#mitchell marner

[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.”

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[hockeybabe]

mitchie marny please n thanks 🙏🏼

Photoshoot | M.Marner

Not my gif

Pairings: Mitch Marner x fem!figure skater

Summary: you get an offer to represent leafs merch with Mitch

Warnings: swearing, make out session, fade to black smut, Mitch’s a nice guy

Word count: 612

Note: first off I choose a cute imagine. But I really want to thank you guys for the appreciation on Sneak Away like lots of love. Also major thank you for the 300 followers. Love you all so much.

When you had first got the call to do the shoot, you were over the moon. You’d been living in Toronto for as long as you could remember and living there also meant living so close to a rink to practice for all competitions. To most countries you were another figure skater, but to Canada you were a sensation, very close to Tessa Virtue. 

When your coach told you that the leafs wanted to partner with you, you couldn’t help but be excited. So here you were walking down a tunnel following your stylist and a leafs representative. “Okay so Y/N, you’re going to change into these and we’ll see you back in that room.” They told you, handing you a jersey.

It was a regular leafs jersey with the blue being the prominent colour however, this jersey had the All-Star patch on the shoulder. You examined the jersey, looking at the back number, number 16, Marner. Your heart gushed and a blush rose to your cheeks.

You walked out of the change room and headed to the studio for where you’d be taking the photos. “You look great!” Your stylist gushed. “So we’re gonna have you stand there and Mitch over here will be right behind you.” The photographer said, pointing to Mitch who was beside him.

You nod your head, allowing the stylist and photographer to walk away, leaving you alone with Mitch. “Hey, sorry about the late notice. I thought they would’ve told you,” Mitch says nervously while shaking your hand. “Oh, no it’s fine. Makes me feel less nervous.” You say, giving Mitch a bright smile.

“This makes you nervous?” He motions to the photoshoot going on behind him. “Not all the times you perform in front of hundred of people.” You laugh at his exaggeration. “between you and me, the ice is my home. There’s no fear, there is only peace.”

Mitch looks at you with such adoration. All the words you were saying to him about skating are just what he felt when he played hockey. Although no one enjoys losing, he still felt better on ice than walking on concrete.

“Okay, you two lovey eye makers, time to do the shoot!” The photographer shouts. You and Mitch both blush but comply. The photoshoot went on calmly. You felt more comfortable knowing Mitch was in the room and the fact that he was whispering nice things in your ear and some poses being of him holding your waist and you two smiling at each other.

“Last shot. Mitch, I want you to point to y/n’s back while she stands facing you. So her face won’t be in shot.” The guy explains. You turned around to face Mitch to see him already staring at you before posing for the camera. You stared at him during the time and you could see the smirk growing on Mitch’s face.

“That’s it, folks! Good job everyone!” The photographer yelled out, already putting his equipment away. “Well, that’s it.” You say, facing Mitch, fiddling with your hand. “Maybe it can be a bit more.” He says confidently.

A half an hour later, you back at Mitch’s apartment and you back against his door and your lips attached to one another. You moan into Mitch’s mouth as he runs his hands over your body, feeling very curve. “Good, you’re so beautiful.” He groans, looking up and down your body.

“We should probably take this to your bedroom.” You suggest playing with the hem of his sweatshirt. “Yeah, one hundred percent.” He says, trailing kisses from your neck to your lips. “If we make it there.” He mumbles before crashing his lips to yours.

#hockey #hockey players #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #imagine #nhl smut #fluff #toronto maple leafs #hockey smut #mitch marner blurb #mitch marner fluff #mitch marner #mitch marner smut #mitch marner imagine #mitchell marner #16 #marner16 #nhl blurb #nhl x reader #mitch marner x reader

[cuttergauthier]

New Leaf | One

Au Summary: In which a hockey sister falls for her enemy who also happens to be her brother's new teammate.  Yn Matthews and Matthew Knies never got along, what happens when Matthew becomes a Maple Leaf.

Matthew Knies x Matthews au

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX | SEVEN

Social Media | Real Life

National Hockey League | Toronto Maple Leaf

Word Count: 1.3k 

Au's Masterlist

Warning: This Story will contain Mature Language, Alcohol consumption, Against, fluff, Time jumps

I’ve been living in Toronto for the past two years. I’m a sophomore at the University of Toronto.

My older brother Auston plays for the Toronto Maple Leafs. When he first moved to Toronto, I missed him a lot so I decided to apply to Toronto. When I got excepted Auston was excited to be close to me again. Even though he’s 5 years older than me I’ve always been closer to him.

My first year here I lived in a dorm room, this year I wanted to live on my own so my brother helped me find an apartment where I could afford on my own even though he argued about it, I never want to have to depend on my brother for his money, even though he keeps saying he doesn’t care, but when I told him I wanted to pay for my own place he agree after about a month as long the apartment was in a safe neighbourhood.

