For a fluff request… Date night at home with WillMack maybe they’re all cooking dinner together, and Will and Mack try making cupcakes to practice for the “elevated cupcake experience”… but they absolutely fail.
the kitchen is a disaster.
not the cute, organized kind of cooking mess either. flour is dusted across the counter, a cracked eggshell sits precariously close to the edge of the counter, and at least three mixing bowls are stacked in the sink, abandoned mid-mission.
you lean against the counter with your arms crossed, trying not to laugh.
across from you, will is staring down at the cupcake batter like it's a math equation he can't quite solve.
“i followed the recipe,” he insists.
macklin is standing next to him with a whisk in his hand, looking just as confused. “no, you didn’t.”
“yes, i did.”
“you added like, double the milk.”
will gestures offendedly at the bowl. “you said it looked too thick!”
you bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing.
this whole thing had started because of the “elevated cupcake experience” will had dragged them into. something about learning to bake fancy cupcakes for a team thing.
now there's...whatever this is.
mack dips the whisk into the batter and lifts it.
it pours out like water.
you lose it, doubling over with laughter.
“that is not cupcake batter,” you laugh.
macklin points at you accusingly. “you were supposed to help!”
“i tried!” you defend. “you kicked me out of the kitchen.”
“because you said we’d mess it up! we didn't need that negativity,” mack says.
you gesture at the bowl. “…and how'd that work out?”
will sighs and grabs the box of cupcake liners anyway. “whatever. we’re baking them.”
mack shakes his head. “i don’t trust that batter.”
twenty minutes later, the timer goes off and mack takes the tray out of the oven. the cupcakes have sunk, each one forming a small crater in the middle. you immediately start laughing.
“…that’s definitely not right.”
mack pokes one gently and it jiggles.
“why are they wet?” he frowns, yanking away in disgust. will crosses his arms defensively. “they’re not wet.”
macklin attempts to lift one out of the tray and it collapses in his hand, a dripping, soggy mess of batter.
will frowns, defeated.
“okay,” he admits. “they’re not perfect.”
mack holds up the destroyed cupcake. "these are soup cupcakes.” he deadpans.
will looks between the two of you, then back at the tragic tray of wet cupcakes.
"maybe the elevated experience can just be buying cupcakes." he grimaces.
thinkin about trevor just yappin constantly!! like this man does not shut up ever (affectionately)
you're lying on the couch, half scrolling through your phone, half listening to whatever story trevor's been telling since he walked in the door post practice.
“…so then I told him, I was like, dude, there’s no way you actually thought that was gonna work,” trevor says, gesturing wildly with both hands.
you hum absentmindedly, not even sure what part of the story he's on anymore.
“and then jamie looks at me, right? and I’m thinking—okay wait no actually before that—because this part matters—”
you glance up slowly.
"trevor."
he pauses mid-sentence. “yeah?”
“…what are you even talking about?”
“the play from practice earlier,” he says, as if that clears everything up.
“you started this story about a dog you saw this morning.”
he blinks, like he can't recall what exactly he was on about, head tilting in confusion.
“oh, right. okay, yeah," he tries again, pacing a couple steps across the living room, “i’m leaving the coffee place this morning and this dog just bolts across the street out of nowhere.”
you raise an eyebrow.
“like, i'm talkin' full sprint,” he says, mimicking the motion with his hands. “and i’m standing there thinking i’m about to watch the worst thing ever happen because there’s cars everywhere.”
you nod, stifling a smile.
“but then this guy runs out of the café yelling the dog’s name,” trevor continues.
“and?”
"the dog's name was meatball."
there’s a beat of silence.
then,
“but it reminded me of practice because jamie tried this move and I swear the puck popped up just like that dog—"
"trevor!" you groan, burying your face in the nearest pillow.
the apartment is dim except for the soft glow of the kitchen light. it’s late by the time kk gets home, and you’d been half-dozing on the couch while waiting for her.
the sound of the door unlocking startles you awake.
you sit up just as she walks in, hoodie pulled over her head and her hockey bag slung over one shoulder. she drops it by the door with a tired sigh.
