TOUGH TIMES || JS

NOT YOUR GIRLFRIEND || CA, Pt.2

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Part 1

summary: Trying to get over Carlos was going well until you run into him a month later.

pairing: carlos alcaraz x fem!reader

warnings: none :)

a/n: I need a happy ending.

It had been a month since Carlos left you crying in your apartment. You had tried moving on, ridding yourself of any remnant of the tennis player from your apartment.

You bought new sheets, boxed up the hoodies and tennis kit he had left over the months you saw him, hiding away the photos, jewellery, and every gift that made what you two had felt more than just casual.

For the most part, you felt lighter as if the weight and pressure of being Carlos' secret had slid off your shoulders like a warm shower on a winter day. However, every breath of comfort came with a sharp sting of regret.

The night was the worst. The silence that filled your bedroom left only memories of the nights spent together when he promised you the world. You couldn't help but keep an eye on his results. Catching every match he won and focusing even closer on the ones he lost.

You were acutely aware that when your friends planned their trip to California, dragging you with them, you would be just minutes away from Carlos competing at Indian Wells.

As you dressed up in a skirt that was slightly too short, with heels that were slightly too high, the thought of him lurked in the back of your mind. As you met your reflection in the mirror of the hotel bathroom your mind flickered with the images of him.

Your friends called your name snapping the tall Spaniard from your mind as you shot them a smile and left the room.

Arriving at the club was like a breath of fresh air. The music filled your body and in an instant, the tension faded from your body.

"Happy we came out?" your best friend shouted to you over the music,

"very, I needed this." She smiled a wrapped her hand in yours pulling you to the dance floor. You let the stress leave your body as you moved with the beat, laughing with your friends around you.

A tall guy appeared behind you, he was handsome and his hands found a place on your waist as you swayed together. For the first time in both, you didn't see his brown eyes in this stranger, and you relished in the moment.

You smiled at the man and turned to face him. His hands drifted to your face but just as began to lean in, ready to capture your lips with his, you pulled away.

"I'm going to get a drink." The guy smiled but his annoyance at the rejection was clear in his face but you couldn't bring yourself to kiss him.

You pulled yourself to the bar. You fell into the chair and pushed your hair out of your face, making eye contact with the bartender,

"Vodka coke please." the bartender smiled and nodded and moved to make the drink when a Spanish accent came from behind you,

"Two please." Shivers covered your arms, your hair standing up straight at the warm tone of the man you had been desperately avoiding. You kept your eyes focused on the bar as you felt his body move closer to you.

"You ignoring me?" His voice hit your eyes and you finally turned to look at him. Your eyes met his and suddenly the brown eyes you'd spent the last few months running from were watching you.

He smirked at your visible frustration, tense shoulders, and how you suddenly sat up straight. Your eyes narrowed on his appearance, an unbuttoned shirt and dishevelled outgrown hair.

His forehead and chest were glistening a sign that he had also been on the dancefloor. You gave him a cold glare and turned back towards the bar.

Your hair fell in front of your eyes and as you reached up to move it, your hand met his. His gentle touch tucking your hair behind your ear. You could feel the heat from his hand and with every brush of his skin on yours, you felt your heart in your throat.

"Don't." you pushed his hand away, as the bartender placed the drinks in front of you, your hand reaching out and taking the glass, knocking back the drink the burn of the vodka warmed your throat.

His presence still loomed next to you and you waited painfully for him to give up and leave like he did last time.

"Lo lamento." (I'm sorry). You scoffed staring down at your empty glass. You motioned to the bartender for another glass.

"You have nothing to be sorry for Carlos, we were casual, and you ended it. It's fine." He shook his head his eyes still watching your every movement.

The bartender slid you the drink and you nodded to him, getting up from your seat at the bar and turning to face Carlos, "Have a nice night Carlos."

You began walking back in the direction of your friends, ready to head home and wallow in the memories the tall Spaniard had just dredged up.

Just as you were leaving Carlos' vicinity you felt his hand wrap around your wrist. He turned you to face him his hand sliding to your neck, forcing your eyes to meet his. "Can we talk, please?"

His thumb moved softly up and down your neck, an action that reminded you of the nights spent watching cheesy movies on his sofa. Your head in his lap as he traced patterns along your neck.

"Y/N" his voice cut through your memories bringing you back into the moment. You watched his eyes scanning your face for any sign of cracking, and your furrowed eyebrows softened.

"Five minutes." His lips widened into his classic smile. He pulled you away into a secluded corner. The music was muffled in the corner and the lights were dimmed.

Your back was against the wall and Carlos' large statue towered over you. One of his hands rested on the wall behind you and the other settled on your waist. Trapped between him and the wall you had no choice but to meet his eyes.

"no puedo dejar de pensar en ti." (I can't stop thinking about you) You felt a shiver run down your spine. A sharp intake racked through your lungs.

