the cut.

cw — profanity and other vulgar language, taking the lord’s name in vain + other religious-ish imagery, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected PIV intercourse (multiple) + creampie/breeding kink, discussion/thoughts of cum play, outdoor sex and mention of previous exhibitionism, mention of previous choking + breath play (f!reader receiving), pain kink situation (both), one line of blood play (f!reader receiving), justified violence (not directed at reader!!!), slight d/s dynamics, and possessive!mitch being a domestic little horndog

“Before we talk about that beautiful, game-tying goal in the tail-end of the second and your overall command of the offensive zone throughout tonight’s game, I first want to congratulate you on some major life news. A few weeks belated; my apologies.

For those who don’t know, you came back from the All-Star break with more than just a tan; you came back with—and as—a fiancé.”

Mitch does nothing to dim his megawatt smile or to dull the sparkle in his eyes. The mere mention of you coaxes out an impossibly giddier version of himself, unencumbered by the stress and pressure of a waning season. It’s always been that way.

It's difficult to remember a time before you. He doesn't want to.

Despite of meeting on arguably one of the worst nights of his life, somehow, all he feels when the memory rises to the surface of his mind is joy.

He remembers your laughter, warm and buoyant, and the way the low light painted flattering shadows across your kind face as you spoke animatedly about your passions and dreams. He remembers being treated like a person before anything else, not some character in a video game or a pawn in someone else’s fantasy league, and he recalls your fervent, genuine interest in his off-ice hobbies. Not once did you ask anything invasive or demand he share more than he was willing.

Nor did you fish for tickets.

For Mitch, privacy was paramount, and the sentiment echoed throughout your lengthy relationship. It was your through-line, and it should’ve blanketed the intimate proposal in safety.

He gets hot under the collar just thinking about it.

Mitch will entertain the host’s questions to an extent. Because, despite his insistence on privacy, he will never pass up an opportunity to sing your praises or brag about his luck.

���Did you bring anything else back? Any special souvenir to commemorate such a momentous occasion?”

Mitch is instantly hard, his pale cheeks ablaze, eternally grateful that the camera is filming from the chest up.

Carried in on a warm evening breeze, the evocation is so palpable he can taste the blue curaçao on his tongue and feel its muted burn in the back of his throat. The air smells of pineapple and your fragrant shampoo, a comforting scent that clings to him like a second skin. The phantom of your touch sends a shiver down the expanse of his sore, sweat-drenched back.

“—holy fuck.”

The crinkled, two-word curse tumbles from Mitch’s mouth with little effort.

Every modicum of tact was either battling against the warm rum coursing through his body or fighting to keep his guttural, damning moans at bay.

They are getting hot and heavy on a patio, after all.

Mitch knows this isn’t smart. He knows he should’ve moved the celebration indoors, that he should've waited until you were curtained in safety to give in to his desire and your wandering hands.

He knows, he knows, he knows.

The problem is he just doesn’t care.

Mitch wasn’t about to delay the appreciative mouth of the woman he was going to make his wife, not even for a second.

Even if she dropped to her knees with only a hedge to play look-out. A line of decorative foliage is their first and final defense, the leaves carelessly swaying between them and the rest of the luxury resort he booked for All-Star weekend.

It’s difficult to make sound decisions when the hand wrapped around your cock is newly weighed down by five carats.

The dazzling rock shines proudly in the concluding rays of a setting sun. Glittery and perfect, like the woman who wears it.

Mitch hisses when the tip taps the back of your throat for the first time that night. The sensitive skin melts into your tongue like an ice cube, the creamy droplets of anticipation swallowed greedily by your ravenous mouth. He sees stars in the cotton candy sky peeking through the palm trees.

It hasn’t been that long; his day began with your nose nuzzled against his pelvis, his head limp against the cool tile of the shower a few feet away.

When it comes to you, nothing is ever enough to curb his appetite.

Always needy, never satiated—a pair of perverted peas in a pod.

Your tongue repeats the delicious motion it had previously, too, lazily tracing along the underside of his length until he’s whimpering with no regard for anything besides spilling himself down your throat. He feels you smile around his thickness, pleased by the ease of his undoing. You were damn good; you deserved to be proud.

In all honesty, it took very little effort on your part to make him weak in both his knees and in his resolve.

However, there was a special kind of magic in your pretty face, now dusted by a salty sheen, nestled against his taut abdomen, his cock engulfed by the vice-grip of your throat.

Mitch is close already.

White-hot sparks descend through his quads and calves to zap his sandy toes. Electrified, his hips sputter of their own volition, but like the godsend you are, you accommodate every jolt and tilt in stride.

With one hand braced against his hip and the other gently massaging the heavy weight of his balls cradled in your palm, you peer up at him through a fan of fluttering lashes.

He whines—at the mischievous glint in your glassy eyes or the bite of your manicure as you sink your nails into his burnt skin, he can’t be sure.

Some of your fingers curl into the nasty bruise eating up his lower back, the by-product of a gruesome communion with the ice a few days prior. Sharp nails nip at the fragile skin. Mitch doesn’t know if the twinge of pain was intentional on your part, but he loves it either way. Perhaps a little too much, he thinks to himself as he twitches violently in your grasp.

And perhaps you aren't the only one with a masochistic streak. It's clear from the heaviness of your lids the converse applies to you.

His sweetheart's sick and sadistic. He's never been prouder.

“Get off,” he husks. Abruptly, he steps out from your embrace.

In retrospect, Mitch could’ve been nicer about it. At that moment, however, he was far too desperate for chivalry.

Staring down at your wide, despondent eyes—a pup deprived of her favorite bone—your fiancé amends, “Calm down, sweetheart. I’ll give it back soon. There’s no way in hell I’m wasting a load in your mouth when I know how good your pussy feels around my cock.”

Heat scales Mitch’s spine as he spreads you wide open against the chaise. Your folds glow brighter than the jewelry on your left hand.

With the tip of his finger, he tests the waters. Gingerly, at first, like he's still unsure you'll be able to take him. That charade hardly lasts, but tonight, it's barely a blip.