“hey,” you mumble, voice still sleepy.
kk looks over at you and her expression softens instantly. “hey, baby. sorry, didn't mean to wake you.”
“you didn’t,” you say, even though she clearly did. you push the blanket off and stand, making your way over to her. you can practically feel the frustration radiating off her. “rough one?” you ask gently.
she shrugs, pulling the hoodie over her head. “yeah. just… one of those games, y'know?”
you nod a little. you’d watched it. you know exactly how hard she played. how she'd battled along the boards for puck possession, laid major hits, blocked shots like it were easy.
without another word, you wrap your arms around her. kk tenses for half a second, then melts into it, her arms sliding around your waist as she buries her face into your shoulder.
“you played so hard tonight,” you murmur.
she shakes her head slightly against you. “didn’t feel like it mattered.”
“it did,” you say quietly.
after a minute she pulls back just enough to look at you.
“you stayed up waiting?” she asks.
you shrug. “can't sleep without my favorite hockey player.”
kk snorts softly, the corner of her mouth lifting. the tension visibly eases from her shoulders.
“your favorite hockey player missed a wide-open net in the third tonight,” she says depreciatingly.
you reach up and gently push a strand of hair back from her face with a soft grin.
“still my favorite.”
her expression eases again, and she leans down to press a slow kiss to your forehead.
“c’mon,” she murmurs.
you let her pull you back toward the couch, where she immediately drags you into her side, one arm wrapped around you as you both sink into the cushions.
the game still lingers somewhere in her mind, but with you tucked against her, she lets herself forget about it for tonight.
beneath the cut, you'll find every fic i've written on pwhl players. this is also where you can find the list of players i'm willing to write about! (for inquires on players not on the list, send me a message!)
please make sure to read all warnings before reading! use the legend below for symbol meanings! lowercase intended
beneath the cut, you'll find every fic i've written on college hockey players. this is also where you can find the list of players i'm willing to write about! (for inquires on players not on the list, send me a message!)
please make sure to read all warnings before reading! use the legend below for symbol meanings! lowercase intended
thinking abt a fluffy makeout sesh with will smith just a lot of kissing and cuddles cause he’s so prettyyyy
the apartment smells faintly like vanilla from the candle you lit earlier, mixed with the clean, warm scent that followed him out of the shower.
will's standing in the kitchen in a loose t-shirt and gray sweats, leaning against the countertop as he scrolls through his phone. the warmth of the overhead light catches his hair, soft golden curls drying against his forehead.
you don't even realize you're staring.
he glances up and catches you.
"what?" he asks, already smiling because he knows you, and he knows that look on your face.
you walk closer without answering, arms winding around his waist and effectively trapping him between your body and the counter. up close, it's actually unbelievable how pretty he is. his skin is still flushed from his shower. his lips are pink and plush, so soft-looking you have to resist the urge to reach out and thumb over them. his eyes are soft and half-lidded, like he's exactly where he wants to be.
"you're unreal," you mumble, thumbing over the apple of his cheek.
he lets out a quiet laugh, the sound low and a little shy, but he leans into your touch nonetheless, cheek warm beneath your palm.
"you have a serious staring problem," he teases softly.
"can you blame me?"
his curls fall slightly into his eyes before you push them back. his lips part like he's going to shoot back another tease, but he doesn't. instead, his hands slide down to rest on your hips.
the kiss starts gentle, the slow and steady press of his lips to yours. lingering in a way that makes you forget what you were supposed to be doing in the kitchen in the first place.
his hands tighten slightly on your hips, tugging you closer until there's no space left between you. your fingers slide up to his curls, and he makes the smallest sound against your lips, almost a sigh.
he tilts his head down, kissing you slower, like he's savoring the taste of your lips. his thumbs hook into the waistband of your sweats, rubbing comforting circles against your hips. every time you pull back for air, he chases, pressing another kiss to your lips like he can't bear let it end.
you smile into one of them and he finally pulls back for air, nose bumping into yours. his curls are messier, lips flushed. he rests his forehead against yours, breathing slow and warm against your skin.
