for TFT you should write a fic were will surprises yn at highschool graduation because he played for the usndtp and they graduate early and go to college so he wouldn’t have graduated with her !! so super fluffy at the start… then later when he’s “congratulating” her he discovers her praise kinkkkkkk!!
all good if you don’t want to write it, THANKSSSSS!!!
tft master list masterlist
Pairing: tft!will smith x fem!reader
wc: 5.2k your girl is BACK
Content Warnings: b*n, NSFW, explicit smut (mf), marking, will discovers your praise kink, oral (fem!recieving), protected sex
AN: holy yap I guess. take a shot every time I say hum omfg
Synopsis: the req ^^ !!
You had spent the last hour in a blur of polyester gowns and the droning voice of the principal calling names. Now, you were finally out in the lobby, caught in the thick of the post-ceremony chaos. The air was humid with the breath of five hundred people and the frantic energy of teenagers who felt, for the first time, completely unbound.
"We graduated!" Sarah screamed for what had to be the hundredth time.
You laughed as she grabbed both your hands, bouncing excitedly. "I know!"
"I just… I'm so proud of you and—" she sniffed, "I love you so much."
Your eyes began to water again, the adrenaline of the last few hours finally crashing into a wave of pure relief. You pulled Sarah into a tight hug, the synthetic fabric of your gowns rustling together like giant pieces of plastic. "I love you too."
Sarah's expression shifted from joy to a sudden, sharp alertness when she pulled back froom the embrace. She didn’t move, but she stiffened in your arms, her eyes locking onto something behind you.
You followed her gaze and felt the warmth of the graduation high vanish instantly. Standing a few feet away was Ben, looking smug in a gown that seemed too large for his frame.
"I wondered why all the birds stopped singing."
"Is that a joke, Y/N? Are you finally funny?" The smugness on Ben’s face was a familiar trigger; it had been a year since the incident, and the sight of him still made your chest puff with rage. But as you stepped back, you realized he wasn't alone.
"Ignore him," Jaxson said, stepping forward to pull you into a crushing hug, effectively shielding you from Ben’s orbit. "He's salty you got awards."
You laughed, the tension breaking as you leaned into the group. Carter joined in, ruffling your hair with a grin. "You look like a blueberry," he joked. For a moment, the air felt light again. You stood there in a messy, laughing circle, the noise of the crowd swirling around you like a tide.
"Have you met Miller?" Jaxson asked as another boy stepped out from the crowd. He was broad-shouldered and wearing a grin that felt genuinely earnest, lacking the sharp edge Ben usually carried.
You blinked, the name clicking into place. Miller had been the one the coach brought in to fill your spot on the varsity hockey roster the moment you’d hung up your skates for good. For two years, he had been a ghost in the periphery of your life. You had expected a certain level of rivalry or perhaps a cold shoulder, but as he reached out to shake your hand, his grip was firm and his eyes were kind.
"I always heard you were a beast on the ice," Leo said, his voice warm. "Coach still talks about your bird turns. Showed us a video on the first day."
"No way! He still has that? I was 5!"
The conversation drifted into the comfortable, rambling territory of shared history. You and Miller ended up talking about the same old drills, the same grueling early morning practices, and the specific, freezing scent of the rink at 5:00 AM. For a few minutes, the noise of the lobby faded into a hum, and you forgot about the fact that you were being sent out to face the adult world.
Jaxson’s expression shifted, his eyes darting past your shoulder toward the glass double doors of the lobby. He didn't say a word; he just gave a sharp, knowing nod to Carter. Carter froze, his grin widening into something ecstatic, his gaze locking onto a figure standing just outside the fray. You looked from one to the other, a prickle of confusion dancing up your spine. The air between them felt charged, like a secret they were both keeping from you, and the sudden silence of your two best friends was louder than the shouting crowd.
"Guys… what's going on?" you asked, your voice trailing off as you realized they weren't looking at you anymore. "Why are you making those faces?"
You turned around.
The world didn't just slow down; it stopped. Standing there, leaning against a pillar with a look of pure, unadulterated adoration on his face, was Will.