"Carlos-"

"Please, Y/N, let me say this," His hand slid up your side returning to your neck, "I need you to hear this."

His hand held your face delicately, his forehead meeting yours as he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.

"Fuck, you know how hard it has been to play when all I can think about is you." His hand slid into your hair,

"I thought I could just move on, that this was casual or nothing, that it was forgettable. But you're not forgettable." Carlos' eyes bore into yours.

Your hands settled on his face, the feeling of his unkept stubble rough against your fingers. For a month you'd imagined him turning up at your door and telling you some version of this.

"I can't be a secret anymore Carlos, I can't do it." His hand moved from the wall to your waist, pulling you into him,

"You are so much more than a secret. I never should've treated you that way." He smiled as his nose brushed yours as if giving you a chance to back out before he leaned in closer.

His lips met yours a second later and it was like coming home. Your hands slid behind his head, pulling him into you as he groaned into your mouth.

His hands pulled your hips close to his as you kissed as though you were starved for air and he was oxygen. All the stress and pent-up energy of the last month was felt in the rough kiss.

His hands travelled to your ass lifting you off the ground as you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, pulling him into you. His lips moved from your lips to your neck, finding the sport that drew light moans from your lips.

At the sound of your moans, Carlos pulled away briefly, a guttural sound coming from him as he pressed his forehead to yours. Both of your chests moved violently up and down, catching your breath.

"Come to my match tomorrow." Your eyebrows furrowed again.

"I'm not going to sit in the stands Carlos." He lightly kissed down your neck.

"I want you," He kissed slowly up to your lips, "sat in my box," he kissed the corners of your mouth, "as my girlfriend."

You grabbed his face pulling him away from where he was leaning in to kiss you. Your heart was racing as you forced him to look at you.

"Are you serious?" Carlos laughed and you hit his chest,

"Ow. you wound me." He captured your lips with his, smiling into the kiss. "This last month made me realise how dumb I've been."

You pecked his lips, with your thumb rubbing his cheek, "So dumb."

You moved to pull him back into a kiss but he stopped you just before your lips met, "Is that a yes?"

"Shut up and kiss me Carlitos." He laughed and let his lips meet yours, the kiss filling your entire being with warmth as your heart thudded in your chest.

are these tennis kids good or the top 10 players shit

Carlos not being a bozo challenge (impossible)

Need this performance in the finals please 🫡

baby goat 🐐

NOT YOUR GIRLFRIEND || CA

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summary: You want more from Carlos and he can’t provide it.

pairing: carlos alcaraz x fem!reader

warnings: Angst, it’s just kinda miserable sorrryyyyy

a/n: I wanted to write something depressing….but I might write a happy part two if that’s something people want?

MASTERLIST

Your room was shrouded in darkness only momentarily broken by the occasional car light and the glimmer of distant buildings out of the window.

The bed sheets were ruffled, pulled around your legs splayed out across your stomach. You watched your phone light up and then turn off, over and over. It was late. You should be asleep.

Each time your phone lit up the room your eyes watched it, hopefully reading each notification to no avail. He hadn't messaged.

You knew losing another game to Novak was going to be difficult for him, you had been there after the Olympics, wiped his tears and held him trying to help him forget the match.

You vividly remember the softness in his eyes after that game, the way he broke down convinced he'd disappointed his country. This time was different. It had been weeks since the match and you hadn't heard anything from him.

Forgotten was the usual post-match call, and the promise to fly you out or come see you the moment he got a chance. Instead, you were reduced to watching his Instagram stories and staring mindlessly at the read notification under the message.

You weren't his girlfriend, and he didn't owe you anything but when he found his way to your bed after each match and invited you to more and more events were you crazy to think it had gone beyond casual.

Trying to turn away from your phone that taunted you each time someone other than Carlos messaged you tried to fall asleep. The bed felt empty and cold, no matter how many layers you wore it didn't replicate the heat of lying next to him.

It was like you could feel the ghost of his hand against your body, staving off the sleep you desperately craved. Instead, you were being haunted by the memories of long nights spent with his body pressed against yours, his moans echoing through your mind.

Just as your eyes began to feel heavy and the memory of him subsided, your phone blared out behind you. You didn't need to turn towards it to see who it was, the ringtone alone indicated it was the very man who had been plaguing your mind.

For a second you considered ignoring it. Letting him feel what it's like to be waiting by the phone for your response. But every muscle and nerve in your body pulled you towards the phone, dragging you to pick it up.

Pressing the green button his voice flooded your senses, "Amor, ¿estás en casa?" (love, are you home?) The pet name sent shivers down your spine,

"Yeah, I'm at home." You tried to sound uninterested like you hadn't been sat by your phone for hours just waiting for his call.

