genre: domestic fluff, realistic family romance, slice-of-life.
warnings: mild pregnancy discomfort, very light parenting tension (resolved quickly and lovingly), zero angst.
summary: nhl forward will smith and you are raising ten-year-old twin boys, charles and theo, who both dream of going pro. will’s intensity on the ice has always been part of the package, but now that the boys are hitting the age where hockey starts to feel like work, his ‘hockey-dad mode’ is creating tiny cracks at home especially with a baby girl due any week. a quiet kitchen conversation after practice reminds everyone that love, not pressure, is what keeps a family (and a dream) alive.
fia’s note: ahh finally got to update another dad!will smith fic for you guys, i’ve genuinely missed being on here and just… yapping with everyone 😭 especially about dad!player thoughts you know, those ‘what if in another universe…’ kind of ideas that slowly turn into full-on storylines in my head at 2am, there’s just something about domestic, soft, slightly chaotic dad energy that i can’t let go of like the idea of him balancing hockey and fatherhood, being strict one minute and then the softest dad ever the next… yeah i think about that way too much. anyway!! if you ever wanna come talk, share ideas, scream about fics, or just yap in general, please don’t be shy 🫶 my anon ask box is always open and i really do love hearing from you guys it makes writing all of this feel even more special!! i missed you guys a lot, truly. thank you for sticking around and being so sweet and supportive, hope you enjoy this dad!will fic 💙
fia’s masterlist | pow-wow box
“You can’t be serious, Mom. Dad made us do bag skates again.”
Theo dropped his hockey bag on the kitchen floor with a thud, cheeks still flushed from the rink. At ten he was already the spitting image of Will. You shifted on the couch, one hand resting on the very round swell of your belly, and tried not to laugh at the sheer injustice painted across his face.
“Bag skates, huh?”
“Twice,”
Theo groaned, flopping sideways so his head landed in your lap like he was still five.
“Charles kept up, but I was dying. Dad kept yelling ‘You want the NHL? Then earn it!’ like we’re already in the draft or something.”
Charles wandered in behind him, quieter, cheeks just as red but mouth set in a determined line. He was the mirror twin same features, opposite energy. Where Theo exploded, Charles simmered. He set his own bag down more carefully and shrugged.
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“It was so bad,” Theo muttered into your sweater.
“And Grandpa was there so Dad went full coach mode. I swear he smiled when I puked in the trash can.”
You ran your fingers through Theo’s sweaty hair, heart doing that familiar tug-of-war. Part of you wanted to defend Will, he was only trying to give them the head start he never had. The other part, the very pregnant, very tired part, ached at the thought that their favorite sport was starting to feel like a chore.
Before you could answer, the garage door rumbled open. Boots on tile, the familiar clink of keys in the bowl, and then Will’s voice, warm and a little winded, floated in.
“Boys! How we feeling after that session? Told you the second round would build character.”
Theo made a sound like a dying walrus and buried his face deeper into your side.
Will appeared in the doorway still in his Sharks hoodie, and the sight of him hit you the same way it had since the very first day you met him at a charity skate twelve years ago. Thirty now, two kids deep (three any minute), and somehow he still glowed. Fatherhood had only sharpened it, made it softer around the edges.
He clocked the scene immediately, Theo dramatically horizontal, Charles hovering like a referee waiting for a penalty call, and you trying to keep a straight face while rubbing slow circles on your belly.
“Rough one?”
Will asked, voice dropping into that gentle register he saved for home.
Theo lifted his head just enough to glare.
“You made us skate until I saw stars, Dad.”
Will’s eyebrows rose, but the smile never left. He crossed the room in three strides, dropped a kiss on your forehead, then ruffled both boys’ hair.
“Stars are good. Means you’re pushing. You said you wanted to play pro, right?”
“Yeah, but not today,” Theo mumbled.
Charles stayed quiet, but you caught the way his shoulders sagged just a fraction.
You reached up and squeezed Will’s wrist.
“Babe, can we talk after they shower and eat? I think the troops need a debrief.”
Will’s eyes met yours, the same look he gave you across the ice when he knew you were watching from the family box. He nodded once.
“Absolutely. Shower, dinner, then we’ll circle up. Sound good?”
The boys trudged upstairs, feet heavy on the steps. Will lingered, hand settling over yours on your belly. The baby girl inside gave a lazy kick right on cue.
“Hey, princess,” he whispered, leaning down so his forehead touched yours.
“Your brothers are dramatic tonight.”
“They’re ten,” you said softly.
“And their dad is kinda intense.”
He huffed a laugh, but there was a flicker of something uncertainty, maybe behind the easy charm.
“Intense is what got me here, babe.”
“I know.” You brushed a thumb across his cheek. “We’ll talk.”
Dinner was just like any others dinner, spaghetti, too much garlic bread, Charles reenacting a deke he pulled in practice while Theo stole meatballs off everyone’s plates. Will told stories from the road trip last week, hands flying like he was still on the ice. The boys laughed in all the right places, but you noticed Theo’s glances toward you, like he was waiting for backup.
After plates were cleared and teeth brushed, the twins climbed into their bunk beds, Charles on top because he liked the view out the window, Theo on bottom because he liked being closer to the door in case of ‘midnight snacks.’ Will read them one chapter of the hockey book they were on, doing the goofy voices that always cracked them up. By the time he closed the door, the house had settled into that rare, golden quiet that only happened after bedtime.
You were already in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a mug of herbal tea when Will padded in, socks sliding on the tile.
He didn’t speak at first. Just wrapped his arms around you from behind, careful of your belly, and rested his chin on your shoulder. The familiar scent of his shampoo and the faint trace of rink ice clung to him.
“Alright,” he murmured against your neck.
“Lay it on me. I can tell you’ve been thinking since Theo face-planted in your lap.”
You turned in his arms so you could see his face. Up close, the tiny worry lines between his brows were new fatherhood lines, you liked to call them.
“Theo said you went pretty hard today,” you started gently.
“Bag skates twice. He puked.”
Will winced. “He told you that part.”
“He did. And Charles didn’t say much, but I saw his face. Will… they’re ten. They love hockey. They talk about playing in the NHL the same way they talk about ice cream for breakfast. But if it stops feeling like fun—”
“I know.”
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair.