The shock hit you like a physical weight, knocking the breath from your lungs. You were frozen, your feet rooted to the polished tile of the lobby, your brain struggling to reconcile the image of him with the reality of his presence. Then, the dam broke. A sob escaped your throat, jagged and loud, and you didn't even realize you were crying until the heat of the tears hit your cheeks.
He was wearing the charcoal suit he took you to prom in, the one you had spent hours photographing against the garden hedges, but the fabric clung to him differently now. His shoulders had broadened, filling out the jacket with a new, solid maturity, and he seemed to have stretched an inch or two taller since you last stood face-to-face. But his eyes, the way they crinkled at the corners and held a depth of unwavering warmth, were unmistakably his. It was Will. It was actually Will.
Ben shifted his weight, looking around the lobby with a frown, clearly annoyed that the spotlight had shifted from your annoyance of him to the guy who, in his eyes, had "replaced him". But the rest of the lobby was already reacting. A few girls nearby whispered frantically, pointing, while a group of juniors stared with wide-eyed recognition. Will was kind of a big deal now, the gold standard, the one who had been plucked from their orbit to play for the USNDTP. He had become someone they talked about in the halls, a name mentioned in the same breath as professional prospects.
"Oh my god, seriously?" Jaxson groaned, though his voice was thick with amusement. He leaned back, crossing his arms as he looked at you, your face streaked with tears and your expression completely vacant. "Y/N, you're making a scene."
Carter let out a loud, theatrical sigh, shaking his head. "Get a room!"
You didn't care that people were pausing their conversations to watch the spectacle, or that Ben was scoffing audibly behind you. The noise of the lobby, the shouting, the laughter, the frantic energy of five hundred teenagers, collapsed into a distant hum. The only thing that felt real was the sight of him stepping away from the pillar, his gait confident and steady, closing the distance between you with a smile that felt like coming home.
When he finally reached you, the air seemed to ignite. He didn't say a word at first; he just reached out and cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears. "Hi," he whispered, his voice a low, resonant vibration that you felt in your chest.
"You're here," you choked out, the words barely a whisper. "How are you here? You're supposed to be… you're supposed to be gone!"
"I know," he murmured, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm and smelling faintly of mint. "But there was no way in hell I was letting you walk across the stage without me being here to see it. I had to be here."
You let out a shaky laugh, your hands clutching the lapels of his suit as if he might evaporate if you let go. The world around you was still a blur of noise but as Will stepped back just enough to look at you, the chaos felt insignificant. He looked at you with a pride so fierce it made your heart ache, a silent acknowledgement that while he had been chasing a professional dream with the National Team, he had never stopped thinking about this specific day.
Will shifted his gaze toward Jaxson and Carter, a playful, knowing glint in his eyes. "Do you guys mind if I steal her for a bit?" he asked, his arm sliding naturally around your waist, pulling you flush against his side.
"Steal her?" Jaxson barked with a laugh, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "Take her! Please!"
You leaned into Will, the warmth of his body radiating through the thin fabric of your gown.
------
Dinner had been a dizzying blur of clinking glasses, laughter that echoed too loudly against the restaurant walls, and the comforting weight of Will’s hand never leaving your thigh. Now, back home, the roar of the 'party' had simply migrated to the patio. Through the thin walls, you could hear the rhythmic clink of ice in glasses and the low, humming drone of your mother and Will’s parents debating the merits of the summer heat.
The door was shut, locking out the world and the lingering scent of graduation lilies. You weren't thinking about the diploma sitting on your desk or the terrifying openness of what came next. All that mattered was the friction of cotton against the duvet and the sudden, electric heat of Will’s body pressing you back into the mattress.
His hands were everywhere mapping the curve of your waist, tangling in your hair, pulling you closer until there wasn't a single molecule of air between you. You let out a soft, shaky breath that was swallowed by his lips, your fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt, pulling him down as if you were afraid he might suddenly dissolve back into a memory.
The friction of the sheets felt like static electricity against your skin, a frantic humming that matched the pace of your heart. Will pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing heavy and ragged. He looked at you with a gaze that was almost predatory in its hunger, yet softened by a tenderness that made you feel like the only person in the world. He didn’t want to rush this; he wanted to savor every single inch of you, to reclaim the territory that the distance had tried to steal.
