#will smith

[mack-will]

are we interrupting......?

[texasbama]

"I stand here because of the people that came before me." - Michael B. Jordan accepting the Oscar for Best Actor

[belli5]

PULL ME CLOSERᵎᵎ WS²

╰ Synopsis You’re used to Will keeping his hands subtle in public, but tonight he has no mind on that; pulling you between his legs at the bar, kissing you sweetly in front of everyone, holding you close the whole time.

tags/contains Will Smith x fem!reader. Fluff, established relationship, touch starved in public, subtle pda, pda, kissing in front of others, obsessed will, requested.

➺ from Sera, to you📨. Could you tell I had no idea what to do with this?

masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!

If you knew one person who hated pda in front of others, it was your boyfriend, Will.

At home it was one story. The second the front door clicked shut behind you, he’d be on you; arms wrapping around your waist from behind, chin hooking over your shoulder while you tried to kick off your shoes, lips brushing the side of your neck like he couldn’t wait another second.

He’d pull you down onto the couch with him, long legs tangling with yours, hands sliding under your hoodie to rest warm against your stomach, fingers tracing lazy circles until you laughed and squirmed.

He’d kiss you slow and deep like he was making up for every minute you’d spent apart, murmuring against your mouth how much he’d missed you, how pretty you looked even in sweatpants and his hoodie that swallowed you whole.

He’d cuddle into your side during movie nights, head on your chest, one hand always finding yours to lace your fingers together, thumb rubbing over your knuckles. Sometimes he’d just hold you from behind while you cooked, swaying slightly like it was a slow dance, pressing soft kisses along your shoulder blade whenever you reached for something on the counter.

He hated the thought of having his hands off you.

But the moment you stepped outside; it was a completely different story.

In public, Will kept it subtle. Always touching, but never made it obvious. A hand resting low on your back as you walked through a crowded bar. Fingers brushing yours when he passed you a drink. His knee pressed lightly against yours under the table at dinner with teammates.

He’d drape an arm across the back of your chair, thumb occasionally grazing your shoulder, but nothing that screamed couple in the way other couples did: sloppy kisses, loud declarations, hands everywhere like they were staking claim in neon.

And you were fine with it. You’d been together a little over a year now, long enough that you’d learned his rhythm. You weren’t big on pda either, you didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. The way he looked at you when no one else was watching, the way his eyes softened the second you walked into a room, the things he’d whisper to you when it was just the two of you was enough.

He wasn’t embarrassed of you. If anything, he loved showing you off in his own way. He’d introduce you to new people with his arm casually looped around your shoulders, proud smile tugging at his lips every time someone complimented how good you looked together.

He’d text you links to articles or tiktoks with captions like “Us” and half of them were disgustingly couple-y. He just didn’t want other people seeing the parts of him that belonged only to you. The greedy way he held you at home, the way he’d bury his face in your neck and breathe you in like you were oxygen.

Tonight you and Will went out with a few of his teammates to the bar a couple blocks from the rink that had become your unofficial spot. It wasn’t anything fancy, just something you all learned to enjoy going to. You’d dressed like you always did for a place like this: nothing too revealing, nothing too casual.

Will included you in every conversation like he always did. He’d lean in when Macklin was ranting about a bad call from the last game, repeating the punchline so you could laugh too, or he’d nudge you gently and say, “Babe, tell them what you said about that hit exactly.” His voice easy, and his eyes stayed on you longer than usual.

When the bartender came over, Will ordered your usual without asking and then slid it toward you with a small.

A little while later, you moved on the barstool. “I’ll be right back,” you murmured, slipping your hand from his.

Will nodded once, but as you stood, he reached over and tugged your glass closer to his spot, fingers brushing the condensation like he was guarding it. His other hand lingered in the air for half a second where yours had been before dropping back to the bar.

Once you came back from the bathroom after quickly fixing your lip combo in the mirror light, touching up the gloss that had faded from sipping your drink, you found Will still perched on his barstool, facing his teammates.

If you’d gone straight back to your own seat next to him, his broad back would’ve been turned to you the whole time. But the second he caught sight of you weaving through the crowd, his arm reached out without hesitation.

His fingers found yours, locking tight, and he tugged you gently toward him instead of letting you slide back onto your stool. “C’mere,” he murmured.

You let him pull you in, stepping right between his spread thighs until your hips brushed the edge of the stool. Your hands landed on his chest for balance, as he looked up at you.

“Where’d you go?” he asked, even though he knew.