"Estaré allí en diez minutos." (I'll be there in ten minutes.) You let out a scoff, taken back by the rashness. There have been times when Carlos impulsively visited you but never after not talking to you for nearly a week without reason. But before you could protest his voice came back through the phone, "Te extraño" (I miss you).

Your shoulders relaxed and your chest fluttered. The effect he held over you needed to be studied because you lost any semblance of a backbone when you were around him. "I'll see you soon then".

The next ten minutes were the longest of your entire life. tiding your room and making it look less like a warzone was the top priority but it seemed to take seconds and you found yourself sitting in the kitchen waiting for the knock on the door.

When it came your heart raced, but you moved towards the door. Pulling it open he stood casually, wearing jeans and a hoodie with his hair still buzzed although looking messier and his big brown eyes focused on you.

You moved to the side to let him into your apartment and he faltered slightly, watching you with a scrutinising gaze. Suddenly in your pyjama shorts, you felt exposed and vulnerable.

"How have you been?" You tried to ease the palpable tension between you as the regret for allowing him in began to creep in. But every time you looked at him your resolve crumbled so you needed to keep your distance.

He looked down at his feet, then up, meeting your eyes as he took a deep breath before talking. "AO was shit, you know how frustrating it is to come so close, again, and lose. Novak was injured and I still couldn't beat him, what does that say about my tennis." His shoulders were tense and as you dared to look at his face you could see the bags under his eyes had worsened.

You wanted to be there for him but you couldn't help but be annoyed that this was the first conversation you'd had in weeks.

"you could've called." you watched as his eyes met yours before quickly glancing away.

"I know"

"or texted" He shuffled from one foot to the other, though usually, the sight of him uncomfortable would cause a tightness in your chest, you couldn't help but push for answers. "Or really done anything other than randomly showing up at my apartment at 3 am after not texting me for weeks." you paused and looked at him, "I would've been there for you."

His gaze focused in on you and for a second a softness passed through his gaze before it shifted to frustration, he stood up straighter. "Come on, Y/N, that's not fair AO was-"

"No Carlos, you know what's not fair. You telling me before AO that you cared about me and wanted me to come watch your matches and sit in the coaches box to then not talking to me after one shit result." His eyes widened shocked by the outburst. You'd never opened up about how it felt to be his secret. With countless promises thrown your way to end up unfulfilled.

He stepped forward, the distance had shrunk and you could smell the aftershave that seemed to stain all your belongings after a visit. You knew it would hang around reminding you of this moment too. His large hand reached out to take your hand and in a moment of pure instinct, you stepped back.

"I can't do this anymore Carlos."

"What?" His brows were furrowed, deeply knitted together as he watched you play with the rings on your fingers.

"I don't want this anymore, I don't want to constantly be waiting by my phone for you, or hoping that this match is the match where you'll finally introduce me to anyone as your girlfriend instead of a friend. I'm tired of constantly having to listen to interviews and jokes about you being single, or you being rumoured with whichever woman it is this week. I'm constantly your second chance and sometimes it doesn't even feel like I'm second. I'm so tired of loving you Carlos when I don't even think you like me."

Your eyes began to water as you focused your eyes on the floor, you didn't want to cry in front of him, you were determined not to let him know the effect he held over you. He looked shocked. Sure he knew you cared about him but you truly doubted he ever thought it had gone that far.

"I didn't know"

But how couldn't he? You had spent countless nights laughing and talking until the sun rose. You'd spent afternoons cooking and laughing every time Carlos burnt something as simple as pasta. You'd fallen asleep next to him as he held you in a way that felt more intimate than any sex could and yet he couldn't tell you loved him.

You couldn't help but let the tears fall as you watched the man you loved watching you so cluelessly as if loving you was so distant from his mind that he couldn't even comprehend it.

"You should go." You walked past him back towards the door as his hand reached reach for your arm. He pulled you to face him his hand reaching your cheek and his eyes meeting yours. Tenderly he wiped the tears from your eyes.

"Por favor no hagas esto" (please don't do this) his voice was soft, a quiet plea as he so carefully held your face. You took a shaky breath in, lifting your hand to his, and watching as his brown eyes softened under your gaze.

For a moment you considered giving into him and falling back into the pattern you had gotten so used to but something inside you knew you needed to draw the line. You pulled his hand from your cheek, kissing his palm lightly before putting it down back at his side.

"I need more."

He began walking towards the door, his head down and shoulder slumped. Before he left he hesitated and just for a second your heart began to race thinking he was going to turn around and tell you he wanted more and he wanted it with you.

But he didn’t, instead he took another step forward out of the door and left without a goodbye.

Pushing the door closed your head fell against it as you let the tears rack through you. Suddenly the prospect of being without him felt so much more daunting than when he stood in front of you.

You slid down the door, sitting against it as you cried and waited for him to come back and knock on the door.