"I've missed this so much," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly vibration. He shifted his weight, his hands sliding down from your waist to the hem of your clothes, pausing there. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with a mixture of desperation and a sudden, fierce desire to be the one providing the pleasure. "Can I? I just… I want to take care of you. I want to taste you."
You couldn't even find the words to answer, only a sharp, affirmative nod and a soft whimper that escaped your throat. As he moved, the sudden cool air of the room hit your skin, only to be instantly replaced by the searing warmth of his breath. When his tongue first made contact, a jolt of electricity shot straight to your core, making your hips jerk instinctively. He let out a muffled groan against you, a sound of pure, selfish satisfaction. He had been dreaming of this for months—the specific, intoxicating scent of you, the taste that had haunted his thoughts through every grueling practice and lonely hotel room.
"You're so wet for me," he whispered, his voice vibrating against your thighs, a praise that felt more intimate than any kiss. "God, you're absolutely soaking."
The sheer honesty of his voice, the way he sounded so completely undone by you, caused a sudden, violent contraction in your muscles. You clenched around nothing, a phantom pressure that left you gasping for air, your fingers digging into the duvet.
Now, you masturbated as much as the next girl, but it just wasn't the same by yourself as it was with him.
The moment his tongue made a deliberate, rhythmic sweep, your entire world narrowed down to a single, white-hot point of sensation. You were already balanced on a knife's edge, the anticipation of the last few months having pushed you to a breaking point long before he’d even touched you. The first few strokes were a revelation, a precision that only someone who knew you completely could manage. You let out a strangled gasp, your hips arching off the mattress in an instinctive search for more, your breath hitching in a way that sounded almost like a sob.
Will didn't slow down. He seemed to thrive on the sound of your undoing, his movements becoming more insistent, more focused. For several minutes, the only sounds in the room were the frantic friction of the sheets and the wet sounds of his mouth on your cunt. Every time you thought you had reached the peak, he shifted the angle, teasing the edge of your pleasure and dragging you back just enough to make the eventual fall more violent. You were trembling, your thighs shaking against his shoulders, your head tossing from side to side as you fought to keep your voice from alerting the parents.
"That's it," he murmured, his voice a low, encouraging rumble that vibrated through your skin. "Just let go for me, baby. You're doing so good. Just give it to me."
The simple, grounded warmth of his voice was like a key turning in a lock, shattering the last bit of your restraint. You came with a sudden, jarring intensity, a wave of pleasure so immense that you forgot how to breathe. You called his name, a broken, desperate sound, as you clung to the duvet, your muscles freezing in a series of contractions that seemed to last an eternity.
As the waves slowly subsided, Will didn't pull away immediately. He stayed there, kissing the inside of your thighs, his breath warm and steady. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and hooded, a smug but tender smile playing on his lips.
You lay there for a heartbeat, your chest heaving, the aftershocks of the orgasm still humming through your nerves. But as the haze cleared, a different kind of hunger rushed back in, sharper and more demanding than before. You reached down, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him upward until he was hovering over you. Your voice was a ragged whisper, stripped of everything but need. "Will… please. I need you. I need you inside me right now."
He paused, his gaze locking onto yours. He had noticed the way your breath hitched when he praised you, the way you practically melted into the mattress whenever he told you how good you were. He saw the desperation in your eyes, and a slow, knowing smile spread across his face. "You're so impatient tonight," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "But since my smart girl got so many awards today, I think she deserves a reward. I won't tease, promise."
The promise sent a fresh jolt of heat through you. He moved with a sudden, decisive efficiency, his hands gripping the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head in one fluid motion. You didn't stay idle, of course. How could you? Your hands were already frantic, diving beneath the waistband of his grey sweatpants, fumbling with the drawstring. You were both grateful for the brief window of time you'd taken to change after dinner, the formal wear would have been an pain in the ass to take off in the urgency that was currently consuming you both.
As you managed to hook your fingers into the elastic of his sweats and tug them downward, your hand brushed against something unexpected. There was no barrier of cotton or synthetic fabric, just the searing, immediate heat of his skin. You froze for a split second, your eyes widening as you realized he hadn't bothered with underwear when he changed.