"you were getting water," he murmurs, voice low and rough.
"hm," you hum. "changed my mind."
he grins, shy and boyish and beautiful, before leaning in to steal another kiss.
thinking abt a fluffy makeout sesh with will smith just a lot of kissing and cuddles cause he’s so prettyyyy
the apartment smells faintly like vanilla from the candle you lit earlier, mixed with the clean, warm scent that followed him out of the shower.
will's standing in the kitchen in a loose t-shirt and gray sweats, leaning against the countertop as he scrolls through his phone. the warmth of the overhead light catches his hair, soft golden curls drying against his forehead.
you don't even realize you're staring.
he glances up and catches you.
"what?" he asks, already smiling because he knows you, and he knows that look on your face.
you walk closer without answering, arms winding around his waist and effectively trapping him between your body and the counter. up close, it's actually unbelievable how pretty he is. his skin is still flushed from his shower. his lips are pink and plush, so soft-looking you have to resist the urge to reach out and thumb over them. his eyes are soft and half-lidded, like he's exactly where he wants to be.
"you're unreal," you mumble, thumbing over the apple of his cheek.
he lets out a quiet laugh, the sound low and a little shy, but he leans into your touch nonetheless, cheek warm beneath your palm.
"you have a serious staring problem," he teases softly.
"can you blame me?"
his curls fall slightly into his eyes before you push them back. his lips part like he's going to shoot back another tease, but he doesn't. instead, his hands slide down to rest on your hips.
the kiss starts gentle, the slow and steady press of his lips to yours. lingering in a way that makes you forget what you were supposed to be doing in the kitchen in the first place.
his hands tighten slightly on your hips, tugging you closer until there's no space left between you. your fingers slide up to his curls, and he makes the smallest sound against your lips, almost a sigh.
he tilts his head down, kissing you slower, like he's savoring the taste of your lips. his thumbs hook into the waistband of your sweats, rubbing comforting circles against your hips. every time you pull back for air, he chases, pressing another kiss to your lips like he can't bear let it end.
you smile into one of them and he finally pulls back for air, nose bumping into yours. his curls are messier, lips flushed. he rests his forehead against yours, breathing slow and warm against your skin.
"you were getting water," he murmurs, voice low and rough.
"hm," you hum. "changed my mind."
he grins, shy and boyish and beautiful, before leaning in to steal another kiss.
the game has been over for at least twenty minutes, and your heart is still racing.
you've watched the replay four times now. macklin celebrini. your macklin, in a team canada jersey, putting the puck in the net like it's a casual shoot around at the practice facility back in san jose. except it's not. it's the olympics. it's his first goal on the biggest stage in the world.
you wait until you know things are probably settling down, then press the call button.
it only rings twice.
"hey," he says, breathless and laughing. "did you see it?"
"did i-?" you scoff, like he's insane for even asking. "mack. you scored your first olympic goal. for team canada. i literally cried."
he lets out one of those shy, light laughs that you love so much. you can picture the blotchy pink rising up his neck and cheeks, and your heart clenches a bit at the visual.
"it doesn't feel real. i just...tipped it in."
"oh, 'just tipped it in,'" you tease. "yeah, no big deal. just the olympics."
there's a quiet pause. you can imagine him sitting there at his locker, one of the last few lingering in the locker room, still half-dressed in his gear, and damp hair sticking to his forehead.
"when it went in," he murmurs, " i just thought of all the early mornings, all the extra reps, just...everything. then i saw the flag in the crowd and it hit me."
"i'm really proud of you," your voice is soft, all hints of teasing gone. "not just for scoring, but for how hard you've worked. you earned your place there, mack."
that lands somewhere deep in his chest.
"thanks," he murmurs, voice chocked full of emotion and adoration. "that means a lot from you."
you lean back against the couch, smiling to yourself.
"keep the puck," you remind gently.
"it's already in my bag."