Your body eagerly welcomes the attention, mouthing at him before sucking the touch past the taut, elastic ring of your entrance. Your faint groans elicited by the intrusion harmonize so sweetly, so perfectly, that Mitch’s eyes fall shut in tranquil bliss.

When your hips rock against his palm, they snap open.

Blinking at him hard and fast, your teeth sink into your bottom lip, turning the plushness a sickly shade of pink—of desperation. Tears crowd your lash line but never cascade down your shiny cheeks; they, like you, are impatiently waiting for reprimand.

Mitch almost laughs. You did jump the gun, so he can't fault you for expecting the corresponding punishment. But it's a special occasion—you're celebrating, so it never manifests.

And Mitch wants to do more than just spank you silly. Plenty of time for that later. A lifetime's worth of it.

Instead, with the flick of his wrist, Mitch encourages you to take your pleasure.

The subtle, tantalizing movements, building in speed and ferocity with each pass, beckon him forward until his sunburnt skin is close enough to burn yours. Feeling you beneath him, feeling his weight rest against your body, feels better than heaven, and he’s barely started.

Like before, Mitch is painfully aware he won’t be able to last long. Judging by how silky-slick you are against his palm, you won’t be either.

With his free hand, he catches your jaw and, with little resistance, tilts your head to keep your gaze from straying. Your mouth falls open when he slips another finger inside. Mitch grins down at your lust-blown pupils and the feel of your hot breath against his lips. He leans down and licks into your idle mouth. A third finger causes your bottom lip to tremble between his and your forehead to ease, every little muscle going soft and pliant between the cushion and his chest.

“Atta girl,” Mitch praises. His lips press briefly to your cheek before beginning their descent along your throat. The touch is featherlight and sends a shiver down your spine, coaxing your chest further into his. “—love seeing you like this, all beautiful and open. And all fucking mine.”

Mitch wouldn't necessarily consider himself a territorial person, and he can't recall ever feeling possessive of a partner. Until he met you.

It had nothing to do with trust or a lack thereof; you were his the minute your eyes met through the crowd, and you reassured him of that fact constantly. It was never you that needed a reminder—it was everybody else.

The men who openly leer at you from every corner of Scotiabank Arena. The NHL hopefuls in your Instagram comments shamelessly flirting as if he didn’t exist or wasn’t in the photo, too. The unprofessional commentators who found ways to sneak in a lecherous comment or two under the guise of camaraderie whenever they spoke about his prowess.

You weren’t some object to be won or bought. You made a choice, and he’d make sure they knew and respected it.

Sure, the engagement ring will aid in this up-hill endeavor, but a little due diligence never hurt either.

“Tonight, it's gonna take. I’m making damn sure of that, sweetheart.”

Your walls squeeze his digits in recognition. Mitch chuckles, dark and dry, against your shoulder. You might like the implication more than he does.

You two weren’t trying, but you weren’t not trying either. Seeing you wearing his ring—the one he picked and purchased—kicked him down a perverted spiral. Flipped the last switch, cut the final cord. He wanted to complete the picture. He wanted to give those good-for-nothing losers one more reason to keep their mouths shut and their eyes to themselves.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Love for me to fill you in a way that’ll last? C’mon, sweetheart, tell me what you want. Tell me how badly you want to be stuffed full of me, how much your pussy needs it—how badly you want to be heavy and swollen with my kid."

Mitch tends to your clit, keeping you borderline incoherent as he tickles your ears with more filth before you can reply to the first goading.

Your eventual responses are muffled by a long, primal whine.

When he has you swaying on the brink of collapse, he’s painfully hard against your inner thigh. There's an iridescent river pearling from the weeping head, freely flowing down to pool beneath your ass. It beams in the dim light like a beacon.

Transfixed and desperately in love, Mitch could cum right now. Just like this.

But staining a stupid fucking cushion would be more of a waste than shooting himself your throat. So, much to your chagrin, he, once again, retreats back onto his knees.

“C-come back,” you whimper with a loud hiccup. The choked sound is as pitiful as your attempts to reach for him. “Please, please, please—”

Satisfaction spreads over the bridge of his nose, leaving him rosy from one cheek to the other. He pins you with a heated, half-lid stare as he strokes himself.

His palm doesn’t feel as good as yours, but Mitch is grateful for that. He wants to drag this out. Instead of rutting into you like a teenager in the backseat of a car, or like himself after a long stint away.

That can’t—and won’t—happen if he keeps touching you. He has to back off before he loses his ever-loving mind.

“Stop being a tease,” you chide. Irritation weighs heavily on your voice. “Haven’t I waited long enough?”

“There’s something I want you to see first, you little brat,” he replies, adopting your sharp tone as he brings his open palm down on your inner thigh.

You shriek, but your eyes beg for another. Maybe he shouldn't have cut you any slack earlier...

He grants your silent wish with a matching blow to the other side before guiding his rigid cock to rest over your body.

And it was better than Mitch ever imagined.

He groans at the sight, “Can you see it? Can you, sweetheart?”

Mitch waits patiently for it to click in your mind, but the confusion that swiftly overtook your fucked-out features never dissipates. Eyes rolling, he shifts forward. Hand still wrapped around the base, Mitch leans over until the full length of him sits against your bare stomach.

Your body quivers over the contact, so he has to hold your hips down to keep you from wiggling and ruining everything.

“I know you can feel it, but I want you to see it. I want you to see how deep I get inside of you, sweetheart. All the way up…” Mitch trails off as his hands glide from your outer hips to the center of your abdomen.

His voice is so deep. So hungry. Your whole being—mind and body—goes weak at the foreign richness.

With tender thumbs, he applies pressure beneath his swollen tip. “—here.”

Mitch moves slowly at first, as if he'd just been sheathed inside of you. With each careful thrust, his stones caress your aching clit, all puffy and pouting.

It feels wonderful to be touched again, even if only in short bursts. But it's not enough friction or force to do much more than aggravate you further. Even when he picks up speed, it’s more hurtful than helpful.

Still, you cannot tear your eyes away from the angry, ruddy head dribbling out ropes of arousal or voice a shred of discontent. The opaque beads form a nonsensical pattern, but it's mesmerizing nonetheless.