“Bathroom,” you said, smiling despite yourself. “Took longer than I thought, someone was hogging the mirror.”

He hummed, the sound vibrating through his chest, and then he leaned in. The kiss was slow, sweet, nothing rushed or sloppy. Just his lips pressing to yours like it was the most normal thing in the world, his one hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck while the other stayed locked with yours at his side.

Your breath caught. Will almost never kissed you in public, not where anyone could see. For a heartbeat you froze, surprised, but then you melted into it, leaning forward until your forehead brushed his when he finally pulled back.

He didn’t say anything about it. Just handed you your unfinished vodka soda with a small, crooked smile.

You turned with him so you were facing the group again, your back settling against his chest. His arm came across your front, forearm resting easy over your collarbone, fingers splayed loose but possessive against your shoulder. His other hand found your waist, every few minutes he’d tug you closer, like he couldn’t quite get enough, even though you were already pressed flush against him.

Macklin raised an eyebrow, smirk tugging at his mouth. “You finally figure out how arms work tonight?”

Will just tightened his hold a little, chin dipping to rest lightly on your shoulder as he shot Macklin a lazy look. “Shut up, Mack,” he said a little amused.

You stayed like that for a while, cocooned against him, his heartbeat steady against your back. His fingers kept moving in small, absent strokes along your waist, thumb brushing the underside of your ribs every now and then.

Eventually your heels started screaming. Standing this long in them, even leaning into him, made your calves burn.

You tilted your head back just enough to murmur against his jaw, “My legs are killing me.”

Will’s arm loosened instantly. “Sit,” he said softly, kissing the shell of your ear before letting you go.

For the rest of the night, Will didn’t let the space between you grow. He kept one hand on you at all times: resting on your thigh when you were back on your stool, thumb drawing slow, mindless patterns over the denim; sliding up to play with the ends of your hair when you laughed at something one of the guys said; brushing your lower back.

Every few minutes he’d press a quick kiss to your temple, or drop his chin to your shoulder just to murmur something dumb and sweet.

You were happy for it. The warmth of his palm against your skin felt like nice in public. The guys ribbed him lightly but Will just shrugged it off with a smile and never pulled away.

By the time you both said goodbyes and stepped out into the cool night air, your cheeks were flushed from the bar’s heat and from the way his hand had stayed tangled with yours the whole walk to the car.

When you got home, the apartment was quiet, you kicked the door shut behind you, already reaching to slip off your heels, but Will beat you to it.

He dropped to one knee right there at the edge of the bed, fingers gentle around your ankle as he lifted your foot and eased the first heel off. Then the second, thumbs pressed into the arch of your foot for a second, massaging away the ache without being asked.

You watched him, heart doing that stupid fluttery thing it always did with him. “What’s gotten into you tonight?” you asked quietly.

He glanced up, brows lifting like he had no idea what you meant. “What? I always do this.” He asked setting your foot down and standing.

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “No, I mean.. being so touchy in front of everyone, kissing me like that. You never do that.”

He paused, then took your hand in both of his. Slowly he brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, eyes never leaving yours. “Can’t a guy show how much he loves his girlfriend?”

You laughed softly. “You never do it like that.”

He tilted his head, mock offended. “What? I always show everyone how much I love you.”

“Yeah,” you said, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw, “but not in a way that makes Macklin tease you for ten straight minutes.”

Will’s expression softened. You pulled him down to you, as he started crawling over you until his weight settled warm and solid, knees sinking into the comforter on either side of your hips.

He braced himself on his forearms so he wasn’t crushing you, but close enough that you could feel every breath he took.

“I love you,” he said simply, as if it was the easiest truth in the world. His forehead rested against yours for a second before he kissed you, the kind of kiss he usually saved for when the door was locked and the lights were off. “I just.. wanted to be close to you tonight. Didn’t want to wait until we got home to touch you the way I always want to.”

His hand slid up to cradle the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone. “I like when we keep things private. But sometimes..” He exhaled. “Sometimes I look at you laughing with the guys, or just sitting there looking like mine, and I want everyone to know.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down until his chest pressed to yours. “That’s sweet,” you whispered against his mouth. “I liked tonight a lot.”

He smiled and kissed you again. “Me too.”

His hands found yours, fingers lacing tight as he settled more of his weight over you, like he was trying to memorize every inch of how you fit together.