"good," you giggle. "it's going straight on the wall when you get home. i'm ordering a display case tomorrow."
he laughs and you find yourself missing his sweet, gummy smile.
"go celebrate," you tell him. "soak it in."
"i will," he says. "i miss you. call you when it's quieter?"
"i'll be here, probably still rewatching the clip."
"love you," his honeyed voice whispers over the receiver, like it's meant only for your ears.
"love you, more. congratulations, mack. you've earned this."
omg dom!will and dom!reader punishing a very bratty!mack 😵💫😵💫 pls say u see the vision. theyre so condescending & rough with him ughhhh
NSFW content beneath the cut
the two of you had barely touched him, but macklin was already squirming, brown hair sprawled across the pillows. cheeks pink and blotchy as he whines. will had stripped him long ago, leaving him bare against the tangle of sheets. he's a mess of deep purple love bruises; hickeys littered over his chest and thighs.
"you-you're both assholes," mack whines, legs kicking out against the sheets in something of a tantrum as will's fingers dance through the patch of dark curls at the base of his tummy. he's purposely paying no mind to mack's angry red cock, thick and twitching and practically begging to fill your mouth.
your hand brushes through his hair, comforting and condescending all at once. your fingers get caught, offering a hard tug to his scalp and the sound he lets out is so visceral, it makes your thighs clench. his back arches off the bed for the briefest moment before will locks him back down.
"what's wrong, buddy? you need something?" will patronizes, fixing mack with a lidded stare. mack whimpers, tucking his face into the side of your thigh so he can look up at you with a pathetic, pleading gaze.
will's sharp yank to his hair pulls him back.
"uh-uh. don't look at her. i asked you a question."
mack's cock twitches at his tone.
"please," his voice is nothing more than a choked whisper, eyes closed and bottom lip tucked so harshly between his sweet, gapped teeth that you're worried for a moment that he might draw blood. will grins victoriously, head tilting like he's trying to understand
"what was that?" he mocks, brushing the rough pad of his finger against the leaking tip of mack's cock.
"fuck! please! please, i'm sorry- i'm sorry!"
"you're sorry?" you join in on the teasing, tilting mack's chin up to properly see his face. he nods, green eyes blown out and wet from the frustrated tears pooling.
"you run your mouth all day, and now you're sorry?"
mack nods frantically, squirming and bucking his hips up to chase will's touch. he lets out a choked sob, overwhelmed and underwhelmed all at the same time.
"poor baby," you coo, brushing a stray tear from his cheek. "take a deep breath and try again. nicely."
obsessed with your writing pls give me minty sizekink headcannons nswf + sfw with a shorter girl like 5ft
sfw
taller!fraser who isn't just 6'2, he's built. broad shoulders, thick arms from years of hockey, and a solid chest. next to you, he doesn't just look tall. he looks huge.
taller!fraser who first clocks it when you're standing in front of the bathroom mirror together. you're brushing your teeth and he's behind you. your head barely reaches his shoulder. he just sorts of...blinks, then rests his chin on top of your head.
taller!fraser who has to mind his stride when you're walking together because you take two steps for every one of his.
taller!fraser who thinks it's sweet how small you look in his clothes. sleeves past your hands, hems of t-shirts nearly mid-thigh. he tugs the hoods of hoodies over your head just to laugh at how your face barely pokes out.
taller!fraser who likes to kiss your forehead mid-sentence.
taller!fraser who automatically bends down when you’re talking in crowded places so he can hear you better.
nsfw content below the cut
taller!fraser who is almost eye-level with you when he's on his knees.
taller!fraser who is obsessed with the way your tummy bulges with each thrust into your warm cunt.
taller!fraser who likes to fuck you on the counter just so he doesn’t have to bend as far, hands planted on either side of you while he stands between your knees.
taller!fraser who adores missionary because his hyper-aware of the way his body drapes over yours.
taller!fraser who could cum at the sight of you on your knees for him. he's far too sweet to ever admit it, but seeing you look so small does incredible things for him.
taller!fraser who lifts you effortlessly when you wrap your legs around him, hands steady under your thighs. he doesn’t even break the kiss.
taller!fraser who cums harder and pumps you fuller after he notices the intense size difference.
will smith fluff with shy reader who babies him so much
the front door barely clicks shut behind him before you're off the couch and in front of him.
will's still cladded in team-issued sweats, sling strapped tight around his chest. the faint bruise peeking out from his collar is already turning a deep, ugly purple.
you swallow.
