cali was never a worry to macklin. she was well-trained, which he always attributed it to her loyalty. though, right in this moment, he felt that cali was the very least loyal she could be.
he had just left the café, expecting the familiar golden tuft of hair to be where he left it, right by the entrance. when all he could see was the grey of the concrete, his heart filled with dread and subsequently dropped to his stomach.
he had come to regret all his decisions. how could he choose a place that didn’t allow pets inside? why couldn’t he have walked the few blocks to a café he knew did?
he was growing frantic by the second, hands brushing through his floppy hair. she couldn’t have gone far, right? he thought.
scanning his surroundings for any clue where she might have gone, his eyes landed on a small patch of green. maybe she was in that small park she always loved running around in.
he couldn’t waste any time. at first, he walked at a fast pace, then jogged, then possibly almost ran to the area. he couldn’t care less if the coffee in his hand spilled over, coating his tightening grasp.
you felt that if you died in this moment, you would die content. seated beneath the wide canopy of a tree, you leaned back against its sturdy trunk, the grass a soft cushion beneath you. a gentle breeze brushed against your skin, and the shade overhead offered a welcome refuge from the sweltering afternoon heat.
breathing out a quiet sigh of contentment, grateful for the stillness around you, you pulled out your book, deciding that today you would finish reading it.
flipping through the pages, you were about to reach the bookmark you had left when your calf was suddenly met with a slimy, wet sensation left cold by the breeze. moving the book aside, you were preparing yourself for the worst. instead, you were met with a face that left you with the aggression to softly—and with the pitch you could atone to the highest note of the piano—say, “hi baby!” drawing out the last syllable.
your heart burst at the sight, a golden retriever with a stick by your feet. could today get any better?
your hand seemed to move on its own, petting, scratching, and patting met with the small huffing and whining of a dog enjoying itself.
you laughed, feeling for a collar this time. “let’s see if you’ve been bad and ran away…” you drifted off and flipped the pendant to find its name.
“cali!” as soon as you said it, the dog lunged toward you with its paws against your lap, tail wagging.
you can’t help but indulge in this moment further. sure cali’s owner was probably freaking out right now but you figured she was safer in your care than wandering around the streets.
you decide to shower the dog with affection a minute longer, eventually deciding to sit against the trunk once more, cali decidedly sprawled herself across your lap, entirely unbothered by the fact that she just wandered off and her rightful owner is probably looking for her in a panic.
you scratch just beneath her chin, “you are such a sweetheart, you know that?” you murmur, laughing at her tail thumping enthusiastically against the grass.
“you are not helping your case at all, cali. gosh i could just take you home right now.” the dog sat up to lick your cheek.
“cali!”
the shout cuts through the sweet moment between you, additionally catching the attention of the people in a few meters radius. cali stops her licking as her ears perk up immediately. and before you could even look to where the voice was coming from, she scrambles off your lap, paws running you over as she bolts towards the loud sound.
your gaze followed until it found an auburn-haired man making his way across the park, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. one hand still clutches an iced coffee that's somehow survived the ordeal, the other braces itself against his knee as he bends over. "there you are..." he exhales.
cali wastes no time in throwing herself against him. he laughs—a breathless, relieved sound—as both hands come up to cradle either side of her face, his coffee forgotten somewhere on the grass. "you scared the hell out of me." he breathed out.
macklin relished in her affection and only then does he look up and his eyes meet yours. "oh," he says.
he looked surprised. he'd been so focused on finding his dog that he'd forgotten there could be another person at the end of this search. you awkwardly brush a few blades of grass from your clothes before approaching him.
"i– uh..." you point toward cali, who's already weaving between the two of you as if she hadn't caused several years to wear off from her owner. "she found me."
"oh yeah, i can see that." he let out a small laugh, sounding more relieved than amused.
"i left her outside a café for, like, five minutes." he rubs the back of his neck, looking equal parts embarrassed and guilty. "came back and she was gone."
you gasp dramatically, turning to the culprit herself. "oh no cali, you have been naughty!" you scold the dog, pointing at her nose.
cali blinks up at you with the most unconvincing expression of innocence before deciding this conversation no longer concerns her. she trots off a few steps, picks up the stick she'd abandoned earlier, and proudly parades it back over, tail wagging so hard her entire body sways with it.
you narrow your eyes at her. "...was she pretending she didn't know what she did?"
he huffs out a laugh. "oh, she knows." he watches as cali deliberately shoves the branch toward you instead of him.
"seriously?”
you bite back a laugh. "i think she likes me more."
"traitor," he mutters, shaking his head at the dog. "i feed you like, every day!"
cali responds with another eager nudge of the stick against your shoe. he watches the exchange with narrowed eyes before letting out a defeated sigh.
"you know..." he says thoughtfully, "she's never done this before."
"really?"
"no." he smiles. "usually she has the decency to wait a few minutes before trying to replace me."
you laugh, the sound bright enough to make him grin right back. he would have just said about anything just to see that smile again. "or..." he points between you and the dog. "she's trying to tell me something."
you furrow your eyebrows. "like what?"
he looks down at cali, who was happily laying between the two of you with the stick balanced across her paws, completely content with herself. "probably that i owe her a treat…" he drifts off and you hum in agreement, nodding along.
"and maybe..." his gaze returns to yours, a little more tentative now. "that i should probably ask for your name before she decides to follow you home instead." you chuckle at his attempt to win you over.
"i'm macklin, by the way." he stumbles over his words.
you tell him your name.
"see?" he nods toward cali, "she's already doing introductions for me."
you glance at her. she only panted happily, blissfully unaware that she'd nearly shave a few year's off his life before playing matchmaker instead.
"you know..." he says, trying—and failing—to sound casual. "coffee."
he glanced down at the half-empty cup on the grass and laughs at himself.
"...preferably somewhere that actually allows dogs."
you pretended to think about it, lips pursing as your gaze drifts from him to cali and back again. "hmmm…"
"that's not a yes."
"well it's not a no either."
a hopeful smile found its way onto his face before he could stop it. "i'll take it."
you looked down at the golden retriever sprawled comfortably between the two of you, who had, at some point, rolled onto her back in silent demand for more attention. she let out a tiny whine, paw twitching ever so slightly as if reminding you she was still there.
"you know," you muse, obliging her request by squatting down to scratch behind her ears, "i think she's only pretending this was an accident."
macklin follows your gaze, his expression softening the moment it lands on his dog. "she’s got that look."
you looked up, tilting your head. "what look?"
"the one that says she knows exactly what she's doing."
and then, almost as if she'd understood every word that had just been said about her, cali nudged the stick closer to the two of you before resting her chin on top of it, eyes lazily flicking between you and her owner.
"i've been trying to tell people she's smarter than she lets on." he shakes his head with a disbelieving laugh, still unable to believe she'd wandered off only to somehow stumble across you. "i always thought she was just friendly."
"but now?"
he glances at you, then back at cali, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips before he answers.
"...now i'm starting to think she's a better wingman than most of my friends."
a laugh escapes you before you can stop it, light and bubbly.
he decides, then and there, that losing his dog for five terrifying minutes might've been the luckiest thing that's happened to him all week.
notes: wrote this in a cafe and i was looking behind me like i was in five nights at freddys bro
Pairing: choi seungcheol x afab!reader
Genres: smut (minors dni!), roommates!au, fwb!au, lil angst if you squint plus gross fluff
Warnings: swearing, mentions of past rough/marathon sex, edging, overstimulation, fingering, mentions of oral sex (fem. receiving, male teasing), biting (bc i wrote this), scratching, marking, mentions of car/exhibitionism sex, objectification, degradation, slight choking, tiny obsession w/ cheol's ass + tatts, making out and tons of kithing uwu, reader's a brat and economic major, cheol's a wealthy arrogant bbygorl, creampies <3, breeding kink, light mentions of babytrapping (look at the title lmfao), lots of touching and groping and teasing, sappy stuff ew, messy sex, kinda bulge kink haha, paragraph/word heavy, throwing in some silliness as usual, & lmk if i missed smth
WC: 7.9k
A/N: i know it's like a month late but this was suppposed to be for cheol's birthday lmfao but it's also meant to be a sequel to Lusty Gallant although it can be read on it's own ig esp since the characters seem ooc </3 also thanks to @hwanghyunjinenthusiast for giving me details on what cheol kithes taste like mwah
Seungcheol and you still live together. And yes, that means you're still committed to fucking on every surface possible in the very nice apartment space comfortable for two.
Roommates with benefits works out well for the both of you — seeming to lean mostly in your favor.
University is a hop and a skip away, close enough for Seungcheol to swing by on his way home from the office with a minor detour. The attractive man's appearance always causes several students to squeal and twirl their hair when he parks next to the sidewalk in a sleek, expensive black and red car. Silver rings that probably cost as much as your tuition adorn long fingers as they tap, tap, tap against the leather steering wheel while he waits.
Seungcheol looks for you over the rim of fake sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose and tongue poking between brilliant white teeth revealed by a smug smirk. Your friends are not subtle — a few in-the-know of what kind of arrangement you have with him and the majority of others not — when they dig an elbow into your ribs or smack your arm in excitement.
You loathe the gawking stares with the same amount of intensity as the tiny sparkle of delight that allows yourself to bask in Seungcheol's showy display of attention that's only partially for you. Aware of what he really loves is soaking up everyone focused on him, brushing back bangs with a pleased grin after checking himself out for the hundredth time in the rearview mirror.
Still, the man is as punctual as clockwork despite a hectic schedule. Deluding yourself is fun whenever he rolls down the window and asks just loud enough for onlookers to hear and swoon over, "How was night class, sweet stuff? Did my luckiest charm learn anything new to advise me on the market's trends?" and receiving an eye roll in return.
"I keep saying you don't have to do this," you remind him every. single. time. because you're sincerely fine walking back the same route you take in the morning.
"Nonsense, it'd be a sin to let a pretty little thing like you walk the city streets in the dark all alone. 'sides it's on my way."
"Of course, as long as it's convenient."
"Convenient?" he repeats with a cocked eyebrow and watches as you slide into the ridiculous car with a cute but sulky pout. An indication that something has ruffled your feathers, if even just a little.
You know not to slam the door too hard when closing it because the one time you did just to be a brat, your battered pussy paid the price. It was very sore for a good couple of days after being repeatedly edged for hours as punishment. First by his fingers during the drive home, next with his mouth on the hood of said car after he'd pulled into the garage, and then teasing touches along the several little pit stops on the way to the bedroom.
All until you were pressed face-down into silky sheets, finally allowed to let go for the first time of the night with his thick girth easing its way inside of your aching cunt to the hushed words of, "Have to touch my baby gently, treat 'em with lotsa care. Always gotta play nice with the things I like, 'kay?"
Safe to say, you learned your lesson. Who wouldn't after being nearly bedridden and limping around for almost two days?
Seungcheol lets out the same kind of disappointed huff when you apologized to him for having to take care of you after that particularly harsh sex marathon — or any time, for that matter. "I've never thought of it as an inconvenience."
"You're a busy man."
"Not so busy that I can't pick you up, 'specially given that we live together."
"Under various terms and conditions. One of them being that I put up with all your inconveniences, not vice versa."
"Then simply think of it as an additional nuisance of mine you have to deal with. You know I won't do anything you don't want, but at least let me have this so I know you're safe." Another harsh sigh leaves his mouth as he adds, "Even if the university was on the other side of town, I'd be there."
"Yeah, okay."
While there's a general love-hate relationship with your sassy behavior, it's in times like these where he extremely dislikes it since the timing is rather improper to fuck it out of you. Alas, he's left to fumble for an alternative that presents him as a man who possesses some semblance of decorum.
"Can drive something else, find a car that doesn't draw so much attention."
"It's not the car," you snap back without thinking. Lips pressing together in a thin line when Seungcheol's fingers that wish they were on your thigh drum menacingly on the console as a substitute, rings flashing under the glow of the passing streetlights.
"Then what is it?" Your name falls from his lips in a soft, commanding kind of plea.
Lucky for you, the short drive is almost over and you can avoid answering for the last couple of minutes. Pretending to mull it over as you focus on steadying the pounding thump of your heart and the erratic breath caught in your lungs.
"It's nothing," you lie fairly easily, already slinking out of the car the minute he brakes in the garage and ignoring the dark brown eyes trained on you because they will make you hesitate. You have to stay firm or end up caught in his trap. "Just tired, 's all. I'm gonna head to bed early, see you in the morning?"
And you don't wait for a response. Gently closing the car door and then sprinting as unsuspiciously as possible into your designated bedroom. Seungcheol won't follow or pry for now. He's always made a point to respect any boundaries you set and the promise to see him when you wake up will keep the man at bay for now. And you sure as hell were going to use all of that to your advantage, curling up under a blanket and trying to figure out what the fuck is going on.
This "roommates with a multitude of benefits" arrangement worked. Chugging along like a well-oiled mechanism. So why were you contemplating the risk of messing it up and throwing the machine off its steady track? For something so fleeting? So emotional? The one thing that always fucks up these kinds of relationships?
Sure, you were in love with the way Seungcheol carried himself. His swagger. His money. Confidence, charisma, oh… and his cock, too. Who wouldn't be? But now, oh no, now you were also in love with the man himself — stupid Choi Seungcheol!
It was a gradual build. Always there in the background. All it took was for you to acknowledge its existence. Perhaps it was meant to play out this way. But you were still going to hold him responsible as an equal in contributing to this mess just as much as you were for falling. Your fingers clutch at the blanket, the poor fleece serving as an unfortunate outlet for your frustration.
When did the crazy marathons dwindle out? By no means had the two of you stopped fucking — absolutely not. It just meant that, well, rather than Seungcheol just fucking you, he more or less made love to you.
You feel a shiver down your spine and scream into a pillow at the worms writhing in your brain.
The sex was still terrific. You habitually muffle your sounds as it is — not ones of pure frustration like tonight — but out of extreme pleasure. The filthy debauchery hadn't changed either. The two of you deeply reveled in your depraved dynamics and more insane acts, maybe even getting dirtier once this subtle shift happened.
Safety. Security. Seungcheol.
Words you would've never thought to use in relation to him.
And then there was the aftercare. A strange new intimacy. He cuddled in bed after taking the effort to clean each other up for a good night's rest. Remaining there fast asleep and quietly snoring long after you untangle yourself from the comforting warmth of his arms to start the day. Mornings were no longer cold because he chose to stay.
Weekends were becoming your favorite too. When he waddles around shirtless, barely awake upon discovering you gone from his embrace. A back-hug immediately when finding you again. Soft gropes at your curves and low groans of contentment while pressing his nose into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent mixed with his while you prep breakfast. Turning you around for kisses and pursuing long, slow makeout sessions that were quickly becoming the norm. Only for you to accidentally bite down a little too hard on his bottom lip when you realize the toast is burning.
You miss the way his eyes shine with affection as they follow you panicking around the kitchen. When did this big apartment of his begin to feel so alive? Even previous roommates and their loud yammering hardly made him feel at home. Tonguing at the indentation marks of your teeth molded into his lip and the sting that keeps him rooted in the present moment, the man meets your flustered expression with a grand, playful smile.
Ah, he thinks fondly, obviously.
Afternoons no longer consist of being stowed away in respective bedrooms or different rooms. Seungcheol sits at the kitchen table, furrowed eyebrows as he chips away at the excel sheet reflected in the glasses perched on his nose. You sit across from him, dutifully typing up assignments for Sunday night submittal.
He'll ask occasional questions just to learn more about you, your classes, and your dreams. Or if you simply need any help. Meanwhile, you make sure you're both staying hydrated and taking necessary breaks to rest your eyes from the screens. Sometimes you'll even get to assist him by analyzing a report. The real-world example aids as a unique use case scenario to better understand the concepts outlined in your textbooks.
You really were Seungcheol's lucky charm. He often wonders if you'd like to apply to work at the company he's in. But he'd hate to pressure or patronize you. So ultimately all he can do is stare in awe and provide steady encouragement as you formulate calculations, clean up the data, and transform it all into a presentable display of information.
It's usually his turn to cook in the evenings. Constantly getting distracted by your presence that he insists needs to be around to taste-test the vegetables that keep overcooking when he gets too caught up in tasting you. Innocent smooches here and there amid shy giggling that seems far too intimate than if he lapped at something else like in the past when he eagerly devoured your cunt right there on the countertop.
When dinner is served, you honestly never know or care how tasty it is or isn't because Seungcheol himself is the spice in your life. Your plain world now explodes in a bountiful amount of flavor thanks to him. Later, you tidy up the kitchen together — similar to how you move in tandem to freshen up in the bathroom after sex and much like a married couple would act.
And that's why your damn roommate leaves you wanting more.
These nights he kisses you bathed in the moonlight, working up a blistering heat that doesn't just simmer in your lower abdomen but follows the journey of his dedicated mouth. Upwards the wildfire burns, swooping into your chest and underneath the skin of your cheeks until it tangles with the expert tongue poking in between your lips. Seungcheol charts familiar territory with dancing fingertips across your skin, re-committing it to memory while yours sear into his, scratching at the wide expanse of his back and burying themselves in the curls of his unruly hair.
He takes you to bed — not always in a sexual manner — and it really doesn't even matter how you end up there because that is where you'll find yourself anyway. Falling asleep in his arms and waking up to repeat this strange and newly established cycle.
So the fact that you are sleeping alone speaks volumes. What is said, you're unsure but little do you know that Seungcheol continues to fear you might slip out of his hands. The attached-detached battle strategy always lurks around the corner and somehow, it's almost better when he treats you like some sort of fucktoy only.
The gentle sparkle in his eye was shielded by the switch to a mean glint, eyeing you up like you're nothing better than a piece of meat. No longer acting as the sweet yet cocky, handsome roommate you've gotten to know and grown feelings for. But reminiscent of the aloof and arrogant — still deviously attractive — man who propositioned this whole situation a little over a year ago.
Like now, as you kneel on all fours naked. Save for the humble pair of underwear whose innocence has long been destroyed due to the stains of your arousal mixed with Seungcheol's cum. Ruining the fabric that nestles between your legs for the sake of modesty you've thrown away hours — no, months — ago.
The very man sits before you on the poor couch that's seen its fair share of sinful acts. He's reclining comfortably, black t-shirt stretching out across a firm chest and broad shoulders while infamous gray sweatpants strain against thick thigh muscles as he manspreads so casually with a large hand laid over his crotch. Teasingly hiding the thing you so desire and are begging for.
But he wants you to work for it. Harder. A lot more than you already have. Put on a proper show of how much you deserve to have him. And want him.
"Come," he commands and pats his thigh like he's talking to some stray dog. When you go to sit back on your knees to stand, his eyes narrow as they darken. "Crawl."
What you don't know is Seungcheol would easily yield to and for you if you'd just let him. Be honest with him. Tell him your feelings. Unfortunately, it's in both of your natures to be hella stubborn. Too prideful to admit defeat and be completely vulnerable. You've come to an impasse.
But crawl to him physically you do, shamelessness long gone. Because what could be more shameful than how willing you are to be used by him and how wonderful it feels to be degraded?
Obviously admitting how much you like the damn man.
Goosebumps thrillingly cover your skin at how the gaze trained on you never loses its intensity with you coming closer, following all the way until your head is between his spread legs. Because he knows at least this is the most definitive way he can hold onto you for now.
"Kiss me."
And you obey, puckering your lips and tenderly placing them against the growing bulge beneath the gray fleece. Looking up with lidded eyes, blinking slowly as you let out audible smooch noises along the hard length before mouthing at where the tip lies. Leaving an even damper spot than the salty excess seeping through the fabric, suckling around the area to replace it with the hot saliva dribbling from your tongue that laps enthusiastically at the taste.
"C'mon pet," Seungcheol's tone is mocking in its chastisement, but the rough pad of his thumb rubbing your warm cheek is gentle. "Gimme a real one."
"Yes sir," falls breathlessly out of your mouth at the assumed permission, hands quickly reaching for the waistband of his sweats only to retract just as fast upon the disapproving click of his tongue.
"Not like that, up."
Uncertain, you brace yourself with the support of his quads so you're kneeling. Leaning in and tentatively pressing a kiss to the spot where you know at least one vein starts from the bottom of his pelvis and leads up to his abdomen. Tongue poking out in an attempt to feel and trace it, also effectively wetting his shirt just for good measure.
This time, a wistful sigh escapes between the man's pouty lips despite the furrowing of eyebrows because you're still not quite getting the message. The hand on your cheek slides down to your neck, briefly running his thumb tantalizingly across the side of your throat, landing on your shoulder, and grasping at your arm. Tugging up until you follow along with the motion and a bit of a surprised squeak, ultimately landing right where he wants you — straddling his lap.
"Oh," you mutter in surprise, abruptly snapped out of the lust haze that had been clouding your mind.