TAGLIST: @alliwritespuck @bouncedatahhh @cheerymints @lynsdigitaljournal @ill-uminati7 @behindthescreenobsessed @lemsies25 @definitelynotdomanique @lcvlyhughesy @sh1ft1ng1234 @willsmiths2 @iknowtonystark @mintbrini98 @kazansky-slxt @siennaluvshcky @val413 @wherethezoes-at @macka @beckieepicaz00 @carlottawllms @blankenbirks @mcelebrini @probably--possessed @celebrinigf @postgamevibes @icetimedreamer @misslivinglegend @alexxavicry @sohhh09

Join the taglist here.

[geonuks]

when the couple behind your table starts fighting. will smith, macklin celebrini, connor bedard, fraser minten x reader

will smith oh he is absolutely trained by his older sister. it's shocking how he's noticed before you. while his intuition when something... juicy and gossip-worthy is about to happen is uncanny, the way he still can't control his expression is painfully obvious.

he's mid-bite of the steak he cut up when his eyes dart behind you. he's immediately dialed in, eyes hilariously wide and focused. you glance over your shoulder to find what he's looking at. their table is tilted in such a way that you get a full scope of the scene.

the guy sits with both hands on the table, talking like he’s trying to carry the entire conversation on his own. across from him, the girl looks anywhere but at him, her responses short and barely there.

you think nothing of it at first, opting to focus on the food in front of you but the way will's eyes dart over your shoulder (more often that you'd like) makes you all the more curious about the scene behind you.

their food arrives, and whatever conversation he was trying to keep afloat dissolves. they eat in silence. every now and then, he looks up at her, offering small, hopeful smiles she doesn’t return.

finally, you turn to will and he's genuinely locked in, sitting slightly forward just to get a tiny bit of the couple's conversation. "will, are they fighting?" your voice is barely loud enough to hear over the restaurant's ambiance.

he looks at you like he's been waiting for you to say that. "oh my god you noticed too?" you let out a little laugh, "hard not to when you're dialed in on them like that. let's maybe not be too obvious, babe!" your foot nudges his under the table. he let's out his own laugh.

"no but i've been looking over there and that girl's been waiting on that table since we've sat down" he says through gritted teeth, eyes wide and shocked at the situation, your face mirrors his instantly and your hand goes up to cover your mouth. "fuck, seriously? what an ass. who even does that?"

"right?!" will's voice slips out loud enough that the table beside you looks at him, he offers them a short apology and clears his throat. "right?" he tries again, voice appropriately low this time.

you both fall into a quieter kind of watching after that, less obvious but no less invested. the girl finally sets her fork down, says something you can’t quite catch. and suddenly, she stands, grabs her bag, and walks out without looking back.

you and will exchange a look at the exact same time. “good for her,” you murmur.

“good for her,” he echoes, a little too satisfied, before catching himself and ducking his head with a grin. your foot nudges his again under the table, and this time he nudges back.

macklin celebrini you notice it before he does. the mood of the table beside you is dark and brooding, distracting you from the shared pizookie you and mack have. you angle your head to hear the conversation between the couple. a lot of quiet back and forths.

he notices your inattentiveness when he doesn't hear you say anything about one of his teammates slipping on the ice in practice earlier. then he notices you're barely eating any of the dessert, your spoon just pushing it around more than anything.

his brows knit as he watches you, following the tilt of your head. clearly, he's bothered that your attention isn't on him. "what is it?" his spoon clinks yours to grab your attention.

you don't answer him just yet, eyes flicking to the table beside you.

“what?” he whispers, leaning in. “what’s going on?” your tongue clicks, head shaking slightly, like you’re trying not to get caught. “mack,” you murmur, barely moving your lips, trying not to get frustrated at his cluelessness “just— just listen.”

he frowns, clearly unsatisfied with that answer. “listen to what?”

your eyes roll behind your closed eyes, they open just to flick toward the table again “shh—” he exhales quietly through his nose, frustrated himself. but he listens. really listens this time.

mack's brows shoot up and he lets out a sound of realization, a little too loud for your liking. "mack—" you hiss and hit his spoon this time. you cough, a bit too fake but it's enough that the couple beside you doesn't notice that both of you are now leaning in on their argument.

he mutters a small apology as his lips press together and his eyes are wide—fully invested. the girl’s voice comes through a little clearer now that both of you are silent as a mouse.

the girl is undoubtedly irritated and all the more frustrated at the man in front of her. she says something about him never taking her seriously, about how every time she brings something up, he brushes it off like it’s a joke. the guy says something in response, low and defensive, and she immediately cuts him off.