“I keep thinking about my own dad. He never pushed, but he also never had the chance to. I was the one who had to figure it out alone. I just… I look at them and I see so much potential. They’re fast, they’re smart, they’ve got hands. If they really want this, I want them ready. Every hockey dad I know starts the grind early. I figured ten was old enough to start building the habits.”
You reached up and smoothed the worry line with your thumb.
“I get it. I really do. And at first I thought the same thing, when they turned ten and started getting wild, a little structure felt right. But babe, there’s a difference between structure and… well, making them puke and then come home looking like someone kicked their puppy.”
Will’s shoulders dropped. He pulled you closer, one hand splayed protectively over your belly where the baby girl was doing slow somersaults.
“I don’t want them to hate it,” he said quietly.
“God, that’s the last thing I want. I just… I see the path, you know? The one that’s hard and long and full of kids who quit at fifteen because no one ever taught them how to grind. I thought if I started now, they’d thank me later.”
“They will thank you,” you said, “but maybe not for the puking part.”
A small laugh escaped him, warm against your hair.
“Fair.”
You stayed like that for a minute, the kitchen clock ticking softly, the baby doing her nightly dance between you.
“I’m not saying stop coaching them,” you continued.
“You’re incredible at it. They light up when you praise them. But maybe we ease up on the ‘every practice is a tryout’ vibe. Let them goof off sometimes. Let them remember why they fell in love with the game in the first place because it’s fun, because they get to be on the ice with their dad, because they get to come home and tell their very pregnant mom all about it.”
Will was quiet for a long beat, then nodded against you.
“I hear you. Loud and clear.”
He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, that same glowing, heart-stopping smile slowly returning.
“When did you get so wise?”
“Pregnancy hormones and ten years of watching you be the hottest dad on the planet,” you teased.
He grinned, the full Will Smith megawatt version that still made your stomach flip even at thirty weeks pregnant.
“Hottest, huh?”
“Objectively. The league’s official stats.”
He laughed, and kissed you, the kind of kiss that said thank you and I love you and we’ve got this all at once.
When he pulled away, his hands framed your face.
“Tomorrow I’ll take them to the rink early, just the three of us. No bag skates. We’ll do skill stuff, then I’ll let them challenge me to a shootout. Loser buys slushies. And I’ll tell them straight up that I got a little carried away. That I’m proud of them no matter what.”
“They’re gonna love that,” you whispered.
“And you,” he added, forehead to forehead again, “are gonna sit here with your feet up because my wife is growing our dream girl and she deserves a break from driving two feral hockey players everywhere.”
“Deal.”
He kissed the tip of your nose.
“I love you. More than I loved the game even on draft day.”
“I love you too. Even when you make our kids puke.”
He winced again, but this time it was playful.
“Too soon.”
You laughed, later, after Will had carried you upstairs (because “pregnant wife privileges”) and you were curled against him in bed, his hand resting on your belly, you felt the baby girl give one last strong kick.
“Think she’s gonna want to play hockey too?” Will murmured, half-asleep.
“Probably,” you whispered.
“But we’re starting her at zero bag skates until she’s at least… twelve.”
He chuckled, the vibration rumbling through his chest.
“Deal.”
In the morning the boys would wake up to a slightly less intense dad and a mom who had reminded him gently that sometimes the best way to build future pros was to let them stay kids a little longer. And Will Smith, NHL star, strict-but-learning dad, and still the most handsome man you’d ever seen held you like you were the real trophy. Just like the day you met. Just like always.
hiii how are you !! I have an idea/request for u and it’s will smith gets ex!reader pregnant ! If u don’t wanna do this or not taking requests pls act like you never saw this🥹 have an amazing day!!
eventually
will smith x pregnant!ex!reader
wc: 2.6k
warnings: suuuuuper angsty, pregnant reader, mentions of will being a bad bf?
note: this can be read as a continuation of the last ex!will fic or a completely new timeline. choose your own adventure, see? 😏
ex!reader masterlist
“can we talk about something?”
you’re laying on the couch, fluffy blanket pulled up to your chin, the secret lives of mormon wives playing on the tv, when will comes into the living room. there’s a look on his face that you don’t like, a look you recognize from every difficult conversation you’ve had with him since breaking up. the look that means you’re not going to like what comes out of his mouth next.
a few months ago, conversations like the one you know is coming weren’t a huge deal. it’s the same thing every time, how he’s so sorry, how much you mean to him, and that he promises he’ll be better than he was before. he promises.
a few months ago, you could just laugh awkwardly, brush him off, and then leave, or kick him out. this conversation usually came after the two of you spent the night together, when he’s feeling particularly tender and misses you the most. after a while, you came to expect it. you’d wake up in the morning, rest in bed for as long as possible, before he inevitably brought it up.
but he hasn’t brought it up in a while. and unfortuantely for you, this conversation isn’t as easy to avoid as it once was.
because now, there’s a very big, very important thing keeping the two of you together.
you’re pregnant.
“about what?” you ask, keeping your eyes on the screen. you know that extending the whole situation by pretending to play dumb isn’t your smartest move, but you’re kind of hoping that if you just dodge whatever he’s going to say for as long as possible, he’ll just give up and move on.
you’re not that lucky.
will moves to the couch without saying anything. you’re lain across the length of it, so you think he won’t be able to sit with you, but you’re wrong. he picks up your ankles, sitting where they were, placing your socked feet in his lap. immediately, he goes to work rubbing and massaging them, causing your eyes to flutter closed and a happy moan to leave your lips.
he goes at this silently for a few minutes, fingers working magic on your swollen feet and ankles. ever since you got pregnant, he’s been like this. so attentive, and caring, and loving.
the baby was a… surprise. to say the least. in hindsight, it honestly shouldn’t have been as shocking as it was, because you and will weren’t being the most careful. yeah, you two have been broken up for a little over a year, but you still saw each other. you still had sex, pretty frequently. honestly, it was almost every time will was home, the two of you were meeting up at least once. most of the time in your apartment, on occasion at his, when mack wasn’t home. and even though you knew better, you know better, there were a few times where the two of you didn’t have any condoms on hand, and didn’t think it would be a huge deal.
well, it turned out to be a pretty huge deal, because now you’re laying in his apartment and eight months pregnant. you don’t live here, not technically. most of your stuff is here now, and the things the two of you have accumulated for the baby are here and not at your apartment, but you refuse to officially move in. will’s been begging you for weeks now, but you’re trying your best to maintain as much independence as you possibly can.
you’re so caught up in the drama unfolding on your tv, and the amazing feeling of will massaging your feet, that you forget how will approached you, not even five minutes ago. that he started that damned conversation.
and then he reminds you.