If you were any less needy, you’d take your time running your fingers through the milky mess. Swirling around in the evidence of Mitch’s desire until you had enough to lick clean.

As if privy to your thoughts, he pins your wrists at your sides again.

Mitch isn’t faring much better than you. His eyes are trained on the shadow bisecting your middle. Locked, laser-focused. This little…exercise was as much for his amusement as it is for your education. He knows how far he can reach inside of you—knows how fucking fantastic it feels to be buried at the root, but seeing just how deeply he can fuck you is something else entirely.

It's enough to make him question why and how he ever stops fucking you. He’s an idiot for depriving himself. For neglecting you. An exercise in frustration as much as his fruitless effort to shun the rose-colored perversions dancing wild in his mind, Mitch has wasted so much time.

Fuck penance and fuck propriety—it would be a sin to do anything other than worship at your altar as a devoted acolyte. Cardinal, even.

His stomach tightens as he considers how empty you must feel in his absence—and how deliciously whole you must feel when he drives home. He wonders how forlorn your folds must look right now as he keeps what you covet just out of bounds. His body obstructs the view, but Mitch knows you’re open and fluttering around nothing, pleading for mercy.

If he were a cruel man, he’d ignore your begging and continue on like this until his balls were empty and your chest was covered in ivory threads. Lucky for you, your future husband is of the clement variety.

Before you can get another babble, his mouth is back on yours. He keeps your arms tight to your sides, so you’re incentivized to convey your fervent need for more—of anything, really—through your lips and tongue.

Mitch is greedy when he kisses you and needy while lapping up your fire—happily, and without pause. His head pounds like he finished a handle in a single sip, but he doesn’t want it to stop. Ever. It’s disorienting, and yet, he can’t seem to get enough no matter how much of you he drinks down. Mitch wants to spend the rest of his life drunk on your lips.

Begrudgingly, he tears his mouth from yours. Then, tanned chest heaving, he positions himself between your glistening southern lips. Mitch looks down at you, and when your vision finally focuses, his eyes have been shadowed in darkness by his hulking brow.

His prior impatience dwindles ever so slightly even though he's on the precipice of complete satisfaction. Mitch hasn’t gotten a good look at you since your nimble hands relieved him of his shorts some twenty minutes ago, and you are glorious. A celestial nymph with dominion over his heart, devastatingly beautiful and all-consuming in every conceivable way. The hold you have over him is dangerous, verging on obsession. There isn’t a thing he wouldn’t do or say if it appeased you so.

He isn’t fearful. He’s honored. The gratitude he feels knowing that you were, and remain, receptive to his devotion is overwhelming. And now, watching the lucid waters of lust ebb and flow in your glazed eyes, he’s never felt luckier.

Mitch thumbs the gem resting atop your finger, and you shudder as if it were the one tucked between your thighs.

His other hand lingers around your right wrist, though not as tightly as before. With his pulsing head shallow in your heat, he knows you’ll behave. Disrupting him now would only prolong his teasing. A lesson you learned—and were often reminded of—the hard way.

As his fingers trace the metallic band, warmed by the tropical sun and his furnace-like touch, Mitch pushes his hips forward, slow and steady, until he’s fully enveloped by your wanting walls. With your snug, pillowy softness stretching and constricting to accommodate his generous blessing, his grip on reality slips.

“You’re a fucking dream,” your fiancé rasps.

His hands are now splayed wide on either side of your head, effectively caging you beneath him as he builds a faithful rhythm. Teeth clenched, he works diligently to fashion a tribute worthy of your ethereal beauty and power.

“—always so warm and wet for me, just begging to be split open on my thick fuckin' cock. How long have you been this needy, sweetheart? Since I bent you over on the boat? Right over the railing where anyone could’ve seen you?”

You nod, bruised bottom lip pinched between your teeth. Tears well in your eyes.

Your afternoon tryst had been as quick as it’d been rough. Sundress bunched high, the fragile fabric wrinkled between your hips and the cool metal railing as Mitch’s right hand wrapped around your throat. His talented fingers pressed firmly into your sun-kissed skin, relentless in their torment, as he pawed at the pathetic knot struggling to hold your bathing suit in place. His mouth curled into a smirk as it whispered a heady mix of degradation and praise. All while you preened for him, a large crowd just steps away.

That wasn't the first orgasm you were robbed of today.

The hem of the thin material that clung to your anguished body floated demurely above your ankles, landing just shy of the bone. The sullied garment hid the incriminating evidence that inched down your sore thighs with every step you took. The irony was not lost on you as you walked back to your room.

“D’you know how hard it was to stop myself from fucking you in front of all those people? To hold back like that—to not bend you over and take in broad daylight? Of course you do, you sweet, sadistic minx. You always know how to rile me up—and you always find a reason to.”

Mitch grins against your lips before his teeth momentarily replace yours. They nestle into the grooves as if that was the expressed purpose of the faint indentations.

“With the way you’ve been behaving, I’m willing to bet you want a better souvenir than a gift shop tchotchke, hm? Y'gotta be patient for me, though—good girls wait for their rewards. Jus' wait… Oh, I don’t know, nine months? Give or take? Think you can do that for me?"

He’s being cheeky on purpose. He likes the way gentle irritation plays out between your legs—always has and always will.

Mitch releases your lower lip again, but only after he’s nicked it with his canines. A dainty bead of crimson materializes. Covetous, his tongue laps it up without pause. Painted lips kiss from cheek to cheek.

Your back arches. Your hips lift to rock in time with his thrusts.

“God, I can’t wait till we get those fuckin’ keys,” Mitch mumbles, almost absentmindedly.

The lean muscles of his upper body ripple as he sits up to grab ahold of your jaw, a calloused hand on either side. He has an unimpeded view of your dazed, saccharine countenance. His hips slow until they match the thumbs stroking escaped tears into your cheeks.

“—m'gonna take you in every room, against every surface. That way, there won’t be a single thing in our home that—fuck—that doesn’t remind you of me and how well I take care of you—you and your tight cunt.”

With little fanfare, he threads his arms under your dewy legs. Mitch uses the newfound leverage to tug your body even closer.