But, when the sun began to rise over the buildings and the tears had dried on your cheeks you realised it was truly over and while you would be broken his world would go on turning.

Winning Feeling || CA

AUTHOR: @yungbludz deserves to read a Carlos fic, instead of writing them all the time.

SUMMARY: You surprise Carlos at Rotterdam after telling him you couldn't make it

WARNINGS: Fluff, Smut, Unprotected Sex (bad), Oral (fem receiving), P in V 18+

Carlos’ grin appeared on your screen as he hit a flawless drop shot, landing perfectly outside of De Minaur’s reach and giving Carlos the point.

The commentators voices played through your headphones praising your boyfriends form. You couldn’t help but giggle at the way he had the audience on his side.

When you told Carlos you couldn’t make Rotterdam he was understanding and assured you it was fine but you knew from the way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes that he was disappointed.

But when you managed to get your work finished late Saturday night you immediately booked flights for the next morning, coordinating with Juan Carlos to surprise your boyfriend.

Looking up from your phone you can see the arena in the distance and with your heart speeding up you quickly shoot a text to Juan Carlos letting him know you’re just around the corner.

The taxi pulled up out front of the arena just as the final set was starting, and determined to be there for the end of the game you rushed out of the taxi thanking the driver and making your way into the building.

You slipped into the stands, just behind the coaches box and Juan Carlos smiled and waved at you.

“How’s it going?” You leaned over, eyes trained on your boyfriend’s figure moving skilfully around the court.

“The second set was difficult, but he’s pulling it back.”

You smiled softly as you settled in your seat.

Carlos moved with precision, covering a staggering amount of the court.

As he hit another winning shot he turned to the audience, meeting eyes with his coaches and then flitting up.

His gaze met yours and his face lit up, a smile covering his face as you waved and shooed him to focus on his game.

The rest of the game went smoothly with Carlos winning against De Minaur and taking his first title at Rotterdam.

Before you knew it you stood outside the locker room waiting for your boyfriend to emerge.

You caught a glimpse of his blue jacket as the door swung open, his brown eyes meeting yours and his lips turning to a smile as he looked you up and down.

He wasted no time, marching towards you, threading his hand in your hair bringing your lips together. It had only been a week and yet you found yourself melting into his touch.

He pulled away slightly his hands falling to your waist playing with your shirt. Everywhere his hands touched set your skin on fire and suddenly you felt the urge to get back to the hotel.

"¿Pensé que tenías que trabajar?" (I thought you had to work?) His eyes danced across your face as if he wasn't sure you were really there.

"¿Y extrañar verte ganar? Nunca." (and miss seeing you win? never) You kissed his cheek, softly moving to his ear, "mi campeón" (my champion).

He let out a groan, your words having a visual effect on him as his cheeks flushed and his eyes focused on you. You leant in to meet his lips, softly pulling on his bottom lip. Effectively riling him up when Juan Carlos, interrupted.

"vamos pájaros del amor" (come on, lovebirds), Carlos laughed at his coach handing him his tennis bag and picking up his trophy before wrapping his arm around your waist and heading to the car.

The car journey was agonising. Carlos' hand traced patterns on your inner thigh as he stared out the window pretending to be unaware of the effect he was having.

Every time you tried closing your legs, to prevent his hand from rising any higher, he simply pushed them open slightly and slipped an inch further up.

Your leg was burning under his touch and that heat had settled in your core. Every second his hands remained on you left you begging to get to the hotel so you could get the attention you wanted from him.

Carlos began to take notice of your agitated state, he leaned over to you his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"Feeling hot, my love?"

"Carlos please," his hand rose higher at your desperate voice, his fingertips brushing the edges of your soaked underwear.

"God you're so wet for me, bet you would let me take you right here, wouldn't you?" Of course you would, his fingers moved under the waistband of your underwear as your eyes flicked to the driver.

The second you started to doubt the predicament you found yourself in Carlos' lips found your neck and his fingers fell between your folds.

A breathy moan left your mouth unable to hold back the pleasure you felt. Suddenly as the tension began to rise in your abdomen, his fingers left your underwear causing you to gasp at the empty feeling.

Turning to Carlos your cheeks were red, your chest rising heavily, hand wrapped around the back of his neck. He leaned in before you could question why he pulled away leaving you hot and bothered.

"Nosotros estamos aqui" (we're here)

You deeply sighed, following your boyfriend out of the car. You wasted no time getting to the lift as the tension from the car was still present.

By the time you reach the hotel room, you are begging to get him out of his clothes.

He crossed the threshold of the room, and the two of you were together. His hands were firmly on either side of your face and your hand slipped underneath his shirt.

He pushed your back against the door pulling away from the kiss to pull his shirt over his head, your eyes scanned the chiselled body of the man you loved taking your hands to rake down his chest and along his abs.

"They should ban shirts in tennis." Carlos laughed, shaking his head at your antics as he made a move to kiss up your neck.