“i think we should get back together.”
will’s voice is soft, and he says it quiet. almost like he wants you to miss it, to just hum and nod and agree even though you didn’t really hear him. but you did hear him, and your heart drops the second you register his words.
all sense of relaxation from the foot massage dissipates in milliseconds. your whole body tenses, and your heart starts racing.
the very last thing you want right now is to be talking about this.
“will…” your tone is warning. “please. can we just… not?”
you’d been trying to avoid looking at him, but then his gaze swings to you, and like a magnet, your eyes find his. his cheeks are pink and his eyes are glassy, his expression so full of love and yearning your heart nearly stops.
“baby,” he starts, and your breath hitches in your chest. “i know you don’t want to talk about this, but we need to.”
you can’t hold back your scoff. “no, we don’t. in what world do we need to talk about this?” you sit up and look him dead in the eye, trying your best to convey your annoyance at this whole ordeal without having to outright say it. “will, this whole… situation we’re in is already complicated enough. i’m already stressed enough. i just can’t do this right now.”
“what can i do?” he blurts out. you just look at him for a minute, confused on what he’s asking. he sighs, and continues. “what can i do to prove myself to you? that i’m not gonna be like i was. that i’m gonna be a good boyfriend, a good dad. what can i do?”
you just stare at him, dumbfounded, for a few seconds.
this is a question you haven’t prepared for, haven’t really thought about.
“will, i…” you start. you feel a little flutter in your stomach, like butterflies. earlier on in your pregnancy, your baby din’t move very much. you were constantly worried that there was something wrong, calling your doctor at least once a day to ask ten questions at once. a few weeks ago, you and will found out the sex of your baby. a little girl. he’d been ecstatic, kissing your belly and kissing you, holding you close and thanking you for everything that you do, everything you’ve ever done for him. ever since you found out that you’re having a girl, it’s felt like she’s started moving ten times as much. usually it’s a little kick, or a wiggle. it always makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside, but right now, it’s making you sick to your stomach. a reminder of both why you can’t take will back, and also exactly why you should. “i don’t know what to say.”
he gets up from the couch, gently placing your feet back on the cushion, making sure they’re covered by the blanket to keep them warm. you expect him to walk away, to go into his room and wallow in his emotions for a bit, but he doesn’t. will gets on his knees, and shuffles nearer to your head, placing a hand on your belly, your baby girl instantly landing a kick to the exact spot his hand is.
a little smile makes its way onto his face at the feeling, as it always does, but the happiness at her greeting her dad is tinged with the sadness that this whole conversation is causing. your stomach sinks.
“i love you,” he says, your eyes widening in shock. “i know that’s not what you want to hear. i’m sorry. but i can’t not say it anymore, because i need you to know it. i love you so much, and i love our baby. i can’t wait to be a dad, and i’m going to be the best one that i possibly can. i’m always going to be there for her, going to help raise her as much as i can. i’m going to teach her how to skate, teach her how to play hockey. if she wants to play hockey professionally, like i do, i’m going to encourage her and help her to do that, to get there, as much as i possibly can. she’s never going to want for anything. she’s going to feel so loved, never going to doubt that she has someone in her corner. but it’s going to be better, because we’re both going to be there for her, always.”
tears have sprung to your eyes. will’s thumb is caressing your belly, rubbing up and down soothingly, and your daughter has settled, both at the sound of her father’s voice, and at his touch. pregnancy hasn’t been easy, but will has been there for you throughout the whole experience. he’s supported you through every single thing you’ve gone through, told you how beautiful you are when your belly started growing, researched anything and everything you were worried about, and made sure nobody said anything negative to you about anything.
being pregnant with your ex-boyfriend’s baby is a strange experience. you did your best to hide the fact that you were still seeing him, from your friends but most importantly, from your family. your parents and siblings saw you through the worst of the things you dealt with when you and will were together. they held you through his cruel words, and ignored pleads for him to love you.
when the pregnancy test came back positive, you were shocked, scared, excited, and everything in between. you knew pretty much instantly that you wanted to keep the baby, no matter what will said. obviously, when you told him, he was ecstatic. you were honestly more scared to tell your family. they were the ones who witnessed all the damage will caused you firsthand, and you telling them that you’re having his baby was definitely an awkward and tense conversation to have. you assured them that there’s nothing going on between the two of you (lie), and that you only saw him once, which resulted in the pregnancy (another lie).
you and will were together for a year and a half before you broke up. you loved him, you really, really did. throughout that year and a half period, you tried desperately to make it work, to keep it going. before you started dating, you’d been talking on and off for years. you’ve known each other since you were both freshmen at boston college, and you’ve loved him the entire time you’ve known him.
admittedly, you love him now. even after all that he did during your relationship, even though he didn’t realize how much he loves you until after you were gone, you love him. especially through this whole pregnancy, with how unexpected it was, and how unwavering his support for you has been. you’ve really been able to lean on him, to depend and count on him, and you’re so unbelievably grateful for that.
you want to take him back, you do. your life would be ten times easier if you and will were dating, and you know that. but as much as you want to, as hard as you try, you just… can’t.
you take a shaky breath, and start to stand up, pushing will off of you. he stays kneeling on the carpet, eyes watching as you begin to pace the living room. you’re trying desperately not to cry, mostly because you feel like you’ve done nothing but cry this entire pregnancy, and you’re not sure if you have any tears left.
“i want to, will,” your voice is thick. “i want to so bad. trust me, you’re doing amazing. i want our baby to have parents who are together, who love each other and trust each other.”
“then why? why are you holding yourself back?” he gets up and crosses the room so he’s standing right in front of you, gently grasping your hips and pulling you close, so close that your bump grazes his lower stomach. your daughter, pefectly cradled between her parents’ bodies, safe and loved and directly in the middle of every problem they’re having. “just let me love you, baby. love me back.”
“i want to,” you repeat quietly, tears beginning to slide down your cheeks. you let out a sigh and rest your forehead on his shoulder, your arms sliding up and wrapping themselves around his neck. “i just don’t trust you anymore.”
you allow yourself a minute to be held by him, to cry into his shoulder and lean on him and feel how steady and loving he is. you feel him shudder at your words, but he doesn’t say anything. doesn’t ask you why not, or tell you that you can now. he just listens, allows you to seek comfort in his hold, and is just there for you.
you hate him right now.