This morning my brother called me after I got out of class to ask if I wanted to go watch their practice. I had nothing to do so I said yes.

The guys have been like my brothers since the moment I met them all, they always have my back. Auston said that Steph was going to be there, she’s Mitch’s Fiancé, she is the wag who I’ve always been the closest with since the day I met her, she became like an older sister to me. I tell her everything, if I ever need advice, she’s the one I talk to.

I took an uber to the arena since Steph and I always go out for coffee after we do this. I finally arrived at the arena and made my way to the stands to meet Steph.

When she saw me she smiled, she pulled me in a hug.

“It’s so good to see you, I miss you” she said, I chuckled.

“You literally saw me two days ago” I said

“I know but I still missed you”

“I missed you to”

We sat down and started talking, the guys aren’t on the ice yet.

“You’re going to see the new rookie today,” she said smiling.

“New rookie?” I asked confused

“Yeah, his college season just ended so the leafs signed him”

“Oh nice”

“According to Mitch, he’s really good and he’s your age,” she said, smirking.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“well you are single”

“Oh shut up” I said laughing.

“He’s number 23” she said as the boys started to get on the ice.

I looked up and saw who she was talking about, he looks familiar.

“What’s his name?”

“Um I think Mitch said Matt Knies” she said

I whipped my head around and looked at her with wide eyes.

“WHAT!?” I whispered.

Her eyes widened.

“Yeah, why?”

“Because I know him, why did the leafs have to sign him?” I sighed.

“What’s wrong with him? according to Mitch he’s really good.”

“I know he is… he’s from Arizona, we have the same friends back home, we went to the same high school but we never got along.”

“Omg really? Does your brother know about this?” she asked

“He might I don’t know, I never mentioned him before, really i’m closer with the doan’s and knies’ brother Phil”

“Well maybe it’s a sign for you guys to finally get along since you’re both in the same city again” she said smiling.

“I hope because if not, being in Toronto is going to feel like hell”

“It will be fine, don’t worry, and I’m sure if he says or does something, your brother and the guys will have your back” she said smiling. I gave her a soft smile.

We continued watching practice, once it was over the guys started making there way off the ice, Mich, Auston and matthew are standing by the bench talking. Mitch turned our way and waved happily, he might be 26 but he acts like a kid sometimes. Steph and I waved back chuckling. Both Auston and Matthew looked our way, Matthew looked straight at me shocked, his jaw dropped. He regained his composure before my brother or Mitch noticed.

Once they got off the ice, Steph looked at me smirking.

“What?”

“He definitely noticed you” she said, chuckling.

“Shut up” I scoffed.

We made our way out of the arena and to Steph’s car. Steph started Driver to (Your Favorite coffee place). Once we got there we both ordered our coffees and sat down at a table closest to the window.

Steph looked at me and smiled.

“What now?” i asked chuckling.

“What is it between you and Matthew that you don’t get along?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. We’ve been going to the same school since we were kids, we both had the same friends like I said, I was close with Gracie Doan while her brother was close with Matthew, as we grew up, we all became like a group all of us along with Matthew’s older brother. He’s just been a jerk to me since middle school, it never changed” I told her honestly.

“Have you ever thought that maybe he has a crush on you? I mean that’s usually what kids do when they have a crush” she said.

I scoffed.

“There’s no way Matthew ever had a crush on me.”

“You never know Yn, what about you, have you ever had a crush on him?” she asked curiously. I laughed.

“Obviously, i’m not blind, he's good looking steph” i said smiling, too bad he’s a jerk when it comes to me. Steph smiled before taking a drink of her coffee.

“Well, let’s hope something good comes from him being in toronto and being your brother’s teammate.” she said

“Same but i doubt it’ll end with us getting together steph”

“Never say never Yn” she said smirking. I shock my head in disbelief.

“Yeah, yeah whatever” i said and she laughed.

“Moving on, how are your classes? Are you almost done?” she asked

“Yeah, i only have one exam left then year 2 will be over” i said smiling.

“I’m glad”

Steph dropped me off at my apartment. It’s now noon, I took my school stuff out of my bag so I could study a little for my exam.

I studied for about an hour before taking a break. I went on my phone and texted Phil, Matthew’s brother, he’s one of my closest friends.

Yn: Why couldn’t you have warned me that your brother signed?!?!

Phil: Thought it would be a good surprise 🤪

Yn: I hate you so much right now!

Phil: No you don’t!

Phil: Did you see him?

Yn: Yes! I went to watch practice earlier with Steph, she’s the one who told me, then I saw him!

Phil: Sorry Yn :/ Did he see you?

Yn: Yes and he was shocked!

Phil: You two are going to have to get a long sometime!

Yn: You know damn well that won’t happen anytime soon!

Phil: Let me dream!