Center of gravity thrown off balance until your knees finally ground themselves on either side of his spread legs. Your hands hover awkwardly in the air, struggling to find something to hold onto before resolutely settling on the back of the couch. But not before Seungcheol's sturdy hands steady your hips, sporty reflexes acting faster than you can complete any of these actions.
"Oh, indeed. Already too fucked out to think?"
"No… s-sorry."
"You can make it up to me," he teases and you wait for the punchline, "with a proper kiss." It's both amazing and brow-raising when the Choi Seungcheol lets out the lowest of whines at the smallest sign of hesitation. "Don'tcha think it's the least I deserve today?"
Spoiled is what he is — but it is his birthday after all — so, of course, you're more than willing to indulge. Although the trepidation is real, manifesting in the tense stiffening of your body and the acceleration of your heart rate.
"Relax," he says gleefully — a little too gleeful. "I don't bite."
"Most times, not."
"If anyone's the biter between us, it's you so…"
The taunting murmur of, "Go ahead and bite baby," turns into a satisfied groan when you press your lips against his. Contrary to the jest and much to his delight, you're gentle. It's so adorable that he finds himself melting below you into a puddle of goo. Becoming absolute putty, lips readily parting so you can lick into his mouth.
He tastes like cherry chapstick and coffee, flavors so Choi Seungcheol that it hurts with how much they alone can possibly overwhelm you. Your nose scrunches, eyebrows following suit. Unaware of how he observes close-up through heavily lidded eyes because he wants more and more of what he can't get enough of. Afraid you might disappear. Even though you're right here — on his lap, kissing him sweetly. Yet you're still not all there.
So, he works on anchoring you to him — somehow, some way. One hand urges you to release your support on the couch, bringing your arm down to sneakily thread his fingers between yours. Naturally, the opposite one falls to eliminate the odd angle and rests on his shoulder. Seungcheol's other palm shifts to splay across your bare back and push you further into his chest, your sensitive nipples brushing against the cotton material of his shirt.
When that burning hand also encourages your ass to sit on his thighs to nearly smother him into the couch cushion and your damp core effectively presses onto the heated length stirring inside his sweats — he finally gets what he's been waiting for. The wanton moan that bubbles out of your throat is quickly swallowed up by the man himself, who ceases the passive role in the makeout session and kisses you back with a fervor that quite literally steals your breath.
He waits for you to surrender.
Not to be confused with submission. Seungcheol no longer cares about any fucked-up or sexual kind of power play nor does he want to win. He doesn't even want you to yield to or for him. Oh, he wishes you would of your own free will — but if you at least give in to the moment, to the feelings of now, and the warmth shared between you two — that's the most he can ask for and what he's grateful to accept for the time being.
Your fingers slip beneath the neckline of his shirt, inadvertently starting to trace along the same pattern as the ink that decorates his skin. The menace of a man smirks, pausing his assault on your lips to croon knowingly, "Wanna move this to your room?"
It's annoying how Seungcheol can read you even before your mind can think. And it's even more irritating at how your body reacts, thighs betraying you. Viscerally squeezing around his figure today, much like the memory of them wrapped above his waist the other day. Legs spread by him in between them as you clung to his body that had been railing into you like there's no tomorrow. Your gaze locked over his shoulder at the man's pride and joy — his nice ass — reflected in the mirror deliberately across from your bed along with the inked designs of things he held dearly marked across his back. Including the healing scratches from your nails.
"No," you grit out and break the kiss to shoot him a pointed glare, "just take off your stupid shirt."
"Thought you'd never ask."
No one should ever look that sexy taking off clothes, but of course, Seungcheol does. Any snark left in you immediately fizzles out at the teasing reveal and intentionally flexed expanse of his stomach as well as his bare chest. And yet something shifts in the air after he throws the shirt off to the side, covering his torso with his arms and giggling.
"Stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you're gonna devour me whole, it's making me shy!"
It's not like you can stop yourself. Goddamnit, even that weird farmer's tan is drool-inducing. And the boyish smile he dons isn't helping either. You scoff to salvage a fraction of sanity, hands back on his bare shoulders and leaning in close enough for your noses to almost touch.
"Bullshit."
"Bet."
"You love it when people stare at you."
There's a beat of silence. "But you look at me… differently."
"Hey — don't get weird on me, Seungcheol, or your dick's gonna deflate."
Normally he'd bite back at you. Stuff like: "My dick's just fine," or "Baby, it's so easy to get hard around you," and "You'd appreciate if my dick got smaller 'cause it wouldn't make you whine so much," but this time, he doesn't. He just stares at you. Thinking. Long enough for you to start getting antsy, unable to hold eye contact for any longer than two minutes, especially with him so close.
"What?"
"You like me, don't you?"
It's the damn question he throws around all the time and your eyes roll up out of habit. "Yeah, I like you better without a deflated — "
"Forget about my cock for a bit."
"Kind of hard to do," you fire back and try to grind down on the very inflated length twitching needily for the snug cunt it senses between the layers of clothes cruelly separating it from its warm home.
Of course, Seungcheol is a little too familiar with your ploys and swats at your behind before squeezing your hips. "I know it is for a cock-hungry slut like you," he growls out in frustration before reverting back to his original soft tone, "but just humor me for a second."
"… Alright."
"You like me," he states and then repeats it in earnest when you sigh again, "you really like me. I would even be so confident enough to think you're… you're in love — "
"Well quit thinking," you interrupt with a snap, "I know your high and mighty arrogance causes you to believe everyone worships the ground you walk on but that doesn't mean a damn thing!"
Seungcheol's caramel eyes flash — with irritation or hurt, you can't quite place the swirl of emotions. "So that's all it is, huh? Just a figment of my imagination. A totally unfair projection of my thoughts and feelings onto you."
"If you wanted a session so badly on your birthday, then you should've scheduled with your therapist. And if you didn't want to continue fucking, then we could've stopped after the first round 'cause I was fine but you wanted more."
"You and I both know we're not just 'fucking'," he snarls, "and yeah, I do want more and that's why I need to know — with or without the sex, forgetting about the looks I know aren't just lust-filled because I see the ones you think I don't, I need to hear it out loud — do you like me?"
The plea of your name is the doomed cherry on top, heart thudding to the floor. It feels like the breath has been punched out of you. Though his skin is fiery warm beneath your palms it's not enough to thaw the way you've completely frozen over.
"Fine," you eventually wheeze out and Seungcheol relaxes — relieved — despite the crack in your voice, only to tense at your next words. "I'll move out tomorrow. Might take me a few days to get all my stuff gathered though."
"Wait… wait, wait… '' And this is the moment when the two of you find out that the black jujitsu belt he'd earned wasn't all for naught, effectively using a well-maneuvered technique that takes you off his lap and onto your back before you can escape from him again. "Please."
He begs, desperation evident in the way he clings to you and flops his forehead defeatedly onto your shoulder. As if he isn't the one who has you pinned to the couch cushions. He's never tried to hinder you before but honestly, he thinks he's hit the breaking point.
Don't you dare fucking leave me, is what is thought — but what comes out is a broken, "Why?"
"Because… because I… I breached the c-contract and made you uncomf — "
Seungcheol's head flies back up. "Then it should be me who moves out 'cause I'm pretty sure I violated the contract first."
"Wh-what?"
"Look at me," he commands and grips your chin so you can't turn away, "look at me, baby." And when your eyes squint open to stare into his, he fixes you with the most sincere expression you've ever seen. "I'm in love with you."
Tears spring to your eyes at the wild admission. Neither of you are sure if your hearts are mending or splitting to fuse and complete the other's. What you do know is that Seungcheol melts into you with a kiss of elation and celebration, the big man further turning into an even bigger pile of mush when your hands cup both of his cheeks during it and a thumb rubs soothingly at his jaw. He smiles against your lips when you whisper back, "I love you too."
"Took you long enough." Your flustered protests are cut short when he sits up to lean against the opposite armrest, pulling you on top of him like your original positions. "Have a present for you."
"But you're the one who should be receiving gifts."
He shrugs. "I already have the prettiest one right here in my arms… even if I was almost left alone on my birthday."
"Sorry," you stroke his pouty lips, "to be fair, I was going to wait until tomorrow."
"While holed up all by yourself in your room in the meantime. Little shit, you know I wouldn't have let you go, right?"
"Yeah… because you love me!"
There's an extra giddiness to your exclamation that's contagious enough to crack Seungcheol's chagrined expression with another grin.
"And you were gonna leave 'cause you loved me…" He lets out a huff. "Whatever, water under the bridge. Anyways, the gift. It's underneath the couch."
Curious, you lay flat and brush your hand beneath the furniture. Waving it around back and forth in the blind search, subsequently shifting all over Seungcheol's chest — bare skin gliding across bare skin.
You snicker, feeling his cock stiffening once more with your movements. "Calm down, horndog."
"It's not my fault you're rubbing your very sexy body all over me!"
"… Why'd you even decide to put it here?"
"'Cause you never clean."
"Hey! Don't make me bite your dick off." It twitches beneath you. "Freak."
"We'll see who the real freak is when I go ahead and get it pierced with a barbell you'll like."
"Oh, fuck off!" comes your retort and he grumbles at the lighthearted jab while your hand finally bumps against a hard box that you grasp onto tightly. Pulling it out and frowning at the suspicious amount of dust covering it. "Gee, how long was this down here?"
"… Six months."
Your eyes bug out. "Six months?!"
"Told ya you didn't clean under there!"
"Oh yes, because that's the point here."
"It kind of is," Seungcheol teases despite the slightly wistful look in his eyes. "Knew you wouldn't find it there."
All you can do is shake your head, gingerly opening what you assume to be a jewelry box only to abruptly shut it out of pure shock. "What the fuck did I just see?!"
"Do… do you not like it?"
"That's so not the question that needs to be asked right now."
"It kind of does 'cause if you don't want it, I'll buy something else. "
"You've gotta be shittin' me." You fix him with a hard glare though he barely reacts to it. "How much of your bank account did you deplete for that?"
A satisfied, cocky smirk is all you get in return. "'Tis but a bucket of water taken out of the ocean, sweetheart. Trivial."
"Choi Seungcheol."
"C'mon," he takes the box from you with one large hand and pops it back open. You can actually feel the ache in your eyes set in at the sight of the dazzling jewels once again. "Thought it'd look gorgeous on you."
It's easy to visibly melt at his words because he's such a smooth talker along with the knowledge that he's kept this hidden for approximately half of a year. But that still doesn't distract you from the insane amount of delicate crystals forming a beautiful open heart shape linked to two short double-strands of diamond studs on either side that join together with a silver clasp.
"It looks expensive," you correct, "how much was it?"
"Hmm, well it's seventeen carats so… a couple thousand, maybe?"
Your jaw drops, eyes widening as one of Seungcheol's beefy fingers carelessly thumbs at the choker like the piece of jewelry couldn't pay off more than half of your student debt. You likely also get some type of look on your face because he clicks his tongue.
"Now, don't you worry your pretty little head about it. I would happily spend ten times as much to get something that expresses just a fraction of what your worth is — in the world and… to me."
"You're so sappy, what the heck."
"Better not start something you can't handle, love." Seungcheol kindly warns, a little affronted when his puppy dog eyes and babygirl pout aren't as effective at distracting you as he'd like. Well, there are other ways. "You can't return it without testing it first."
"Testing?"
"Mhm, but why don't you give your sugar daddy a kiss of gratitude first?"
You scoff. "The only thing you share in common with a glucose guardian is being filthy rich."
"Not because I'm sweet like sugar?"
"Maybe just a little," you admit and lean in to give him an even sweeter kiss, much like earlier. And like before, the man turns into a puddle of syrupy goo at the featherlight touches of your lips on his.
But it's different at the same time. Kissing your roommate has always been with a bit of restraint. That all fades away as you melt into him — safety, security, Seungcheol, surrender — the both of you addicted to and lost in one another's taste while everything else falls away.
Until the little shit that he is distracts you enough for him to deftly extract the choker from its box and fasten it around your neck. You hiss at the shock of cold metal and gemstones as well as the physical and economically ethical weight around your neck, breaking the makeout session.
"See? Gorgeous, just like I thought. Not that you can look at it right now… maybe next time, we'll test it, heh, in your room."
"So that's what you meant by test…"
The lightbulb finally goes off in your head but all you receive in response is a smug look. Unaware that the grand menace is pondering what position he'd like best to see the choker for the first time in action. Something inside him clicks after absentmindedly slipping a finger underneath one of the diamond chains and watching you attempt to swallow at the increase in pressure constricting your airflow.
It's all bright white teeth when he smiles and whispers, "On your back, baby."
And you shuffle backwards obediently, letting gravity take your body down in almost a mini trust fall, knowing there will be a soft landing and that Seungcheol would never let you fall — unless it's for him.
Indeed, he does fall with you. Bodies pressed close together before he starts a burning trail of kisses starting below where the jeweled collar lays sparkling prettily against your throat. Down between your breasts he goes, an appreciative squeeze to both with warm hands that follow along with his movement.
Little nibbles to your skin and brushes to your sides that first have you squealing at the sharp nips and ticklish sensations. They're accompanied by the upward curl of his lips that only spreads wider when those airy giggles of yours transition to light moans the closer he stakes his claim to the more intimate parts of your body.
He lovingly suckles the skin of your tummy, leaving stinging signs of affection littered around your belly button and right above the band of your panties. There, Seungcheol pauses and lifts his head to look directly at you, not even trying to hide the fiery swirl of lust and adoration in his eyes and it makes you wonder how you've ever missed it before.
But that's neither here nor there, every nerve in your system is lit up in a wave of heat that has your hips instinctively rising as if pleading with him. Enough that his brown irises can't help but flit down to observe with raised eyebrows only to meet your flustered expression again with a totally-full-of-himself stare.
"So sweet and needy," Seungcheol murmurs appreciatively and hooks both thumbs underneath the side wings of your underwear to tug them off. "So fuckin' messy too," he adds in a condescending tone as if someone between your legs isn't licking his lips like a man lost in the desert for days stumbling upon a hidden oasis.
The bold eye contact he gets a kick out of maintaining is broken just to watch how the fabric adheres to your center thanks to the mix of his cum from much earlier and the constant leak of arousal pooling from your heated core. He's slow in the process of removing the saturated clothing. Giddy anticipation building until it finally peels away with a suggestive squelch to reveal your creampied cunt.
A choked groan rumbles in his chest. You're caught in the struggle between snapping your legs together out of shyness or letting them fall open just as he likes, the fear of soiling the couch again no longer even a thought. But still in no rush, Seungcheol slips your panties down one leg and while they hang off the other, supports your heel in his palm to place butterfly kisses along your ankle.
You peek at him in between the fingers covering your eyes and heated cheeks. "What are you doing?"
"Admiring you." Smooch. "Adoring you." Peck. "Marveling at how beautifully wet you get… this all for me, love?"
"Yeah, so… so you should take re-responsibility."
"Oh? And how so? What for?"
"Mmph!" You jolt at how fast he moves to fling your underwear over his shoulder and hover over top of you, whispering naughty words into your ear while roughened finger pads brush against slick folds.
"For knockin' you up? Not my fault this hungry pussy is never satisfied no matter how many times I stuff it. Greedy lil' thing."
"'m s-sorry… I — oh! Ohh…"
"You don't sound sorry."
Seungcheol mocks the shuddering moan that spills past your lips like he hadn't just shoved two chunky digits past those slippery folds and into the suffocating warmth beyond. His pointer finger bears its usual silver ring, the cold metal there and around your neck causing you to break out in a sweat at the chill engulfing your whole body. All from the heat swirling from the neck down, the torturous buildup between your legs, and meeting in a firestorm that explodes in your gut and makes your cunt tighten around his moving digits.
Your right arm snakes behind his nape and clings around it for dear life, nearly slamming the man's face into your tits — not that he's complaining — while the other sneaks between your bodies. Trailing down to where Seungcheol's fingers plunge inside of you, running yours across his exposed knuckles to dampen them with the filthy mix of arousal and cumstains he's playing in before tugging and teasing at your clit right above his vigorous actions.
He clicks his tongue. "Now, what did I say about touching things that belong to me?"
"Don't touch without permission." A warning look that lacks any ferocity is shot your way but the corner of your lips quirks up, eyelashes fluttering, because he's really just full of shit. "And to handle… handle them with care, which 's all I'm doin'."
"Brat."
"You love me."
"Damn right, I do. But if you're gonna use that against me like this maybe I have no choice but to discipline you."
You whimper when he withdraws his fingers, the loss and emptiness a punishment itself. "D-don't be mean."
"I'm never mean to you."
"You're not." You acquiesce with a cute little sniffle, interlocking your hands behind his neck to bring him down nose to nose. "'cept when I want your dick but s'kay, love you anyways."
"Using the L-word on me now, huh? Speaking of which, I never got you back for the little stunt you tried to pull earlier."
"Wha — ?"
The new position you had pulled him into grants Seungcheol the full teasing power he was honored to be blessed with. A dripping cock leaks precum between your bodies and smears your belly with the hot excess. Supported by a forearm beside your head, he languidly strokes his hard length and snickers. Barely wedging the mushroomed tip into your moist outer folds with a noisy squish and emitting a strangled groan from the back of the man's throat. Just enough so you can feel the faint tantalizing burn his girth promises in its efforts to stretch out your cunt, a buzz to the underside of your deliciously sore and engorged clit upon contact.
He's all toothy when you moan in response. Wiggling his hips lets him dip in a little further for the sole purpose of watching your eyes glaze over and threaten to roll to the back of your head. Lips parting wider in an adorable 'o' shape.
"Thought you could just leave like it's nothing. As if I don't fuck you full of enough cum to babytrap you here with me… Oh? You'd like that wouldn't you, pussy tryna gobble me up like the slutty whore that you are."
"Mmph, ah… only yours!"
No one has to be your special someone to read your body so easily but it's the fact that he is the one who's able to make your cunt react and squeeze around him just like so that fuels his ego. A mean sneer chisels his softer face features — less of a reaction towards you and more of him struggling not to plunge his pelvis forward and rearrange your guts. Or even worse (better), to bust a nut inside, painting your velvet walls with a creamy white.
It would be so easy to slide in a little further… you're begging him with slurred words and a steady pulsating grip around his dick — just daring him to ease the rest of it inside.
But then you would never learn your lesson. And if there's one thing Seungcheol loves more than being wrapped up in the tight clench of your cunt, it's making you work for it. Show off how desperate and cock-drunk you are.
"Y'know, all you had to do was tell me. Would've fucked you on every surface of this house, make sure there wasn't a moment that passed where you didn't have my cum dripping down your legs." He relents with the most meager of thrusts forward, widening the spread of your pretty folds suckling around him. "Anything to keep my darling 'lil babymaker satisfied, pump you full every minute of the day and make sure it takes."
"Ch-Cheol… please! Wan' you so bad."
"You'd like that, right? Givin' you a baby so you stay here forever. We'll make as many as you want, I'll even take time off to help." The sudden rush of paternal instincts makes the man pause, chuckling and muttering more to himself, if anything, "maybe you've been tryna babytrap me all along."
"Jus' want, just want your dick."
"I know, baby."
Seungcheol simpers at your pitiful plea but the menace in him victoriously pulls out and away, the departing wet 'pop' as loud as the slight fracture in his heart at doing so.
"No!"
In visible grief, your seizing legs clamp at his side with your heels digging into the dip right before the curve of his ass, clawing at his shoulder blades like a cat. That does nothing though except squish his length against your needy cunt, gliding pathetically against it but not once inside.
He smirks and whispers hoarsely, "If you want it so bad, put it in yourself."
A shaky hand reaches down to grasp and stroke at his dick, inadvertently brushing against your swollen clit that has your hips jumping. You bite down on your lower lip in an attempt to concentrate, blindly guiding his slippery cockhead to where it rightfully belongs. All while Seungcheol watches with amusement and a pained expression of how heavenly your hand feels on him — and even more when you succeed and bully him inch by inch inside of your gummy walls that suction and ripple greedily.
"There we go, yeah fuck… just like that."
Further and further, squelch by squelch until your pussy stretches to swallow and take him all. Only a finger's width between your pelvises kissing one another, knuckles snug against his heavy scrotum. You release him with triumph, clinging again to his neck. Seungcheol takes the final push and you let out simultaneous moans when his balls settle warmly against your ass and the neatly trimmed hairs at the base of his shaft are flush with your pubic bone. The tiny rough strands becoming even more soft and soaked by all of the arousal leaking out of your hole and his slit.
"Mine," he affirms and sticks his pinky through the open diamond heart pendant, nail lightly scratching the front of your throat.
"Yours." You hold onto his wrist, finally feeling so deliriously full and giggling a bit because you're somewhat light-headed. "You're mine too."
"Yeah, all yours, baby."