"hey," he says softly.
the pittsburgh game feels like it happened a year ago, not two days. you watched him get driven into the boards. your mind hadn't stopped replaying it yet.
you step forward slowly, like any sudden movement might send a new shock of pain through his bruised shoulder. you reach for his bag before he can get his shoes off and guide him inside, toe the door shut with your foot so he doesn’t have to twist.
"don't carry that."
"i've got it."
you take the duffle bag from his good hand, anyway, putting it aside gently, like the sound of it hitting the floor might startle him. then you step back in front of his, a worried crease tugging between your knitted brows.
"does it hurt?" you ask, voice barely audible.
"a little."
once will's settled on the couch, you kneel next to him without a word. your hands move to the strap at his neck, adjusting it in small increments, smoothing the fabric where it rubs at his skin.
"too tight?" you ask softly, fingers rubbing soft circles into the skin at the nape of his neck.
"no."
you adjust it again for good measure and he makes no move to stop you. you shove a pillow under his forearm, noticing the way his shoulder drops a fraction and the tension eases from his jaw.
"I hated that hit," you admit quietly, busying yourself with fluffing the pillow to avoid the gentle, guilt-ridden look he's fixing you with.
"i know," he murmurs almost apologetically.
he studies you for a moment. the worried crease between your brows, the way your thumb soothes comforting circles into his skin, the anxious bounce of your knee.
"you're hovering," he says.
"i know."
will shifts carefully, ignoring your quiet protests and draws you closer with his good arm until you're folded into his side. you adjust automatically, angling yourself away from his injury like it's contagious.
you press your head to his chest and exhale a warm breath.
"my poor baby," you murmur, muffled against the cotton of his t-shirt. he lets out a breathy laugh, relaxing deeper into the cushions.
"you're makin' it worse."
"i'm making it better."
you press a kiss to the center of his chest just to prove your point, and his good hand comes up to affectionately smooth over your hair. you drag the blanket over him, tucking the corners into him.
"i've got you, bub."
his good arm tightens around you.
you adjust the sling one more time, then tug the blanket up higher over his lap. he tips his head down to rest against yours, letting the warmth draw him into a lazy haze.
hi! i missed you on here hope you’re doing well!! saw you needed fluff requests for minty and ugh i just lay my head on his shoulder while he’s on his phone or something he just seems so sweet and comforting
the couch dips under the two of you, legs tangled through plush blankets. fraser's sitting next to you, one arm wrapped around your shoulder, the other scrolling through scores of a few west coast games. the soft glow of a lamp casts a golden hue across fraser's apartment, bathing everything in warmth.
outside, wind rattles the windows and the faint chill of boston winter creeps through. you're clad in one of his old toronto maple leafs hoodies that he keeps specifically for you, soft and worn, sleeves long enough to cover your perpetually cold hands.
you're tucked into him, head resting just above his collarbone, where his heartbeat is slow and sure. the scent of him — sandalwood scented shampoo and the familiar smell of his laundry detergent — wraps around you like a warm coat.
he shifts slightly, tilting his head to let his rosy cheek rest against the top of your head, and you can feel the rhythm of his steady breathing.
"you comfortable?" he murmurs, voice low and softened with sleep.
you nod against him. "mhm. don't move."
a quiet breath of laugh leaves his chest, and he places his phone face down on the coffee table.
his thumb moves in slow, absent circles on your upper arm. not meant to soothe but doing it anyway. fraser exhales, long and slow and unhurried, sinking deeper into the couch. his glasses slip down the bridge of his nose.
he leans in, pressing a warm kiss to your hairline.
"fras?"