A small, broken moan escaped you at the touch, a sound of pure desperation that felt like it had been building since the moment you first saw him in the lobby. The heat radiating off his skin and the unfiltered reality of his body was too much. Tears welled in your eyes from a need so acute it felt like a physical ache in your chest. You were completely undone, stripped of every defense, orbiting around the gravity of him.
Will sensed the fragility of your state, and his movements became a blur of focused intent. He kicked off his sweatpants in one fluid motion, tossing them blindly toward the corner of the room. Then, his eyes never leaving yours, he gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, revealing the lean, powerful build of an athlete who had spent the last few months pushing his body to the absolute limit. He looked like a sculpture come to life, all hard lines and warm skin, but the expression on his face was nothing but tenderness.
He shifted, sliding his arm beneath your back to reach the clasp of your bra. You felt the sudden, sharp release of the tension as the fabric gave way, and for a moment, you felt an overwhelming sense of lightness. He didn't immediately move to the next step; instead, he leaned in and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your temple. It wasn't a kiss of passion or hunger, but one of profound, unwavering love—a quiet promise that he had come back for you, and that he wasn't going anywhere.
You let out a shaky breath, your heart hammering against your ribs as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down into the hollow of your shoulder. For a few seconds, the urgency paused, replaced by a heavy, golden silence where the only thing that mattered was the sound of your synchronized breathing. You could feel the slight tremor in his muscles, the way he was fighting his own restraint just to make sure you felt cherished before the storm hit.
The silence was broken by a sudden, sharp spark of contact. Will’s hand drifted upward, his calloused fingers finding your nipple with a precision that felt intentional, almost cruel in its accuracy. He circled the sensitive tip, teasing it into a hard point against his palm. The sensation was a lightning bolt that traveled straight to your core, forcing a ragged gasp from your lungs. You arched off the bed, your spine curving like a bow, and your arms slid from his neck as your hands flew outward, clutching the sheets in a white-knuckled grip.
The sudden vacancy of your arms gave him the space he wanted. With a sound of approval, he shifted his weight, his mouth finding your other nipple in one fluid motion. The contrast was overwhelming: the firm pressure of his hand on one side and the wet, searing heat of his mouth on the other. He sucked gently, a slow and steady pull that sent a fresh wave of electricity crashing through you, leaving your head lolling back against the pillow and your eyes fluttering shut.
"Aww, look at you," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, honeyed rasp that made your toes curl. "My beautiful, needy girl."
Will’s promise that he wouldn’t make you wait wasn’t a promise of immediate release, though, it was simply a promise that you cumming again was guaranteed. He paused, reaching for his wallet on the nightstand. The soft, metallic crinkle of the foil packet echoed in the quiet room, a sound that felt like a starting pistol. As he rolled the latex on, he didn’t immediately dive back in. Instead, he braced himself on his elbows, hovering just millimeters above you, his heat radiating like a furnace.
He began to move, but not the way you wanted. With agonizing slowness, he took the head of his cock and dragged it in a long, light line from your ass up to your entrance, never actually dipping inside. You let out a choked sound, your hips instinctively tilting upward to meet him, but he shifted at the last second, tracing a circle around your opening that barely grazed the sensitive edges.
"You have no idea how beautiful you look right now," he whispered, his voice a dark, velvet caress against your ear. He did it again, the tip of him slick and warm, teasing the very edge of your center. "So flushed. So open for me. You're doing so good, baby."
The praise, combined with the maddeningly light contact, sent your patience plummeting. In a desperate bid to bridge the gap, you arched your back and tried to force yourself down onto him, grinding your hips in a frantic attempt to pull him inside.
A low, rumbling laugh vibrated through his chest, the sound filled with an affectionate sort of amusement. "Trying to do the work for me, are we?" he teased, his eyes glinting with a playful spark. He shifted his weight, pinning your wrists gently to the mattress to stop your squirming, though he didn't stop the teasing. He dipped the tip of himself inside just a fraction of an inch, then pulled back, leaving you gasping and empty. "Such a smart girl, always trying to find the most efficient way to get what she wants. I like how you get when I say how good you are."