Seungcheol's beginning thrusts are slow, deep, and concentrated. He barely leaves your warmth, only sliding a little bit back before a harsh thrust forward to nudge his tip against the rougher spot that has some drool dribbling at the corner of your mouth out of sheer pleasure.
That doesn't last long though, the both of you are extremely worked up and super sensitive. It only takes a few minutes before he's setting an erratic pace. Strong forearms cage your head to protect it and keep you somewhat stationary while giving him enough strength to absolutely plow into you without forgiveness.
The couple thousand dollar choker starts to shift against your skin, bouncing ever so slightly in time with each repetition of relentless slams into your pussy. Such a sight delights Seungcheol so much, eyes focused on the glittery accessory and listening for its rhythmic jingle — bruising your tender flesh in ways that his lips don't — that ends up drowned out by the continual slap of the hard fucking he delivers.
"Gonna cum for me, sweetheart? Let me fill ya up?"
"S-soon! 'm gonna cum… so soon!"
"I… know. Oh fuck, I know baby. Let go for me, please. Surrender… ngh 'n give it all to me."
A powerful climax washes over you like a surprise, the setoff finalized by the large hand placed on your tummy. Applying just enough pressure to feel every vein and ridge of the cock against your inner walls while on the outside, Seungcheol lets out a guttural and feral groan at the upward bulge beneath his fingertips.
You let go with a wail that's swallowed by his lips capturing yours. Your nails dig into whatever you're grasping onto, teeth unconsciously biting down on his tongue you meant to simply caress with your own.
He lets out a strangled "oomph!" but the pain is easily sedated by the seductive way you contract and massage his dick in your unraveling — and then unprompted, he's spilling over the edge too. Coating your walls in thick ropes of white that sear your insides, gobbling up the release with repeated clenches as you both pant and wait for the orgasmic bliss to fade out.
"I think you're so sexy." Seungcheol mumbles the words tiredly into your shoulder and the laugh you let out sounds more like a winded wheeze.
"How lucky I am that you think that, has the post-nut clarity hit yet or… ?"
"I'm serious. I love you."
"I love you too. Happy birthday to my perfect sugar boyfriend or whatever."
He snorts, lifting his head to send you a lazy grin. "Yeah, happy birthday to me — the luckiest bitch on the planet to be loved by you."
"Spoiled is more like it but yeah. I'd say I'm pretty lucky too."
Adoration shines in both of your weary eyes, though Seungcheol has the audacity to lick his now very dry and cracked lips. "Say, was I right in picking out your gift or do you need more test runs?"
"What I need is a hot bath — no funky business — and at least twenty-four hours of sleep."
"That sounds good too. Y'know… if we sleep for a whole other day and confirm our relationship then, we can fuck for two days straight every year as an anniversary celebration!" His voice lowers, already acting naughty and unintentionally work himself up. "And then I'm positive you'll be bred properly."
You slap his shoulder. Hard. "Choi Seungcheol!"
"'m just kiddin'," he blatantly lies and gently pulls out of your sloppy pussy. Grunting at the goop and messy wetness that got everywhere. "Think we'll need to get a new couch."
"Great idea! Now, you can spend your money on something practical."
"Love you too."
"God, what did I get myself into." When you roll your eyes, a toothy grin is what you receive in return.
"I dunno, love, but I think this roommates to fuck buddies to lovers arrangement will work out beautifully, don't you?"
You give him another kiss just to shut him up. If you ever admit he's right, well, that would be with a mouthful of cock and a story saved for another time.
i love how open you are to writing piss kink. can i request one with will smith where he pisses inside the reader and watches it squirt out. and where the reader pisses on him while he’s fucking her. thank you!
Inside - WS2
Will Smith Hockey x girlfriend!reader
Warnings: smut, PISS KINK, unprotected vaginal sex
Word Count: 634
"Will," you breathed, pulling him into a deep kiss, "I want it."
"Are you sure?" he asked softly, following your kiss with a gentle peck to the corner of your mouth.
You nodded, "please."
Just hours ago, you'd asked him to do something new for you and he'd been willing but slightly unsure. The two of you had experimented with watersports and bladder control and you both enjoyed it, but this was further than you'd gone before.
So with a loving willingness to try new things with you but a slight uncertainty, he lined himself up with your hole and pushed inside of you. It took him a few seconds and he had to take a few deep breaths, but then you felt it. His hot piss streamed out of him and into your pussy, quickly filling you up.
It was a sensation like you'd never felt before and it made you whine high in your throat. You reached for Will, your nails clawing at his shoulder blades. He watched your face closely, studying every little change in your expression.
"How does it feel, baby?" he was completely focused on you, tuned into your body and feelings, but you could hear the way his voice shook just slightly, clearly affected by this.
"A little weird," you admitted quietly, "but i-it's good."
"Do you like it?" he asked.
"Yes," you watched his face, noticing the way he looked down at where he was inside you now that he'd confirmed you were enjoying it, "does... does it feel good for you?"
"Yeah," he let the word out like he'd been holding his breath, "can I try something?"
You nodded, so he gave a few thrusts and then pulled out of you completely. His eyes widened as the liquid squirted out of you, splashing onto both yours and his skin.
"Holy shit," he groaned, looking between your pussy and your face, "did you see that?"
You whimpered, your face flushing red, "y-yeah."
He pushed back into you and started thrusting, "don't be embarrassed, baby," he leaned down to kiss you, "you're so hot."
His thrusts got faster and he leaned back so he could watch, groaning at the sight of his own piss dripping out of you around his dick. He could feel himself getting close already, his dick twitching inside you as his stream died down, a heat burning in his chest.
"Babe," you gasped, "I- I'm gonna..."
Will stared down at you, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He'd felt your orgasms from inside you countless times, he knew what it felt like when you were getting close. He didn't feel that now, so he didn't know what you were talking about.
But before he could ask, he felt it. Your piss spraying directly onto his lower abdomen and dripping down onto his dick.
"Oh fuck," he fell forward, his forehead pressed to your collarbone so he could look down between you and watch the way you were still pissing all over him and yourself.
You laced your fingers through his hair and that was his final straw. He moaned your name, gripping your hips as he came, the sticky liquid adding to the mess he'd already made inside of you.
"Will," you gasped, tugging on his hair and you reached your own climax.
He collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily against the skin of your neck. You held him close to you as you came down from your high.
"I love you," he whispered with a kiss to your jaw before he lifted his head to look at you.
"I love you too," you sighed sleepily.
"That was so hot," he grabbed your face and pulled you into a gentle, but passionate kiss.
"Yeah," you agreed with a sigh against his lips.
A/N - I’ve never done this before so I don’t know if this is accurate to what it’s actually like oops
WSH request: reader is a virgin (and wants to stay like that for now) so Will fucks her with just the tip
Just a little Something - Will Smith
pairing: Will Smith x virgin!reader
summary: Will fucks you with just the tip.
CW: Smut, mdni, just the tip, size kink, overstimulation, established relationship.
The bedroom is bathed in soft moonlight as Will hovers above you, his lips trailing gentle kisses down your neck. Your body arches to meet his touch, skin tingling with anticipation. You've been exploring intimacy together for weeks, but tonight feels different, charged with a new intensity.
"Will," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly. "I want you, but… I'm not ready for everything yet."
He lifts his head, his eyes dark with desire but soft with understanding. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for, baby. I told you that."
"I know," you say, biting your lip. "But I want to be closer to you. Just… not all the way yet."
A slow smile spreads across his face. "I have an idea. Something that might make us both feel good without crossing that line."
He shifts his weight, settling between your legs as he captures your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His hands explore your body, mapping every curve and dip as if memorizing you. When his fingers find your clit, you gasp against his mouth, your hips rising to meet his touch.
"So responsive for me," he murmurs against your lips.
He continues to work you with his fingers, building the pleasure until you're writhing beneath him, desperate for more. Just as you're about to tip over the edge, he pulls back slightly, leaving you breathless and wanting.
"Will," you whine, reaching for him.
"Patience, baby," he chuckles, positioning himself at your entrance. "I'm going to give you something new tonight."
You feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against you and your body tenses instinctively. He's big, bigger than you imagined and even just the tip feels like a stretch.
"Relax for me," he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. "Just breathe. I'll go slow."
He pushes forward slightly, just the tip breaching your entrance. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and a slight sting that makes you gasp.
"Fuck," Will groans, his head dropping to your shoulder. "You're so tight. Can't believe how good you feel."
He stays still for a moment, letting you adjust to the new sensation. Your body gradually relaxes, accepting him as the initial discomfort gives way to pleasure.
"That's it," he praises, his voice thick with desire. "Taking me so well. Such a good girl for me."
He begins to move slightly, just small rocking motions that send sparks of pleasure through your body. Each tiny movement feels more intense than anything you've experienced before.
"You're trying to suck me in deeper, aren't you?" he teases, feeling your muscles clench around him. "Your body wants more even if you're not ready for it yet."
His words make you blush, but you can't deny the truth in them. Your body is indeed craving more of him, desperate to feel him deeper inside.
Will reaches between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit again. "Let me help you with that," he murmurs, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves as he continues his shallow movements.
The stimulation is almost too much, his fingers on your clit and the tip of his cock stretching your entrance. You can feel yourself getting wetter, making it easier for him to move against you.
"Look at us," he says, his voice filled with awe. "Just the tip and you're already falling apart. Imagine how good it would feel to take all of me."
His words send a shiver through you and you shift up slightly, trying to take more despite your earlier reservations.
"Uh-uh," he chides gently, pulling back slightly. "We agreed on just the tip tonight. But soon, baby. Soon I'll give you everything."
His touch grows firmer on your clit, his movements more deliberate as he pushes you closer to the edge. You can feel the pressure building, your body tensing with anticipation.
"Come for me," he commands softly. "Show me how good it feels."
Your orgasm crashes over you, waves of pleasure pulsing through your body as you clench around him. Will groans at the sensation, his control slipping as he feels your tight heat gripping him.
"Fuck, baby," he mutters, pulling out just in time. "Can't hold it anymore."
He strokes himself once, twice, then comes with a deep groan, his release spilling onto your pussy. The sight is intoxicating, his cum glistening on your skin in the moonlight.
Before you can recover, he's dipping his fingers into his release, spreading it over your still-sensitive clit. You gasp at the contact, your body overwhelmed by sensation.
"Will," you whimper, trying to close your legs. "Too much."
"No, no," he murmurs, continuing his gentle torture. "Take it for me. Look how beautiful you look with my cum all over your pretty pussy."
He rubs his release into your clit, the mixture of his seed and your arousal creating delicious friction. It's almost painful in its intensity, but you can't deny the pleasure that courses through you.
"Please," you beg, tears welling in your eyes. "Can't take anymore."
"Almost there, baby," he soothes, his voice soft despite his actions. "Just one more."
His words prove true as another, smaller orgasm ripples through you, leaving you trembling and spent. Will finally relents, gathering you in his arms and pressing soft kisses to your forehead.
"You did so well," he whispers, holding you close. "Took everything I gave you like you were made for it."
You nestle against his chest, your body still humming with pleasure. "That was… intense."
"But good?" he asks and you can hear the slight uncertainty in his voice.
"So good," you assure him, tilting your head up for a kiss. "Maybe next time we can try… a little more?"
Will's eyes light up with desire and affection. "Anything you want, baby. Anything at all."
You and Connor are in the same friend group and have always had a flirty sexy will they won’t they thing and you guys all go to the lake together and he finds out you have nipple piercings and he makes a move and STEAMY MAKEOUT PLEASE
SILVER • CB98
Pairing: Connor Bedard x Fem!Reader
In Which: You finally act on those flirty comments that are consistent in your friendship with Connor. After he notices your new piercings, he can’t seem to control his urges.
Word Count: 1.7k
Includes: NSFW. Kissing, Graphic Makeout, Dry Humping, Teasing, Groping, Cum In Pants.
There’s no simple way to explain your friendship with Connor. You’ve been friends for a while, ever since you were teenagers. The two of you are adults now. You’ve watched each other grow up. You saw the transformation in Connor’s appearance and body throughout his hockey career. It’s also vice versa—he’s noticed the way your clothes accentuate your new frame, and how you grew into your features.
But with years of friendship, came a change in the dynamic. You can’t exactly recall when the great shift occurred. Probably after you both became adults, grew into your looks, and realized that there was mutual attraction there.
But it’s always been strictly platonic between both of you. Sure there’s been an influx of flirty comments exchanged, but you’ve never acted on it.
Most of the time it’s just Connor playfully saying something along the lines of, “Y’know if you ever gave me a chance, you wouldn’t regret it.” Then, you’d reply with something like, “Keep waiting, you’ll get one eventually.”
The flirty, sexual jokes have always felt easy with you guys. Maybe it’s because you know your friendship will stay platonic, even though there’s been that underlying question of if it’ll ever become anything more than that. You’re in the same friend group, which would probably make things awkward if you ever act on those small sexual thoughts you occasionally have.
It’s the off-season now—most hockey players are at home with their families, or spending most of their days training.
You thought it would be fun to visit your lake house in Vancouver for a week. You mentioned it to your friends, just as an idea, and they all loved it.
Connor was hesitant to come. A getaway at a lake house for an entire week means that he’ll have to miss out on training at the rink with a few of the other nhlers. But you promised he’d have fun. He couldn’t say no to you. Not when you were so excited about it.
Now the sun is setting. You’re swimming around in the lake with most of your friend group, splashing each other with water as your voices overlap.
Meanwhile, Connor’s just sat on the dock and observing. He’s shirtless, wearing these thin black shorts that perfectly hug his thighs. You’d be lying if you said you haven’t glanced over at Connor multiple times, just to stare at him and his muscles. He’s hard not to look at when he’s built so well after years of training.
You swim over until you’re in front of Connor, looking up at him. “You’re not gonna come in?” you ask, curious.
Connor smirks as he shakes his head. He’s leaning back on his hands, his legs slightly spread. “I don’t think so,” he says simply.
You roll your eyes at him before you place your hands on the dock, hoisting yourself up until you’re sat next to him. You’re in a black bikini set, your wet hair is pushed back, and Connor can’t seem to take his eyes off of you.
He clears his throat as he absentmindedly glances down at your chest. He doesn’t mean to, but it’s not like this is the first time. It’s also not like Connor doesn’t catch your eyes tracing his cock whenever he’s hard (which happens more times than he’d like to admit when he’s around you).
Your nipples are hard from spending time in the cold water; he’s a twenty year old man, he can’t help his gaze. Connor can see that, but he can also see something else. Around both of your nipples, there’s something poking through the thin material of your bikini top.
You don’t even know Connor’s staring until you glance over at him, acknowledging how his eyes are stuck to your breasts. You’d gotten your nipples pierced a couple weeks ago. You were at the mall with your friends and you dared each other to get either a piercing or tattoo.
You settled on the nipple piercings. They didn’t hurt that much and you like how they look when you wear certain shirts.
“You could try be a little less obvious, Connor,” you say, snapping him out from his trance. “Come on, dude. What happened to respecting your female friends?”
You’re laughing at him as he forcefully pulls his gaze away, furrowing his eyebrows. “You got your nipples pierced?” he questions.
You nod your head. “I was just bored and thought it would be a good idea,” you explain, adjusting the straps of your bikini top. “You like ‘em?”
“Well, I can’t see them,” Connor murmurs. “…So I can’t answer that question.”
You shrug, smiling. “Maybe you’ll get a better look later,” you tease, not sure if you’re being fully honest about that or just making another flirty joke you’ll both brush off later.
“Can’t say shit like that if you’re not serious about it,” he hums. He has that shit-eating grin tugging at the corner of his lips.
“I guess you’ll have to find that out on your own,” you say, standing up. You look down at him, teasingly tugging on the bottom of your bikini top before you make your way towards the lake house for a drink.
—
The sun’s almost set now. You’re lying down on a blanket by the lake, watching the sky melt into a mixture of orange and yellow. The rest of your friends are all inside, participating in a game night that you opted out of. You’d prefer to be by yourself.
You hear the sound of the glass door sliding open, but it doesn’t fully register in your head. Not until someone—Connor—settles down next to you. He’s wearing a shirt now, the sleeves tightly hugging his biceps, with those shorts that are slowly starting to affect you.
He’s sat next to you, his thigh brushing against yours. “So,” he pauses, turning his head to face you, “about earlier.”
“Connor,” you sigh as you sit up to properly glance over at him. “Whatever you’re trying to do, you should just do it.”
You’re pent up by now. You’re not sure what possessed you to be so straight-forward. You know Connor was probably waiting for you to say something before him, just to make sure you’re both on the same page.
Connor wastes no time before he grabs your wrist and your hip, pulling you onto his lap. He was just waiting for the green light. Your knees are braced on the outside of his thighs, just hovering over him for now. Your friends are inside, but they aren’t that far from you. You can only imagine how they’d react if they saw this.
“Wanna get a better look at those piercings,” he whispers. He reaches behind your neck, easily undoing the strap. When the thin article of clothing falls between the two of you, Connor’s breath hitches. He stares at the metal bars, jaw slacked out of awe.
“What’d you think?” you ask again, placing your hands on his chest to steady yourself. “Nice, right?”
Connor’s speechless; he can only nod his head as he places his hands on your hips to easily lead you down onto him. Your breath catches in your throat once you feel his cock behind the thin layer of his shorts, a quiet gasp leaving your lips after you voluntarily roll your hips against his.
“That…that feels good,” you manage, solely focusing on the feeling of his hardening length beneath you.
You wrap your arms around his neck, keeping his clothed chest flush against your bare one. He swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, inching his face closer towards yours. Your breaths mingle with the cool evening air and then Connor’s kissing you, hard.
His lips feel soft against yours. There’s still a hint of hesitance in the kiss, only because you both didn’t think it would happen. You never thought you’d act on the flirty and sexual comments you exchange.
Connor places his hands on your ass, grabbing and kneading the fat beneath his fingers. He’s making these small groans every time you perfectly rock against his clothed cock; it’s sending vibrations through your body. His hands are exploring every inch of you, grabbing your hips, rubbing circles along your waist, tracing his fingers up your stomach until they reach your breasts.
His fingertips trace the metal bars, flicking at them just to get a reaction from you. You gasp into his mouth, pulling back for a second. “Still sensitive,” you whimper.
“Good,” is all Connor says. He’s looking up at your flushed face before leaning in again, taking your bottom lip between his teeth.
Your tongues are overlapping. You’re kissing each other in such a sloppy way that your spit is smothered over each other’s lips. You tilt your head, slowly rolling your hips against his. His cock feels so good against you, even behind the two layers he’s wearing.
You can feel him throbbing from beneath you. He’s close. He’s trying to ignore it because he doesn’t want you to know the effect you have on him. But you can feel it—you’re already fully aware as he lets out these little sounds.
You rock against him one final time, and that does it. A ragged breath leaves Connor’s lips as he regrettably cums in his shorts. He’s never done that before. It doesn’t stop him from kissing you. His lips are still against yours in a way more intense than he’s ever been with anyone else.
You’re chasing your own release, moaning into his mouth. You feel yourself reaching your high until the glass door slides open. Scrambling, you climb off of Connor immediately, rushing to throw your bikini top back on.
“You guys okay out here?” your friend calls out, wondering why you’ve been gone for so long. The entire group must be completely oblivious, or they’re fully aware of what just happened.
Connor quickly shields you with his frame while you tie your top. He turns back, giving a small thumbs up. “We’re good,” he says.
Your friend narrows her eyes, but she doesn’t question anything. She just smiles and nods her head before heading back inside.
You shakily exhale, looking at Connor. You glance down, noticing the wet patch on his shorts. “Did you just…?” You don’t finish your sentence.
“What’d you expect?” Connor asks, huffing quietly. He pauses, clearing his throat. “But, I really do like those piercings.”
You grin. “Thank you.”
You’re not sure if what just happened was a one time thing. Then again, it probably was. You like being friends with Connor. Just friends, that occasionally make these jokes you never thought you’d fulfill.
Until now.
🐰 i was literally in the middle of writing this when i got the notification about connor’s surgery 😭😭 4 months is soo long but i hope he heals well <3
i loveeee these specific reqs!! so thank you anon this was so fun to write and i hope you like how it turned out <3
Pairing: Will Smith x reader & Macklin Celebrini x reader
Summary: You go on a trip to a cabin with your two best friends who are both in love with you.
WC: 1,830
AN: I lost the request that @septembervirgorose made for this, but I’m excited for this little series! This is a love triangle, I’ve never written one before so I hope this isn’t complete ass. Also RIP to sharks ekky 😔
The trip started with 8 people. Then it quickly dwindled down. Cat and Toff had a random grad party to go to. Eky decided to go back to Sweden early. Sam said he wasn't going because his dog ate something suspicious, and of course Misa replied a few seconds later saying he won't make it either.
"Ate something suspicious my ass." You mutter bitterly, staring at the group message. You pull up your other group chat with Will and Mack. You three are the only ones who are able to go apparently.