"Then everyone would get to see me, and I'm yours." The small words sent shivers down your spine that set your core alight.

"Show me." His brown eyes bore into yours. "Show me how you're mine." A smirk graced his stunning features and he wasted time. His lips trailed down your neck.

He lifted your shirt off you, trailing sloppy kisses down your chest and across your breasts. His hand reached behind you to unhook your bra letting it fall to the ground.

When met with the sight of your naked chest Carlos groaned, "Hermosa" (beautiful) before capturing your nipple between his teeth. The sensation made you moan loudly gripping the back of Carlos' hair and finding any piece that was long enough to pull.

His mouth worked magic on your breast sucking and pulling on your sensitive nipples while his hand unbuttoned your skirt and slowly slid it down your legs.

The second the skirt hit the floor Carlos travelled south, his lips trailing down your stomach reaching the black underwear that was well and truly ruined.

He softly kissed your core over the underwear and your head fell back against the door. "Carlos please."

He looked up at you, an evil glint in his eyes. "What do you want, amor?"

"You. please."

He shook his head lightly, his hands moving up your thighs was all your brain could focus on. "what part of me?"

He kissed your stomach, "my mouth?" his fingers slid dangerously close to your fold you couldn't help but moan. "my fingers?"

"Both, please Carlos, I need you."

He pulled on the waistband of your underwear sliding it down your legs, and after throwing it somewhere in the room to find later he hitched your leg over his shoulder and immediately dove in.

His lips met your clit in an instant as he devoured you like a man starved. tracing tight circles on your clit had you crying out his name which only spurred him on. His finger met your folds, gently sliding through them and collecting your slick before two roughly thrust into you.

"Fuck Carlos, fuck" You screamed out and if you had been more away from your surroundings you may have worried about the neighbours, but with Carlos' face buried between your legs, you didn't care.

He added a third finger as he picked up the pace against your clit making you thankful for the door supporting your weight as your legs began to tremble.

You yanked Carlos' hair as your head fell back against the door, and he groaned into your core. He angled his finger perfectly as your high began to build. you couldn't help but move your hips looking for any extra friction possible.

It works when his fingers trust even deeper inside you quickly sending you to your high.

"cum for me, amor." his words alongside his fingers sent you over the edge, your legs shaking and chest heaving as he fucked his fingers into you throughout the orgasm.

As you came down from your high he captured you in a kiss, the taste of your juices on his lips. Your hands found his hair and he grabbed your ass and your tongues fought together.

You pulled away out of breath and desperate. "I need you inside of me."

"I didn't bring any protection, I didn't know you were coming" He's eyes scanned your body, every ounce of self-restraint being exhibited so he didn't take you raw against the hotel room door.

"It doesn't matter, I'm on the pill remember." the acknowledgement ran through his eyes and immediately he picked you up and carried you to the room.

Placing you on the bed he moved over you, staring into his eyes as he slid his shorts off. His cock was hard and leaking pre-cum as it slapped against his stomach.

He leaned over you as you wrapped your legs around his waist aching for his cock to be inside you.

"Estoy tan feliz de que estés aquí" (I'm so happy you're here) He kissed you tenderly, his brown eyes analysing the way you gaze softened at his words.

Your hand moved to his face, cradling his cheeks as you gently kissed him, "Te amo, por supuesto que estaría aquí." (I love you, of course, I would be here).

The words seemed to be affirmation enough for him, lining his cock up with your entrance and bottoming out. You both groaned at the feeling of being perfectly filled and Carlos waited for your signal to start moving.

"Move please, Carlos." He pulled out almost entirely before slamming himself into you, causing you to cry out his name. Your hands rested on his shoulders digging in due to the restless pace he started with.

"You feel amazing, Amor. This pussy was meant for me." You cried out at his words and relentless pace, hitting deep inside you as you moaned his name over and over again.

His hand fell between your bodies his thumb finding your clit to trace light circles on. Your back arched into him, nails pulling scratches down his back that you knew would mean no shirtless tennis for the next week.

"Mierda." his forehead fell against yours, capturing your lips in a messy kiss.

He sped up the movement of his fingers on your clit, the knot in your stomach tightening with every deep thrust that hit that spot within you.

"I'm going to.." your voice trailed off as his thrust began to falter.

"Yo también cariño" (me too honey)

Carlos grabbed your hips pulling them towards him, resuming his brutal pace. The new closeness had you seeing stars and within seconds you were falling off the edge. Your nails dug into Carlos' shoulder as you cried out his name.

He fucked you through your high and as your pussy clenched around him, you felt as he shot himself inside you, his forehead falling onto your shoulder kissing you softly.

He stayed for a moment as you both caught your breath before he pulled out and lay beside you, He put his arms around you pulling him into you. Your hand trailed his face as you met his lips.