Yn: 😂

Phil: I’ll see you in a few days, we're coming down to Toronto For his NHL debut! (Pretend His debut was in Toronto)

Yn: At least i get to see you and your parents!

#nhl fanfiction #nhl fluff #nhl fic #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl blurbs #nhl blurb #hockey #Hockey Fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey blurb #hockey fluff #hockey imagine #matthew knies #matthew knies blurb #matthew knies imagine #matthew knies fic #matthew knies fluff #auston matthews #mitchell marner #mitch marner #Toronto Maple Leafs #william nylander #Matthew Knies x Matthews au

[muppetjohntavares]

God gives his biggest battles to his silliest mice soldiers

(Picture credit to Steven Ryan and Norm Hall)

#i tried to do a fully serious and then fully silly mitchy edit but i just landed right down the middle #i mean. i love his shouty face best but i havent found the perfect shot yet #mitch marner #mitchell marner #toronto maple leafs #maple leafs #leafs #muppet edits #muppet edits leafs edition #16 mitchy

[ohmymarner]

the newlyweds!

ft. mitch griddying

#mitch marner #steph lachance #toronto maple leafs #toronto #leafs #mitchell marner

[lvrhughes]

Zeus' Day | M. Marner

pairing: Mitch Marner x gn!reader

Word count: 0.7k

warnings: allusions to sex, kissing?

requested: yes

not my gif!

“Zeus!” you woke up to Mitch groaning at the dog, getting up to see him standing in the kitchen with spilt pancake batter. You laughed at the scene, Zeus now licking up the batter.

“What happened?” Clearly Mitch wasn’t paying attention to anything other than his dog, jumping at the sound of your voice.

“Jeez, Zeus jumped and knocked the bowl off the counter.” you laughed at the explanation, making Mitch roll his eyes.

“It’s okay, it’s his birthday.” you said, petting the dog. Zeus basking in the attention, rolling over at the touch, sliding the bowl further over on the floor. 

You would’ve never known Mitch was taking a picture had it not been for the click with a ‘oops’ muttered behind you. Turning to see him, a cheeky grin on his face.

“Mitchell,” 

“Be nice, you love me, remember?” 

You didn’t answer that time, jumping at him instead. Unprepared for the force, he almost fell, stumbling back before wrapping his arms around you. Keeping you tight against him before peppering you with kisses, making you laugh, the noise bringing Zeus over. When Mitch fell back onto the couch, Zeus clearly thought it was the perfect time to join. Jumping on the couch, smothering Mitch in the process, before settling on the unused cushion beside the two of you. 

You rolled off Mitch, moving to Zeus, giving him more affection for the day.

“Why are you giving my dog more affection than me?” 

“Because it’s his birthday.”

The next few hours were spent similarly, with Mitch complaining and you saying it was Zeus’ day. 

“I’ll make a deal, we were doing this either way, but we make Zeus a cake and then you give me some attention?”

“Deal.” you grinned, pulling him into the kitchen, finding everything you’d need. 

“Okay, what’s the first step?” 

It was a pretty simple recipe, easy to follow. Zeus’ cake was done in an hour, decorating and all.

“Zeus!” Mitch called for him, you stood back, recording the scene. Zeus came running in, sliding up to Mitch. Mitch leaned down, placing the cake on the ground for Zeus, where he dug in immediately. 

The cake was gone in minutes, laughing as Zeus made a mess everywhere with it, knowing you’d need to clean it up in a few minutes. Mitch grabbed the plate from the dog, tossing it into the sink before giving Zeus a bit of attention, you still stood recording the entire moment before posting it on instagram. Then cleaning up all the missed cake, throwing it out after offering it to Zeus, who refused. When you thought the kitchen was clean, you ventured to the living room, where Mitch was on the couch with Zeus, tucked against his side, so you quickly took a picture, posting it on your story and tagging Mitch. 

Looking through Mitch’s story after, seeing all the photos of Zeus he posted and he shared your story on his too. 

“What happened to needing all my attention? You seem pretty content with Zeus.” he rolled his eyes, pulling you onto his lap. 

“I love my dog, don’t get me wrong, but your attention is so much better.” leaning in to kiss you, giving you the time to wrap your arms around his neck first and tangle through his hair. Chasing your lips when you tried to pull away, keeping you pressed into him, until Zeus whined beside. 

You took the moment to pull away, looking at the dog.

“What’s up buddy?” He whined again, pushing himself between the two of you. “You’re jealous huh? Just like your daddy.” you giggled, Mitch's fingers tickling your sides.  

“Take it back!” he chanted, still running his fingers along your sides to elicit laughter from you. 

“Never!” and so he didn’t stop, instead laying you on the couch, Zeus falling on you, to get better leverage. “Okay! Okay, I surrender! I take it back.” finally he let off, shooing Zeus off you to fall on top of you. 

“Are you happy now? You got all my attention.” you played at Mitch, him nuzzling into you. 