You: So are we just canceling this thing orrr?
Mack: Nope. Trip is still occurring.
You: Occurring is a big word for someone who doesn't know who Marie Curie is.
Mack: We're still going but maybe the attitude should stay here
Will: I'm driving us.
That was the most Will response ever. No room for discussion or arguments. He's always driven the three of you though, even more so after his Ford sponsorship.
You sigh and start packing the rest of your things.
— the next day at 4am —
"You got shotgun on the way here." You argue with Mack. You both have your hand on the door handle, trying to push the other away with your hip.
"So? I called it before you did, plus the drive here was only 10 minutes. That's nothing compared to the 10 hours we're about to drive for." Mack insists, shoving a bit harder on you.
You open your mouth to yell at him, your anger rising even more at his harsh shove, Will beats you to it though. "Y/n gets the front seat, you guys can switch every-time we stop." Will says as he carefully places the last bag of yours into the trunk. Of course both of them insisted on helping you carry your bags out. Mack got distracted when you ran for the passenger door though.
Mack grunts in disagreement but nonetheless steps back from the door. You don't hesitate to open it and hop in, sticking your tongue out teasingly at Mack.
You two tend to fight like siblings since you've known each other for so long. You grew up in the house next to his back in Vancouver. You naturally became best friends with all of the time you two spent in the backyard together. Your families were so close too that you even went on vacations together as children. So when Mack got drafted to San Jose, you couldn't help but pick a college close to him just so you guys weren't so far apart. There's not been a day that's gone by where you haven't seen Mack. That leads to the sibling-like bickering however.
Rap music flows from the speakers when Will turns on the car. "I gotta change this. I'm not listening to this for 10 hours." You tell Will, reaching over to grab his phone out of the center console.
"Okay, put on whatever you want." He sends you a smile. You smile back, already typing in his password to his phone.
You met Will when Mack met Will. Since you spend so much time with Mack, you spent a lot of time with Will too when Mack started to hangout with him. You admire the kind of gentle spirit that Will has, it's like water to yours and Mack's fire.
"What the fuck? She gets to change the music whenever she wants but I can't?" Mack exclaims from the back. He pounces forward, poking his head between yours and Will's seat, giving Will a dirty look.
"That's probably because he likes me more than you." You respond for Will. You put your palm on Mack's forehead and shove him back into the backseat.
Beside you Will laughs but says nothing. Mack grumbles about how mean you are. You ignore him and search for a song to play.
— 5 hours later —
You wake up to the sound of a door closing. You shoot up anxiously, looking around for the noise. You're in the backseat now, having switched with Mack a few hours ago. You fell asleep after about 10 minutes after Will started driving again. You're not used to waking up as early as you did. Neither are the boys really, but they're more accustomed to early mornings than you.
Will looks in through the window when he notices that you're awake. The gas pumps slowly fills up his tank behind him. You relax back a bit, realizing that he stopped to get gas. Your sleep fog slowly starts fading.
The passenger door opens and Mack pokes his head through. He dumps two energy drinks into the cup holders up front before his eyes meet yours. He jumps a bit, head bumping the top of the car. "Ow, shit!" He lets out a few more swear words.
"There's a roof there, just so you know." You tease him through laughter.
"Ha. Ha. Very funny. I thought you were sleeping still, you scared me." He shoots you an annoyed look. He then reaches into the little plastic bag he has and throws a drink at you. "I got you your favorite." He throws another item at you, it landing right on your lap. "I also got you your usual roadtrip snack."
You sit up a bit straighter, adjusting the pillow behind your back. You're laying across the entire backseat, curled up and facing towards the back. Will originally scolded you for laying in such an unsafe position but you were too tired to care.
"Can we switch again actually? I'm tired now." Mack asks you after a beat of silence, a slight whining tone taking onto his sentence.
"I was going to nap again until at least the next stop." You answer him, letting yourself whine a bit too.
Mack rolls his eyes, closing the passenger door. He starts walking towards the back door. You think for a moment he's going to just drag you out of the backseat and get in himself. Then he opens the door and crawls in, flopping his body onto yours. You groan at the added weight, shifting a bit to get away from his bony knees. "Mack you big lug, get off me."
Mack shakes his head, forehead burrowing deeper into your neck. His hair tickles your cheek and the familiar scent of his shampoo floods your nose. "Just let me sleep." He mumbles, likely already halfway into a deep sleep.
Your stomach flutters at the close contact. You’ve slept over with Mack plenty of times over the years. Even when you were kids you would snuggle like you are now. When you hit middle school that stopped though. When cuddling turned into something romantic instead of something that you do with family, you never did it again. It’s not something you’re used to anymore, cuddling with Mack. At least that’s what you’re telling yourself when your stomach swoons at the feeling of his breath on your neck.
“Absolutely not. I’m getting pulled over if a cop sees that.” Will says immediately when he opens the drivers side door. You swallow thickly, shoving away the thoughts in your brain.
“Shut up Will, no one’s pulling you over.” Mack turns his head to the side to yell at Will. Then his head promptly goes back into the crook of your neck.
You catch Will’s eyes in the rearview mirror. His expression is completely unreadable as he shifts into drive.
— 5 more hours —
Mack parks the car and you let out a sigh of relief. In the back, Will unbuckles and exits the car, dramatically looking up at the sky and shouting words of gratitude that he’s alive. Will let Mack drive for the last hour of the trip, much to your surprise. It was a mistake though because Mack being freshly new to driving is not good to combine with driving through the mountains of Oregon. Will tried to sleep but quickly realized he couldn’t when Mack hit a large pothole 10 minutes in.
“Come on, I’m not that bad. You guys are just dramatic.” Mack scoffs, hopping out of the bronco.
“Dude, my head hit the roof at one point. You can’t drive that fast on such a hilly road.” Will argues, pointing his finger in Mack’s chest.
“That was one time! If you’re not hitting your head on the roof at least once, then you’re not driving right.” Mack’s voice fades as you walk around to the trunk to get your stuff out.
“That’s not how it works! Who even gave you a license? They should be fired.” You hear Will exclaim as you lift your suitcase out of the back.
“Hey idiots, come get your stuff!” You call out to them. They both grumble a bit but nonetheless walk to the trunk and start lifting bags out. Mack of course takes all of his bags in one trip, just so he won’t have to go back out again.
You’re baffled by the hockey player’s strength as you struggle to hoist your suitcase up the stairs of the cabin. “I’ll take it, go get your pillows and stuff.” Will softly says, fingers brushing yours as his hand slides into the handle of the suitcase. He takes it from you swiftly before you can argue. You watch in awe as he effortlessly carries it up the rest of the stairs, even while holding his own bags.
You decide it’s not worth it to even argue with Will. Instead you listen to him and go grab your pillow and blanket from the car.
As you walk into the cabin you stop dead in place at the front door. The whole place is lined with floor to ceiling windows, giving you a good view of the backyard from where you stand. A lake glittering with reflected sunlight stands out back. The porch is huge too, extending into a dock on the water. There’s a fire pit and plenty of chairs to lounge around in.
The cabin itself is huge as well. You suppose it wouldn’t look so big if all 8 people came. Still, the cabin spans many feet, tall oak planks lining the wall, making the whole place feel homey. It’s amazing what that hockey salary can buy. Even though you still insisted on paying for your portion, Mack and Will still paid for the others who didn’t come so that your payment stayed low.
“Hey, I put your stuff in the big room.” Will’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You quietly say thank you and climb the stairs to find your room.
In your room, you take a moment to enjoy the moment. The sound of the birds outside, and Mack shrieking as he jumps in the lake, the smell of the wood planks, the coziness of the whole place.
You sigh and toss your phone on the bed. Just you, Mack, and Will. Your best friends. One week. What could go wrong?
Pairing: will smith x reader!gf, platonic mack x reader
Prompt: you’ve always had that sixth sense before something terrible happens. and needless to say, when that feeling tells you to lock the hotel door? you listen
Warnings: attempted break in, also Eky is mentioned still on the sharks… sue me
One incident? Luck. Twice? Maybe a coincidence. But Will Smith has lost track of how many times you’ve single handedly saved him, a teammate, or especially Macklin from something going wrong.
He made a few jokes in the beginning, as did Mack of course. But every time you felt that sickening feeling crawl up your spine, every time you went weirdly pale, every time your breath hitched and your eyes went wide, Will has listened. And every time, you’ve been exactly right.
Macklin likes to joke that you’re a witch, which of course you immediately threw your slice of apple at him as he said it.
“Not the scary kind!” He amended as Will gave him a ‘did you really just call my girlfriend a witch’ look.
“You’re lucky I like you.” You chirp back to the younger player, as Will gives your side a squeeze.
—
Really, Will doesn’t know how these things keep happening, but they do.
First it was Macklin in the summer, he was walking down to the dock, the wood squeaking under his bare feet. He was rambling about something, Will couldn’t really remember because he was entirely too focused on you.
The breeze through your hair, the deep brown color of your bikini against your skin, the smell of pine wafting off you from your body wash that Will tells you smells like Christmas.
But then he noticed the switch, noticed your skin grow goosebumps, the slight shiver that racked through you. At first he thought you were cold, even with the warm sun beating down on the July day. But then it was the paleness of your skin, and the shaking of your fingers. And then.
“Mack.” You say, all teasing and lightness dropped from your tone. But Macklin wasn’t paying attention, which was not out of the ordinary. “Macklin.” You say again, voice stern. Yet, his best friend still didn’t stop walking. “MACK.” You finally yell, your hand going up to Mack’s t-shirt. You tightened your fist around the fabric and yanked him backwards. His body crashing into you, which then crashed into Will.
“What the fuck!” Mack yelped more out of suprise than anything. And the very next second the board Mack was just about to step on cracks, the old wood falling into the lake, and three of you stare at the spot that definitely would have made Macklin fall through if he stepped on it.
Not that the boys weren’t convinced, but the second time made them agree never to question you at all. What you say goes now. So, at dinner with the team, Will and Mack both agreed to listen to you.
A dish was getting passed around, but as soon as you saw it you questioned it. Then that all too familiar feeling crept in, and you whispered quietly to Will not to eat it. He looked from you to the food, and he nodded. Macklin agreed too with no hesitation, and once again, you were proven to be correct. Half of the team got food poisoning.
“You’re basically magical.” Mack told you while you and Will were dropping him off that night. And you shrug your shoulders, trying not to get freaked out by whatever it is that makes you feel these things.
—
Will has been on the road for three days. Which isn’t long by hockey standards, but you’re definitely missing him being around. So when Mack plans for you to surprise Will in the hotel after their game, you jumped on the opportunity.
Mack:
It’s room 130
You:
Okay, I’m just up the street
Mack:
Hurry up
You:
Oh my bad, I’ll make sure to tell my driver that. I’m sure he’ll listen
Mack:
Wow, you must really be missing Will
You:
And you’re implying what exactly?
Mack:
Nothing. Just try to hurry
By the time you make it there, Macklin is already waiting half in the hallway half in the room. You roll your eyes with a smirk at his impatience as he ushers you in.
“My god woman you’re so slow.”
“It’s been three minutes since you texted me last!” You whisper exclaim, not wanting Will to hear your voice over the shower.
As you throw your bag on the bed Macklin looks at you, before hugging you quickly in greeting before the shower shuts off.
You instantly sit on the foot of the bed Will is going to be sleeping in and as Will opens the door he sees Macklin standing there.
“Dude, what are you doing?” Will asks, walking out of the bathroom but not yet seeing you. He’s got a Boston shirt on, and a pair of black sharks shorts. This golden hair is damp, wet curls stuck to the back of his neck.
“Nothing. Move.” Mack says, getting defensive.
“You’ve been weird all-“ But then Will stops, stops because he turns to see you, sitting on his bed, a goofy smile on your face.
“2 goals tonight? That’s pretty impressive.” You say, a sultry little tone in your voice. You make sure to keep it in check because you know Macklin will complain otherwise.
But Will doesn’t say anything, doesn’t say anything until his arms are around you, picking you up and spinning you around a few times.
“What the hell are you doing here?” He asks, your feet back on the ground as his hands move to your face.
“I missed-“ But you’re cut off by the press of his lips. Like he couldn’t even wait for you to get your sentence out.
“Oh my god.” He says with a laugh.
“Your best friend did some planning.” You say with a small shrug. And at that Will turns to Mack, who’s standing sheepishly by the door like he’s trying to give you guys privacy in the smaller hotel room.
“You did this?” Will asks, and Mack also gives a small shrug.
“You’ve been a mope since we left, plus she’s been no better.”
You and Will both laugh, and Will goes back to you, pressing his forehead against yours and planting small kisses to your face.
“I dreamed about you the last couple nights, so this better be real.” He says.
“It’s real.” You whisper.
“I figured. If it was a dream Macklin would not be here.” He says, and you let out a laugh, your shoulders shaking in his arms.
“Hey, I brought her here!” Macklin says, but you see the bright smile on his mouth.
“Thank you man, really.” Will says, before pulling you into him once again. The smell of him washes over you, some musky woodsy calming smell, reminding you as well that this is real. You lean up on your tip toes to kiss him once more, before you fall into the familiar pattern of your boyfriend and his best friend.
—
A few hours later the three of you are still up, still laughing together and eating the room service Will called for.
You’re leaning into Will’s chest, his thighs and legs bracketing you, and you couldn’t lie that his size compared to you makes you blush.
Macklin was retelling some story from the game, and Will chimes in every once in a while to add something Mack forgot.
Everything was good. Everything was happy and safe and warm, until it wasn’t.
You think you fake it for a second, but then the feeling hits again. That cold, bone chilling feeling that slithers up your neck. You freeze against Will, your heartbeat picking up as your eyes scan the room.
“Baby?” Will says, a bit concerned, and Mack immediately shuts up as he notices what’s happening. “What’s wrong?” He asks, but you stay still, color draining from your face as you wait for the sense, that weird voice to tell you what is happening.
And then it hits.
You fly off the bed, yelling at them to stay there as you race to the door, using your shaking fingers to use the chain to lock the door shut.
“Y/N.” Will says, getting up with Macklin directly beside him.
“Don’t.” You say, and then you hear it.
Three soft knocks on the door. The three of you freeze.
“This is maintenance, we have to check on your bathroom. The room beside yours flooded.”
“Y/N.” Will says, taking a step forward.
“Stay away from the door.” You say, your voice comes out in more of a whisper than anything.
The knocks happen again, and Will steps forward again. But not for the door, instead for you. But he freezes again as the knocks are now pounds. Angry. Loud. Violent.
“Will Smith!” The voice bellows outside the door. And instantly you shove your back against Will’s chest, like you’re ready to protect him if this man gets through.
“Macklin!” Will calls, and Mack flies towards the phone. Dialing quickly for the desk before holding it to his ear. The pounding sounds again, even louder and more aggressive this time. And Will like he’s now realizing where you’ve placed yourself, says “Absolutely not.” And shoves your body behind his.
“Yeah, room 130. Someone is banging on the door trying to get in.” Mack says quickly, the pounding continuing, the yelling of Will and Mack’s names making your hands shake violently. Mack steps in front of you both, the three of you in a single file line. You shoved behind Will, because he will always protect you, and the two of you behind Macklin, because Macklin wouldn’t let anything or anybody hurt the people he loves.
But that’s when it happens, the beeping of a hotel key being swiped, and the door opens a half an inch. You swear, one hand gripping Will’s shirt, one hand reaching around to grip Macklin’s.
“They have a fucking key!” Mack says urgently into the phone, his left arm coming around to shove both you and Will farther against his back.
But the door doesn’t budge past that half an inch, because you locked it. Because somehow, something told you to do it. And as the gold metal lock holds strong, you know deep down you were able to protect them, just like they protect you.
“Will.” You mumble, and he tightens you further into his back.
“It’s going to be okay, I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Your chest rises and falls fast, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you shove your head as deep into his muscled back as you could get it.
But then finally, after what feels like hours, you can hear the yelling of security, what sounds like a scuffle outside the door, and the confirmation from Macklin that security has taken someone away.
There’s a knock on the door, and you go wide eyed until you hear the voice of a man, he states his name, how he works for the hotel, and tells whoever is on the phone to confirm this information with the front desk. Mack relays it, and he hangs up with a thank you as he goes to unlock the door for the security guard.
You hold out a breath you don’t remember holding. And as Macklin talks to the man, Will whips around to you, holding your face in his hands as he tells you over and over that you’re safe, that everything is okay now.
“Breathe, baby.” He soothes, unable to stop touching you, like he’s got to prove to himself you’re safe. “You’re doing so good, just like that.” He says as you following his breathing.
And once everything has calmed down, and Tyler Toffoli has checked in on you guys, the three of you sit on the same bed. You can tell they want to say something, anything about how you basically flew for the door, but both of them know it’s not the time.
Will only keeps his arms around you, keeps you pressed into him as he takes a deep breath in and out.
“I thought he was going to get you.” You say, and you meet Will’s worried eyes. “I didn’t want him to hurt you. Either of you.”
“He didn’t, because of you.” Will says, kissing your temple for a long moment. “But this doesn’t mean that once we get out of this fucking hotel that I’m not going to lecture you about trying to stay in front of me.” Will says, and you roll your eyes with a small smile.
“That’s just what you do when you love someone.” You say.
But you and Will both think back to it, think about how Mack was the one to step in front of you both. How Mack reached his arm around to hold onto both of you as the man tried to breach the door.
“He wouldn’t have gotten to you.” Mack says. “You either.” He says looking at his best friend.
“Yeah?” Will says, still anxious, still on edge, but giving Mack his normal teasing tone and face.
“I’m Macklin Celebrini.” Mack says, with a wave of his hands. “I would have figured something out.”
And even though you can tell behind the jokes that Macklin is serious, that if it came down to it he would have thrown himself in the line of fire for you and Will, you both decide that something more light hearted is in store.
“You mean like how you got into a fight early because someone hit Eky?” You question, eyebrow raising.
And that seems do to the trick, because next thing you know Macklin has jumped into the detailed story, and you lay back against Will, his thumbs rub small circles into your skin. Like he needs to remind you he’s here.
“I love you.” He says into your ear.
“I love you more.” You whisper back, careful not to interrupt Mack as he’s deep in acting out what occurred on the ice.
“Not fucking possible.” He says back, his hand brushing your hair back as he kisses your temple again. Settling you deeper into him as you both give your focus back to Mack.
SUMMARY: Y/N thinks Macklin has started to hate her, but there’s always two sides to a story.
WARNINGS: SMAU with writing (3.6K words), Angst, Use of Y/N, Childhood friends to lovers, Reader is a figure skater, possible inaccurate detail’s about figure skating, not proofread that much.
A/N: so so so soooo sorry this took so long y’all 😓😓 I was gonna post this earlier but then Eky left the San Jose sharks and I took two days to cry 💔💔 #Ekyisforeverashark 💔 hope you guys like this! I lowkey teared up writing it lol
!! IMPORTANT!! This is a sequel series, before reading this SMAU please read this one: LEGENDARY LOVERS--2000s SIDNEY CROSBY X MALKIN!READER
Little lengthy part abt how Macklin and Y/N met plus what happened to Macklin after the Olympics
Macklin has always known one thing, he was born for hockey. From the moment he came out of the womb, till maybe the day he meets his doom, hockey was his everything.
Of course, there were plenty of other things he adored. His family, the San Jose Sharks, and on good days, his fans. But Hockey? It built his entire life! His family would joke about how he didn’t know what to do with himself until he came in contact with a hockey stick, and fans would pick at how out of place he looked without hockey gear.
Hell, even he felt weird whenever he spent a day without doing anything related to hockey.
It was his passion, obsession some might say.
Actually? everyone he knew personally could say that.
But it wasn’t the reason he kept going. His lifelong dream of playing in the NHL was never the reason he kept his head up every day, nor was it ever the reason he always stood back up after a fall.
That was all one person doing, you.
Sidney Crosby may be Macklin’s childhood idol, the guy he’d put posters up all over his wall. But you, Y/N Crosby, were the girl he’d take polaroid pictures of, the girl that relatives would bring up whenever they talked to and teased Macklin about growing up and finding the oh-so perfect person for him.
And they were never too far off with those predictions, which seemed embarrassingly funny at the time, are now lingering towards the truth.
Cause to him you weren’t just a girl he met during a hockey game he went to when he was young. The thought of you smiling at him with eyes filled with pride was what pushed Macklin to wake up and try his best everyday, and was what fired him up to get better and better.
He could vividly remember the exact moment he met you, waiting in line for hot dogs during a heated game between the Penguins and the Canucks. The staff specifically instructed you to stay put with the wags, insisting you refrain from leaving them so Sidney doesn’t panic at the sight of you gone, but you wandered off the second Geno’s wife left for the bathroom during intermission.