the pizookie between you goes mostly untouched now, your spoons moving absentmindedly, more habit than hunger. every now and then, one of you takes a bite, but it’s not for the dessert anymore—it’s something to do while you listen, like buttered popcorn at a movie.

mack leans in closer, voice barely above a whisper. “he’s deflecting,” he says, way too serious about it.

you stifle a laugh. “i know, the audacity of this guy” you let out a scoff.

you both fall quiet again, listening like it’s the most important thing in the world.

a few minutes passes.

and then another.

you glance at your phone briefly, eyes widening just a little. “oh my god,” you whisper. “we’ve been here way longer than we planned.” your realization only deepens when the vanilla ice cream on top has now melted into a puddle of white.

your own boyfriend doesn’t even look at you, eyes still fixed past your shoulder. “in a minute,” he murmurs.

you stare at him in disbelief.

“i need to see how this ends.”

connor bedard you've barely handed back the menu to the waiter before your ears perk at the sound of quiet screaming laced with frustration and disbelief. you look to your left to see a couple at the next table, the woman throwing her hands up in exasperation while the man fumbles to say something.

connor, with nothing else to do, follows your gaze. he understands immediately and he lets out a breath. he hums, dismissive. “couple fight. happens.”

a breath comes through your nose and you shake your head as you try and make sense of the situation, your hand even comes up so you can rest your chin there. "what the hell could they be fighting about," you mutter, more to yourself than anything.

connor reaches for his water as he leans back on his chair, "probably something stupid." but then the girl's voice is an octave higher and says something about him not having any more time for her, with practices early in the mornings until late at night, and his gear is all over their place.

your own boyfriend perks up, because even if the girl never explicitly said anything about hockey, it's undeniable that the guy across your table is an athlete.

“…no way,” he mutters, almost to himself. your eyebrows raise as you glance at him, already knowing.

his posture changes instantly—no more leaning back, no more letting whatever conversation was happening next to you go in one ear and out the other. he sets his glass down slowly, eyes widening slightly as he looks at you, properly this time.

“hey,” he says quickly, leaning forward, voice low but urgent. “i would never do that to you.”

you blink at him, a little lost on what he’s trying to say. “what?”

“i wouldn’t–” he cuts himself off and breathes out heavily, like he's trying to calm himself down. “like... early practices—sure i can't control that—but I wouldn’t just… leave my stuff out everywhere and also ignore you. that’s—no.” he shakes his head, almost offended at the idea. “that’s bad.. really bad.”

you laugh at his internal panic. “oh my god connor,” you whisper, half amused, “no one said you would.”

he puts his hands up in mock surrender, “i’m just saying,” he continues anyway, “i wouldn’t do that.”

before you could provide any more assurance, the guy on the other table speaks up, his expression is annoyed more than anything and says that she should have seen it coming and that she knew what she was signing up for.

"what the fuck?" there's an incredulous look to connor's face and his head shakes in disbelief, you can't help but mirror his own disbelief with a hand over your open mouth.

the next few minutes pass with him barely touching his food. his fork only moves to push the vegetables around his plate.

“…he’s deflecting,” he whispers suddenly, leaning forward just a little.

you blink at him but nod in agreement “he is.”

"which means he's guilty." he adds, finally putting some food in his mouth, like he's sure of what he's saying.

"of what exactly?"

"of being wrong? of being an absolute trash of a boyfriend and man—if he even is one."

you turn back to him, eyebrows raised. “oh so you know them now?”

“i can tell,” he insists, leaning in a little more as his shoulders shrug, voice dropping like he’s breaking down post-game footage. “look at her, she’s not even surprised. she’s just… done.”

right on cue, theres an abrupt screeching noise from the table beside you, the girl's chair moves as she stands up.

you watch as his entire posture changes, sitting up straighter now, completely dialed in. his fork is abandoned on the plate as his hands come together, preparing for the worst.

“wait–wait, this is where it gets good,” he murmurs, eyes narrowing. and you stare at him in pure amusement "you're acting like this is a live game or something."

"because it is." he shoots back quietly, not even bothering to look at you. "incredibly high stakes here."

a string of profanities leaves her mouth as she reaches for her glass and throws the contents of it over her now ex-boyfriend.

"oh my god.." you and connor say at the same time, eyes darting back and forth between the two of them

the entire table—and restaurant goes still. the guy looks completely stunned, water dripping from his hair and collar, while she stands there—chest rising and falling, hands shaking just slightly as her hand forms as fist.

connor slowly leans back in his chair, both hands coming up to rest on his head like he just witnessed the craziest play of his life.