Running your hand through his hair you smiled. "te amo" (I love you)

His hand ran up your side pulling you closer into his chest, "Yo también te amo. Eres el único trofeo que necesito" (I love you too. You're the only trophy I need)

Carlos I said PLEASEEEE

Shhhh don’t discourage him

whorecaraz making an appearance. sir do you not have a priv

GREEN MONSTER || CA

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+18, MINORS DNI

summary: After a painful defeat in Doha, Carlos is less than pleased to see you cheering on his rival.

pairing: carlos alcaraz x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, p in v, oral (male and female receiving), unprotected sex (don't try this at home), teasing, edging, degradation.

a/n: Carlos losing irritated me, so you're welcome. Also, I’m going to start a tag list so if you want to be added lmk.

MASTERLIST

Carlos was pissed. From the second he left the court after losing because of a dumb mistake he was seething. Usually, he found a way to take a deep breath, calm down and find the good in every loss.

But not tonight. Usually, you would be waiting for him the second he got off the court, win or loss, ready to throw your arms around him and tell him everything was okay.

But when he emerged from the changing room looking desperately for you and the comfort you touted around with you, you were nowhere to be seen.

He turned to his coach who had the same perplexed look on his face. "¿Dónde está ella?" (Where is she?) Concern laced Carlos' tone.

You hadn't been to Doha before, and with only a few matches done, you didn't know your way around very well. Suddenly Carlos' anger was gone and replaced with worry.

"Ella estuvo aquí hace un momento." (She was here a moment ago.) Juan Carlos began looking around as if you were a racket he had misplaced rather than a person with legs and free will.

Carlos immediately reached for his phone and began texting you, but just as his thumb hovered over the send button, Juan Carlos tentatively called his name.

"Carlitos mira." (Carlitos look.) His brown eyes flitted to the screen in the hallway. Instead of seeing the match between Draper and Berrettini, like the cameras were supposed to be focused on, your face illuminated the screen.

The camera panned out slowly, you smiling widely and clapping as Draper scored a point. Then it hit Carlos. You were in Jack's box.

The worry was long forgotten as the rage returned tenfold seeing Draper smile at his box while you cheered enthusiastically.

You were supposed to be here comforting Carlos in the wake of his loss and instead, you were sat in his rival's box cheering him on.

Carlos picked up his phone again and furiously typed away on his phone. The camera had moved back to the on court action but he spotted you in the background of the shot glancing down at your phone.

Carlos: I’ll see you back at the hotel, then maybe you can explain why the fuck you’re in Draper’s box.

You glanced directly at the camera and smiled, as if you knew Carlos was starting at the tv. He let out a frustrated grunt, “vamos al hotel,” (let’s go to the hotel) Carlos called out to Juan Carlos.

When his coach gave him a questioning look the tennis player just shook his head, picking up his tennis bag and heading to the exit.

Juan Carlos let out a laugh behind the angrily stomping Spaniard.

…

Opening the hotel door your heart beat picked up its pace. You had known that you were tempting fate when Jack asked you to watch his game. You knew it was going to get worse when Jack won and Carlos lost.

When your phone had buzzed in the middle of the game you known it would be him, and the blatantly angry tone had lit your insides on fire.

Carlos was always sexy, but there was something about him when he was jealous, the glint in his eye and the way he held you.

You knew what you were doing slipping into Draper’s box and you couldn’t deny you were slightly excited at what you would face on the other side of the door.

When you walked into the hotel room, Carlos was sat on the sofa, his posture rigid as he mindlessly scrolled through his phone.

At the sound of the door closing his raised his eyebrows but didn’t turn to look at you keeping his focus on his phone where he angrily typed away.

You moved across the room putting your bag away in the bedroom along with your coat. When you returned back into the living room Carlos was watching you, his gaze waiting for your figure to appear in the doorway.

As you opened you mouth to speak, Carlos stood up, his eyes narrowing on you as his brown eyes stared you down.

“Have fun watching Jack?” His snarky tone cut through the silence.

Under his gaze you saw your options play out, you could diffuse the situation and lessen the repercussions, or…

“It was great, he has such an incredible playing style. It was quite an easy win for him really.” Carlos murmured under his breath the annoyance he felt earlier beginning to rise to the surface.

You decided to be brave, moving towards the Spaniard, closing the distance to the point where you could reach out and touch him. His soft brown eyes had sharpened, and with each step you took towards him his shoulder tensed.

"¿Crees que es mejor jugador que yo?" (D'you think he's a better player than me?) Carlos taunted, "¿Quieres sentarte en su palco como su novia para que todos puedan verte?" (Do you want to sit in his box as his girlfriend so everyone can see you?).

He reached his hand out to lift your gaze to his, his grip on your face tight but not painful. You watched as he leaned into your ear his voice low and domineering, "Answer me."