Who could’ve blamed you? You were thirteen and eating a hot chili dog while watching your dad, who’s basically the best hockey player in the world, play hockey, which was way more fun than listening to WAGs chat about topics you shouldn’t be listening to.
Macklin and his family were at the game that day, the Canucks being his hometown team he just had to be there. Every hockey game he went to when he was younger was special in his eyes, but this game was the first he actually deemed as amazing.
But hockey games were loud, rough, and energy-draining. He was getting hungry, as any other kid would.
He was standing on his tiptoes by the hotdog cart, in an attempt to get the guy who worked there to notice him and hand over the menu. But he was too short at the time, even while standing on the tip of his toes he couldn’t even notice the hot dog cart was empty.
And that was the exact moment he met you.
“Are you a ballerina?” A high-pitched voice judged him, you appeared from behind the hot dog cart like a ghost. You were hiding there so no one could drag you back with the WAGs, and Macklin had caught your eye.
“Huh?” Macklin blinked cluelessly, you looked at him with pure judgment in your eyes that day. So different from the present, now all people see in your eyes whenever you look at him was a whirlpool of love and affection.
“You’re in your tippy toes like you’re doing a pointe, do you wanna be a ballerina when you grow up?” You continued your harsh observations, and Macklin was as dumbfounded as he was intimidated by you.
“No, I wanna be in the NHL.” He huffed.
“Mhm? As a Zamboni driver?”
“You're really mean.”
“No, I’m honest. Or at least that’s what dad says, I’m too honest.” You shrugged, taking in Macklin’s expression. He was judging you as much as you were judging him.
Macklin huffed in annoyance once more, rolling his eyes as if he was too irritated to even continue the conversation, he just wanted a hot dog!
“Where is your dad?” He asked, his tone almost bratty.
“On the ice.” You hummed, fighting back a smile.
This was gonna be so funny.
“Is he a Zamboni driver?” He raised an eyebrow.
You opened your mouth to reply, but an irritated staff member rushed up to you as if you were a lost cat they had finally found on the street.
“y/n! y/n!” The staff member exclaimed, catching their breath as they crouched “Are you crazy kid? What if someone took you? Sidney can’t focus on the game knowing his kid is gone!”
Macklin’s jaw dropped so quickly his jawbone made a sound, all that rang through his brain right now was “holy shit I was arguing with Sidney Crosby’s kid!”
And you, being the insufferable kid you were, smiled at him sweetly and waved goodbye as the staff member scooped you up and carried you back to the WAGs.
After that, you and Macklin continued to bump into each other. First at a rink in Vancouver, where you almost sliced him with your skate blade while doing a spin. Then at English Bay Beach where you guys finally became friends, and since then you’ve been his number one fan and he was yours.
When you won the ISU Junior Grand Prix of Figure Skating, at only 15 years old. Macklin screamed, jumping up and down in his living room like his biggest dream had come true.
And a few years later, when he made it to the NHL? You started crying so hard that Sidney and the rest of the Pittsburgh Penguins jokingly started calling you a traitor for getting this excited over a player on another team.
You guys would be on the phone together for hours on end. laughing over stupid shit only clueless teenagers would find funny or tearing up during deep conversations, praying no one heard you guys.
Sidney would hear you sometimes, but he’d never interrupt. Why would he? Seeing his little girl, whom he always prayed would find someone who could love her as much as he did, smile and blush while talking to a boy? He let it happen, putting his fatherly protectiveness to the side for once.
One summer night when you and Macklin were 17, he made a significant joke. You were FaceTiming, and have been for two hours! It was three am, and Macklin was picking on you for a cocky joke you made.
“I’ll only let you be this cocky after you win the Olympics.” He said that night, voice drowned in sleep yet the teasing was prominent.
Olympics? You thought it was impossible at the time, but he always saw so much in you.
“Me? At the Olympics? Hilarious Mack, you’ll be standing right next to me if so.” You scoffed softly, as tired as he was that night.
Macklin giggled drowsily at that, you couldn’t tell if he was joking or saying this cause of the sleep deprivation.
“I’ll be the only one cheering for you when you get silver, other than your dad of course.” He added.
“Aw, okay, and I’ll sob happy tears when you win gold.” You rolled your eyes, even if Macklin annoyed you, you truly believed he’d make it that far.
Macklin immediately shut up, his hazel eyes softening like something had just kissed him goodnight and tucked him into bed.
“Well, now I feel bad for saying that, we’re supposed to be making fun of each other!” He groaned into his pillow, trying to hide the fact that hearing you truly believed he could win gold melted his heart into mush.
“Well save that teasing for when I win silver and you win Olympic Gold.” You huffed, this joke seemed hilarious at the time.
“Really?” He hummed, for a second he sounded sincere.
“Yes Macklin, I really believe you’ll win gold.”
“Are you sure it won’t be the opposite?”
“No, I believe in you.”
And it really turned out to be the opposite.
Macklin walked into his Olympic dorm room silently, his heavy heart in one hand and a silver medal in the other.
The USA won
The gold slipped away from their hands, from his hands.
When everyone believed in them, they believed in him. When you believed in him, he lost.
He lost.
It all replayed in his head as he slumped down on the floor, in front of his open suitcase that was half-packed. The Canadian flags waving everywhere in the air, red and white blurred everywhere as he skated as fast as he could, how he tried to stay determined despite the pressure that piled on his soul, and him trying not to laugh when Jack Hughes’s teeth got knocked out.
But sooner or later that laughter turned into heavy sobs.
Macklin had already cried in his parents’ arms, cried on the bench, hell he even cried in Brad Marchad’s arms!
In the hour that came after Canada lost to the USA, everyone checked up on him.
Macklin had already cried in his parents’ arms, cried on the bench, hell he even cried in Brad Machard’s arms! He didn’t push away anyone that came and comforted him, he just accepted the words of comfort with a nod or a brief teary smile.
He was too busy pushing away one simple thing to focus on anything else.
You.
The thought of you, anything to do with you. He just couldn’t face any of it, you have believed in him since the start then he went and lost! He lost the one thing he was determined to win for you, he went through all of this practicing and pressure everyday for you.
Cause you believed in him, you believed he could go and win gold for Canada.
And he lost!
Macklin let out a grunt mixed with a sob as the thoughts consumed him, he punched at one of his folded clothes in his suitcase before tears fully started to roll down his blotchy cheeks.
He was hunched over his open suitcase, letting it all out like a baby. Right now he felt like one, he felt like the same kid he was nine years ago that cried in his moms arms. The kid who would swear he’d never cry over something stupid, or a girl.
Well now he was crying over a girl.
A girl that he loved.
A girl he loved so deeply he could survive losing her, but never call it living. You never once made Macklin cry, but here he was, sobbing like you meant the world to him.
And you did.
But he never realized it until now.
he never realized how much his heart ached whenever your conversations would come to an end, he never realized how he would wish you were closer to him despite standing right in front of him, he never realized how his heart would flutter hearing you talk about figure skating and the other things you loved…
He never realized how much he loved you.
He loves you.
And he is only facing that now, sitting on the floor as he packed up to leave what feels like the worst sports event he ever participated in.
Macklin sniffed as his tears dried up, his face went blank as he closed his eyes. As if he was coming to terms with the emotions he’s been pushing away for so long, he wished he could push them away longer.
He can’t face you now.
The thought of talking to you made him sick, and he’s sure he’s making you feel sick as well. But it feels like he’d rather do anything but talk to you, it’s not like he’s scared or anything…
Was he?
═════════════════════════════════════════════
Present timing, texts between Y/N and Macklin.
The San Jose Sharks Groupchat
texts between Y/N and Macklin.
You stared at your phone in dead silence, heart thumping against your aching chest as your eyes got glossy with tears. The entire week has felt like a fever dream so far, but this seemed like the cherry on top.
Macklin blocked you.
Not only that but he also harshly threw away your friendship like it was nothing.
“People grow up.” you echoed his words, repeating the argument in your head over and over again.
People grow up
It made no sense, and that’s what angered you.
People do grow up, you and Macklin had grown up together and everyone knew that. Going from skating in local ice rinks to skating in front of thousands, there was never a moment where you didn’t consider Macklin as your childhood best friend.
That can't change in a week, Fourteen years of looking out for each other doesn't just disappear in one week.
Even now, as you sit in your bed breathing heavily while hot tears stream down your face, you still consider Macklin your bestest of friends.
Does all that time you spent together not mean anything to him? All that thought and care you wasted, cause apparently no one had ever told you to care!
No one ever told you to care.
Macklin has never said anything like that to you.
You flung your phone across the room in the heat of the moment, letting out a choked sob as it hit the floor.
“What does that even mean!?” You exclaimed through the tears, before continuing to break down into a sobbing mess.
(ten mins later lol)
You had cried so much that you felt like a Honeysuckle flower deprived of its honey, leaving you lying in your bed numb and drained.
It was one a.m, your dad hasn’t come home from wherever he was, and despite how exhausted you were you felt too nauseous to fall asleep.
You felt sick, like someone had torn your stomach apart and stitched it back together.
Which confirmed that if you ate anything right now, it’d come right back up in minutes. But you had to at least drink water, forcing you to leave the little bubble of sorrow called your room.
You dragged your feet across the floor, shoulders slumped as you rubbed your tired bloodshot eyes. The house was quiet whenever your dad wasn’t home. Usually, you didn’t mind but right now it made you feel worse than you already did.
And that silence left you alone with your thoughts. As you walked downstairs and made it to the kitchen, your mind already started recollecting everything that had happened since Macklin started ignoring you.
Canada lost the Olympics, and it seems Macklin has also lost his mind.
And by the time you were pouring yourself a glass of water, you were coming to terms with what seemed to be the truth.
There’s nothing between you and Macklin anymore, and maybe there never was anything between you guys in his eyes.
Every sip of water felt painful, like you were trying to swallow down your thoughts and emotions.
And maybe the fact that the past decade of your life has been wasted.
Maybe it’s for the better, as you sit in the kitchen drowning yourself in your thoughts you wonder what would’ve happened if you continued to cling onto Macklin.
It would’ve hurt even more than it does now, which seems impossible since the ache in your chest is agonising.
Let go of it, Y/n. You think to yourself, Let go of him.
That was impossible.
You were kicked out of your thoughts by the sound of the front door unlocking, two familiar voices muffled in the background.
“She’s probably sleeping, Sid. Teenagers sleep too much.”
“She’s awake, G. I’m sure she is, she still doesn’t sleep without saying goodnight. She didn’t reply to my messages, and the calls-”
Your dad was home and it seems he brought Geno as well. Of course he did, it’s impossible to separate Sid and Geno, the dynamic duo.
And of course, your dad was worried.
This time it was valid, you might have wrecked your phone after basically flinging it across your bedroom. After that, he probably called you, and seeing that you weren’t answering anything must’ve rung alarms in his head.
You sighed as the front door opened, silently slandering yourself for not washing off all the proof that you had a teary meltdown.
“I’m awake!” you called out, turning in your seat to face your dad and uncle as they walked into the kitchen.
“Awake this time? Sid, you raise your daughter wro-” Geno rambled before cutting himself off.
Sidney and Geno visibly paused as their eyes landed on you, a wrecked nineteen-year-old was probably the last thing they expected to see right now.
There was a long and uncomfortable silence, it wasn’t that long but it felt maddening.
You sighed once more, closing your eyes as the silence continued. Growing up you always went straight to Sidney after crying, what little girl didn’t find comfort in her dad whenever she was sad?
Well this past week you haven’t told him anything, but he has noticed something was bothering you. Of course he did, he always notices.
And he made assumptions, wanting to figure out what’s wrong while trying not to invade your privacy since you were basically an adult now.
But right now, seeing you sit tiredly with bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks, every fatherly instinct kicked him into seriously needing to find out.
You opened your eyes, watching Geno slowly back up into the living room after sensing that this was a conversation between a father and his daughter.
And Sidney looked both confused and devastated to see you like this as if every time someone breaks his daughter's heart, his heart breaks even more.
As much as you try to hate Macklin right now, you don’t wanna ruin the bond he has established with your dad.
You can't tell him.
“Hi, Dad,” you speak up, your voice raspy and filled with exhaustion.
“Oh bug…” Sidney exhaled, his voice heavy with concern as he sat on the kitchen stool next to you and immediately pulled you into a tight embrace.
Bug, a nickname he made up for you when you were four. It was a little pick at how you always used to cling onto people, just like a bug.
Your throat tightened all over again as you melted into the hug, the feeling of finally experiencing some comfort was making you wanna burst into tears all over again.
Sidney knew he was going to face a lot after becoming a single father, and he swore he was ready for it too.
But he was never ready to see you sad.
“You weren’t answering my calls cause you were crying?” he asked straightforwardly, you nodded as a few tears stained his shirt.
You never understood how your dad guessed things perfectly, maybe it came with his superstitious tendencies.
“I broke my phone.” you admitted, sniffing pathetically as you pulled away from the hug.
You watched him react to that carefully. he wasn’t mad at you; instead, he looked even more concerned.
“What happened, Y/n?” he finally asked, slowly and softly as he held you by the shoulders.
“I can’t tell you.” you shot back immediately.
“Y/N Crosby.” he pushed further, voice firm yet gentle.
“I specifically cannot tell you, Dad.” you insisted.
Sidney sighed as he picked up how determined you sounded, you weren’t going to tell no matter what and he knew that.
“Please sweetheart, tell me. I think I grew a lot more white hairs since the second I walked in, and it’s only been five minutes.” he continued.
“All your hair was already white to begin with.” you replied bluntly, all confidence in your tone disappearing when he raised his brows.
“Pardon?” he hummed
“Never mind….sorry….” you blurted out quickly, clearing your throat.
You both laughed a little at that, before almost immediately returning to the intense silence as Sidney really noticed how tired you were.
You should’ve really washed your face, your dad can be a detective when he wants to be and right now he’s already trying to connect the dots.
Sidney placed his hand on your shoulder again, this time more firmly, as if he’s came to a conclusion.
“You don’t have to tell me, but I can’t promise that I won’t try and find out. Nothing scares me more than seeing my daughter upset, I’m sure you know that by now bug..” Sidney spoke softly, if this was any other situation you’d be annoyed at having to listen to a dad speech.
“Really? Nothing scares you more?” you hummed, watching a small smile appear in his face as he sensed you were already coming up with a joke.
“Nothing could scare me more, i’m sure.” he repeated himself, already braced for the stupid joke.
“Not even a concussion?”
“Go wash your face, y/n.”
“Yes, Dad.”
You muffled a laugh as you stood up and walked over to the kitchen sink, the joke was hilarious to you. Sidney didn’t find it funny, but seeing his daughter finally smile after finding her upset was enough to make him smile.
Finally after what seemed like forever, the ache in your chest faded away and your heartbeat started to slow down.
Macklin is gone for good, your dad doesn’t know, everything is fine.
And as if he sensed the tension slipping away, Geno marched right back into the kitchen like comedic relief.
“So, why is she sad? Who made her cry? I fight someone tonight or no?” he motioned a few punches, you were unsure if he was joking or not.
You laughed at that, finally letting out joyful sound after a whole hour of sobbing and grief.
“It’s fine, it wasn’t anyone important.”
No one important, I guess people do grow up.
═════════════════════════════════════════════
a/n: this fic was funny until it wasn’t lmfaooooo I kinda teared up writing Eky as a shark (this is set in February 2026!) next part coming soon! Ignore any bullshit writing I was too lazy to proofread a lot.
a/n: the idea was there but i don't think the execution is. pls see the vision
Will was just late enough that you'd already paid for both drinks and were deep enough into your second glass of wine to feel justified in being annoyed when he finally slid into the booth across from you, hair still damp from the post-game shower, smelling like soap and something expensive.
"Before you say anything," he started.
"I wasn't going to say anything."
He looked at you. "You're doing the thing with your face."
"I don't have a thing with my face."
"You do." He reached across the table and stole a fry off your plate. "It's this." He made an expression — neutral, slightly too neutral, the studied calm of someone actively deciding not to be upset.
You threw a napkin at him.
He grinned. There it was. That was the thing about Will — he could disarm you in about thirty seconds flat, and the worst part was you could see it happening and still couldn't stop it.
"You said seven," you said.
"Game went to overtime."
"You could've texted."
"I did text."
You picked up your phone. One message, sent eight minutes ago: almost there, don't be mad
"That's not a real heads-up, Will."
"It's a heads-up."
"It's a cover-your-ass text."
"Okay, yes," he conceded, flagging down the server. "It was a cover-your-ass text. But I'm here now." He looked at you properly then — the kind of look that you'd spent four months trying to not let mean anything. "Hi."
You exhaled. "Hi."
He stole another fry. You let him.
The thing was — and you would never say this out loud, not to him, not to anyone — being around Will was fun.
Not fun like a good playlist or a night out. Fun like a live wire. Like the two of you had some private frequency nobody else was on, and every time you were together you both found it immediately and everything just. Crackled.
He talked too much during movies and somehow always had the right thing to say. He remembered the name of your childhood dog and brought it up at completely random moments. He could make you laugh harder than anyone you'd ever met and he knew it, used it deliberately, and you couldn't even be mad about it because it worked every single time.
And then there was the other thing.
The other thing was its own category entirely.
The other thing was the reason you'd driven across town in a snowstorm in November, why you picked up his calls at midnight when you had a 7am the next morning, why you had essentially stopped being able to think straight in a radius of about three feet from him. You weren't going to examine that too closely. The point was it was good — stupidly, inconveniently good — and it made everything else about this impossible situation feel like a very reasonable trade-off.
Most of the time, anyway.
You tried to have the conversation exactly once before you learned better.
You'd been on his couch, maybe six weeks in. He was showing you something on his phone, a video of Toff attempting to parallel park a rental car in Nashville, which was genuinely hilarious, and you'd been laughing and then you looked at him laughing and thought: okay. now. say the thing.
"Hey," you said. "Can I ask you something?"
"Yeah." He didn't look up from his phone, already pulling up a follow-up video.
"What are we doing?"
He looked up then. Put the phone down. Gave you his full attention, which was almost worse because it was a lot of attention. "What do you mean?"
"I mean—" You gestured vaguely between the two of you. "This. What is this."
He considered it for a second. Or he appeared to consider it. Then he shifted, closing the distance between you on the couch, and said, very close to your ear: "Right now?"
"Will—"
"I'm just asking for clarification."
"That's not—" His hand found the back of your neck and you lost the sentence. "That's not what I'm talking about."
"I know." He was smiling. You could hear it. "What are you talking about?"
You turned to look at him, which was a tactical error because he was right there and his eyes were doing the thing. "You're deflecting," you said.
"I'm clarifying," he said, and kissed you, and the conversation dissolved so completely that twenty minutes later you genuinely could not remember what point you'd been trying to make.
Which, looking back, was entirely the problem. And also, if you were being honest, not the worst outcome.
"You told Toff we weren't coming to his thing on Saturday," you said, standing in Will's kitchen with your coffee while he rummaged in the fridge.
"I told him I wasn't coming."
"He texted me asking why we weren't coming."
Will straightened up, fridge door still open. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"He just assumed. I didn't say we."
"Right, but—" You stopped. The but here had a lot of directions to go and none of them were easy at eleven on a Thursday morning.
"Does it bother you?" he asked. Simple, no edge, just looking at you across the kitchen island.
"I don't know," you said.
He nodded. "Okay." Then: "You want eggs?"
And that was it. Filed somewhere neither of you would look. You said yes to the eggs. He made them exactly the way you liked without asking, which should have felt like a nice thing and mostly did, except you were standing there watching him and thinking: that's the whole thing, isn't it. He knows exactly how you take your eggs and has no idea what to do about any of the rest of it.
There was one night, maybe two weeks before the Chicago thing, where you'd driven over with actual intentions.
Three things to say. You'd rehearsed them in the car. I need us to be clearer. I need to know you think about me when I'm not here. I need more than this. Solid. Reasonable. You were ready.
He opened the door in a t-shirt and joggers, already grinning like he'd been expecting you, and said "perfect timing" and pulled you inside by the wrist and you were very briefly a person with a plan and then you were not.
Later, some unmeasured amount of time later, you were lying in the dark of his room, his arm heavy across your waist, the city doing its quiet thing outside. He was almost asleep. His thumb moved against your side without him thinking about it, slow and warm.
You stared at the ceiling.
What were the three things?
You tried to remember. You could not remember a single one.
You turned your head and looked at him. The line of his jaw in the dark. The way he breathed. The completely unreasonable fact of him.
You thought: I should care more that I forgot what I came here to say.
You thought: I really, genuinely, completely do not care.
You closed your eyes.
The fight, when it came, was stupid. It was always going to be stupid.
The big stuff slid right off because you never quite gripped it long enough to deal with it, so it had to be something small that finally snagged. This time it was a road trip.
"I said I'd probably come up for the Chicago games," you said.
"I know."
"And you didn't say anything when the schedule changed."