A shriek rips through the firm seam of your lips as his length traverses an unexplored depth. Your knees snuggle against the pit of his elbows, pleased to be so close in spite of the pain.

Mitch holds your gaze, reveling in your silent screams. He winks, then slowly lowers himself down until your body is folded squarely beneath his. Your muscles burn with the fury of budding resentment, which you’ll surely feel towards him in the morning after this unprompted foray into acrobatics, but the new angle is too good to do more than just... take it.

His hands are glad to have been relieved of their duty and, eager to take advantage of their newfound freedom, palm your chest as his mouth descends on your poor neck. The delicate skin is utterly defenseless against the desire thumping deep within his chest and spilling over his ribs.

Mitch wants to stake his claim—to mark his territory. A stammer of expletives accompanies the vulgar jut of your hips when he rolls your sensitive nipples, swollen and begging for attention, between thumb and forefinger. Bracketed by his forearms, you surrender completely.

Mitch hums at the lewd, sucking sound made by your arousal. Wet squelches ricochet off the adjacent wall with each and every thrust.

“I’ve really made a mess out of you, haven’t I?”

You nod, eyes pinched in concentration.

You’re close. He can feel your body trying to milk him dry. Fortunately, Mitch isn’t far behind. You feel too fucking good to prolong the inevitable.

He brings a hand to your clit, and it moves in messsy circles as he speaks, “Not done yet, though. Gonna flood this pretty cunt—gonna leave you all sticky and hot. I know you want it, but I need you to cum for me first. Go on, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

You unravel on command, your chin falling to the side in ecstasy. Mitch’s firm hand is quick to wrench it back; he needs to watch your face contort as you crumble like he needs air to breathe. Mitch won't be able to think straight until he reaps the rewards of fucking and rubbing you through it.

The sob that wrecks your body is high-pitched and perforated by little gasps, and the rush of wetness is more pathetic than any noise you could and would make in your lifetime. More than you ever thought your body was capable of, more than your new fiancé expected, more than either of you anticipated.

He's soaked in a matter of seconds—as are you and the cushion dripping onto the concrete.

Mitch's climax comes in quick succession but, unlike yours, without warning. Undoubtedly, his peak was triggered by the gush of your undeniable satisfaction.

Drained dry, Mitch hunches over to capture your lips once more, determined to distract you from the inevitable bodily ache on the come-down. Delicately, he places your trembling legs onto the chaise and nestles into the space they vacated. He feels every little muscle twitch and spasm when he hugs you tightly to his body.

The world is muted, fuzzy around the edges, and drowned out by the aftershocks, so you miss most of his sweet-nothing rambling, but the relief and contentment that flood your spent body is reply enough.

He isn’t sure how long you stay like that—tangled together in paradise. You doze off, dipping in and out of consciousness, and wake just after the buttery sun slips entirely behind the horizon. Through the darkness surrounding your bare bodies, silvery moonlight replaces the golden rays of sunshine, but you—and your ring—shine as if nothing's changed.

You keep up a quiet conversation. Nothing of importance is spoken; it's carried on purely for the enjoyment of one another’s voice. Mitch peppers your skin, sticky from humidity and exertion, with tender lips, and you return the favor tenfold. You’re both smiling so wide, so happily.

And you keep grinning into the night, even when your cheeks begin to ache. It’s only when the light breeze ghosts over your bare skin that either of you consider relocating. In no rush and reluctant to leave your deep warmth, he’s leisurely about moving into the dim suite.

Mitch freezes abruptly. His stomach splatters at his feet when his mind catches up to his instincts. Murmuring. He hears murmuring. Terror races down his spine like an ice-cold chill. It's quiet at first. Almost as if the evening wind picked up a distant conversation yards away and softly settled it in his paranoid eardrums. He can’t make out any particular words—except his last name.

His mood sours beyond repair with the realization that the juvenile whispering is much too close, the giggles muffled only by the permeable wall of greenery bordering the suite’s ground-floor patio.

“We just wanted to be the first to say congratulations!” A teenage voice devoid of tact and respect calls out above a chorus of snorts and giggles.

Mortified, you bury your head into the crook of his neck. His chain is cold in comparison to your shame.

Mitch growls and reaches beside the chaise. He shouts something that would’ve made even the most shameless of shit-talkers blush, then sends a half-empty bottle of Dom Pérignon clear through the leaves. It shatters, and the crisp bubbles spill out on the concrete, sending the herd of inconsiderate assholes scattering like mice.

“I’ll go pick up the glass,” he sighs, knowing you’ll chastise him for the mess. "—later."

Mitch couldn’t be honest with the journalist.

He wouldn’t even if he could.

He shares so much of himself and his life with the world already—a hazard of the flashy, public-facing occupation he chose—and you’ve offered up far more of your world than he’d ever ask of you. He doesn’t mind a photo here or a video there, sometimes a press junket or two in a philanthropic context, but Mitch won’t bring the media into your private moments beyond where they’ve already encroached.

Especially not for a leading question intended to bait him into saying something stupid. Or to prematurely announce the impending arrival of your first child.

So, instead, he simply says, “Towels. But if the Four Seasons—or my future wife—asks, I’m totally joking, and I definitely put them all back.”

⤑ to my inbox💌

⬸ back to the catalog  (writing masterlist) 

⬸ back to the main blog 

All of the stories and fantasies written or discussed on this blog by the owner or by followers are purely fictional and are not intended to offend any parties.

©2024 holy-pucks, all rights reserved. I do not give consent for any of my work to be copied, re-posted, or translated here, on Tumblr, or on any other platform. Reproduction of any content from this blog is considered plagiarism.

[huggybearluvr]

surprise | mm16

Summary: You get a puppy without telling Mitch while he was on a roadie.