“you were like this before,” you say, sniffling and ripping yourself away from him at the same time. “before we got together. you were sweet, and caring, and there for me. you said pretty things to me and made me feel loved. but then we got together, and that all stopped. no more nice words, or kisses, or love. you got me, and then you started treating me like shit. i won’t go through that again.”
“y/n…” will takes a step towards you. you take a step away.
“and it’s scarier now. we have a baby on the way,” your cradle your bump protectively, your eyes squeezing shut at the thought that your baby girl could ever possibly go through anything like that you did when you were with will. “she’s not even here yet, and she’s my whole world. you say you won’t treat me like that anymore, won’t treat her like that, but i don’t even want there to be that possibility. i can’t do that to her. i know, logically, that you won’t be like that. at least not with her. but i’m just… scared.”
will stands there, looking at you with an expression that can only be described as heartbroken. he doesn’t say anything, because he knows he can’t. you’re right. he was awful to you when you were together, and it’s the biggest regret of his life, the thing he’s most ashamed of. he hates thinking about it, hates remembering who he was.
he was in a dark place at the time, because of things that weren’t your fault. the team was doing bad, and he felt like he was failing in life. he took it out on you, and that wasn’t fair.
will has never blamed you for breaking up with him. even the day that you did it, when he was feeling the most tender and the most raw, he understood. which makes him feel worse, because he knew that he was being a bad boyfriend, a bad person. and yet, he thought you would stay anyway.
he collapses onto the couch, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands. on the other side of the room, you stand, the love of his life and the mother of his daughter, staring at him with fear and love warring on your face and in your heart.
“i have to protect myself, will,” you say softly. “i have to protect my heart.”
“i know,” he murmurs. he looks up at you finally, and the sadness in his eyes nearly makes your knees buckle “just know that i love you. and i’m here when you’re ready.”
you nod, heart aching in your chest. “i know. i love you too.” will’s eyes widen, but you turn away so you don’t see the exact expression on your face. you just can’t handle it. you start walking towards will’s room, knowing that he won’t follow you, even though it’s his apartment. you stop right before you enter to say, “i’ll get there. not right now, but i’ll get there. eventually.”
a/n: woof this one is... rough 😭 i really struggled with writing this one for some reason, and there were MAAAAAAAAANY iterations of it, but i'm happy with how it came out! this is... probably the angstiest thing i've ever written, but i feel like that's at the core of every ex!will fic! so it's okay! thank you all so much for the support and love on this series, it's so encouraging and never fails to put a smile on my face. you guys are all the best, and i'm so thankful that i have this blog, and this creative outlet. i hope you guys enjoy this one, and have a wonderful day or night <3
summary — being in love with a player on the team your dad is the head coach for is already bad. even worse when you're friends with benefits.
warnings/tags — explicit smut, protected sex, angst, unrequited love-ish.., use of y/n, petnames (sweet thing, pretty, baby), oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, dirty talk, dom!will, insecurity, intended lowercase, not proofread we die like real men, 18+ content! read at ur own discretion!
word count — 1,810
a/n — this actually isn't finished but i don't have the energy to continue writing 💔 if anyone wants a part 2 i'm open to it but it'll probably take me a while to finish writing
you hate william charles patrick smith.
you hate how good he feels on top of you; how his lips move against your own; how he softly smiles against your neck after, muttering a 'thanks' in a raspy version of his voice you never hear elsewhere.
you hate how even the smallest eye contact you make with him outside the bedroom sends chills down your spine, and the annoyingly perfect sound of his laughter, constantly echoing throughout whatever room he stepped in.
but most importantly, you hate yourself for falling for it. for him.
you hate how your heart tightens at the mention of his name, or how your eyes search for him first. you hate how you have to bite back a love confession when you're on the brink of an orgasm.
because that wasn't what either of you agreed on. it was just sex – purely sex.
and yet here you are, spiraling at the realization that your feelings for will are no longer platonic. over the course of secret meet-ups behind the team's – particularlu your father's – back, you've fallen utterly, embarrassingly, and madly in love with him.
the biggest problem with that, along many others (like how he's literally part of the team your dad coaches), is that.. will doesn't love you back.
you wish there were signs capable of deluding you into believing he reciprocates even a quarter of how you feel, but truthfully, there's nothing.
you could see it in his eyes, devoid of that kind of warmth you hold specifically for him. you felt it in the cold air of your empty hotel room after he leaves—not before cleaning you up and saying goodbye, though. he isn't an asshole.
he just doesn't like you back.
but the lack of signs doesn't stop you from fantasizing about a universe where he loves you too. where you can slip an 'i love you' in a heated moment, and he'd say it back. where he stays until he has to go back before anyone can notice his absence. where he kisses you and it means something.
but that universe wasn't this one.
———————
when the crushing realization finally became too much, you stop joining roadies as often. it wasn't rare for you not to join before—you weren't free all the time—but it became more frequent. the first two roadies you miss, will doesn't contact you, and you hate yourself even more for expecting that he would.
by the third one, he calls.
"hey, coach just said you're not coming. you good?" he asks, concern lacing his voice, but not enough to show that he really cares. well, not ad much as you do, at least.
regardless, the fact he even called made you light headed. you know he was just checking as a friend, but you crossed his mind. that has to count for something, right..?
"uh.. yeah! i'm alright. i'm just catching up on school," you lie. you don't have any classes this week, but will doesn't know that.
"warso actually told me you were free for like– a week?"
okay, what the hell.
and why was your dad airing your business out?
you let out an awkward chuckle. "yeah but there's, just, stuff. you know?"
you sounded terribly unconvincing, and you know will wasn't buying it, but he didn't ask any further.
"alright.. see you when we get back?" and there it is.
you know what he means by that, and your heart drops – not because you don't want it… but because you of how badly you do.
your body shakes, and you don't know if it's from want, or fear. this was a bad idea from the very beginning, and the small voice in the back of your head is pleading with you not to fall back into it.
say no.
say it.
say it.
"..sure," but you can't. you don't have the guts to end this, and right now… you're not entirely sure if you want to.