The way he spoke and held your face had you feeling lightheaded, the kind of attitude that Carlos only exhibits when he's truly pissed off. He spends so much time worshipping you usually that to have him standing over you now caused shivers to encompass your body.

"You're a better player than Jack." you whimpered, his other hand finding a tight grasp on your waist.

His hand slid from holding you by the jaw to resting on your neck, "and, do you want to be his girlfriend or mine because I guarantee he can't fuck you half as good as I can."

His words went straight to your core, and you found yourself whimpering at the thought of Carlos proving his point with you.

In the most delicate tone you could muster you nearly whispered, "I want to be yours." His eyes softened briefly before returning to their rage-filled view, the facade cracking just enough to remind you that this was your loving boyfriend standing in front of you.

"Pruébalo, ponte de rodillas." (Prove it, get on your knees). Stood in the middle of the living room you wasted no time lowering yourself to the ground, you held Carlos' gaze the entire time, fluttering your eyelashes as you looked up from the floor.

He stared patiently as your hands reached his shorts tugging them and his underwear down in one pull. He was hard, the tension of the afternoon so far visibly riling him up.

You wrapped your hand tightly around him pumping up and down, precum leaked from the tip and Carlos let out a groan as you moved forward to take him in your mouth.

Immediately his hand threaded through your hair, gripping tightly as you began to bob your head up and down. You licked a stripe from the base of him to the tip, as Spanish profanities poured from his mouth.

You took as much of him as you could in your mouth feeling him hit the back of your throat as you used your hand on the rest of him, you picked up the pace as Carlos praised you.

"Fuck this mouth was made for me and only me." Every word that left his lips hit your core harder, and you knew you were dripping as you tried to keep your attention on Carlos.

His breathing began to get shallower, and he began to direct your head with his hands. You braced your hands on his thighs and he began thrusting in and out of your mouth.

"God, you're such a good girl letting me fuck your face, would you let Jack treat you like this? huh? let him treat you like his own personal whore?"

You moaned into him at his words, as he pulled your head to his abdomen, your nose brushing the hair that you admired every time he worked out shirtless.

Your eyes watered from how deep Carlos was getting himself in your throat, his thrust faltering slightly as you could tell he was close. His moans grew and as you hollowed your cheeks around him and he came down your throat. You felt the hot spurts hit your taste buds the salty taste filling your senses.

Looking up at him you pulled away, smirking and noticeably swallowing. He groaned out of pure attraction, pulling you off your knees and into a desperate kiss.

The hunger was undeniable as his tongue found its way into your mouth, his hand gripping the back of your neck tightly. He pulled away moving to assault your neck, as his lips moved up to your ear he growled, "I'm going to fuck you with my tongue and fingers, and you aren't allowed to cum until I say so, okay?"

Your legs weakened just at the thought of Carlos between them and your mind was foggy with his lips attached to your neck. Briefly, he pulled away from his assault, eyes boring into you. "Yes?"

His demand for a response snapped you slightly from your daze a pleading tone hitting his ears, "Please Carlos."

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me." Carlos didn't hesitate to push you down onto the sofa behind you, lowering himself so he hovered over you.

His lips found yours as he roughly kissed you, trailing his lips down your neck, and to the skin on your chest not covered by your top.

His hand pulled on the bottom of your shirt and you moved slightly allowing him to pull it over your head, exposing your black lacy bra to him.

“It’s like you knew exactly where you’d end up.” One of his hands pulled at the cup of you bra allowing you to spill out of it. He roughly pulled on your sensitive nipple as you moaned at the sensation.

He attached his mouth to the top of your other breast, harshly sucking purple marks into your skin which would serve as a reminder of this moment in the days to come.

Each action drew moans from your lips as Carlos' hand trailed down from your breast down your body, his lips following eagerly after.

When he reached the waistband of your jeans he looked at you, his big brown eyes waiting for you to beg for him. His fingers rested on the buttons of your jeans and your head fell back against the sofa in frustration.

"Carlosssss." He flicked the button open, pressing a light kiss to your stomach just above the zipper,

"Dilo de nuevo." (say it again).

"What?"

"di mi nombre otra vez." (say my name again) His lips kissed your stomach again as his fingers slowly pulled down your zipper.

"Carlos." You whimpered, your hands reaching for the pillows on either side of you. He pulled down your jeans sliding them down your legs and throwing them out of sight. Met with black lacy underwear a smirk enveloped his face and he rubbed his thumb softly over the material.

"Matching underwear? Were you planning this?" You smiled briefly, but when his fingers pulled your underwear to the side and ran them through your folds you cried out. Your hands weaved their way into what small strands of hair were long enough to grab onto trying to pull him closer to you.

He laughed at your whining and the way your hips moved, desperate to feel more of his fingers against you. He paused for a moment, watching you squirm leaning forward and kissing your clit.