“Meh, could have more.” you could feel his smirk as he said the words, slightly muffled. You smacked his back lightly. 

“Mitchell!” you groaned.

“What? I’m sure Zeus wouldn’t mind, he can live without your affection for a few hours.”

“Mitchell Marner, we are not ditching your dog on his birthday.”

“But-”

“No, it’s Zeus day.”

#mitch marner x reader #mitch marner imagine #mitch marner #toronto maple leafs #maple leafs #mads writings! #mitchell marner

[sarcasmchandlerbing]

Some Leafs players collages

#fuck i can't do any other collages/players/teams anymore cos the app i did the thing was taking too much storage/space on my phone 😭🤬😟 #toronto maple leafs #tml #maple leafs #leafs #nhl #collages #mitch marner #matthew knies #auston matthews #tyler bertuzzi #ryan reaves #william nylander #nicholas robertson #john tavares #nick robertson #mitchell marner #my edit #sarcasmchandlerbing #hockey #ice hockey #sports #tried to do mark giordano and timothy liljegren also but then phone/gallery was starting to act up too much and then i had no choice but to #delete the app or whatever. it was fun making these while it lasted 😭 wanted to make much more of these but whatever! no fun for me then! #idc if people ignore these because yes i know these are not very... how would you say... professional? awesome? cool? these are easy to make #not so greatly done and i just use others photos (from google duh - but they are some others photos) - but i want to make badly made things #okay idk what am i saying anymore but if anyone is reading this (no they're not!) have a very nice day! 😊 #hockey players #nhl players

[cutneteel]

#rutger mcgroarty #ethan edwards #mark estapa #michal mrazik #vince dunn #luca fantilli #mitchell marner #mitch marner #connor bedard #sidney crosby #juraj slafkovský #trevor zegras #nico hischier #erm idk anything about hockey so correct me if i'm wrong... I guess #poll #tumblr polls #my polls #random polls #polls

[austonmatthews-34]

Prime Papi via Leafs Insta

#auston matthews #toronto maple leafs #mitchell marner

[mitchysonly]

Mitch literally griddying at his wedding is so him 😭

#mitch marner #toronto maple leafs #hockey #nhl #nhl weddings #mitchell marner

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

˗ˏˋ main masterlist ˎˊ˗

pairing(s) — camboy!MITCH MARNER x camgirl!reader word count — 3k

note — uh so yeah <3

recommended viewing — heathers (1988) and VHS (2012) recommended reading — 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐎 and 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐖𝐒

bingo squares and additional content warnings under the cut.

bingo squares — home movie, exhibitionism, group sex, risky location, and (pseudo) group sex additional content warnings — cameos...bc cameo lol, public sex (a literal audience), unprotected boinking + creampie, some reach-around finger-bang action, unprotected coitus + cum play bc mitchy is nasty, praise kink influencer!mitch — "content, baby, content!" (name that vlogger lol), brief past phone sex (kinda? idk you'll see), discussion of sex work and the selling of items

MITCH MARNER IS BEYOND ANTSY.

He wants to leave, and has since you arrived. You wouldn't be hard-pressed to assume enduring the company of his teammates was physically painful with how he's been behaving.

You have an inkling as to why, and you know your hands aren't exactly clean in that respect, but it's his lack of time management that should bear the brunt of his ire, not you.

You left more than enough time for him to get his dick wet. 

Brooding like a hormonal teenager, he haunts the far corner of the room, glaring at you over the rim of a glass you know he hasn't touched all night. Morgan's in his ear, but anyone can tell he isn't listening just by looking at his pinched expression and hard, detached gaze; Mitch's been too busy glowering to allow even a little fun to bypass his sour mood.

Which is precisely why you're ignoring him. Instead, finding conversation in Matt, who's in town for the weekend.

The more Mitch pouts, the more you tease—he should know that by now.

You're halfway to the kitchen for a refill when your boyfriend finally corners you. One second you're walking down a deserted hallway, and the next you're trapped between the wall and Mitch's heaving chest.

His eyes have gone a deep shade of navy, and that's all you need to see to know you've fucked up.

If there's one thing Mitch hates, it's being denied attention. Namely, yours. 

"I'd say it's time to call it a night, wouldn't you?" he growls lowly into your mouth. 

You’re more marionette than person at this moment, bobbing your head along with his every whim, wholly transfixed and with no real thoughts of your own. It's dizzying how much power he can exert without doing much at all. He could get you to agree to anything.

Never in your life has submission felt this innate or this safe.

And it isn’t often Mitch gets like this. Usually, only after he’s been away for a while or you haven’t had much alone time; tonight both are at play.

Hunger rolls off of him in giddy waves. Breakers that don’t spill or curl; the energy piles up until it has nothing left to do besides compress together. Albeit, far too late to be elegant or uniform. The tempestuous emotion hurtles rapidly to your shore, slamming into you without care or warning. Hypnotic is a word he suits best in this state.