"I didn't think—"
"I had to find out through the team Instagram, Will."
He went quiet. Standing in his entryway, still in his coat, and he just let the quiet land between you. That was worse than if he'd argued. Will could argue great — quick and funny and frustrating in a way you almost enjoyed. The quiet was different. The quiet meant he knew.
"I live inside this schedule," he said finally. "I forget other people have to plan around it."
"I'm not other people."
"I know." Gently. "I know you're not."
"Then act like it." Your voice came out steadier than you felt. "That's the whole thing. That's all I'm asking."
He ran a hand through his hair. You stood in his hallway and felt the gap between you widen in that particular way it had, like it had its own momentum, its own ambitions.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"Okay."
"I mean it."
"I know you do." That was the exhausting part. "You always mean it. That's sort of the problem."
Something moved through his face, not quite hurt, more like recognition. Like you'd named something he'd been hoping you wouldn't.
Neither of you moved.
Then he stepped forward and his hands found your waist — not a move, just there, warm and certain and completely unfair — and you leaned into him before your brain had any say in it.
"I hate this," you said into his shoulder.
"Yeah." His arms tightened. "Me too."
Outside, it had started to rain.
Cat asked you once, over coffee, how you'd describe it.
"Describe what?"
She gave you a look.
"I don't know," you said.
"That's not a description."
"We're good together in some ways and terrible in others."
"Which ways terrible?"
"Talking." You said it without thinking. "Any time something actually matters we just — orbit around it. Every time I think we're finally going to get there, something happens and then we don't."
"And the good ways?"
You looked at her. She raised her eyebrows.
"Oh," she said.
"Yeah."
"Okay but how good."
"Cat."
"I'm just asking for a sense of scale."
"Very," you said, and felt your face do something involuntary. "Which makes it worse, honestly, because I know what I'd be walking away from. But then the Chicago thing happens and I'm like — does he even think about me when I'm not there? Or am I just—" You stopped.
"Just what?"
"Convenient," you said. "I don't know. Easy."
Cat put her mug down. "Do you actually believe that?"
Honest answer: no. That was the part that kept tripping you up. When you were with Will, really with him, laughing at two in the morning, him looking at you like you were the only thing in the room, you felt like the opposite of an afterthought. He made you feel like the whole point. That was exactly the problem. If he were colder, easier to dismiss, you could walk away clean.
"I don't know," you said.
"You should figure it out," Cat said. "Before it stops being fun."
You stared into your coffee. You didn't say: it's still fun. that's kind of the whole problem. it's so fun I can barely think straight and then something like this happens and I don't know if fun is enough.
You didn't say any of that. You just said "yeah" and finished your coffee.
It was after a home game — bad loss, arena emptying fast, everyone's eyes on the floor — that you saw the other side of him.
You came down to meet him and waited outside the locker room longer than usual. He came out quiet, jacket half-zipped, and when he saw you he just stopped.
Something went through his face. Not relief exactly. More like: oh. you're here.
"Hey," you said.
"Hey."
You didn't ask about the game. You'd learned that early. You just said, "Walk for a bit?"
He nodded.
You went a few blocks through the cold, shoulders bumping, not really talking. Will who usually filled every silence, Will who always had something, he just walked. Quiet and close and present.
Around the third block he reached over and took your hand. He almost never did that outside. He held it like it was something he needed to hold.
You didn't say anything about it. You just let him.
Walking back twenty minutes later, his thumb moving over your knuckles, you thought: this is the part. Not the obvious part, though also the obvious part. But this, the way he reaches without thinking. The way he holds on.
You didn't know what to do with that. You held on back.
"I think we're bad for each other," you'd said in the orange-dark of his apartment because he always forgot to close the blinds before sunset.
"Where'd that come from?" he said.
"Nowhere. Everywhere. I've been thinking about it."
"And?"
"We drive each other crazy."
"Yeah," he said easily. "We do."
"That's not a good thing, Will."
"Isn't it a little bit of a good thing?"
You turned your head. He was looking at the ceiling, a faint smile at the corner of his mouth, and you wanted to be annoyed but the smile got you, it always got you. "I'm being serious."
"I know." He turned to look at you. The smile faded into something more honest. "I know we're bad at some stuff. I disappear on you. I know I do it. I just—" He paused. "Out there I don't know what I'm doing. In here I always know what I'm doing."
"That's very convenient for you."
"It's convenient for both of us," he said, and you laughed despite yourself, which annoyed you.
"That's not — I can't — you can't do that."
"Do what?"
"Make me laugh when I'm trying to be serious."
"Why not?"
"Because then I forget what I was saying."
"Maybe that's the point," he said, quieter. Not the deflection version. Something more honest than that. "Maybe I do it because it's the only way I know how to say don't go anywhere. Don't be done with this."
You looked at him.
"I know it's not a great strategy," he said.
"It's a terrible strategy."
"Yeah." He found your hand under the sheets. "Working on it."
You didn't figure it out that night. Or the next one.
You kept orbiting, close and then maddening and then close again, and the big conversations kept almost happening and then swerving. He was still late sometimes. He still went quiet in the ways that made you want to throw something.
But he started texting before games went to overtime. And he started saying we on purpose, looking at you right after like a question, and you'd nod, and something would settle in his face.
One afternoon in February, two hours before warmups, empty arena, terrible hot chocolate, his idea, he said out of nowhere:
"What would actually talking look like. If we did it."
"Probably uncomfortable," you said.
"Yeah. I can do uncomfortable."
"Big claim."
"I've taken a puck to the face."
"That's completely different."
"Is it though."
You looked at him — this person who was genuinely maddening, who made you feel like the only thing worth looking at, who still hadn't figured out how to just say it but was sitting in an empty arena at two in the afternoon asking if he could try.
"Yeah," you said. "I think we could try."
He looked back at the ice. The side of his mouth pulled up — not the grin, the real one.
"Okay," he said.
The Zamboni finished its loop. The ice sat there, clean and unmarked.
i honestly love ur writing so much, i had requested the last piss kink and its literally chef’s kiss omg! i’m superr excited to see the wsh one ur writing next!!
- 🌸
New - WS2
Will Smith x girlfriend!reader
Warnings: smut, PISS KINK, mentions of porn, fingering, oral sex (m!receiving)
Word Count: 1.8k
You’d been with Will for years. You were comfortable with him. You told him everything. There was nothing that was too personal, nothing that you were too scared to tell him.
Until now.
He had been away on a long roadie, the longest of the year. You didn’t see him for ten whole days. So you ended up watching porn. It wasn’t something you did often, and it wasn’t something you usually hid from Will. The two of you didn’t really talk about it, but you both knew that the other did it on occasion.
Your problem now was that this time, you’d accidentally watched a video that you never would have purposely chosen. It started out normal, a naked man and woman, the man standing up and the woman on her knees in front of him. When the woman opened her mouth, you’d expected the man to put his dick in, but he didn’t. Instead, he’d started peeing.
At first, you cringed, already moving to find a different video. But then you felt your body reacting, your heart sped up and your thighs tried to squeeze together around your hand that was between them.
So you watched more. And more. And more.
Until you came.
Hard.
You liked it.
Normally, if you wanted to try something new in bed, you had no problem telling Will all about it and asking him to do it with you. But this was different, right? This was weird. He would never want to do this. He would think it was gross. So you decided not to tell him.
But even after he came home, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. You thought about it all the time, every time you had sex, every time Will left the room to go pee.
Eventually, you started following him into the bathroom. It confused him a little, but he didn’t protest, it’s not like you hadn’t seen it all before. So you’d sit on the counter and watch him pee.
He didn’t think that much of it at first, he thought you were just being clingy, wanting to talk to him and be close to him all the time. But then he noticed it, the way your eyes were completely glued to his dick and the stream of pee coming from it, the way you licked your lips like you were hungry, the way you looked like you wanted to lean in.
One night, he just wanted to test it out, just see how you would react. So when you tried to get up and follow him after he’d announced that he was going to pee, he stopped you, told you he really wanted to go alone. You’d nodded and stayed on the couch, but when he was done, he found you standing outside the bathroom with your bottom lip pulled between your teeth and tears in your eyes.
“Baby, what is going on with you?” he asked as he pulled you into his arms.
“I just missed you,” you lied.
“While I was in the bathroom?”
You nodded.
He knew it wasn’t true, you didn’t cry every time he left the house, it couldn’t just be about missing him. But he dropped it for the time being, opting to just take you to bed and cuddle you until you fell asleep.
The next day, he noticed that you kept staring at him with a nervous look in your eyes and chewing on your lip every time there was a lull in your conversation.
“Is there something you need to tell me, babe?” he finally asked after he’d finished doing the dishes from dinner and found you on the couch, fiddling with your fingers nervously.
“I wanna try something new,” you blurted out.
Will sat down next to you, “okay,” he nodded like it was simple, “what is it?”
“I can’t tell you,” you whispered.
He furrowed his eyebrows, he hadn’t heard you say that since you were sixteen, too nervous to confess that you had a crush on him.
“Is it sex related?” he asked, hoping to coax it out of you.
You just nodded in response.
“Okay,” he still had that perplexed look on his face, “you know you can tell me anything, right?”
“Yeah… but this is… it’s… weird,” you confessed.
“Everybody likes different stuff,” it killed you how rational he was being when you felt like you were going to die of embarrassment, “even if it’s not something I want to do, you know I’d never judge you for it.”
“You might.”
“Please tell me,” Will’s eyes looked almost hopeful now, and it was breaking down the last of your walls.
You looked down at where he was holding your hands, already blushing before you even got the words out, “I… I want you to… pee on me,” the words came out in a shaky whisper. Your face burned, your hands sweaty, you held your breath and waited for Will to laugh in your face or get up and leave.
“Oh,” he paused, “so that’s why you’ve been following me into the bathroom?”
You nodded, finally looking up at him.
He looked back down at you with gentle eyes, “let’s talk about it.”
After a long conversation about exactly what you wanted from him and why you liked it, he agreed to try it for you.
A few days later, the two of you were in bed, making out. You reached down to unzip his pants, but he stopped you.
“Wait, I have to pee first.”
Your eyes lit up, “Will.”
It took him a second to register what you were thinking, “oh. Now?”
“Can we?” you asked hopefully.
He caressed your cheek, “sure, baby. Let’s go in the shower.”
You nodded and immediately jumped up from the bed, scurrying off into the bathroom. Will followed behind with a smile.
As soon as he made it into the bathroom, you started undressing him, clearly eager. He let you tug all his clothes off before he pulled you into a deep kiss that made you whine into his mouth. He started undressing you with careful hands, but you quickly grew impatient and shucked all your clothes off yourself.
“You’re so eager for it,” he hummed, his hand sliding from your back down to your ass, “such an impatient little thing.”
“Please, babe,” you whined, pressing a kiss to his jaw.
“Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you want,” he patted your ass, “get in there, on your knees.”
You obeyed instantly, sitting on your knees on the tile floor of the large shower. Will stood in front of you with his dick in his hand.
“You ready, pretty girl?”
“Yes,” you gasped, already breathless, “god yes please.”
It took a few seconds, but then you felt it, the stream of his hot piss on your skin. It hit your chest first and you gasped.
“Open your mouth,” he groaned.
You complied and he immediately aimed higher, his stream hitting your face and going into your mouth. You whined at the taste and your thighs clenched together.
“That’s it,” he murmured with a smirk, watching as his piss started dribbling out the sides of your mouth and dripping down your body, “take it, just like that. Fuck.”
He was enjoying this a lot more than he thought he would. The sight of you on your knees with his piss dripping down your naked body made him feel a possessiveness he never had before. It was like he was marking his territory, claiming you in the most animalistic, feral way possible.
Your cheeks burned bright red, your eyes wide as you stared up at him through your lashes. The heat between your legs was persistent, a constant ache that you knew only he could soothe.
When he felt his stream dying down, he gripped onto your hair and shoved his dick into your mouth. You sputtered around the last of his piss, your eyes watering but never looking away from him.
“Swallow,” he ordered and you obeyed immediately, though with difficulty. He could feel the way your throat constricted around him as you swallowed and it made him groan, “fuck. Look at you. All dirty. Covered in my piss,” he started thrusting, fucking your face, “so pretty. My pretty girl.”
A minute later, he was holding your head still and cumming down your throat. You kept your eyes on him, watching the way his eyebrows pulled together and his jaw fell slack from the pleasure. He took a couple deep breaths, then pulled out of your mouth.
“Swallow,” he ordered again, and once again, you did, sticking your tongue out afterwards to show him, “good girl,” he praised.
You whined and leaned forward, your forehead pressing against his thigh. His fingers laced through your hair and you whimpered, nuzzling against his skin.
He chuckled, “I got you, baby. C’mere.”
He helped you stand up and immediately pulled you in for a kiss. When he pushed you back against the shower wall, you gasped at the feeling of the cold tile against your back. But that was quickly forgotten when he pressed his fingers to your center.
“Will,” you gripped his arms.
Two of his fingers slid inside of you and his thumb pressed against your clit. You whined high in your throat as his fingers worked in tandem to bring you closer to the edge. He kissed you, swallowing down every whine and moan you let out.
“Cum for me, baby,” he spoke against your lips, “show me how much you love being covered in my piss.”
You came around his fingers with his name on your lips. Your body went limp against the wall, his hold on you was the only thing keeping you up. He pressed kisses to your face and pulled you against his chest.
“You did so good, baby,” he whispered into your ear, “I love you so much.”
“I love you,” you whispered against his chest.
He reached behind himself and turned the shower on so he could carefully clean you up, doing all the work for you, including washing your hair. Once you were clean, he turned off the shower and wrapped you in a warm, fluffy towel, wrapping one around his waist too. He helped you dry off and get ready for bed with gentle hands and sweet words.
“We’re definitely doing that again,” he whispered as he pulled you close to him under the covers. He could feel you smiling as you buried your face in his neck and that was all the response he needed.
A/N - this one’s a little different. The last piss kink ones I did were more bladder control and this is like watersports so I hope you still like it!
SYNOPSIS: “i've been hearing about you for years and somehow we've never actually properly met.”
SUMMARY: y/n has spent a lot of her life around the entire smith family; except will. between hockey, school, and terrible timing, they've somehow spent years missing each other. when offered a potential scholarship opportunity for a specialized graduate program in kinesiology at san jose, y/n finds herself spending a week with the one smith she's never really known which becomes a problem when leaving starts sounding a lot harder than staying.
synopsis: the one where y/n gets a scholarship meeting opportunity in san jose
pairing: will smith x reader
wc: 1.7k
note: hi angels, this is the first chapter of my new series and i really hope you enjoy! first chapter is kinda slow but i promise you it’ll get better as the series goes on!
the funny thing is that five years ago you would've given anything to be sitting exactly where you are now curled up at the kitchen table, staring at an email that had the potential to completely change your life.
back then you were eighteen, fresh out of high school and convinced you had everything figured out. you'd enrolled in your undergraduate program in vancouver with a plan already mapped out.
get your degree.
keep your grades up.
find experience wherever you could.
apply for the scholarship program and somehow get accepted.
simple and straightforward.
except none of it had actually been simple. there had been sleepless nights, classes that nearly broke you, professors who made you question every career choice you'd ever made, insane amount of coffee and energy drink runs than any human should probably be consuming but you finished.
walked across the stage with your degree in your hands and your family cheering somewhere in the crowd.
and now here you were staring at the next step.
or at least the possibility of it.
you read the email again and again, your nerves jittering with stress and anxiety but the slightest bit of excitement? this could be an all or nothing moment for you.
“still looking at it?”
you looked up to find your mom walking into the kitchen, her coffee cup that was once full before you checked the email was now empty.
you groan, throwing your head back in frustration. “everyone keeps saying that.”
“because you've been staring at that screen in front of you for an hour.”
“forty minutes actually ma.”
“same thing.”
you let your head fall onto the table, another sigh leaving your lips. your mom laughs before sliding into the chair beside you, her fingers coming up to brush the pieces of hair that fell out of your loose braid from your face.
“what's got you so worked up?”
you turn your head to face her, swallowing down the heaviness in your throat.
“what if i screw it up mom?”
she makes a sound of disapproval, shaking her head. “you won't.”
“mom.”
“you won't.”
“that's not helpful.”
“how not?”
“because that's not an answer.”
you sat up, your eyes scanning the email that remained open.
“i just— i keep thinking about it. the meeting and all, what if i mess up and i lose the opportunity and don’t get it? what if it’s all for nothing mom? what if they realize that maybe i wasn’t the right fit?”
your mom nods, quiet for a moment continuing to brush her fingers through your hair.
“you've wanted this for a long time honey.”
“yeah.”
“so of course you're scared, that’s inevitable.”
you looked down at your hands, twisting the ring on your pointer finger. a nervous tactic you’ve grown to do a lot more for the past couple of years.
“i don't know, i thought i'd be more excited.”
“you are excited, you're just nervous too and that’s completely okay.”
unfortunately, she was right because the thought of not getting it made your chest ache but somehow the possibility of getting it felt equally overwhelming.
because then everything would change. you'd leave home, leave vancouver. leave the city you'd spent your entire life in.
suddenly the future wasn't some abstract thing sitting years away that you’ve spent so much time planning for at the age of eighteen anymore.
it was now.
and that was terrifying beyond words.
your phone buzzed against the table snapping you out of your thoughts.
then again, and again.
your mom laughs already knowing who it is. “grace?”
you sigh, nodding your head. “the one and only.”
“answer her before she drives over here and answers herself.”
which honestly wasn't impossible knowing grace.
before you could get another word out, graces voice cuts through.
“soooo?”
“i got the invite for the scholarship meeting.”
you can hear a loud pitch scream through the other side of the phone. your wince, pulling your phone away from your ear letting out a laugh.
“i knew it! i knew they would reach out, they’d be crazy not to.”
“grace—”
“seriously y/n, you’ve worked so hard for this. if anyone deserves this opportunity, it’s you.”
you can feel your eyes beginning to water as you look up to blink away the tears before they start falling. you clear your throat, so glad that grace wasn’t able to see your face right now.
“it’s just a lot to take in. so much i still have to do and prep and i need to leave in two days grace. i need to find a hotel or even an airbnb that i could stay in for the week and i need to pack and oh my god i feel like i’m gonna lose my mind doing it all.”
grace laughs, “calm down missy, you’re gonna pass out take a breath. just worry about packing, i got everything else.”
“wait, what?”
“me, mom and dad will also be down in san jose during the week of your meeting y/n. there’s no way in hell that my parents will ever let you stay in a hotel when we’re around. you’re like their second daughter.”
“i can’t do that grace, absolutely not.”
“what? why not? we’re down there for wills home game stretch anyways.”
“yeah— you’re there for will, i can’t just intrude on that.”
“what do you even mean intrude? god, sometimes you say shit that makes me question what goes down in your head.”
you scoff, “grace, i’m not staying with you guys. i can’t do that. you’re all there for will and to watch him play. you don’t need me wandering all over that.”
“y/n— for the last time, you’re not intruding if i’m literally telling you to stay with us.”
“you mean with you guys at wills place.”
“yeah, yeah same thing.”
“i barely even know will.”
which was kinda true? you knew the smiths.
you'd spent half your preteen and teenage years at their house. you and grace grew up together, seeing each other at your cringy phases but somehow will always seemed to exist somewhere else.
hockey tournaments at first and then he was at boston university and the now the nhl. every time he came home, you seemed to be back in vancouver. every time you were around, he was gone.
you knew stories about will, all of his accomplishments and hard work that he put through to get to where he was at the moment but that’s about it. you didn’t know know him.
"but he already said yes, by the way."
your eyes widen when you hear that. “i’m sorry, what?"
the line goes quiet but you could tell she was biting back a laugh on the other end.
“grace.”
“what?”
“you asked him already?”
“maybe.”
“grace!”
“what?”
“oh my god.”
“he literally doesn't care.”
“that's not the point.”
“he said yes without any hesitation if it makes you feel better y/n.”
you hated how much that surprised you, although it did ease a little bit of the stress you had climbing up your shoulders since you’ve read the email.
“his exact words were, ‘of course she can stay here.’”
you didn't know what to do with that information so instead you groan again but you can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or annoyance or stress. maybe all of the above which made grace laugh.
“so it’s decided, you’ll be staying with me, mom, dad and will.”
-
a day later you booked the flight to san jose
and you felt as if you could throw up. not because you hated flying but because now it was real. the confirmation email landed in your inbox, the dates, the flight number and departure time.
there was no backing out now. it’s either you get all that you’ve ever wanted or go back home with nothing.
packing somehow made everything worse,
your suitcase sat open on your bedroom floor while clothes were scattered everywhere. you’ve spent the last hour packing then unpacking and then repacking again.
“you're going for a week.” your mom says, standing in the doorway watching you pick up the same shirt you’ve placed and taken out of your suitcase for the third time.