Masterlist

y/nhughes

liked by austonmathews, jackhughes, and others

y/nhughes I DID A THING 😚😜 everyone meet moose 🥹 sorry @mitchmariner

view all comments…

jackhughes I HAVE A FUR NEPHEW

jackhughes BUT why is he named after luke 🤨😒

lukehughes because i’m her favorite brother?

quinnhughes excuse you.

jackhughes guys in the favorite

y/nhughes nope lukey is my fav 💕

jackhughes I HATE U AND IM TELLING MOM

lukehughes your my fav too y/n!!

mitchmariner babe.

y/nhughes yes?

mitchmariner no call? no text? WTH

y/nhughes i was feeling spontaneous

mitchmariner your lucky he’s cute

y/nhughes SO I CAN KEEP HIM!??

mitchmariner yes😔

austonmathews OMG

y/nhughes HES CUTE RIGHT

austonmathews THE CUTEST

y/nhughes COME MEET HIM WHEN U GET BACK 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

austonmathews I WAS COMING WHETHER U INVITED ME OR NOT

user111 the hughes siblings arguing gives me a will to live 😭

elblue6 grandpup! he’s adorable!

y/nhughes RIGHT

quinnhughes i’m on my way over to meet him…

quinnhughes i’m actaully out front rn.

y/nhughes QUINNER COME IN

[uluvjay]

threesome w mitch and auston

- 🧍🏻‍♀️

Auston Matthews x fem reader! x Mitch Marner

Best friends share everything right?

Warnings?; SMUT, p in v, unprotected sex(use protection), oral(m receiving), cursing, slight degradation, praising, risky sex, getting caught, I cant think of anymore.

Sorry for any errors!

Austons hand covered her mouth doing his best to keep her pathetic moans from spilling out and revealing what exactly they were doing in their basement.

The couple had lied and said they were running down to grab a few more bottles of wine for their large group of guests upstairs-but in reality Auston had taken her down there to fuck her stupid.

Hearing the squeak of the hinges from the door atop the carpeted stairs Auston leaned into the girls ear; whom was bent over the sectional that rested in front of the projector screen.

“If you get us caught so help me god you won’t be able to walk straight for a week, understood?” He questioned and the clench of the girls cunt around his cock was all he needed as an answer.

“Guys? You’ve been gone a while, everything okay?” They heard the all to familiar voice of Mitch call as his feet made their way down the stairs.

The couple tried to make up an excuse to keep him on the stairs but they were to late as the Brunette had already caught sight of them in a very unholy situation.

“Guys what the hell!” Mitch exclaimed at his friends, however his eyes never moved away.

Auston was about to yell at his closest friend to go back upstairs and act like this never happened but the feeling of his girlfriend’s cunt clenching around him, had a smirk appearing on his face.

And as he looked over to his best to find a slight blush covering his pale cheeks and eyes glued to where the couple connected under the skirt of his girlfriends flowy dress, another idea popped into his head.

“Mitch you either gotta stay or go back up stairs, your call but make it quick before she starts acting like a brat” the tattoo covered man spoke

“I-uh-what?” Mitch stumbled over himself, making sure he heard the man correctly.

“You can either stay or leave, but hurry up and make your pick” Auston shrugged as he began moving his hips again.

Auston smirked at the cry that escaped your throat as Mitch made his was further into the room, hesitantly trying to find where he should slot himself.

“Why don’t you show Mitchy how good that mouth is baby? Huh? Show him how good you can be” he cooed at her.

“Okay” she blushed and motioned for Mitch to come stand in front of her.

When Mitch finally managed to move his body into range of the girls hands she pulled him even closer by his belt and began removing it.

Pulling his pants and boxers down just enough for his cock to spring out the girl was met with a delightful sight. Mitch was about the same length as Auston just a tad bit skinner.

She worked his semi hard cock for a moment while Auston regained a pace behind her, his hands holding her hips.

A shudder ran down Mitches spine as her tongue finally came into contact with the head of his cock, slowly swirling around the angry tip.

“Fuck” the blue eyed man groaned as she finally took him into her mouth all the way, her cheeks hollowed as she began moving back and forth.

Her moans from Austons movements behind her were vibrating his cock and sending shocks through his body.

“Such a desperate thing for taking both of us” Auston hissed.

“M’ not desperate” she babbled as she pulled away from Mitches cock for some much needed air.

“Mhm sure” Auston laughed as he slowed his pace and fucked her deeper, coaxing an almost to loud moan that was muffled by Mitch pulling her back to his cock.

His hands tangled into her locks, guiding her movements this time round. Tears had began to stream down the girls face, pretty little tracks of her bleeding mascara messing up her flawlessly done makeup.

“Such a good mouth” Mitch groaned as a slight gag came from your throat.

Auston smirked at the sight of his friend, hands tangled in your locks while his head was thrown back with a clenched jaw and shut eyes.

“M’ getting close” she pulled away from Mitches cock for a moment to speak.

“Can feel you clenching me, c’mon and come for us pretty girl” Auston encouraged, feeling his own knot forming in his stomach.

You could came with a hard shudder at his words, the feeling of him splitting you open and Mitch taking you from the front was just too much for you to hold off.

“Shit, I’m gonna come pretty girl” Mitch groaned as he felt his thighs begin to shake and his thrusts become matched to austons-who was also coming up on his high.

“I’m gonna fill you and you’re gonna swallow Mitches come, understand baby?” Auston spoke, his thrusts becoming hurried and sloppy as he felt that euphoric feeling creeping up faster and faster.

“I understand” you breathed for a second before Mitch was pulling your mouth back onto his cock.

Within seconds both men reached their highs within milliseconds of one another, Auston growled as he filled your hot core with his cum.

Mitches thighs shook as he looked down at your fucked out face that was covered in sweat, spit, and tears-he didn’t think you’d ever looked prettier.

Slowly pulling out of her both men tucked themselves away before helping the girl to her feet, Auston ran a hand through her hair before lightly speaking.

“Gonna go tell everyone you got sick and then we can move this into the bedroom.”

“To the bedroom?” You questioned, and while your voice waivered the way your eyes lit up at his words had Auston knowing that you wanted nothing more than to get both men into your bed.

“Yeah, think mitchy should get to feel how tight that pretty little cunt of yours is” he smirked before taking off up the stairs and making sure you were safe in Mitches arms.