Someone fakes a cough a few paces away. Your heads snap in the direction you came, only to find three figures idling in the entryway.

Mitch grinds his teeth. "Can we help you?"

"No need to cut the evening short, Mitchell," Auston teases through a shit-eating grin, undeterred by his friend's burgeoning tantrum. Mitch doesn't answer, so Auston presses on, "What? My guest bedroom not good for a movie star such as yourself?"

"What, you three what some kind of live demonstration? Fancy yourselves an in-studio audience?" Mitch snorts too quickly and the realization hits just as fast. "You can't be serious."

Had he taken a moment to think about anything besides his raging hard-on, he might've noticed the way your thighs squeezed together at the thought of putting on a show. Or, heard the little whimper you couldn't catch before it got loose.

It's an idea you have been toying with lately, having been a mutual fantasy for some time now, and this is as good an opportunity as any.

Better than most, actually, if you take into account the added risk that comes with bringing your romantic relationship out of the shadows. With more eyes on you as you than ever, Mitch isn't the only one who needs to proceed with caution anymore.

These are people you know and trust, and who are already privy to your unconventional side hustle.

Willy shrugs. "It's not like it'd be the first time we were there while you two were going at it."

Physically, it would be but virtually? Denial would be an outright lie.

Your boyfriend is to blame for that bit of ammunition.

"Jesus, fuck, Mitch! Are you playing with your eyes closed or something? Because it sure as fuck looks like it." 

"It's not my fucking fault, alright? Can't fuckin' concentrate with all her whining and shit," he spat back into the mic.

The intensity of his defense made him thrust his hips, accidentially jostling you in his lap, which just made you whimper louder.

He didn't spare you a second glance.

The lewd squeak was poorly muffled by his neck and, as much as Mitch loved to bitch about how distracting your sounds were, this was exactly why he wanted to be buried balls-deep while he played with the guys.

But that wasn't the half of why he insisted you stay put.

Mitch may be territorial as hell, but he'll never pass up an opportunity to have his ego stroked or to flaunt what luxuries he has at his disposal.

These virtual escapades are like open season for that shit.

Every compliment was more his than yours. Praise for your obedience was truly kudos for his firm hand. Each envy-laced remark, whether it be laden with degradation or brimming with flattery, went straight to his head and to his cock. And, best of all, they had him to thank for the small taste of a heaven they could only dream of.

Win or lose, every game resulted in a night that rendered you speechless and incredibly sore—he loves attention that much.

"Fine," he relents, more aroused now after his trip down memory lane. "You can look, but you can't touch. And don't even think about sweet talking her or bullying me into it. Got it?"

“What’dya say, baby? Should we give the people what they came up here to see?”

Sheepishly, you nod. A pitiful whine matches the pout you wear, impatient as ever.

His reply tickles your ear. The low chuckle is surprisingly airy for a sound burdened by the weight of his smugness.

Ever since he got his hands on your heart, your boyfriend's been inclined to... pomposity. Mitch needs the world to know it's his palm you reside in. He wants the credit he's owed for the spectacular state of disarray you become whenever he's present.

Occasionally, the ego of it all drives you up the wall. But, it's difficult to knock someone down a peg when they've earned every right to be on their high horse.

Not that you're complaining; he's hot when he's cocky.

At the foot of the bed, Mitch frames your body with his thighs. Yours are parted narrowly, only enough for a hand and some wiggle room, but your crowd of three isn't starved for visual stimulation in the slightest.

What you'd put on not two hours prior now sits on the dresser opposite you neatly folded.

Mitch rubs a few fingers over the budding mess between your thighs and, even though the touch remains central to the source, the last garment standing diffuses a delicious tingling sensation. It's minimal, and to an infuriating degree—enough to kindle the fire in your belly without ever risking a premature finale.

Your knees knock together in frustration, but they won't stay that way for long.

Mitch wrenches his hand out from between your thighs, completely ignoring the way you whimper at the loss. He pulls your legs apart with both hands and hooks each one over his knees, leaving your feet dangling outside his.

“You keep them spread, yeah?"

Again, you nod. 

Now is not the time to push his buttons.

Mo runs a hand over his flushed face. “Fuckin’ hell,” he laments.

The damp patch, now verging on translucent, stands in stark contrast to the bright, creamy cotton. A pretty, little satin bow sits demurely above the drop of sweetness no one but Mitch will ever taste again.

Mitch is just as eager as you are. You can feel it on your skin; in the erratic rhythm of his heartbeat; in the effort behind his breathing. But, most obviously, in the bulge burrowing into the small of your back. Which is why, when his deft hand slips beneath the thin waistband to curl into your heat, it comes as no surprise.

He doesn't linger, much to everyone's disappointment.