"Will," you gasped, the word barely a sound, more of a plea. "Will, please, just—"
He didn’t need another word. His cock caught just along the edge of your opening as he gave one sharp, decisive thrust, burying himself deep inside you with a heavy, sliding friction that knocked the air clean out of your lungs. The first press of his length into your core stung. As wet as you were, as prepared as you were for him, it had been so long. He stretched your walls little by little, taking his time as your body adjusted to him. Then, inch by inch, he sunk within your walls that clung to him tightly.
His cock bottomed out, sunk fully within you, bare hips pressed to bare hips as you both let out shaky breaths. Your nails dug into the hair at the nape of his neck while his hands trailed up your ribcage, squeezing every moment or so as choked out moans fell from his lips.
“Oh fuck, Bird–so tight for me, baby–you're so good to me.”
His name was the only thing you could manage to choke out between your moans as he dragged himself back to the tip, before burying himself again to the hilt. Your moans, your cries and the way your hands threaded into his hair only spurred him on more, Will’s hips snapping into yours again and again and again.
His lips found yours amidst every snap of his hips, every drag of his cock against your walls. Every moan that slipped through your lips was drowned out by him, by the feverish movements of his lips against yours. They trailed away, back to your neck, leaving a trail of saliva connecting you together as he bit another love bite into the side of your neck. It didn’t matter to you how this would look to others, how scandalous you might look in the light of day. All that mattered was Will Smith.
As the heat in the room reached a boiling point, the pleasure began to shift, becoming a crushing, suffocating weight. Every stroke felt more electric, every press of his chest against yours more desperate. Your head tossed back on the pillow, your nails clawing at his back as you felt the familiar, jagged tension start to build at the base of your spine.
"Will… oh god, Will, I'm gonna—I'm gonna cum!" you sobbed, your voice breaking.
He didn't let the momentum drop. In one fluid motion, his hand slid down beneath your hips, his fingers finding the drenched heat of your center. Just as the first wave of the peak began to crash, he pressed his thumb firmly against your clit, thumbing the swollen nub with relentless pressure. The addition of that direct friction sent your entire body rigid, your spine arching off the mattress as a jagged, silent scream was caught in your throat, your muscles clamping around him in a series of violent, rhythmic pulses.
But Will didn't stop. He knew you were in that hypersensitive state where the pleasure was almost too much to bear, and he leaned into it. He kept fucking you, his hips snapping into yours with a heavy, wet sound, driving you deeper into the mattress with every thrust.
You forced your eyes open, meeting a gaze that was dark with a hunger that mirrored your own. He saw the way your pupils had blown wide, the way your lips were parted in a silent plea, and it seemed to drive him even harder. With a guttural sound, Will buried himself as deep as he could go and held it there, his muscles locking as he finally let go. He let out a long, shuddering breath, his head dropping to your shoulder as he poured himself into you, the sheer intensity of the moment leaving you both breathless and trembling.
For a long time, neither of you moved. The only sound in the room was the synchronized, ragged gasps of two people trying to remember how to breathe. The air felt thick and humid, the silence of the house returning to swallow them whole. Will remained draped over you, his weight a comforting anchor, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the hollow of your throat, his breath warm and smelling of the salt and sweat of their shared effort.
Will shifted his weight, the slow, reluctant slide of him leaving your body feeling like a sudden loss of warmth. He didn't move far, however; he collapsed onto his side, pulling you flush against him so that your skin remained glued together, damp and shimmering in the low light of the room. He let out a long, contented sigh that vibrated through your shoulder, his arm draping heavily across your waist to keep you anchored.
He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his tone shifting into that specific, knowing cadence. "You were so incredible. Just… perfect. Every single part of you is just so good for me."
You felt a familiar, electric shiver race down your spine—one that had nothing to do with the physical act and everything to do with the way he was looking at you. You tried to hide your face in the crook of his neck, but you couldn't stop the small, shy smile from forming. He felt the tremor in your frame and let out a soft, triumphant chuckle.
"I saw that," he laughed softly, his thumb tracing a slow, rhythmic circle on your hip.