-

@luvmatth3ws

[tkachukyderby]

!! gender neutral reader

!! submissive mitch marner

!! blow jobs, gentle-ish face fucking, cum swallowing, cum sharing

mitch has been in an absolute shit mood since the leafs lost the series. it’s like he’s completely shutting down; he doesn’t have the same energy as before, barely says more than three words an hour, stays in the same spot on the couch all day just wallowing in his own self pity.

you’ve tried talking to him but it’s like he’s not even there. he’s moody, and you get it; the hate he’s been getting online would make anyone retreat into themselves. so, in an effort to bring him back to his usual self, you take matters into your own hands.

he’s in the same spot as usual; on the couch hidden beneath a thick blanket, watching old shows you know he’s already seen.

“mitch,” you say softly, stepping closer to him. he looks up at you and offers a small smile. “hi, baby.”

“hey,” he mutters. he pulls the blanket tighter, hiding the lower half of his face in the soft fabric.

you purse your lips and let your eyes rake over him. “still sad?”

mitch snorts bemusedly. “what else am i supposed to be?”

you shrug and step closer, the tops of your knees grazing his. “well,” you say, smirking slightly, “i can…help?”

it takes a few seconds before he realizes what you’re implying. you watch as mitch’s face colors pink in embarrassment, his eyes widening fractionally. “yeah?” his voice already sounds breathy.

you smile. “yeah.” you don’t waste any time getting to your knees, pulling the blanket off him so you can shuffle off his shorts. he’s not wearing any underwear, his dick pretty and pink and already curling in interest for you. “cute,” you tease, laughing gently.

mitch huffs but it breaks off into a content sigh as you wrap a warm palm around him. it’s too dry for any real friction, and you just want to help get him all the way hard, so you circle your fingers around him before carefully tugging upwards with light, smooth strokes, tightening your grip when he starts firming up. his breath comes out faster and he whines when you pull away.

“god,” you exhale. “you’re always so sweet like this.”

mitch swallows, obediently spreading his legs so you can shuffle in closer. his fingers curl into fists at his side as you lean in, pressing a sweet kiss to the wet head of his dick.

“please,” he whispers.

“i know, baby,” you respond. “i’m gonna take care of you.”

mitch whines as you swallow him down, opening your mouth to take him into your throat. he’s big and thick, the weight of him heavy on your tongue, but you close your eyes and breathe through it, forcing yourself to open up for him. his cock splits you open and you have to fight to keep from gagging. it takes a few moments until you’re finally ready, but you loosen your jaw and start bobbing your head.

mitch is immediately keening, moans slipping past his open lips as his hips jolt underneath you. his hips are unrelenting, fucking into your mouth with enough force to make your eyes water. but he’s so sweet, crying out for you and keeping his hands to himself, singleminded as he desperately chases his pleasure.

it doesn’t take much longer for him to get closer. “please, please,” he’s whining, eyes squeezed shut. “please, can i?”

you hum your assent around and it makes him arch up — he’s so close, leaking all over your tongue like a whore, and he’s so sweet like this; crying for you, twitching under your ministrations. mitch is completely consumed by you and the knowledge of it makes you crazy.

you pull off until just the tip of his big cock is inside, opening your eyes so you can look at him. he’s completely flushed, his hair sticking to his skin with sweat and eyes prickling with unshed tears. “i’m close,” he gasps. “please, can i cum? can i cum, baby? please let me, please. fuck, please.”

and how can you say no, when he begs so politely? you nod as best as you can before swallowing his dick back down, nose pressed to the base of his pelvis before he’s gasping above you, loud and unabashedly crying for you as he cums deep into your throat.

you moan at the taste of him, keeping your tongue moving to wring out every last drop from his spent dick. his thighs twitch around you and he whines, overwhelmed, hands scrambling to tug at your hair before you finally pull off.

mitch’s gasping for air, chest rising and falling fast as he catches his breath. you slide up his body until you find his mouth, slipping your tongue inside. he moans as you push his own cum into his mouth, sharing his taste, and you bite his lips one last time before pulling away, smiling.

“good?” you giggle.

“fuck, yes.” mitch groans. “good. great.” he sighs, arms coming around to tug you on top of him. “love you,” he murmurs into your neck.

“love you too, mitch. it’s gonna be okay.”

you feel his lips twitch against your skin before he says: “i know. thank you.”

[lightsoutmatthews]

We listen and we don´t judge - Mitch Marner

summary: you convince Mitch to do the "we listen and we don´t judge" TikTok trend

pairing: Mitch Marner x female!reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: none, just banter and sweetness

authors notes:

I wanted to wait to post the next thing, as to not run out of stuff by next week but I remembered this exists and that it´s one of my favorite pieces so I just had to share

---------------------------------------------------------

“Please baby… It´s fun, I promise!” you begged your boyfriend for the third time in probably 30 minutes. “Babe…” He sighs playfully annoyed. “Please, I know you have some stuff to say, this is your chance to say it.”

You had been trying to convince him to do the “we listen, and we don’t judge” trend from TikTok after you had been seeing it all over your for you page. Even though you usually weren’t really one to post your relationship on you TikTok.

Your account was more about “day in the life of an NHL girlfriend” or “get ready with me for my boyfriends hockey game” videos which the small following you had acquired loved, Mitch only showing up in the background occasionally, but this was something you really wanted to do with him.

“I´m bad at coming up with tings on the spot.” He tried as his next excuse. You rolled your eyes. “We both know that is not true.” A funny sounding scuff leaving his mouth, almost like he was offended by the accusation.

“How about we film it, but you can decide after if I post it?” A last attempt to convince him, not wanting to bother him with it for too long. A sigh left him again and you knew you got him on the hook. “Fine. But you have to give me five minutes to come up with a few things.”

You practically ran around the kitchen island and wrapped your arms around his neck in excitement. “You´re the best.” He rolled his eyes acting fake annoyed but placed a sweet kiss to your cheek.

He retrieved to the living room with his phone to write some stuff down while you searched for the perfect place to film. Zeus, ever the loyal dog, stayed by your side, his tail wiggling in excitement for no reason at all. “We´ve got dad wrapped around our fingers and paws, Zeusy.” The lab barked in agreement.

“I heard that.” Mitch shouted from the living room. “You were supposed to!” You shot back immediately. Laughter filling the air shortly after.