"hmm?" he's drowsy, exhausted from a long day of practice and meetings. he's soft and pliant and so undoubtedly yours. his eyes are half-lidded, and his arms subconsciously tighten around you.
"don't fall asleep on the couch," you murmur quietly, brushing your fingers through his dark curls.
the lamp's golden glow illuminates the strong curve of his shoulders, the soft muss of his hair, and the gentle warmth of his face. his hand slips beneath the fabric of your hoodie, settling heavy on your bare waist.
"'kay. love you," he's already drifting off as he mumbles the serene words and you can't bring yourself to jostle him.
you let him rest there, slipping his glasses off his peaceful face, and ignoring the painful crick in your neck and the way he's heavy on your chest.
it was just summer. just the lake house. born of the consequences of the heat and too many beers after a boat day.
it brewed between moments. luke was distracted by his old umich teammates visiting; the house was crowded enough to allow you to slip away unnoticed, loud enough to muffle any noise.
you drifted down the hall towards jack's room, heart pounding from the thrill. the door was cracked open.
he was there, leaned against the dresser. his linen shirt was unbuttoned enough to offer you a peak of his tanned chest, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. the way he looked at you made your chest tighten and your belly twirl, reminding you of the danger.
luke had been your best friend since your freshman year at michigan. you trusted him in a way that felt natural; the trust that came from late night study sessions, spring break road trips, and too many overpriced drinks at rick's.
it made this so much more complicated.
"finally," jack groans, pushing off the dresser. "thought you'd chicken out."
"you said two minutes," you shoot back with a scoff, feigning annoyance despite the grin growing on your face.
"it's been five."
jack doesn't waste a second. a hand slipping around your waist, tugging you close enough to find your lips, hungry and fast.
you gasp into the kiss, fingers tangling in the fabric of his white button up. his hand presses firm against the small of your back as he subtly grinds his hips against yours.
"gotta be quick," you murmur, head tilting back to offer him more surface area as he nips down your throat. "i told luke i'd-" you cut yourself off with a gasp as jack's hands squeeze the fat of your ass.
he pulls back with a cocky grin.
"told him you'd what?"
"fuck you, J," he lets out an oof as you shove him down to the mattress with a roll of your eyes. he lands back on his elbows, grinning smugly up at you.
"it'd be my pleasure."
his hands find the hem of your tank top, dragging it up and over your head. a choked noise escapes from the back of his throat as your bare tits bounce free, hands automatically coming up to pinch and squeeze at the mounds.
"walking around here without a bra? what happened to my sweet girl, huh?" jack mumbles, gloating in the noise he tears from your lips as he tugs your nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.
he tugs your shorts down, leaving you in only a pair of white cotton panties that are considerably wetter than they were before you walked into his room.
his hands drag you by your hips, settling you down in his lap, thighs spread on either side of his. he tugs his shorts down just enough to free his aching cock, letting it smack up against your bare inner thigh.
he tugs your panties to the side, sliding the head of his cock between your folds. his tip bumps your clit, drawing a moan from you that's a bit too loud for his comfort and he immediately swallows it with a messy, open-mouthed kiss.
he lifts you up just enough to position the tip of his cock at your entrance.
"c'mon, angel. ride it for me," he encourages, hands dragging up and down the smooth skin of your waist. you let out a little whine, sinking down on his cock and he groans at the feeling of your warm, wet heat enveloping him. the stretch of him is delicious, leaving a fluttery feeling in your tummy.
"that's it. fuckin' made for me, baby. gotta be quiet, right?" he murmurs, hips fucking shallowly up into you. "don't want lukey to hear."
+ anonymous: "please another smut with Mack celebrini I don’t mind what u do with it!!"
NSFW content below the cut
the pool water shimmered under the morning, san jose sunshine. the scent of sunscreen mingled with the familiar sweetness of blooming flowers and chlorine. you had spread your towel across your favorite lounge chair, soaking up the warm sun in your tiniest swimsuit after ignoring macklin's pleas to stay in bed. sunglasses perched on your nose; you leaned back and let the warmth envelop you like a cozy blanket.
then the sun abruptly disappeared, a shadow casting over your scantily clothed form. you peered up the nose of your glasses, catching macklin's pouty expression, arms crossed like you'd personally offended him.