———————
the day the team comes back, will wastes no time bringing you to his place.
when you make it to his room, he kisses you like he's annoyed you've been depriving him of this, fumbling with the lock to make sure nobody interrupts.
he sighs into the kiss, hand traveling up your head, entangling his hand in your hair. "fuck, i missed this."
your chest aches as you remind yourself, over and over, that he doesn't like you back.
you fall onto the bed, immediately discarding your clothes as he does the same. you shamelessly stare at him as he takes his belt off, looking at the small part of his mouth, the way his curls fall in front of his face, basically screaming at you to brush it away; and his chiseled abs. you can feel yourself growing wetter by the second.
he takes a condom out of his pocket, but realizes he hasn't prepped you yet, and places it on the bedside table.
"been a while since you've taken me, right? what do you want first: my fingers or my mouth?"
fuck.
you don't know how to respond, looking at him with wide eyes and a flushed face. "i- uhm—"
"hurry if you wanna cum, sweet thing. fingers or mouth?" his chain dangles slightly as he hovers over you with a hint of a smile on his lips. he's never asked that before, and you never expected that being given the option would feel this fucking hot.
still, you're flustered, having been caught completely off guard. "m-mouth..?"
he makes an incorrect buzzer sound as he inches closer to your heat, "wrong. the correct answer was both."
he presses a kiss on your clit and you shudder, hands flying to his hair.
"sensitive, are we?" he smiles up at you while sliding his fingers across your cunt. you whine in response.
he pushes a finger in and your thighs instinctively close in on him, but he uses his free arm to pin one of your thighs down. "work with me here, pretty."
he starts thrusting his finger in and out at a brutally slow place, taking his time to press kisses around your inner thighs. sucking, nibbling, biting, then kissing the spot when you hiss.
you start to grow impatient. "will—please," you cry, unable to do anything else other than beg.
"i'm getting there, pretty. just wanna soak you all in in case you disappear on me again," your heart races. what does that even mean?
will doesn't give you the time to think about it before latching onto your clit, sucking gently as he finally picks up the pace of his finger.
his muffled moans causes you to clench. "baby you're supposed to be loosening— shit—"
you tighten around his finger again and he shakes his head in disbelief before slowly adding another finger in.
he lays his tongue flat on you as his fingers quicken before they curl, making your vision blur. "fuck, will– ngh!"
the sensation is overwhelming, a tidal wave of heat and friction that makes your entire body arch off the mattress hits you hard. when your walls squeeze tightly around his fingers again, will lets out a low, guttural growl against your skin, the vibration of his voice sending jolts of electricity straight to your core.
you tighten your grip on his hair, but he doesn't pull away—instead, he presses harder, his tongue working in tandem with his fingers to drive you right over the edge.
"that's it... give it all to me, y/n," he mumbles against you, his breath hot and ragged.
youe vision fractures into white light as your orgasm hits, muscles pulsing rhythmically around him.
you let out a broken, high pitched cry, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you shake with the intensity of it. will helps you ride it out, pumping his fingers in shallowly as he pulls back just enough to crawl up your body. his eyes are dark and blown wide, filled with something you couldn't quite name.
he looms over you, chest heaving as he watches the aftershocks ripple through you—twitching, whining, and desperate for more.
when you regain most of your vision, your heart crumbles. the only word you could use to describe how he looked right now is devastating.
sweat glistening on his skin, curls a mess, and that golden retriever charm that still shone through despite the current intensity. he was so, insanely, devastatingly handsome.
he rests his forehead against yours, deep blue eyes staring right straight into yours, reaching the depths of your soul. the air thickens, and it feels like a million words were on the tip of his tongue—mouth opening and closing multiple times. sensing the growing intensity, the kind that led to saying things you regret leave your mouth, he opts to swallow whatever it was, and places a rough kiss on your lips.
you moan into it as he does the same, and he reaches for the condom on the bedside table, "now let's see if i can make you scream my name instead of whining it out."
your heat pulses at his words and is practically aching to be filled as he slides his tip across your slit. in one, slow, heavy thrust, he's filling you completely, and you swear you could feel him in your throat.
your eyes flutter shut as your body adjusts to the sheer size of him. did he grow a couple inches, or what? jesus.
will groans, a sound of pure, unadulterated relief, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his skin hot against yours. he stills, adjusting to you too, then he nibbles at your neck, making sure not to leave too clear of a mark, but doing so anyway because it makes him feel like you're his.
"fuck, you're so– tight–" he groans, starting to thrust into you at a pace that had your knuckles white from gripping the bed-sheets. every slow thrust makes you feel every inch of him, and it's driving you insane that you can't be his.
"will—" you cut yourself off with a moan, "god, it– FUCK!"
will had pulled away until only the tip was in, and thrusted into you so hard you saw stars. he's reaching into every part of you, fucking you like he's memorizing you—like he's engraving how good your walls feel around him, and the way they flutter around him in ways he's sure would kill him one day.
you wish he'd just fuck you harder. faster. anything to stop it from feeling so..
real.
he picks up his pace, but the feeling that he's savoring the moment never leaves. you push away all the other thoughts and focus on the pleasure, drowning out the ache in your chest that just never seemed to go away.
summary: after will screws up and is only met with radio silence from y/n, he knows he needs to figure his shit out and get her back because he can’t just not have her in his life.
pairing: will smith x reader
word count: 1.4k
part one: meet me in the afterglow
will’s been replaying it nonstop in his head.
your face, that look you gave him, the way your eyes filled with tears, the quiver of your lips, the tiny hitch in your breathing when you whispered ‘what did i ever do to you?’ all of it like a punch to his chest that he can’t brush off no matter how hard he tried.
he didn’t mean it. he never meant to hurt you that badly, and now, every time he closes his eyes, he’s back there watching the way you crumpled like it was all his fault, because it was.
he’s tried everything to get through to you. texts, calls, even going to your apartment only to be met with an unanswered door.
and when all else fails, he finally drags himself to macklin’s apartment.
“i don’t get it,” he mumbles, pacing back and forth in the kitchen. “i didn’t mean to hurt her like that.”
macklin leans against the counter, arms crossed, jaw tight. “well congratulations fuck face, you definitely did big time.”
“i know, i know,” will sighs, running his hands through his hair. “i’m trying man, i’m trying to—”
“—trying doesn’t fix it.” macklin interrupts sharply. “trying doesn’t erase the fact that you humiliated her in front of her date dude.”
will’s voice drops. “i just- i can’t stop thinking about it mack, the look on her face. the way she looked so broken, the way she looked like she absolutely hated my guts.”