A few minutes later you followed Mitch into the living room, Zeus hot on your heels but immediately jumping next to his dad when he saw him sitting on the couch. “Oh, now I´m good enough for you.” He chuckled and softly petted the labs head.

“Are you done?” He nodded. You placed your phone against a vase you grabbed from the kitchen and put it on the living room table. “Is this angle good enough for you?” Mitch huffed, mischief glinting in his eyes.

You knew he had nothing to really truly complain about, your relationship one built on trust and open communication, when something was bothering either of you, you mostly just talked about it, but this showed you there was something up his sleeve that you didn’t know about.

“Are you ready?” He grabbed his phone, opening the notes app again. “Let´s go.”

You pressed record on the device and held back laughter when Mitch looked at you with the most serious expression. “You go first.” You said, curious about what he came up with.

“We listen and we don’t judge, sometimes when I tell you I didn’t answer your call because I didn’t see it, it´s actually because I ignored it because I didn’t want to answer it in front of the guys.” Your eyes widen in surprise, laughter immediately bubbling out of you. “How dare you.” You threw in between two breaths, still laughing.

“You´re scared to answer the phone in front of the guys, that´s so sweet, honey.” You leaned over and softly patted his cheek, knowing this clip would be sent to the girls group chat later so they could show it to their partners.

“You´re not the one getting chirped.” He mumbled which led to another fit of laughter bubbling up. “You´re acting like you´re the only person on the team with a partner.”

He rolled his eyes and waved you off. “I thought this was we listen, and we don´t judge. Let´s hear yours.”

“We listen and we don’t judge, one time I threw away one of Zeus favorite toys, because it was really past it´s living time, and told you he probably lost it.” He ripped open his eyes and grabbed his chest like he just had been shot right in the heart.

“How can you do this to our child.”

“We don’t judge, Mitchy.” He raised his eyebrows, silently accusing you of doing the exact same just a few minutes ago.

“Okay your turn again.” You rushed out before he could say anything else. “We listen and we don’t judge, you once asked me to do laundry while you were on a girls trip, and I had to call Aryne to tell me what temperature and program to use.”

“Oh my god, Mitch.” You clapped your hands over your mouth. He chuckled, rubbing his neck. “I´m giving you a crash course on our washing machine as soon as we´re finished here, I can’t believe this.” You almost shouted before breaking into a fit of giggles.

“Let´s hear your next one then.” He interrupted you, not wanting to talk about this any longer. “We listen and we don’t judge.” You said, holding your hands in front of your mouth, before whispering: “Sometimes I cheer for the Flames when you´re not here.”

Mitch ripped open his mouth and turned further towards you with wide eyes. “Baby… please tell me that is a joke…” When you said nothing, he looked even more offended. “You cannot put this on the internet… what will the people say if my own girlfriend doesn’t root for the team I am playing for. That should be a punishable offence.”

“We don’t judge, remember? And what can I say, I will always be a Calgarian at heart no matter if I’m living in Toronto now. Or if my boyfriend plays for the Leafs. And it´s not like I´m rooting for them when they actually play you.”

He continued to look at you as if you had kicked his dog. “You´ll live, baby.” You said as you pat his cheek like he was a child that was upset about nothing.

“Okay, last one I could come up with in the five minutes you gave me.” He grabbed one of the decorative pillows and placed it in front of him like a shield. You raised your eyebrows at him but said nothing urging him to continue.

“We listen and we don’t judge. I use your face wash regularly and that´s why it´s always empty so much faster.” He gripped the pillow and held it in front of his face right as you swatted him in the shoulder with the back of your hand.

“Mitch, that´s expensive skincare, you can afford to buy your own.” Teasing was clear in your voice. It didn’t actually matter to you that he was using it. Especially, since most of the time he ended up being the one to pay for it. But acting fake outraged was fun. “I will go and buy you skincare for men next week when you´re on the road.”

He lowered the pillow again, hoping you were done attacking him, but you ripped it right out of his hand and smacked it into his face. The offended look on his face that waited for you when the pillow fell down on the soft carpet of your living room made you burst out in a loud belly laugh.

“You´re the worst. I´m breaking up with you.” He pouted, his voice making you laugh even harder. “Okay, it was nice knowing you. I´m taking Zeus.” You teased. Which made him pout even more.

It took you five minutes to calm down after that, whenever you remembered the look on his face you broke out in another set of giggles.

You would have to edit that out later but would keep as a memory because the pained look that slowly turned into an incredibly loving and soft glance as you kept laughing was something you wanted to keep forever.

“Okay I have one last one. When you´re done pouting.” He sat up straight, giving you his full attention again before you continued. “We listen and we don’t judge, sometimes, when you play on the West Coast, I go to bed before the game even starts because I´m so exhausted from work.”

You expected him to be fake outraged again, but he just looked at you with the sweetest expression you could imagine, you heart immediately melting. “That´s okay, honey. I know how exhausting your job can be.”

You were overwhelmed with the sweetness this man gave you sometimes. “Oh, Mitch.” You said quietly scooting closer to him to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“What? Did you expect me to be outraged about that? I know how hard you work, there´s 82 games a season that you can watch, missing one is not the end of the world.” He placed a lingering kiss to your cheek.

The tender action having you get up and startle his lap before leaning down to capture his lips in a soft kiss. “You´re the sweetest.”

When you backed away again, remembering that the camera was still rolling in the background he grabbed your chin and pulled you down into another kiss.

“You might have to edit that out.” He brushed hair, that fell into your face while kissing, away and smiled. “So, you will let me post this?”

He chuckled. “As if I could ever say no to you.”

[dearstvckyx]

I Met. A Stranger Yesterday - Mitch Marner

During practice, the Leafs notice Mitch is unusually happy. When Auston confronts him, Mitch reveals he met a girl while walking Zeus—a stranger sketching and giving away drawings. He gushes about her beauty and warmth. On their first date, the Leafs hilariously (and poorly) disguise themselves to spy and make sure she’s good for their friend. - The Neighbourhood , *NSTYNCT

Mitch Marner x Reader , Leafs Players x Mitch Marner

Warnings: None

The Neighbourhood Lyrics Masterlist - ⌂

The sun streamed through the rink windows, casting golden streaks across the ice as the Toronto Maple Leafs wrapped up practice. The sharp slap of pucks and scrape of blades cut through the morning air, but none of the players could focus.