"hi, sunshine," you coo, biting your laughter back at his sulky demeanor. he doesn't respond, settling down between your plush thighs on his tummy. his head rests on your chest, and he lets out warm puffs of air against your skin.
"baby, you're blocking my sun," you laugh, nails raking through his soft hair.
he lets out a barely audible whine, clinging to you. "you left me," he mutters petulantly. you giggle softly and he momentarily brightens, like the sound of your laugh could easily soothe all his worries away.
he lets out a soft hum, pressing a kiss to the curve of your boob before sliding lower. he moves down your torso with a drag of his lips as he drifts towards his favorite place. he pauses to press a sweet kiss to your naval, preening as you cup his pink cheek.
"where you going, honey?" you murmur, thumbing over the apple of his cheek. he sighs contentedly, not answering with words, but rather a gentle tug to the strings knotting your swimsuit bottoms together. he peeks up at you with a dreamy questioning glance.
"go ahead, babydoll," you murmur, petting his hair back out of his green eyes. his hands quickly untie the fabric, letting it fall away from your hips.
he wastes no time, slotting himself between your thighs. he takes a breath, savoring the scent of you, mixed with sunscreen and sweat. he quietly noses through your folds, resting there for a moment before allowing himself a taste.
his tongue slides through your folds, collecting your juices with a reverent moan. his tongue swirls your clit, relishing in the breathy noises he draws from your parted lips.
"just like that, mack. god, you're so good. i love you," you keen, fingers dancing through his hair. he flaunts through the praise, eagerly lapping up everything you have to offer.
he sucks your clit into his mouth, grazing it with his teeth and snickering when you give his hair a rough tug. he revels in the attention, slurping messily between your thighs. he moans like he's the one receiving, like he'd live right here, nose buried in your cunt, if you'd let him.
you have to drag him away when you finally finish all over his tongue. he's not happy, whining like a dog that just lost its favorite toy. he presses kisses to your clit, giggling as you twitch and write from overstimulation.
hiiii I'm a bit new here and idk how much you get into willmack,,, but i read the older fem reader x willmack smut and i was inspired
maybe something in the same universe where the reader makes them suck each other off? i can't decide which i like more: the mental image of mack very enthusiastically giving his first bj, or him getting head and writhing against the sheets... both of them including will desperately trying to hold himself together and the reader watching on, maybe giving some words of encouragement, or a guiding hand on one of their heads...
part one (can be standalone) this is my first shot at mlm so please bear with me lol
NSFW content below the cut
mack swallows thickly from where he's perched between will's thighs. his eyes are nervously locked on will's leaking cock, hard and imposing and so close he could almost taste the precum running down the length of it.
will's chest heaves, eyes glued to the ceiling. his shaky hands are fisted in the sheets. his face is twinged with a pink hue as he waits for something — anything — to relieve the need brewing between his legs. he shivers involuntarily as your nails rake through the fine hair coating his thighs.
macklin tentatively leans forward, licking a warm stripe up the underside of his cock, humming softly at the taste. "there you go, honey. just like that," you murmur reassuringly, nestled just close enough behind mack to speak gently in his ear.
will chokes on a moan, face scrunched as he grips the sheets tighter. you gently pry his hands free of the white cotton. "you can touch him, baby," you remind, guiding his hands to mack's soft strands. will lets out a shaky breath, lacing his hands into the blonde's hair and just barely tugging his head closer.
mack kindly obliges, taking a steady breath before wrapping his lips around the tip of will's cock. he suckles once, eyes flittering up to gauge will's reaction.
will softly cries out, offering a quick jerk to mack's hair that he immediately attempts to soothe when mack whines pitifully.
your hand finds the back of mack's neck, a guiding hand as he takes more of will's cock down his throat. "shh, easy, honey. take your time."
will moans and gives a jerky thrust into his mouth, causing mack to choke. you admonish will with a quick pinch to his thigh, hand rubbing up and down macklin's back.