“no way,” he breathes out, half in disbelief, half in awe.

“that was absolute cinema.”

fraser minten you're halfway through putting a forkful of pasta in your mouth when you notice it. the uncomfortable kind of silence and the intimidating aura radiating from the table behind fraser.

you notice the way the guy’s fork scrapes a little too loudly against his plate. the way the girl hasn’t touched her drink. then suddenly, a sharp exhale and a serious, irritated look comes from her.

your eyes widen as you lean in closer, trying to make sense of the situation.

“…not what i'm trying to say,” the guy mutters.

“then what are you trying to say?” she shoots back, harsh yet quiet.

across from you, your boyfriend is focused on his food. he's getting his last chew of his chicken when he notices your line of sight falls behind him.

"what?" he says a little too loudly as he looks directly at the couple's table.

your feet moves quickly to kick at his shin. "don't make it too obvious!" you say through gritted teeth.

you both overcompensate by looking down at your food and picking at it. thankfully, the couple is too absorbed in their own fight that they paid no mind to both of you.

both of you remain quiet after that, with fraser taking quick glances behind him sometimes craning his head to hear their fight better.

gradually, you see his expression shift from confusion to a slight irritation.

"i have to go." he says with the kind of urgency that's almost worrying.

you don't get a single word in when he's already pushing his chair back as he makes a beeline towards the bathroom, which is coincidentally right past their table.

you watch him go, narrowing your eyes slightly as he just so happens to slow down near them, head tilting the slightest bit.

“unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath.

he's gone longer than necessary.

when he finally comes back, he doesn’t even try to act normal, sliding into his seat with a look that says everything.

you don’t even bother easing into it "what did you hear?” you lean in close, grabbing his sleeve.

"no—genuinely you cannot make this shit up babe," your boyfriend laughs to himself, knowing what he's about to say is absurd.

“he turned his phone off during his game without telling her beforehand,” he explains. “i think she was checking in because she didn’t know where he was or if something went wrong. totally reasonable, right?”

you nod along.

“and then, he got annoyed at the messages instead of... i don't know—understanding why she was sending them?!” fraser's voice heightens and the tension in his body is visible as he continues.

“so now he’s saying stuff like she’s the problem for not ‘knowing he’d be busy.’” the last part he air quotes with all the sarcasm in his body, eyes rolling.

you scoff at the audacity of the man, eyes flickering to him. "yeah he seems like the type," your head shakes in disappointment.

"hmm," your boyfriend hums in agreement. "you don't get to disappear on someone like that and then get mad when they react and get worried." he shrugs like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and it is. but it apparently is not for the man in the table next to yours.

suddenly, you start to make sense of the situation, and how silly it is (at least from your perspective)

because how can fraser know all this?

you barely know the couple. you've caught maybe half a dozen of cut-off conversations at most. and yet he manages to get a full narrative before the clock's even had the chance to change the hour.

you eyes narrow a him just a little and he notices, he shifts in his seat like he's the one in trouble now.

"how do you know all this frase?"

he shrugs and looks down, seeming guilty. "i listened when i went to the bathroom."

"right..." you trail off, waiting for him to say anything else. he doesn't.

"you barely passed by their table though?" your head tilts, catching his eyes for a moment.

"i may have... stayed back to listen to the servers gossip." he confesses, muttering the last part like he's admitting to a crime.

you stare at him, deadpan. "fraser,,, babe."

"what?" he replies quickly as he straightens a little and finally makes eye contact with you. "it wasn't my fault they were loud enough for me to hear!'

you shake your head, a laugh slipping out despite yourself. “you’re unbelievable.”

he shrugs, completely unbothered now and he smiles at himself. "this is peak citizen journalism, babe."

notes: i HAD to get this out today. also.. got suddenly invited to a summit/seminar thing WHEN HALF MY STUFF IS AT HOME SO IM DOING WITH WHAT I HAVE IN MY DORM. which means i wrote this on my ipad and phone. no one gets to judge me if its buns 🥹✌️

[beauvilliers]

Montreal Canadiens @ San Jose Sharks | March 3, 2026

[perfectfeelings]

Stop letting people who do so little for you control so much of your mind and emotions.

Will Smith

[sleepysidcros]

will smith boyfriend texts 1

masterlist - 2 3

a/n: oomf on here (rei my love!!!) makes such funny texts it lowk inspired me!!

warnings: suggestive, swearing