“ah so like the way you’ve been hating on her?” macklin snaps.
“no,” will says quickly. “i don’t hate her, it’s the opposite. i like her mack, i like her so much it hurts, and i didn’t know what to do, so i acted like a dick. i thought she liked you. i thought the only way i could—”
“oh my god,” macklin interrupts, throwing his hands in the air. “you dumbass, me and y/n are like siblings. we’re not a thing, you have to be pretty fucking dumb to even get to that conclusion.”
“i don’t know, i just- i was stupid and now i’ve ruined everything.”
macklin shook his head, sighing. “you’ve always liked her, i’ve known man. the way you’d get jealous when any guy would be near her? the way you’d snap at her for no reason whenever she was near me? i knew.”
will swallows slowly, letting out a shakey exhale. “i never meant to hurt her. i didn’t know what else to do.”
macklin didn’t say anything else. just stared at his best friend in front of him still pissed, still annoyed, but not stopping him from letting him feel everything he’d been holding in.
-
weeks have passed and no one has barely seen you. you avoided will, avoided the group hangouts knowing he would be there. you blocked his texts and made excuses and of course they all noticed, but you didn’t care.
it wasn’t until macklin called you and ended the call with ‘it’s not like you to let someone control your entire life and emotions, only you have the power to do so.’ and you knew he was right.
and then the night came. the group was having a hangout and somehow against his better judgment, you showed up. he hadn’t expected it but the moment he saw you, everything went tight in his chest.
you stayed quiet, avoiding contact as much as you could.
but then it happens, you look up and he’s already watching you and once you lock eyes you know it’s over for you.
“i’m gonna go,” you said suddenly, voice low, almost shaking as you grab your bag and start making a beeline towards the door not waiting for anyone to respond.
macklin’s eyes flicked to will with a look that said fix this.
will doesn’t hesitate at all as he gets up and makes his way after you.
-
the cold air hits you hard as you wrap yourself tighter in your coat, trying to regulate your breathing. you were annoyed with yourself, you did it again. you let him ruin your night again.
“y/n, hey wait.”
you stop dead in your tracks, snapping your eyes shut before slowly turning around and there he is. a few feet away, hands shoved in his pockets, slightly out of breath.
you turn away, starting to walk but his voice cuts through again.
“wait y/n, please.” he says voice low. the tone makes your chest clench. you stop and turn back around, taking a deep breath.
“please, just.. just don’t walk away.”
“why not?” you murmur, finally glancing at him, “you’ve done enough already.”
“i know,” will starts, voice cracking slightly. “i know i’ve messed up. i just don’t want to lose what we had.”
“what we had? we never had anything, will. nothing. because you never wanted to try.“
he flinches at that, like it’s a punch straight to the chest. “that’s not true,” he whispers. “i did i just didn’t know how to be around you without messing it up.”
you shake your head, looking away. “you don’t get it will. you hurt me over and over again.” your voice falters, the emotions you’ve been holding all this time starting to surface despite how hard you try to keep them in.
you didn’t want him to see you break down again, that to because of him.
he takes another step closer. “i didn’t mean to hurt you. i never wanted to. it’s just-“ he swallows hard, “-i like you y/n, i like you and i have for a long time but i thought you liked macklin, so the only way i could deal with it or could get over it was to act like i hated you but fuck y/n, i don’t hate you. i don’t hate you one bit.”
you freeze for a second as you just stare in disbelief, your stomach dropping like the floor’s been ripped out from under you. then the tears come, slow at first, then streaming faster. you shake your head, stepping back.
“i can’t, i just can’t.”
“please,” will pleads, desperation lacing his voice. “please don’t walk away. just listen to me. i can’t lose you. not like this. not after everything.”
“you don’t get it, you don’t get how much you’ve hurt me. how much everything hurts.”
“i know i’ve hurt you, and i know saying sorry won’t fix everything. i just need you to know that i’m willing to do whatever it takes. i can’t just not try.”
you pull away slightly, trying to put some distance between you. “why? why do you care now? so you can hurt me more?”
“no y/n, i promise you it’s not like that. these past few days have been so difficult not seeing you around as if it wasn’t the most important part of my day. the radio silence? not having you as a part in my life? i don’t think i could deal with any of it.”
the words hit something deep in you, but they’re tangled with everything else that’s happened. everything he’s done, every joke that cut too deep, every time he pushed you away.
you turn to walk, trying to put space between you, trying to breathe, trying to stop the tears from spilling. his hand gently wraps around your wrist to keep you from leaving.
“fuck liking you damnit, i’m in love with you.”
that’s it. that’s the breaking point. the dam at this point completely shatters. your knees feel weak as you let out a sob you didn’t even realize you’d been holding in, your face burying against his chest. “you don’t hurt the people you love, will,”
“i know baby, i know and i’m so fucking sorry. i don’t want to lose this. i don’t want to lose you and i know i can’t fix everything, at least not like this, not all at once but please, let me try. let me do anything to make it right.”
your shoulders shake, your tears soaking into his shirt, but something in the way his voice is also shaking, the way he called you baby, in the way he’s holding you tight as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away again breaks through to you. you let him pull you closer as your arms find their way around him, your head against his chest.
“just please give me a chance to fix this, i can’t lose you because i couldn’t figure out my shit. that would be the biggest loss of my life.”
“i don’t know how to will.”
“that’s okay, just let me work it out alright? and if you realize that it’s just too much for you then i’ll give you your space but i’ll keep trying y/n.”
you nod slowly, as his fingers reach out to brush away the rest of your tears.
“i won’t let you down, i don’t want to lose this with you.”
˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𐚁° ALL THOSE OTHER GIRLS, THEY’RE BEAUTIFUL, BUT WOULD THEY WRITE A SONG FOR YOU? — WS2
pairing: will smith x popstar!reader
synopsis: famous popstar y/n has a weakness for pretty hockey boys, and when one comes to her concert, she just can’t help but write a song about him!
series masterlist
liked by sabrinacarpenter, _willsmith2, and 7.8M others
ynuser thank u guys so so much for all ur support, ilysm. stay tuned for a new single 💘💘
view all comments
sabrinacarpenter never seen anyone more deserving of your success ily bae
➥ ynuser i literally LOVE you
user1 THESE PICS ARE TO DIE FOR
user2 is this the female popstar that will saw when he was in boston??