"sorry. f-fuck! sorry, mack," will whines, writhing against the mattress as mack's confidence grows. his head bobs without your guidance, eagerly suckling and swirling his tongue along will's aching cock. he's a mess of spit and tears, barely giving himself a moment to breath before returning to the task at hand.
will lets out a deplorable sob, hand searching desperately for yours. "you need me to hold your hand, angel?" you coo almost mockingly, intertwining your fingers with his as he tries to remain still.
"mack, you're gonna- shit! i'm gonna cum, you gotta-" will interrupts himself with a high-pitched whimper, one hand squeezing yours as the other attempts to pull mack off. mack lets out an indignant hum, swatting his hand away as he continues to suck enthusiastically.
will cries, ripping his hand from yours to hold mack's head down on his length, shooting warm spurts down his throat. "good boy, will. breath, honey," you hum, petting through macklin's mussed hair.
heyyyyy girl, could you write a soft smut with wsh please!!!! love ya!
+ anonymous: "will smith and reader being really soft and giggly in bed"
NSFW content below the cut
the lights are off except for the floor lamp by the window, casting everything in a hazy, honey-gold glow. clothes are scattered across the hardwood floor of his bedroom, discarded with nervous giggles and awkward hands. will's bare form hovers over yours, cross chain dangling between the two of you. it sways a little every time he lets out a quiet giggle.
he leans his forehead against yours with no hesitation, eyes flickering shut with a quiet noise escaping his throat. it's something between a groan and a whimper and it makes your tummy twist, desperate to hear it again.
your cunt flutters around him and will chokes out a full whine, burying his face in the crook of your neck. your hands find his back, eager to trace down the hard plane. his chest heaves, then he lets out an airy laugh.
"you're so warm," he gasps through the words, almost as if he can't believe this is real. like he'd do anything to stay buried here forever. his fingers tighten around your waist when you giggle.
"you can move, will," the muscles along his back tense at your whispered words and he takes a composing breath before drawing his hips back, cock dragging through your warm, gummy walls. his breath catches on another disbelieving laugh.
"holy fuck," he mutters, hips snapping forward. his tip catches a perfect spot, causing your nails to dig into the soft skin of his back. he lets out a little yelp of surprise and you both pause for a second.
"sorry," you poorly bite back a grin, smoothing your hands across the offended surface. will's face is a soft shade of pink, embarrassed but ultimately lost in the snug, wet heat you've so beautifully offered up to him.
"no, you're not."
you stare at each other for a moment before dissolving into giggles. he tries to kiss you through a mess of laughter, settling for obnoxiously smooching across your entire face. "will!" you laugh, pushing his face away.
he finally pulls back, a dopey smile gracing his perfect lips. "sorry," he fibs. "you're so pretty."
your legs hook around his waist and will takes the hint, readjusting his grip on your waist. his hips snap against yours and his cock nudges that spot against, drawing a moan from you. he takes his chance, tongue slipping past your parted lips, warring with your own.
he groans into your mouth, hips losing their rhythm as he draws closer. his hand fumbles between your bodies, desperately swirling your clit. "fuck, 'm not gonna last long," he pants, a gorgeous whine ripping from his throat with another brutal thrust of his hips. your hands find his soft, golden curls and give them a sharp tug.
he chokes on a gasp, furiously circling your soaked clit. your tummy tightens, the familiar feeling sneaking up on you. "please cum with me. fuck- 'm sorry, baby. i'll make it up to you later, i promise," will pleads, thrusts getting sloppy. you can feel his cock twitch as he nears his release.
"will!" your cunt clamps down on him, milking him for all he's worth as you soak his cock. "ha- oh god. shit!" he gasps out, thrusting shallowly as he pumps the condom full. he's tense, eyes shut tight and hands digging almost painfully into your hips.
he comes down slowly, relaxing against your warm body. he lets out an airy laugh, pressing gentle kisses to your throat. "holy shit. i've never cum that quick in my life."
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