Because Mitch Marner wouldn’t stop smiling.

And not his usual, cheeky, about-to-do-something-stupid grin. No—this was different. Softer. Dreamier. Like his head was stuck in the clouds.

Auston Matthews leaned against the boards, squinting at him.

“Okay, is it just me or is Mitch…” he tilted his head, searching for the right words.

“Happier than usual?” Morgan Rielly finished, skating up beside him.

William Nylander slid over, eyes narrowed slightly. “If that’s even possible.”

They all watched as Mitch practically floated across the ice, zipping around defensemen with ease, barely even flinching when he took a slap shot to the shin guard. Instead, he just skated it off with a dreamy little grin.

“Okay, that’s not normal,” Willy muttered. “What the hell is going on?”

When practice ended, they made their way to the locker room, exchanging confused glances as they shed their gear.

Auston waited until Mitch plopped down on the bench, still smiling like he had a secret he couldn’t keep.

“Alright, Marner,” Auston drawled, dropping down beside him. “Spill it.”

Mitch blinked at him, clearly still lost in thought. “Spill what?”

“You’ve been skating around like you’re in a rom-com montage. What gives?”

Mitch’s grin grew slightly wider, and his eyes softened just a little.

“Oh,” he said with a dreamy shrug. “I met a stranger yesterday.”

Willy, who had been tugging off his skates, immediately whipped his head around. “You what?”

But Mitch was already talking, the words spilling out faster than he could stop them.

“I was walking Zeus near the park,” he began, eyes lighting up. “And there was this girl sitting on a bench with a sketchbook. She was just… sketching people. Strangers. And then walking up and giving them the drawings. Like it was nothing.”

Auston blinked slowly. “She was just… giving them away?”

“Yeah,” Mitch breathed, still in awe. “No charge, no signatures. Just handing them out.”

His eyes drifted slightly, lost in the memory.

“And then she saw me and Zeus,” he added softly. “And she just walked right up to me—no hesitation—and handed me this sketch.”

He fished out his phone from his bag, scrolling through his camera roll before holding it out. On the screen was a sketch—a perfect black-and-white rendering of Mitch standing with Zeus, the leash slack in his hand, and Zeus’ tongue lolling out with that goofy, wide-eyed grin. The details were sharp and precise—the slight curl of Zeus’ ears, the wind crinkling Mitch’s jacket.

“Jesus,” Morgan muttered, staring at it.

“She got everything,” Mitch murmured, still slightly in awe. “Like the way Zeus tilts his head. She didn’t even know us or me! It was like she’d seen us a hundred times before.”

Willy squinted slightly. “Wait. Did you get her number?”

Mitch blinked.

“…No.”

Auston stared at him, his jaw going slack.

“Are you serious?”

Mitch just let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly, still caught in the memory.

“I wasn’t even thinking about it,” he admitted. “I was too busy watching her give Zeus a treat.” His lips twitched slightly, and his eyes softened. “She knelt down right there in the grass and let him slobber all over her hands. Didn’t even care. Just laughed when he tried to climb into her lap.”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, still smiling.

“She had these big chocolate brown eyes—like, really warm brown. And her hair was kinda messy, but she had these random little pink and red bows clipped in. Not fancy—just mismatched ones, like she didn’t care if they matched.”

Willy shook his head in disbelief. “You met your dream girl and you didn’t even get her number?”

Mitch just grinned.

And then, three days later, fate handed him a second chance.

⸻

Somehow, he ran into you again at a café near the park—the same place you’d been sketching.

This time, he didn’t let you walk away without your number.

You weren’t sure if you expected him to call, but he did. And two days later, you were sitting across from him at a cozy restaurant, nervously stirring your drink while he talked a mile a minute about Zeus.

What neither of you knew was that half the Maple Leafs roster had conspired behind Mitch’s back.

Because across the restaurant, poorly disguised in sunglasses, oversized coats, and awful wigs, sat Auston, Willy, Morgan, and John Tavers —blatantly spying on you.

Auston peeked over his fake menu, lowering his sunglasses slightly. “Jesus,” he muttered. “He’s actually giddy. It’s disgusting.”

Willy, clutching an upside-down newspaper, made a face. “Look at him smiling like that. It’s unnatural.”

Morgan took a slow sip of water, shaking his head dramatically. “It’s like he’s glowing. This is gross.”

John, squinting through a pair of fake reading glasses, whispered, “Should we, like… signal her if she needs help?”

Auston shot him a deadpan look. “She’s dating Marner, not a serial killer.”

But none of them left.

Instead, they watched as Mitch absently reached across the table, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering a little longer than necessary.

“Oh my God,” Willy muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “He’s a goner.”

They exchanged glances when they caught the way Mitch was looking at you—like you were the only person in the room.

And when you laughed—soft and genuine—Mitch practically melted in his seat.

Auston slowly lowered his glasses. “Oh, man,” he whispered, shaking his head. “He’s done for.”

But despite the teasing, they all knew what they were seeing.

Their friend—their goofy, golden retriever-hearted friend—was head over heels.

And they were going to make damn sure he didn’t screw it up.

[tfc-hockey]

This article about changing culture around drinking/cannabis use/team socialization in the NHL is very good, but they DID NOT need to start it off like this 😭 this is the funniest fucking article hook I have ever read

IMAGINE that you are being hunted to the death by MITCH MARNER. That's right, MITCH MARNER is on the loose and he has an INSATIABLE LUST FOR KILLING.

[ghostking4m]

Male readers exist

So this is mostly for the hockey and sports world writers, I don’t mean to be mean or make anyone uncomfortable when I say this, but male readers exist too. Believe i’ve tried writing for male readers, but, I don’t have the talent or even time and energy to write for male readers at my current stage in life. I just want to request that more writers for the sports world, particularly hockey, F1, american football, maybe even just specific athletes. I’ve seen that some writers are including more gender neutral and male readers to their work, but when all you see is straight girls getting every piece of writing, it really sucks and makes us feel pretty shitty