Mitch is quick to dispel the new gloom blanketing the room, though, holding the evidence of your enthusiasm up to the light as if raising the Cup.

A thick combination of horror and delight burns shallowly under your skin as he slowly separates them, revealing the full extent of your arousal as it hangs proudly between the chuffed digits.

“Showin’ off for my friends?” he chides, though it's clear he couldn’t be happier about the sticky display.

You mewl in response to the light mockery.

And now it's just as evident how badly the three men standing against the wall want to alleviate the growing pressure below their belts.

However, they won't because they can't. 

Mitch wants to be able to see their hands—both of them, at all times.

"They're being so good for you, aren't they? So quiet and polite; got 'em their best behavior for you, baby."

The stage whisper makes Auston scoff and Willy groan. Mo seems to have gone mute.

Ignoring them, your chin dips. Mitch huffs his amusement.

"But have they behaved well enough to earn a treat?" —and before you give him yet another nod, he specifies how he'd like you to respond: "Words, baby. Let them hear that pretty voice."

You comply in a series of choppy whimpers, "Y-Yessir... s'good... They've been s-so good—more than enough."

You plead on their behalf as much as your own. 

Mitch moans into your ear, unhinged and primal, and immediately rucks down the ruined material—one half of a matching set—until they hang off one ankle.

It's taking every ounce of self-control to not flip you over and take you face down ass up; Mitch is enjoying this demonstration of power that much.

The blood pumping in your ears drowns out whatever reaction Mitch's teammates had to seeing you bare and on display, but simply knowing they're there, watching with undivided attention, sets your skin ablaze. 

"I always have to stretch her out before we can do anything fun. Doesn't matter how long or how often I've been fucking her—or which hole. Without fail, my girl tightens right back up like she's brand fuckin' new."

At a gingerly pace, your boyfriend tugs back the soft, subtle hood covering that tender, oh-so-sensitive spot. He lifts the curtain, unveiling the bundle of nerves like the work of art that it is, watching as it pulses for attention. His free hand frames your weeping folds before spreading them open. Though, this early on there's not much to see. And it would be hard to if there were, considering what a mess you've made already. The finishing touch comes from Mitch's hips, which nudge yours in a silent demand for an upward tilt that yields an unobstructed view of both needy, flexing holes for the audience.

"—and I never get sick of breaking her in all over again."

At their wide eyes and slack jaws, Mitch preens. He's delighting in this torture, never having had something they didn't that was worth coveting. Still, regardless of how high Mitch gets off the attention, his generosity has its limits.

The hand petting your clit abandons its post in favor of venturing further south. Mitch absorbs the full-body jolt his mild prodding elicits while continuing to circle the pretty pucker, though never breaching the taut band.

"This little one—it doesn't come for free, and it doesn't go for cheap, either. I can tell you that much right now, boys."

For a bit, mitch plays with you to his heart's content. Still withholding what you want most, but somehow managing to keep you more than satisfied.

But, eventually, your boyfriend begins taking requests from the live audience the way he's done in the past cam shows he has participated in.

"Show us how many that needy cunt can take at once." (Morgan)

—Tonight, three. But the real answer is all of them—thumb included.

"You're doing all the work. Make her fuck herself on them." (William)

—You do a decent job...until your legs give out under the demands of exertion with little to no leverage. Mitch resumes control seconds before your lower extremities begin tingling, a precursor to the eventual numbness that will undoubtedly render you useless.

"Oh, c'mon. I know she can take it harder and faster. Don't hold back, Mitchy." (Auston)

— You can; you do.

...and when you can no longer resist succumbing to the unbearable tightness just below your navel, ruthlessly coupled with his thumb swiping over your swollen clit, you convulse violently in Mitch's steely grip. Your limbs thrash with all their might just to make the most of what little autonomy they've been allotted. A heavy downpour of tears stream down your cheeks, collecting beads of perspiration as they go.

“Goddamn, your tears are even prettier in person," Auston remarks, awestruck.

Willy softly mumbles something to the effect of deeming you an angel and Mitch snorts, knowing that couldn't be further from the truth; you were putting on a show in more ways than one.

“A fuckin’ star—that’s what she is," he's quick to correct.

You're still entrenched in the aftershocks of your first Mitch-induced climax in over a week when he abruptly removes his fingers in favor of spreading you open for your adoring fans.

On the surface, pulling your outer lips apart with his thumbs a second time seems purely for the benefit of a spectator. However, in further exposing such sensitive, delicate skin to the elemets, Mitch is doing you a brilliant favor. The wetness clinging to you like a second skin chills considerably.

At a certain point, you can't discern which shivers belong to these escalations and which stem from the peak you're still reeling from.

Your boyfriend peers over your shoulder, slightly envious of his friends' vantage point, to watch your puffy opening constrict around nothing.