“why do you have so many different outfits?”
“what if i need them?”
“i can assure you that you won’t.”
eventually after a bit more of shuffling back and forth about what to pack and what to not the suitcase is packed. you sigh, taking a seat on your bed letting everything sink in.
you look around at the photos on your vanity, the bookshelf in the corner of your room, the familiar view outside your window that you came to every morning and fell asleep to every night.
vancouver had always been home. you weren't leaving permanently and you knew that but this trip still felt significant. something that might change everything.
or nothing at all.
you weren't sure which possibility scared you more.
--
the morning of your flight arrived far too quickly. your dad loaded your suitcase into the trunk. your mom handed you coffee for the drive down and now here you were, driving toward the airport.
the city passing by outside the window, every familiar street you took driving down to the grocery store, down to a friends, down to cafes every single day. you watched them disappear as nerves settled heavily in your stomach.
“you'll be okay.” your dad's voice breaks the silence.
you nod, trying your best to not let your voice shake before you speak. “i know.”
the airport appeared ahead and just like that, there was no more waiting, no more planning and definitely no more overthinking.
there was no turning back now.
you step out onto the curb, your suitcase rolling beside you. your parents pull you into quick hugs; giving you the basic parent pep talk about being safe and calling them every night. you say your quick goodbyes and make your way towards the terminal, one thought repeated itself over and over.
this could be the beginning of everything or it could be nothing.
You’re dating Will and you found out he went to Hooters for a friends birthday. Honestly you didn’t care because you’d be delulu if you honestly thought he didn’t look at other women. So when he told you what happened, expecting a horrible reaction, you didn’t give one. It leads to a fight. You told him you knew he looks at other women and he begs to differ.
Blind Spots - Will Smith
pairing: Will Smith x female reader
summary: When Will confesses going to Hooters for a friend's birthday, your casual acceptance spirals into an argument about trust.
The front door clicks open and you look up from your spot on the couch, marking your page in the book you've been trying to read. Will walks in, shoulders tense, running a hand through his dark hair before tossing his keys onto the counter.
"Hey," he says, avoiding eye contact. "We need to talk."
Your stomach tightens slightly. "Everything okay?"
He sighs, finally meeting your gaze. "I went out with the guys tonight. For Trevor's birthday. And... well, we went to Hooters."
You wait for more, but he just stands there, looking like he's expecting you to throw something. "Okay?"
Will's eyebrows furrow. "Okay? That's all you have to say?"
"What do you want me to say?" you ask, genuinely confused. "It was Trevor's birthday. You went with your friends. I'm not going to be angry about that."
He shifts his weight, clearly uncomfortable. "You're not mad that I went to Hooters?"
You close your book, setting it aside. "Should I be?"
"I don't know," he admits, frustration creeping into his voice. "I thought you'd be upset."
You study him for a moment. "Will, I'd be delusional if I thought you never looked at other women. You're a professional athlete surrounded by attractive people all the time. As long as you're coming home to me, I trust you."
The words hang in the air between you, but instead of relief, you see anger flash across his face.
"That's not fair," he says, his voice tight. "You're acting like I'm some kind of douchebag who can't control himself around women in shorts."
"That's not what I said," you reply, standing up. "I'm just being realistic."
"No, you're being insulting," he counters, stepping closer. "You really think I go to places like that to look at other women? That I'm checking them out when I have you?"
"You're a man," you say simply. "Men notice attractive women. It's biology."
"That's such bullshit," he shoots back, running his hands through his hair again. "Not all men are like that. Not all men are constantly looking for the next best thing. Some of us are actually committed to the person they're with."
"Then why are you getting so defensive?" you challenge, crossing your arms. "If it's not a big deal, why did you come in here expecting me to freak out?"
"Because I thought you'd be hurt!" he exclaims. "Because I know how some of those places are and I didn't want you to think I was disrespecting you or our relationship. Not because I was guilty of something!"
"So you went there under duress?" you ask skeptically.
"It was Trevor's birthday!" he repeats, throwing his hands up in frustration. "What was I supposed to do? Say 'sorry man, I can't come to your birthday celebration because my girlfriend thinks I'm going to ogle the waitresses'?"
"I never said that!" you retort, your own voice rising. "You're the one making this into something bigger than it is."
"Am I?" he challenges, stepping closer still. "Or are you the one who's convinced that I'm constantly looking elsewhere, that I'm not satisfied with what I have?"
"That's not what I think!" you insist, but even as you say it, you wonder if there's some truth to it. "I just... I don't understand why you're so angry."
"Because it hurts," he says, his voice dropping suddenly. "It hurts that you think so little of me. That you think I'd be disrespectful to you or that I'm constantly comparing you to other women."
The fight drains out of you as you see the genuine hurt in his eyes. "Will, I don't think that."
"Don't you?" he asks quietly. "Because it sure sounded like you do."
You reach out, but he flinches away from your touch. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."
"Then why would you say those things?" he asks, his voice cracking slightly. "Why would you think that about me?"
You search for the right words, the ones that will fix this. "I guess... I guess I've been conditioned to expect the worst from men. Before you, that was all I knew."
Will studies your face, his expression softening slightly. "I'm not them. I would never disrespect you or our relationship."
"I know," you whisper. "I'm sorry."
He closes the distance between you this time, pulling you into his arms. "I'm sorry too. For getting so defensive. I just... I need you to know that you're it for me. There's no one else."
You bury your face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. "I know."
"Next time," he says, rubbing your back gently, "just tell me you trust me. That's all I need to hear."
You nod against him, holding on tight. "I trust you, Will. Always."
could you do a Macklin x reader where his girlfriend has cute aggression? and like she play bites him all the time? like i feel like that'd be cute lol thank you!!! love your work!
this was so much fun to write!!!
Bite-Sized Affection - Macklin Celebrini
pairing: Macklin Celebrini x female reader
summary: You've always had a strange habit of expressing your overwhelming love for your boyfriend.
CW: Fluff, kissing.
The soft glow of the morning sun filters through the curtains as you watch Macklin sleep beside you. His features are relaxed, lips slightly parted as his chest rises and falls with each steady breath. Your heart swells with so much affection it almost hurts and you know exactly how to release this overwhelming feeling.
Leaning in slowly, you gently sink your teeth into his shoulder, not enough to truly hurt but just enough to leave a faint mark.
Macklin stirs with a groan, his eyes fluttering open. "Again?" he murmurs, though there's no real annoyance in his voice, just the sleepy resignation of someone who's grown accustomed to his girlfriend's peculiar form of affection.
"Sorry," you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to the spot you just bit. "You're just too cute when you're sleeping."
He rolls onto his side to face you, a sleepy smile playing on his lips. "One of these days you're going to draw blood," he teases, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.
"Never," you promise, though you both know it's not entirely true. Your cute aggression has been a part of your relationship since the early days, when you first felt the overwhelming urge to literally bite him because he was being so sweet and thoughtful.
It started small, a playful nip on his finger when he handed you flowers, a gentle bite on his arm when he made you laugh too hard. But as your feelings for him grew, so did the frequency of your bites.
"Remember when you bit me during your brother's wedding reception?" Macklin asks, his thumb stroking your cheek. "Right in the middle of my best man speech."
You flush with embarrassment at the memory. "You were talking about how much you loved me! What was I supposed to do?"
"Maybe not leave teeth marks in front of 200 people?" he suggests with a laugh, pulling you closer. "My mom asked if you were part vampire."
"She did not!" you protest, though you can't help giggling too.
"She did," he insists, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "But I told her it's just how you show love."
And he's right. It's this strange impulse you've always had when you see something overwhelmingly cute or feel an intense rush of affection, you literally want to sink your teeth into it. With Macklin, it happens constantly.
Later that morning, as you're making breakfast together, you watch him concentrate on flipping pancakes, his brow furrowed in focus. The sight of his serious expression combined with his bedhead and sleep-rumpled clothes sends that familiar surge of affection rushing through you.
Before you can stop yourself, you lean in and bite his bicep gently through his t-shirt.
"Ow!" he exclaims, though he's laughing as he rubs the spot. "What was that for?"
"You're just so cute when you're concentrating," you explain, standing on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "And your arms look nice in that shirt."
"Nice enough to bite?" he asks, wrapping his free arm around your waist and pulling you against him.
"Always," you reply, nuzzling into his chest.
As the day progresses, you find yourself biting him multiple more times, when he makes you laugh during breakfast, when he gets excited talking about hockey, when he helps you reach something on the top shelf. Each time, he reacts with a mixture of surprise and amusement, never upset by your peculiar habit.
That evening, as you're curled up on the couch watching a movie, Macklin shifts positions and his shirt rides up, revealing a sliver of his toned stomach. The sight sends that familiar rush through you, and without thinking, you lean over and gently bite his side.
"Okay, that's it," he declares, sitting up suddenly and pulling you onto his lap. "We need to establish some ground rules for this biting thing."
"Rules?" you ask, pouting playfully. "But it's how I show love!"
"I know," he says softly, his expression softening as he brushes his thumb across your lips. "And I love that about you. But I'm starting to look like I've been attacked by a small animal."
"I'll be more gentle," you promise, though you both know it's a lie, when the urge strikes, you can never control the intensity.
"Or," he suggests, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "you could channel that energy into kissing instead. Lots and lots of kissing."
"I can do that," you agree, leaning in to press your lips against his.
The kiss deepens quickly, his arms wrapping around you as yours slide around his neck. When you finally pull apart, you're both breathless, and that overwhelming surge of affection rushes through you again.
"See?" he murmurs against your lips. "Kissing is much better than biting."
You nod in agreement, but as he shifts beneath you, his collarbone becomes visible, and you can't resist leaning in to gently nip at the skin there.
"Hey!" he protests, though he's laughing as he pulls you closer. "I thought we agreed on kissing only."
"I'm sorry," you say, though you're not sorry at all. "You're just too bite-able."
He sighs dramatically, though there's a smile playing on his lips. "What am I going to do with you?"
"Love me, bites and all?" you suggest hopefully.
"Always," he replies, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Even if I have to wear long sleeves for the rest of my life."
Imagine Will Smith where things are awkward after you told him you had a crush. Him not knowing that he’s the crush. He’s jealous and wants to know who the lucky man.
Mystery Man
Pairing: Will Smith x reader
Summary: Will overhears you talking about a crush and spends two weeks trying to figure out who it is, not aware that it’s him.
WC: 1,580
AN: guys part 3 of booking a spot is coming soon, i promise 🙏
Will wasn’t supposed to hear anything.
“I knew you liked him!” Mack yells, after you had told him to be quiet three times before that. That was the perfect moment for Will to walk in of course.
“Who do you like?” Will asks, cautiously walking into the living room where you and Mack are.
You kick Mack in the shin who is sitting across from you on the couch. He yelps and grabs his shin. “No one.” You answer Will, ignoring Macklin’s whining.
Will walks further into the living room, choosing to sit on the chair by the TV. “Oh come on, how come he can know but I can’t?” He gestures to Mack.
You send Mack another dirty look, hoping he can feel your anger from across the couch. You had confided in your best friend about how you were starting to fall for his best friend. Before you confessed to Mack you told him he had to be quiet because Will was in the next room over on a call and might hear. Of course you should’ve remembered that Mack is the opposite of quiet, especially when he needs to be.
Mack straightens up at the dirty look. “It’s not my fault Smitty walked in at the wrong time!” He immediately goes into defensive mode.
You grab the pillow to your left and send it straight at Macklin’s face. “Shut your mouth.” You demand, worried that Mack’s already said too much.
“Who is it?” Will asks again, watching the exchange between you and Mack carefully.
“No one.” You reiterate, trying to send your most convincing smile to Will. Mack snorts, ruining your smile however.
“It’s definitely not no one.” You turn back to Mack, contemplating how you’re going to murder him.
Will goes silent, jaw tight and gaze fixed on you, a curious look in his eye. And the conversation ends there, mostly because you send actual death threats to Mack.
That was the end of it, or at least you thought.
“So what does he do?” Will asks you over breakfast one day. You nearly choked on your coffee at the question.
“What?” You ask when you gain the composure to answer.
“The guy you like.” Will says, that same look from a few days ago on his face. The muscle in his jaw tenses as he waits for an answer.
“Nothing.” You say, settling back into your seat, knees coming up to your chest. Will gives you an unbelieving look across the table. “What if he’s unemployed?” You shrug, raising your coffee to your lips.
“So you admit there’s a guy now?” You stay silent at his question, choosing not to answer. “Also I hardly believe that you’d like someone who’s unemployed. You’re too successful for that.” He adds, making you blush slightly.
You still don’t answer his question, letting the food in front of you be an excuse for the silence.
Then comes the teasing
You’re in the middle of lunch with Will when a man approaches the table you’re at. “Excuse me, you are so gorgeous. I just needed to say that.” The man says, staring straight down at you.
You open your mouth to reply with a thanks but Will speaks before you can. “She’s busy buddy.” Will says, not even bothering to look up from his menu. The stranger apologizes, quickly leaving the table.
“Will! What the fuck was that?” You scold him, sending him a glare across the table. You were going to reject the man anyways but you were planning to be a lot more nice than Will.
Will looks up from his menu finally, completely unbothered by the situation. “I just wanted to make sure you’re still available for the mystery man.”
His comment makes you scoff. He’s been saying petty comments like that a lot recently, bringing up the ‘mystery man’ every chance that he can get. It’s starting to create a little bit of a drift in your friendship because of it. Will gets awkward and quiet whenever you don’t tell him who the crush is. You get nervous and snippy with him whenever he brings it up. A weird tension just hangs between you two constantly now.
“Well maybe I don’t want my mystery man anymore.” You snap at him. Will doesn’t even know he’s the mystery man but you say it anyways as if it will hurt his feelings. Of course you don’t mean it but you’re so annoyed with him you don’t care.
Will takes a sip of his drink and holds his menu up again. Apparently the conversation is over.
Two weeks later the secret is revealed
You’re sitting on the hood of Mack’s car in the parking lot of the arena. Mack went back inside because he forgot something in the locker room, leaving you and Will alone for the first time in a while.
It’s dead silent. You stare out at the empty parking lot. Will leans against the car, crossing his arms. Neither of you want to bring up the big elephant in the room. You refuse to be the one who asks why the friendship is so rocky now.
“Did he reject you?” Will asks, finally breaking the silence.
You sigh, disappointed that it’s just another question about your crush. “No.” You answer him firmly.
“Then why do you look so sad all the time now?” Will scoots a bit closer, his expression a bit softer than before.
You feel your own face soften too. “I’m not sad.” You say quietly, embarrassed that he’s noticed. You’ve been upset that Will is so invested in getting you into a relationship with this mystery man who he doesn’t know is himself.
“Yes you are.” Will says, hand splaying across the hood next to your leg, as if he thought about laying it on your knee but decided otherwise.
You feel bothered by the almost contact. “I’m not, Will.” You say more firmly.
A long silence dulls between you two after your reaction. You stare at Will’s hand next your leg with an intense expression. Then Will lets out a dry laugh and shoves his hands in his pockets.
“I honestly don’t know why I care so much.” He says, walking backwards and away from the car. You sit up straighter at the sudden emotion change from him. “I don’t know why I want to know what he looks like so bad, and I don’t know why you’re so afraid of telling him.” He furrows his brows and shakes his head at you.
You almost laugh at his statement but somehow control it. “Will,” you mumble instead.
“What? I’m serious. You could have any guy you wanted. If you just told him, I bet he’d be yours.” Will sighs exasperatedly. He runs his fingers through his damp post-shower hair.
You’re so tired of the back and forth between you two that you decide to just tell him now. You don’t even think about the potential repercussions, you just blurt it out. “I wish it worked like that. But unfortunately he’s standing in front of me trying to convince me to ask out someone who he doesn’t think is him.”
Will’s stillness is almost panic inducing. You feel your heart beating loudly in your ears. “Oh.” He says, every memory from the last few weeks rushing to him. Every time you dismissed his question, every time Mack refused to tell him, every time you sadly refused his suggestions.
“Will.” You say, already preparing to jump off the car and run away if you need to. You’re definitely regretting your decision to tell him now that he’s so quiet.
“Me?” Will asks, finger pointed at his chest. “I’m the guy you’ve been talking about this whole time?” He questions as if the thought never even crossed his mind.
You think this whole situation would be funny if your heart wasn’t beating so fast. You nervously pick at your fingernails. “Yes.” There’s no point in denying it now. “I mean it wasn’t my choice to talk about it so often, you just kept interrogating me.”
“That’s because I thought someone else had a chance with you.” He says, his face immediately showing that he didn’t mean to say that out loud.
“Wait what?” You ask, hoping down from the car at the realization of what he just said.
“I—” For the first time since you’ve known Will he genuinely looks flustered. A small blush is spread across his cheeks and his eyes are wide. He drags a hand across his face. “This is not going how I wanted it to go.” He groans.
You can’t help the smile that comes across your face. Will notices, making a smile break out onto his own face.
“So do you need me to spell it out for you still?” You tease him lightly.
He shakes his head, stepping closer to you. You breath hitches at the closeness. His hands slowly come to your waist, gently pulling you into him and testing the waters. You respond by wrapping your arms around his neck. He looks at you so gently with those blue eyes that you feel like you’re going to melt right there if you don’t do something. So you rise up on your toes and press a small kiss to his lips. Will immediately deepens the kiss, pulling you all the way flush against him.
“I think I’m starting to understand now.” He murmurs against your lips.
Note: apparently one Will Smith pining fic wasn’t enough 🩷 This can be read as a standalone, but also works as a prequel to Already Yours
Word Count: 4,489
Warnings: slow burn, extreme Will Smith pining (more to come), reader has an off-screen bf, unrequited feelings (for now…), childhood best friend! Mack
Summary:
Somewhere between Boston and the NHL Draft, every mention of Macklin Celebrini started making Will think of you.
Which would be significantly less of a problem if you weren't already taken.
When you had first met Macklin, on the very first day of kindergarten, you had no idea what you were getting yourself into. And really, how could you? You were four.
Of course, your parents had raised you to be kind to others, and so when you saw the little boy from your class standing alone by the soccer field, kicking a ball against the fence all by himself with a frown, you wandered over to see if he could use some company.
Little did you know, you’d just signed yourself up for a lifetime of friendship.
The smile that overtook his face when you asked if he wanted to practice passing was blinding. You had spent the whole recess playing together, and when it was over, Macklin never really left your side. Not until his family moved to California for his Dad’s job with the Warriors. It was tough - probably your first real encounter with anything close to heartbreak, if you’re being honest. He was such a normal fixture in your everyday life that it felt impossible to imagine a version of it without him.
No more biking over to his house after school for dinner. No more homework spread across the kitchen table. No more early mornings getting dragged to the rink. No more getting roped into whatever ridiculous competition the Celebrini siblings had invented that week.
Even though the move changed the face-to-face routines you and Macklin had easily settled into over the years, it didn’t change the fact that you were his best friend, and he was yours. You both made efforts to keep in touch regularly as the years went on, begging your parents to facetime or call each other throughout each week.
Whenever his family would come back to Vancouver, a visit with your family was always on the Celebrini’s to-do list. Any free time Mack had while in town he’d do his best to spend with you. It went both ways. You were able to convince your parents to send you to San Francisco during some of the holidays and breaks at school, always spending at least a few weeks with them each summer. And really, even though things were undeniably different, you guys remained as close as ever.
When Macklin got into BU, you were so incredibly proud of him. You knew he was going to be a great addition to the team, and you couldn’t wait to see how he would grow as a player and as a person in their program. NCAA teams were starting to become a common stepping-stone for many athletes trying to go pro, and you were happy that he would get a little bit of the ‘university experience’ before inevitably moving into the NHL and taking on all the pressure that came with it.
With hockey came rivalries, and when it came to BU, BC was at the top of that list. You had expected some form of the typical rivalry bullshit. And honestly sometimes it could be really fun.
What you didn’t expect was Will Smith.
When you first heard of him, you didn’t think much of it: just another player's name to add to the list of hundreds you’ve had to learn over the years with Mack. But then, it seemed like every time Mack would play a team this guy was on - whether it was BU playing BC, or Team Canada against Team USA - Will seemed to always come out on the other end victorious.
You’re nothing if not loyal, so the obvious way Macklin felt towards him was reason enough. But Jesus, it had gotten to the point where he just seemed to always keep winning. Eventually, you didn’t even need Macklin’s opinion as justification anymore. Every time you saw number six lining up across from him, you found yourself rolling your eyes on principle.
It had been a chilly March in Boston when you had first run into him.
The game was important, a qualifying match for the Frozen Four. Macklin had begged you to come and watch, pulled the most heartbreaking puppdog look on you over facetime and claimed he couldn’t play his best without his best friend there to cheer him on. You had rolled your eyes, but really, you were already working out how to be there without it interfering too heavily with your own school schedule.