➥ user3 has to be!! he’s in her likes and i’m pretty sure he posted a pic at her concert
user4 NEW SINGLE??
gabeperreault44 nice pics
➥ ynuser thanks perreault 😝
➥ user5 OH?
user6 what’s hockey boy doing in my gf’s comments
➥ user7 y/n has always had hockey affiliation! she had hockey player exes & she’s close friends with beckett & gabe!
beckettsennecke_ can’t wait
texts between gabe + will
texts between y/n + beckett
liked by beckettsennecke_, _willsmith2, and 5.6M others
ynuser new single “hey stephen” is out now!!! cannot wait for you guys to hear it, it’s one of those songs that makes me so happy and want to dance in my living room! please look out for my new album coming out sooooonnn 💛💐
view all comments
beckettsennecke_ you are awesome
➥ ynuser BECK 💋💋
➥ user8 are they dating?
➥ user9 don’t think so! they are very close friends tho
user10 the people’s princess
sabrinacarpenter LOVEE
gabeperreault44 i can picture u dancing in the living room
➥ ynuser gabe you could’ve worded this any other way
➥ user11 LMFAO i love their friendship
inlovewithyn guys.. let’s talk about y/n’s new single because i am so obsessed!! we barley see her write super lovey dovey songs so this was so refreshing like LOOK AT THE LYRICS C’MON
view all comments
user12 i loveeed it so much it was so cute
user13 did yall see her new album cover? it’s her in hockey gear!!
➥ user14 YESS i think the song is about a hockey player
user15 ok wait.. new album cover is her in hockey gear, she has a lot of hockey friends & a hockey player recently went to her concert.. she definitely wrote this about that player
➥ user16 who was the hockey player?
➥ user17 it was _willsmith2
user18 could it be about beckett or gabe?
➥ user19 i highly doubt it because they’ve been close friends for so long and im pretty sure it’s platonic!
user20 _willsmith2 has been in her likes so it tracks
a/n: hello all... this idea has been way too long in the making!!! if u enjoy, like, reblog and send me ur card info! also I lowk have a part 2 mapped out if anyone fw this... #let me know
wc: 1k
The first time Will called you his friend, you laughed, the second time, it irritated you, by the twenty somethingth time, it made you want to throw something.
Which was unfortunate because you were currently standing in his bedroom holding a stack of your own clothes; your clothes, inside his dresser, inside his apartment. Inside the bedroom you practically lived in.
"What?" Will glanced up from where he was tying his shoes, the confusion on his face was genuine, maybe that made it worse.
You held up one of your shirts, "So we're still doing this?" You ask, your words make his eyebrows pull together, "Doing what?"
A bitter laugh escaped before you could stop it, of course he didn't know what you meant; because for months, you'd been having two completely different relationships. The one you were living, and the one he was describing.
You stare at him, "You cleared out a drawer for me." Will shrugged like that was a normal thing people did for casual hookups.
"You stay over so often, I figured I might." He says. You stared at him, waiting for the punchline, but it never came. He genuinely didn't hear himself.
You blink, genuinely unable to believe he really thinks that it was casual to do that, "You gave me your apartment code." You point out. Another shrug before he says, "You were always waiting outside."
You don't let up, immediately continuing to point out just how insane he sounds, "You took me to your parents' house." He doesn't seem to hear how stupid his next defense is, "My mom wanted to meet you." The argument would've been funny if it wasn't ruining your life.
Every answer sounded reasonable on its own, that was the problem. Individually, none of it meant anything; together it looked a hell of a lot like a relationship. A fact everyone seemed aware of except him.
"You know your sister calls me when she wants advice?" Will blinked, staring at you like you just told him the sky was blue, "Yeah. I mean, she likes you."
The words landed like fresh wood on an already thriving fire. "That is exactly what I'm talking about, Will." You snap. For the first time all morning, something shifted in his expression; confusion, as if he genuinely couldn't understand why you were upset.
He shakes his head, "You knew what this was." There it was, the words you'd been dreading, the sentence that somehow hurt every single time.
Months of memories suddenly flashed through your head; his mom hugging you goodbye, his teammates asking if you'd be at games, the nights spent curled up beside him on the couch, the inside jokes, the routines.
The way he'd reach for you automatically, the way he'd text you first, the way he'd look for you in crowded rooms, the way he'd built a place for you in every corner of his life. Apparently none of it meant anything, because technically, he'd warned you.
He'd never called you his girlfriend, he'd never promised anything. And maybe that was the part that made you hate yourself, because he'd been honest. You were the idiot who kept hoping his actions would eventually catch up to his words.
"You know what?" you said quietly. Will immediately looked wary, the fight had finally reached him, way too late. You shook your head, "No, I actually don't know what this is anymore."
The room felt smaller than it had five minutes ago, the air heavier. You laughed once, humorless, exhausted, "Your family knows me." Silence. You keep going, "You keep food in your apartment that you don't even eat because I like it."
Will looked away, that hurt too, he couldn't even look at you? "You call me when you're upset." Nothing, the silence only makes your heart ache worse, "You call me when you're happy, you call me for everything."
The anger that had been building for months finally cracked open, "And somehow I'm still supposed to believe this means nothing?"
Will rubbed a hand over his face; frustration finally appearing. Not sadness, or regret. Frustration, as if this entire conversation was exhausting him, "I never said it meant nothing."
You almost laughed again, "Then what does it mean?" The question hung between you. For the first time since you'd met him, Will had absolutely nothing to say; not because he didn't know, but because he did. He just didn't want to say it. And suddenly that hurt more than any rejection could've. Because if he didn't care, this would've been easy, instead, he stood there silently while the truth sat between both of you.
He wanted everything a relationship offered; the companionship, the affection, the comfort, the consistency. You. He just didn't want the responsibility of actually calling it one.
The realization settled heavily in your chest; months wasted, maybe longer. You swallowed hard, then nodded once, like you were finally understanding something, "Okay."
Will looked up immediately suspicious, "What does that mean?" You don't respond, you just immediately start to move. You crossed the room, grabbed your overnight bag, and started opening drawers.
His face changed, finally, just a small crack, enough to make him question you, "What are you doing?"