He smirks with his lips pressed to your neck. "Even after all that, this greedy hole still isn't satisfied. You guys done nothing to earn more, but she's too damn inviting to resist."

You're three orgasms deep and verging on incoherent when Mitch finally lowers your limp form over his hard cock, and he finds immense satisfaction in how easily you come apart for him once again. Before he even bottomed out.

A few sharp thrusts with his hand around your throat, his arm firm in the valley between your breasts, and your body milks him like it's after his very soul.

But unfortunately for your poor, overstimulated pussy, he is far from finished with you...

"Y'did so good for me, always so fuckin' good, aren't you? Now stay still for me, baby, just for a second."

You nod and do as you're told, mostly because you can't do much to the contrary even if you wanted to. An overwhelming mix of too sensitive and almost numb has incapacitated you. You're too strung out for that, too far gone even for words. Everything is fuzzy; your mind, senses, and vision.

Physically, you aren't faring much better. Without Mitch propping you up, you fall back onto the sheets with a faint sigh. You're vaguely aware of what's happening and why, but aren't in a state to be much help.

Lucky for you both, Mitch loves to play creative director.

Your boyfriend gently configures your body the way he needs it in order to get the best stills and a few clips to GIF. Mitch bends your knees, placing each foot flat a few inches from your ass, mindful of keeping your knees wide. Enough so that your folds are forced apart naturally just the way he likes, but without causing you any unnecessary discomfort.

Soon, you're splayed open again—Mitch and his camera join the sea of spectators—your swollen cunt on full display as the evidence of your tryst dribbles out onto the duvet.

"Uh, what... What're you doing?" Willy asks, perplexed.

At least, you think it's the winger. You can't be certain, ot with your head still somewhere amongst the stars. 

"What does it look like?" he huffs in response, clearly annoyed by the interruption to his artistic process.

There's more murmuring across the room. From what you can gather, you surmise they're taken aback by how casually this aspect of the job is unfolding, how easily Mitch slips between roles; from run-of-the-mill boyfriend to seasoned dominant, to professional content creator, and back again.

It's something you yourself have thought about on more than one occasion, but never at length.

"Alright, that should do it," Mitch says mostly to himself before leaning down to address you, one hand cradling your jaw while the other brushes away a stale tear. "Now's the hard part."

You can almost feel the triple dose of concern radiating from the far corner. You'd chuckle to yourself if it wouldn't make you look crazier than you already do.

Your boyfriend isn't wrong; this next part is the hard part. 

It's funny how your perception of something can change dramatically depending on the context in which it happens. For example, right now, Mitch is sliding ruined fabric up from your ankle for the express purpose of soaking up everything that's fast escaping; you're too spent to keep it squeezed in.

When he does this just because he can, the overt display of dominance makes you borderline feral. But when the intent is to create a product for profit, it's far from enjoyable.

Hence the whine of discontent presently bouncing off of the walls of Auston Matthews' guest bedroom.

Mitch is quick to soothe you, "I know, I know, but we gotta get 'em ready to ship out tomorrow, baby."

He knows you'll stop complaining once it starts to dry. Once the chill is no longer so harsh or foreign on your sensitive skin. After it tightens, Mitch knows what you'll beg for. His greedy girl always wants more. Especially when she's freshly marked and unable to think of anything but him.  

"What? No party favor?" Auston asks, the words bleeding sarcasm. 

From between your still-quivering thighs, you catch Mitch rolling his eyes. "I'm sorry, did you tip my pretty girl nearly five grand last week?"

Auston balks, head wagging. 

Mitch gloats.

"That's what I thought. No cash, no panties." 

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[dylancozens24]

and now that im grown

im scared of ghosts

memories feel like weapons

and now that i know

i wish youd left me wondering

#nhl #nhl players #toronto maple leafs #mm16 #mitchell marner #mitch marner

[bisexualingmaliciously]

mitch trying (and failing) to throw a puck over the glass

tor @ sea | 2/26/2023 | my video

#mitchell marner #mitch marner #toronto maple leafs #i forgot that I like. went to a game and could post stuff from it #this was very funny 2 me

[bagopucks]

please please please tell me I did not read that Mitch mixes ice cream into his soup.

You certainly did read it like that. I just might write a blurb about it too…

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #mitch marner #mitchell marner #toronto maple leafs

[ohmymarner]

steph and mitch’s wedding video!

#mitch marner #steph lachance #steph marner #toronto maple leafs #toronto #leafs #mitchell marner #leafs hockey #hockey #hockey tumblr #marner #auston matthews #hockey wags #marner wedding #nhl #tml

[lvrhughes]

All of the Girls You Loved Before | M. Marner

pairing: Mitch Marner x f!reader

Word count: 1k

summary: You and Mitch had been together through your teen years, but it didn’t last. As they say if they live something let it go, if it’s meant to be it’ll come back, giving you a new found appreciation for all the girls he loved before.