Thankfully, it had all worked out. You were excited to be there, but the anxiety you felt about the weight of the game, let alone the annoyance at who was rostered on the opposing team, was enough to almost outweigh it. But you pushed it all away for Mack, gave him the smile and bolstering that he needed to go out and play his best.
The arena was packed, completely sold out, but Mack managed to get tickets for you and some other friends right by the glass. That’s where Will first noticed you. Not because you were trying to be noticed. Actually, quite the opposite.
Bottom lip tucked between your teeth, eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed as they scanned the ice. It was clear you were heavily invested. You watched the game the way only someone with knowledge of it would. The way only someone who cared would. Pretty eyes flicking up and down the ice, sleeves of a BU jersey pulled over your hands cutely as you fiddled mindlessly with your fingers out of anticipation. You never looked away from the game.
He tried to focus on the match, but he kept catching himself looking over.
Not often. Just enough to be particularly annoying.
He couldn’t help the way his eyes kept drifting back to the pretty girl in the front row wearing the wrong school’s jersey. Who cared entirely too much about the outcome of this game, and for reasons he couldn’t explain, he found himself wanting to know why.
But the match pulled him back in, school pride on the line when playing against their biggest rival, and any ideas of you got pushed to the back of his mind for the remainder of the game.
Unfortunately, he was exactly as good as everyone said he was. Impossible to miss, even when you were really trying. Worse, he seemed to know it. Every goal, every play, every grin flashed toward his teammates or the crowd made you want to roll your eyes.
You’d grown up with Macklin - had been dragged to his games and practices regularly, helped him work on different skills for countless hours over the years - you knew what talent and hard work looked like. And Will was practically dripping in it.
It only left a sour taste in your mouth. You spent the rest of the game trying to focus on anyone but him.
When the final buzzer went off, you sat with your head in your hands for a moment. It was a good game, at least in terms of action and anticipation, but the ending score wasn’t in favour of the team you were there to support. Wasn’t in the favour of the person you were there to support. You exhaled shakily, heart breaking and sinking in your chest. Losing sucked. Watching Macklin lose was far worse.
You knew how much he’d poured into this season. How much this team meant to him. Knew just how badly he’d wanted this.
Already, you started running through ideas on how to make this any more bearable for him when he inevitably found you after getting off the ice.
During the handshake lineup, you could clearly see the tension in his shoulders and face - like if he let himself relax he would unravel right on the ice. You swallowed around the lump in your throat, already reaching for your things to stand up and head to a place near the locker rooms that he would easily be able to find you. Couldn’t bear to see the other team celebrate. The whole thing was just another tick against number six.
The arena was loud, buzzing with a chaotic mix of emotions and energy.
On one side, the BC team and fans were on their feet celebrating, ecstatic about their win and advancing to the Frozen Four. On the other, the heavy heartbreak of everyone who hoped BU was in that position instead. BU supporters sat frozen in their seats, trying to come to terms with the fact that their season had just ended.
It felt suffocating. All you wanted was to find Macklin.
You slipped through the crowd, weaving between rows of people as everyone began filtering towards the exits. Very little registered beyond the singular goal of getting to your best friend before he had a chance to disappear into his own head
You knew him. Knew how much this loss would hurt.
By the time you reached the hallway leading towards the locker rooms, the noise had dulled slightly. Not quiet, exactly, but quieter than the chaos inside the rink. At least it had been.
The BC team came spilling through moments later. Loud. Laughing. Still riding the high of the win.
You kept your head down and did your best to maneuver around them, clutching your jersey a little tighter against yourself. You understood why they were celebrating. Understood that someone had to win, and someone had to lose. That didn’t make it any easier to watch. Every shouted laugh felt like salt being rubbed into an open wound.
A player bumped your shoulder. Then another.
You huffed, biting down harder on your lip as irritation began to creep in around the edges of worry, amongst the brewing storm of other feelings.
God, you just needed some room to breathe.
Then, you walked directly into someone. A solid body colliding with yours.
The impact wasn’t hard, but it was enough to knock the breath out of you for a second and have you stopping in your tracks. A hand caught your elbow just as quickly as the impact happened, steadying you before you could stumble.
“Woah.” you heard above you, the word coming with a laugh.
You looked up, a quick apology already forming on your tongue. Then, it disappeared entirely.
Blue.
That was your first coherent thought.
Blue eyes. The kind of blue that made your heart stutter in your chest. The kind of blue that made your brain start to short-circuit. The kind of blue that should honestly be illegal.
He was still wearing most of his gear. Hair damp with sweat and face flushed from the game. A grin stretched across his features as he rode the adrenaline of the win.
For one completely mortifying second, your brain forgot how to function.
He was gorgeous.
His hand remained lightly on your arm. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “Are you okay?” he asked, a little breathless. The smile never left his face. His blue eyes never left yours.
It took a second too long for your brain to catch back up, and only a few more seconds for your gaze to drop down to his BC jersey.
Number 6. Smith.
The effect was instantaneous as your expression flattened, eyes narrowing immediately and lips pressing together tightly. His eyebrows shot up. Will watched the entire transformation happen in real time. One second you were staring at him wide eyed like you’d forgotten how words worked, the next, you looked at him like he’d personally ruined your life. It was honestly impressive.
You pulled your arm back. Not rudely, but definitely intentionally.
“It’s fine,” you said, pretty eyes already dropping from his. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.” The apology that followed sounded reluctant at best, “Sorry.”
Then you were gone.
The girl from the stands. The one he’d caught himself looking for more than once throughout the game and had to force himself to look away from. The one he’d been trying very hard not to think about. And she’d looked at him like he was public enemy number one.
“What the hell?” he muttered, completely baffled.
One of his teammates bumped into his shoulder on the way past, “You coming?”
But Will barely heard him, attention too focused on following your retreating figure down the hallway.
Through the crowd of people surrounding him, he caught one last glimpse of your face before the only thing visible was the giant M. Celebrini and 71 draped across your back.
Oh. He thought. You’ve got to be kidding me.
His stomach dropped.
So that’s who you were there for.
This couldn’t be happening.
Because suddenly, everything made perfect sense.
– – –
The end of June came around quicker than you had expected. After the elimination game in March, the rest of your semester had flown by in a blur, and before you knew it, you were on a plane to Las Vegas with the Celebrini’s for the NHL draft. You had told Macklin you would be happy to watch from home in Vancouver with the rest of his loved ones that couldn’t attend the event in person. Mack had shut that down the second it left your mouth.
“I need you there.”
And that was that.
On draft day, Macklin was so wound tight you were surprised he hadn’t snapped. Not that you blamed him. The whole thing was a lot. Nevermind everything extra that going first overall came with.
He had a few meetings and interviews during the day, but mostly everything was scheduled for the evening when things would really pick up. Honestly, you weren’t sure if things would ever really slow down after that. You had tried to give him some space so that it was there if he needed it, but Macklin seemed to exist within a five-foot radius of you for most of the day, like maybe he could trick his brain into believing it was just another normal day if you were nearby.
Your longest separation that day happened while you both got ready, but even then he was checking in with Robyn every ten minutes to see if you were finished and heading back over to his room yet.
He stood tall in front of the mirror trying to fix his tie for the fifth time as you watched carefully a few steps behind him. “Stop messing with it,” you murmured, striding over and smacking his hands away gently before tying it for him. He only hummed in response, eyes unfocused.
You took a step back to really take him in.
He looked grown up. Not that he hadn’t before, but tonight felt different.
Maybe it was the suit. Maybe it was knowing that in a few short hours he’d hear his name called and everything would change. Or maybe it was because all you could see was flashes of the kid you’d met on the soccer field all those years ago. The kid who used to race you home on your bikes. Who convinced you every minor inconvenience could be settled with some ridiculous competition. The kid who had spent years dreaming about and working towards this night.
Your chest tightened unexpectedly, eyes starting to sting.
“You look handsome.” you said honestly, smoothing over the expensive suit fabric stretched across his shoulders. “The suit is perfect.” He barely seemed to hear you, another distracted hum was all you got in return.
“Macklin,” you said, softly.
His eyes snapped to yours. “I’m not thinking about the suit right now,” he admitted. “But thank you.” he tacked on.
You couldn’t help but smile. Of course he wasn’t. Tonight was going to change everything.
And a few hours later, it did.
The floor of the Sphere where the draft was being held buzzed with nervous energy. Prospects sat with their families in carefully assigned seats, conversations blending together beneath the bright lights while cameras drifted between groups waiting for NHL history to be made.
By the time you finally found your seats, there had been so many security checkpoints, photographers, and interviews that your heart felt as if it was beating almost as hard as Macklin’s. You smoothed a hand down your dress and glanced toward him. He looked terrified, understandably so. You immediately reached over and squeezed his hand, anything to help pull him back down again before he got too swept up in his own head.
Across the room, Will Smith was trying incredibly hard to pay attention to whatever conversation he’d been having. And completely and utterly failing at it. Because the second he looked up across the draft floor, all he saw was you.
For a moment, he almost thought he’d imagined it.
Months had passed since Boston. Months since the girl in the BU jersey had looked at him like he’d personally ruined her life. Months since he’d caught himself thinking about her far more often than he should have. And somehow, despite all that time, he recognized you instantly.
Maybe it was because somewhere along the way, every mention of Macklin Celebrini had become tangled up with thoughts of you. Or maybe he was just that hopeless. Either way, his attention was locked onto you before he could stop it.
And God.
The girl from Boston had been devastatingly pretty.
This version of you was something else entirely.
For a second, Will forgot every conversation he’d had that night. Forgot where he was. Forgot that tonight was supposed to be one of the biggest moments of his life.
Whatever carefully constructed memory he’d been carrying around since Boston immediately became useless.
Because it hadn’t done you justice.
If he thought seeing you in a jersey that wasn’t his was devastating, well, he wasn’t prepared to see you in that dress.
It fit you perfectly.
He wouldn’t be surprised if it had been made just for you.
Hugging in just the right places to accentuate your beautiful figure, flaring lightly at your waist and falling in delicate waves down to the floor. You looked taller than the last time he’d seen you, and he was sure you were wearing a pair of heels hidden under the intricate layers of fabric.
His eyes traced back up your body, pausing when they landed upon your hand still grasping Macklin’s tightly. He swallowed harshly, eyes darting away quickly before helplessly dragging back to you, much to his chagrin.
You were shoulder to shoulder with Macklin, staring up at him with a beaming smile that had Will’s knees going weak. He pushed down the piece of him that wished he was the one it was directed at. Wished he could be the person to make you smile like that. Help make you happy.
The pride you felt for Macklin was obvious, directing any and all attention to him when anyone approached you. Talking animatedly about him and all of his accomplishments. Not in a way that was overbearing or off putting, just so genuinely proud of where he was and how hard he worked to get there. Macklin was obviously trying to suppress an amused smile at your antics, but Will could tell your pride meant the world to him.
You were there for Macklin. It was his night. But the way you looked at Macklin like it was one of the greatest nights of your life too is what got him.
You were completely glowing.
Dangerously so.
Like a lighthouse in the sea full of people always drawing him back in, even if getting too close might wreck him.
He could tell you were nervous by the way your free hand twisted and played with the fabric of your dress before you seemed to remember where you were and smoothed it out again. It brought him back to the way you had fidgeted anxiously with the sleeve of the BU jersey that day back in March. He let out a choked breath at the memory and forced himself to turn away.
When Macklin’s name was called, selected first overall to the Sharks, the camera panned instantly to get the reactions of him and his family.
Will’s lips pressed together tightly as you showed up on screen, his face and body tense trying to desperately reign in whatever reaction of despair was fighting to take over his features.
You were teary eyed, smiling uncontrollably as you respectfully waited for Macklin to hug his very emotional family first. When he turned to you, you let out a watery laugh, nearly launching into his arms as yours wrapped under his; squeezing so tightly that the way Macklin’s suit creased under the grip of your fingers was caught on camera.
You whispered something into Macklin’s ear that had him dipping his chin, laughing softly and shooting you a warm glance before making his way down to the stage. Will's jaw tensed, fingers tapping along his thigh.
Not long after, his own name was being called and he was walking the stage. Fourth overall. San Jose. The walk to the stage felt strangely unreal, as though someone had turned the world down a notch and left him moving through it a half-second behind everyone else.
There was handshakes, cameras, congratulations. A jersey with his name stitched across the back. It was the culmination of years of work. Everything he’d dreamed about.
And somehow, by the end of it all, he still couldn’t stop looking for you in the crowd.
Eventually, the chaos died down enough for him to slip away. Not for long, just long enough to breathe.
The hallway he’d found was quiet compared to the draft floor. The distant roar of conversations carried through the walls, but out here it was mostly staff hurrying between responsibilities and the occasional player trying to steal a moment for themselves.
Will walked with his head down, hands in his pockets.
Drafted. An NHL player. A Shark. The reality still hadn’t fully set in
Then, someone rounded the corner. And walked directly into him.
“Whoa.”
His hands came up automatically, catching the person by the shoulder before they could stumblle backwards.
Soft fabric. Bare skin. A familiar face.
Blue eyes widened. Yours did too.
For a second, neither of you moved.
Then Will laughed. Not because anything was funny, mostly because apparently this was happening again.
“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.”
The corner of your mouth twitched despite yourself. “You’re the one standing in hallways.”
His grin widened. Oh. So this version of you existed too.
“Be honest,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “Did I do something to you, or do you just make a habit of looking at me like that?”
Your cheeks warmed immediately. “In my defence, you beat us.”
“Us?”
“BU. Team Canada.”
“You weren’t on either of those teams.”
You crossed your arms. “Emotionally, I was.”
That got a proper laugh out of him. The sound made something uncomfortable flutter low in your stomach. Which was deeply unhelpful. Because unfortunately for you, whatever had happened in Boston when you'd looked into those blue eyes seemed determined to happen again. Which was ridiculously unfair.
His suit fit him perfectly. Hair slightly messy and wearing a smile that should probably be considered a public safety hazard. You were already regretting stopping.
“So,” he said after a moment, chin tilted down, still smiling, “not running away this time?”
The challenge in his voice was subtle, but just enough.
Your eyebrow lifted. “I’m standing here, aren’t I?”
His eyes brightened, like he’d somehow won something. The reaction irritated you more than it should have.
“Besides,” you added, “you’re Macklin's teammate now.”
The words softened something in his expression. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”
You huffed a laugh, “Don’t be so dramatic.”
“Says the girl who seems to think every game I’ve ever won was a personal attack.”
“I don’t hold grudges.” You definitely do.
“Oh, just against me specifically then?”
“Only when you win.”
He looked entirely too pleased with that answer.
The worst part? You were starting to enjoy yourself
“But it’ll be different now….” you added, trailing off.
Eventually, someone called your name from down the hallway. You glanced over your shoulder, finding Charlie regarding you suspiciously.
Will instantly wished she had given you more time. Because now, you were leaving. Again.
You looked up at him, “That’s me,” you said.
“Right.”
Neither of you moved for a second. The silence stretched. Not awkward, just, unexpected.
You offered him a small smile. Different from the one he’d seen in Boston. Softer.
“Congratulations, by the way.”
His chest tightened, a soft “Thanks,” falling from his lips.
“You earned it.”
The sincerity in your voice hit harder than any congratulations he’d received all night.
Before he could think of something intelligent to say, you were already stepping backwards down the hallway. Turning, and disappearing around the corner.
Will watched until you were completely gone. Which probably wasn’t normal. But at this point, he was beginning to think normal had left the building months ago.
–
A while later, he found himself sitting beside Macklin during one of the seemingly endless rounds of interviews and media obligations. The two of them answered questions. Talked about San Jose, about the future. Talked about becoming teammates.
By the time they were finally released, both of them looked exhausted.
Mack immediately deflated into a seat with a tired sigh.
Will dropped into the chair beside him, loosening his tie slightly. “California’s gonna be a lot different from Boston.”
“Yeah” Mack murmured, already running through it all in his own head.
Will hesitated, then decided to be subtle. Which, in hindsight, had been his first mistake. “So,”
Mack looked over. “So?”
“Your girlfriend moving to San Jose too?”
Mack nearly choked, snapping to attention. “What?”
Will frowned, “Your girlfriend.”
“What girlfriend?”
Will just stared.
“The girl you’re here with?”
For a second Mack just blinked. Then realization hit. “Oh.”
A laugh escaped him. A long one. Long enough that Will was starting to feel personally attacked.
“Dude.”
“What?”
“That’s not my girlfriend.”
Will went still.
Mack shook his head, “No.” He paused, then grinned, “That’s Y/N.”
As if that explained everything.
When Will continued staring, Mack rolled his eyes. “My best friend.”
The words hit harder than they should have.
Best friend.
Not girlfriend.
It ran on repeat in his head instantly.
For one glorious moment, the entire world felt lighter.
Mack took a sip of his drink.
“She’s been dating some guy from her school for like a year now.”
Right.
Of course.
Because apparently the universe had only been setting him up for a harder fall.
Will forced a nod. Took a sip of his own drink.
Pretended his stomach hadn’t just dropped somewhere near his shoes.
Mack didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he did.
“Got it.”
Mack kept talking. Will didn’t hear a word.
Because somehow the beautiful girl he’d spent months thinking about wasn’t taken by his future teammate.
She was just taken.
Which, unfortunately, wasn’t any better.
A/N: all my work is written and owned by me. Please do not steal my work, put it into AI, or on any other platform.
MDNI +18 MFM, BOY KISSING, THREESOME themes! Drinking (all of legal age) no explicit smut.. yet…
There’s a reason you don’t stick around long after work, that the moment 5PM hits no one can find you anywhere. You vanish from sight, because the one night. The one out of a hundred chances you stay to finish editing a graphic. Will smith knocks you down, “come to the bar with me and mack? Come on- we never see you anymore! Remember BC” He begs, soft blue eyes pleading with your own, “you only exist behind the camera”
You turn in your chair, chewing at your thumb as you stare between the now two faces infront of you
“Fine” you agree, “just let me save this”
It’s how you end up in Macklins apartment, brain foggy and fuzzy with alcohol, staring at the two of them on the couch from where you’re standing by the counter, “I’m a much better kisser than you” Will shakes his head, you don’t know how you got to this topic, your head is fuzzy.
“There’s no shot. You’ve kissed like two girls” Macklin retaliates, frustratedly pointing at you, “y/n. You gotta be our deal breaker”
You raise an eyebrow, lips pursed together in sheer confusion, “you’re so drunk right now Mackie”
Will chimes in, “no- no he’s right. Only you can decide who’s the better kisser”
You shake your head. The sudden movement makes your head throb, “that’s stupid as hell. And breaks like soo many workplace rules and regulations”
Macklin bats his lashes, that lazy pleading look he’s used to throwing around. When he clenches his jaw and looks up at the cameras with those big green eyes, “please”
You snort, “you two kiss before I kiss. Then it’s fair” you shrug. You don’t expect them to do it, that’s why you say it. That’s the whole reason you say it, because you think it’ll get them to drop the topic.
Will moves first, lips pressing against Macklins. Mouth opening slightly, letting Macklins tongue gliding against his.
You stare, in sheer, unashamed confusion. In partial arousal you don’t know if you should be aroused by.
Macklin moves into Wills lap, his hands invading his hair, tilting Wills head back to kiss him deeper. It’s passionate, and you can hear it- the sounds. Lips against lips, teeth clacking against teeth. A string of saliva connects them when they part, quiet gasps and grunts as they turn to you in unison.
You move slowly, first reaching for Macklin. Helping him off of Wills lap, letting him settle in front of you; hands reaching for your hips.
It’s slow, painstakingly as he moves in to kiss you, lips still slick from Wills spit. His mouth still parts yours, tilting your head back. His hands move from your hips, to your waist. To your cheeks. You let his tongue explore your mouth, feeling against the plush line of your lips. The ridges of your teeth. Noses bumping against each other as you let him eat your face, only pulling back when your lungs scream and squeal for air. Macklin holds you there, letting air fill your lungs again. Thumbs caressing against your cheeks as you wait for the tingling between your thighs to die down, “what do you think. Out of ten” he breathes, still softly gripping your face.
“Eight”
Macklin smiles to himself, still semi assured that he might do a better job at kissing you than Will. You know this because he sits down confidently. Eyes never leaving Will Smith as he stands.
You step back slightly, letting his hands settle against your body. He tilts your head back. Kissing against your lips, soft at first. Then more, waiting for you to open your mouth before inviting his tongue into your mouth. His hands don’t wander. They just rub small circles into the dips of your hips, your jaw moves in sync with his.
He pulls away first, blue eyes staring down into yours. Watching you catch your breath, “what do you rate that?” Mack asks, hands joined together.
You shrug, “an eight”
Macklin groans, “what? No. There’s no tie in this” he complains.
You still shrug, “it was a good kiss, from both of you- you’re both good kissers.” You comment, “does that work?”