You folded a sweatshirt, didn't look at him, "Making things casual." The silence that followed was deafening. For the first time all morning, Will looked nervous. As piece by piece, you started removing yourself from the apartment.
Your shampoo from the bathroom, your charger from the outlet, your clothes from the dresser; your presence from the life he'd built around you. The life he'd insisted wasn't real.
You hear him sigh, before finally, "You're being dramatic." The words stopped you cold, and for a second, neither of you moved.
Then you laughed; a short, disbelieving sound, because of course that's what he'd say. You turned toward him, bag hanging from your shoulder, "Dramatic?"
Will immediately looked like he regretted it; too late, always too late. You nodded toward the half empty dresser, "The good news is you'll have all this extra space now."
Something flashed across his face; panic, maybe, you couldn't tell, you didn't stay long enough to find out.
Because the cruelest part wasn't that Will didn't care, it was that he cared just enough to make leaving hurt, and not enough to ask you to stay. So you walked out, and for the first time since meeting him, he let you.
The door closed behind you, neither of you said goodbye, neither of you called afterward.
And months later, lying awake at three in the morning, you would still wonder which part hurt more; the fact that he never chose you, or the fact that for a while, you'd been convinced he already had.
pairing: will smith x reader
summary: the guilt of fornication takes over
warnings: smut, bit of angst, religious themes and guilt (will and reader), virginity loss, protected sex (p in v)
wc: 1.1k
18+ content below cut. minors dni
he'd rarely taken off his cross before. he wouldn't take it off when he slept. he wouldn't take it off during his games despite the pendant of the cross snapping over his heart. it was always visible through glimpses under his clothes.
but now his fingers are hooked around the clasp, and he can't seem to make himself let go of it. all that's running through his head is: is this a mistake? oh but i want this so bad... god will forgive me, right? if i pray enough? go to confession?
you think back to the baptismal promises you made during your confirmation, how you'd renounce satan and all his works and empty promises. surely if you just go to confession and do what the priest says, you'll be fine. you see the hint of fear and slight hesitation behind his eyes, reaching for the back of his neck, helping him take it off. the same thoughts have been running through your head.
"hey... i'm nervous too."
"really?" will says, surprised to see he isn't alone in the way he's feeling. "do you still wanna do this?"
"yeah... only if you want to as well."
will nods, confirming that he still wants to go through with having sex. feeling a bit more comfortable now, he's able to take his cross necklace off and set it aside in a drawer in his bedside table, outside of his view. there's no way he can be reminded of god, and his dedication to his faith, all whilst he's fucking you.
he gets a condom from the same drawer, his necklace replacing its spot. there's no way he could risk having a child out of wedlock, not when he's already committing premarital sex.
he gently takes off your clothes, breath hitching at the sight of you that he's never seen before. his bulge aches beneath his boxers, already forgetting about his worries from before. he undresses himself, releasing his cock, and letting out a sigh of relief. he rolls the condom on his cock, and starts lining himself up.
will runs his cock up and down your slit, collecting some of your slick from the built up excitement, despite the worries, on his tip.
"i'll go slow... tell me if you wanna stop, okay?"
you nod your head frantically, just wanting him already.
he starts pushing himself in, and at first, it's not at all what you thought having sex would feel like. it feels all tight and kind of painful, wondering why people would like this. but the more will pushes in, and the more your cunt gets used to and stretches around his cock, the better it feels.
will lets out breathless moans by your ear, taking in every moment and how tight you feel around him. he can't get enough of this, and just wants more. he slowly starts picking up his pace, moving his hips against yours faster.
he drags a hand down your chest, and brushes lightly over clit. he notices how you inhale sharply at the feeling, and presses down harder, applying more pressure as he circles his fingers.
both yours and will's moans get louder, and breaths get heavier. all that can be heard is the string of curses coming from the both of you -- "fuck... shit..."
he peppers sloppy kisses by your neck in between all his moans and grunts. you're both so overwhelmed with the feeling of pleasure -- the way you feel so full and your clit is so stimulated because of him, and the way your cunt clenches around his cock -- and the guilt of all of this long forgotten now.
"holy... will-" you let out, letting him know you were about to reach your high.
"i know..." he says as he continues to rut his hips against yours. "oh my god."
you clench around him, arching your back as he helps you ride out your high. feeling the way you tightened around him, will's hips jerk as he reaches his own high, spilling into the condom.
he waits for a moment, allowing you two to catch your breaths before pulling out. he carefully takes the condom off, and ties it off before throwing it into a bin nearby.
will takes you in one of his arms, the other one reaching for his necklace in the drawer. he looks at the cross for a second, brushing his thumb over it before starting to put it on. he struggles with the clasp a bit and without saying anything, you take over, helping him put his necklace back on. once it's fastened, he adjusts the placement of the cross, making sure it sits right where he wants it to.
he fiddles with it for a bit, clearly lost in his own thoughts, the worries from earlier starting to flood back in. you grab at the hand he was using to fidget with, stopping it, and bringing it in your own hand and onto your lap.
"hey..." he turns to you, snapping out of his thoughts when he hears you. "it's going to be okay."
his thumb brushes the back of your hand, not fully convinced yet. "but... what if..." he struggles to meet your eyes. his mind rushes back to all the catholic teachings he's been taught throughout the years: no lusting, no fornication, no use of contraception.
"fuck," he thinks to himself. "i'm going to hell, aren't i?"
you turn his head toward you, breaking him from his thoughts. "i know you're anxious... and so am i."
hearing that you once again share the same feelings as him, just being able to hide it better than he can, eases him a bit.
"we can go to confession first thing tomorrow."
his ears perk up, remembering that confession is a thing. that immediately released some tension from him, and you rub your free hand along his shoulders.
"we're not sinners are we?" he says, barely above a whisper.
you purse your lips, closing your eyes to stop and not let the tears that were forming fall from your eyes, and shake your head, barely able to let any words out.
in all honesty, you're worried too and just try not to show it. it's not like you regretted having sex with him, it was great and felt amazing. but the voice in the back of your head just keeps getting louder now, saying how you've just gone against the teachings.
"let's just go to sleep now," you manage to let out.
you rest your head on will's chest, with one of your hands now fiddling with his cross. his hand rests above yours, feeling your small movements under his palm. his other arm wraps around you, keeping you close.
you both just lay there in silence waiting for your minds to drift off, praying that the morning comes by soon.
a/n: wow... this one... i cried writing the ending icl