Warnings: none! so much fluff

Requested: yes

“We’ve gone over this before, I am with you, I’m not going out with other girls while you're away! If I wanted someone else I wouldn’t be dating you!” 

Mitch was mad this time, letting the average teenage insecurities take over and assume the worst, creating another late night fight. Another lame fight over the phone. 

“Mitch, I’m sorry-”

“No I don’t want to hear it right now, I think we should take a break.”

“Oh.” was all you said at the time, thinking back on it maybe you should’ve said no, maybe then you’d have had a longer relationship, but as they say if you love something let it go, if it’s meant to be they’ll come back. 

Your laugh echoed the empty streets, Mitch pulling you towards the town. The two of you had snuck out, planning on sneaking into town, It wasn’t a far walk anyways. Yet somehow the walk took longer than normal, maybe from how many times you stopped because you were laughing too much or when you stopped to take pictures, either way you didn’t know. But it was fun, he was holding your hand the entire time, killin’ time with each other. Until you had to sneak back in.

“Y/n Y/l/n, where were you!” your mothers voice was loud and Mitch, who was outside making sure you didn’t fall while climbing back into your window, could hear the anger in her voice. You got grounded for two weeks. 

Throughout your teenage years you knew Mitch had other girlfriends, but you were his first, but that stupid phone call ruined that. It’s safe to say none of his other girlfriends lasted, because, even though you broke up, you two tried to stay friends and he always came back with a new reason as to why she left. 

“She said that this was just a dead-end street, we had no future together.”

“That’s a new one, I like the originality!” 

“Ha ha, very funny.” Mitch deadpanned, making you burst out with laughter, the sound making his blank expression soften into a smile. 

Your 21st birthday, the first time you had gotten into a bar, legally, and you were going to have a good time, that’s what you said. 

You’d found a cute guy, the same age, he had a little resemblance to Mitch, maybe that’s why you found him. It was going well, you were having a good time with him, dancing and drinking. Until you saw Mitch, the one person you’d be trying to get over. 

“Um- Excuse me.” you stuttered before running to the bathroom, breaking down in tears. Crying' in the bathroom for some dude whose name I cannot remember now. 

You cleaned the messed makeup off as best you could before heading back out, trying to find what's-his-name again. He definitely left. You never found him after returning from the bathroom. No, instead you ran directly into Mitch, too busy looking around to look where you were going, you basically fell on him. 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” you scrambled to get up before he could say anything. 

“Y/n?” fuck, the way he said your name made you melt, he always was your weakness. 

“Hi Mitch.” was all you could mutter, even then the words barely came out, they were only a whisper, yet he heard them. Basking in the way you said his name, he always loved the way you said it. 

So your 21st wasn’t as bad as that sounded because it ended in Mitch bringing you home, asking for your new number since you must’ve changed it from when you were 17 and still talking to him, and a promise to rebuild the friendship that had ended. And you did rebuild the friendship, surprisingly quick, too. 

Going through boxes of old things in Mitch’s house, asking for help when he planned to move out from his parents, you found an old letter. One of the only letters he kept, you’d need to ask him if he still wanted this in his house seeing how it was signed. His name in a heart on the front of the letter, not your writing. But it was okay, whoever this was from led him back to you. You had his love now. 

“I’m so glad for all the girls you loved before.”

You looked up at him, laying on his chest, his hand on your back while he also laid on the couch.

“What?” he looked down at you, confusion was evident on his features. 

“The way you call me baby, the way you treat me like a lady.” you paused for a minute.

“All the girls you loved before, they made you the one I fell for. All the dead-end streets lead you straight to me, now you're all I need. So I’m thankful for the girls you loved before.” 

Mitch could feel himself melting at the words, pulling you closer and tighter. 

“God, I love you.” he mumbled before leaning down to kiss you. 

When you did try to pull away for air, he kept you close, peppering you with kisses. 

“Mitch- st-stop” your words being broken by giggles. He did not stop however, he flipped the two of you so you were no under him, his chain dangling in front of you. 

“Your mother raised you so loyal and kind.” You whispered, seeing his face change with the compliments.

“Teenage love taught you there’s good in goodbye.” He was so caught off guard by your random words he just stayed still, listening for what you’d say next.

“Every woman you’ve ever known brought you here.”

He stayed patient waiting for your next words. 

“I want to teach you how forever feels.”

He wasted no time kissing you again, practically laying on you now, trying to be as close as possible to you. 

“I guess I’m a little thankful for those girls too.” he mumbled against your lips, quickly pressing his back to yours after mumbling that. You smiled into the kiss, waiting a minute before pulling away. 

“I’m so thankful for all the girls you loved before, but i love you more.”

#mitch marner x reader #mitch marner #mitchell marner #toronto maple leafs #mitch marner imagine #nhl imagine #mads writings!