Your breathing deepened, the anticipation of the moment killing you. Just as you were about to beg him to touch you he thrust his finger inside you.

Loudly moaning his name as his fingers curled inside you, hitting every spot perfectly. His mouth attached to clit, his tongue trailing around it causing your legs instinctively to close around his head.

Every movement made had your hips edging close to him. He moved one of his large hands to hold your leg away, while the other hand brought you to tears.

The sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of you was a clear sign of how desperate you wanted him. Your hands tugged harder on the ends of his hair as your abdomen tightened and your back arched.

Feeling your high fighting its way towards you, Carlos added a third finger and sped up his pace. The brutal speed fogged your vision, and your legs began to shake as you teetered on the edge.

Just as you felt your high about to hit, Carlos pulled away leaving you whining in frustration.

"Fuck." Your head fell to the side, looking down at the devilish grin and brown eyes staring back at you. You were still dripping, and as your hips subconsciously moved, trying to find friction with anything Carlos rubbed his thumb over your clit.

The jolt made your legs shake and you groaned in annoyance at the Spaniard having far too much fun teasing you. "Only girls who sit in my box and mine only get to cum."

His nonchalant tone infuriated you, grabbing him by the collar of his t-shirt and pulling him over you.

"Are you going to fuck me, or am I going to have to get Jack to?" You knew you shouldn't have said it, but seeing the way his eyes darkened and the feeling of him gripping your thighs tightly made you sure you were in for the best sex of your life.

"You think he could make you feel half as good as I could?"

"Maybe I should go find out." You made a move as if you were going to get up and go find Jack. Carlos wasted no time, gripping your hips and throwing you over his shoulder. You yelped as he moved to the bedroom and threw you down on the soft sheets.

He pulled his shirt over his head with one hand, exposing his toned torso, his V-line carved into him, disappearing beneath his boxers.

You sat up, you nails trailing him his body other each ridge and dip in his body, your hand slips over his pecs and around his neck pulling him into a desperate kiss. His hand gripped the back of your neck as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

Carlos slowing moved over you while his lips moved to your neck, attacking the skin just below your ear. He pulled away from your neck and moved to pull you underwear from your legs, his hands travelling behind your back to remove your bra.

You lay bare in front of him and suddenly a wave of vulnerability engulfed you. He kissed up from you chest, to your neck and he whispered in your ears,

“Get on all fours for me.” His tone was deep and you know he was serious so you wasted no time moving so your ass was facing the Spaniard.

You head met the pillows and you felt Carlos’ rough grasp on your ass. He ran his hands over the soft skin before slapping it, jolting through your body and core.

He gave three slaps before he settled himself again you, feeling his clothed bulge against your dripping core.

One of his hands moved to slip through your folds collecting your slick with his fingers,

“You think Jack could make you this wet.” You were tired or teasing him, lying there desperate for him inside of you,

“Never, only you can Carlos. Only you.” For a moment it was silent behind you but just as you went to turn your head, Carlos entered you, bottoming out inside.

You both moaned at the feeling of him inside you, no matter how often you found yourself in this position it felt like the first time. He stayed for a moment, leaning down to kiss your shoulders.

"Carlos, please move." You tried to move your hips back against him but his hands steadied your body.

"Apuesto a que Draper no podría hacerte gemir así con sólo estar dentro de ti. Mira lo desesperada que estás." (I bet Draper couldn't make you moan like that just by being inside you. Look how desperate you are.)

You moaned at his words, your whine muffled by the pillows. You begged for him again, and this time, you felt him pull out and ram himself back into you, setting a brutal pace.

You tried to call his name, but incoherent moans were all you were capable of producing. Every thrust seemed to hit deeper inside you.

"Carlos fuck-" you managed to choke out praise as he railed into you, his hand making contact with your ass cheek again. You gasped at the contact, making your core grow wetter.

After teasing you before, it didn't take long before you were nearing the edge, at which point your whines turned into incessant begs for him to let you cum.

Unfortunately, the Spaniard had other plans, pulling out of you and leaving your core clenching around the air. You whimpered, gripping the sheets beside you in frustration before hitting your hand against the pillow.

Carlos flipped you over so he was on top and immediately lined himself up with your entrance again. You tried to move your hips allowing for any friction but it was pointless.

He kissed you roughly then smirked, "Si quieres correrte, será mejor que gimas mi nombre en voz alta, Draper está en la habitación de al lado." (If you want to cum, you better moan my name out loud, Draper is in the next room.)

Suddenly your heart stopped as you saw the shit-eating grin on his face. You may have known what would happen if you went to Draper's box but Carlos had put just as much thought into the payback.

He thrust inside of you again, your legs wrapped around his waist and your hand met his shoulder blade digging your nails into it as he returned to his harsh pace.

You did as he asked and moaned his name loudly with each thrust, his lips finding your neck and attacking it as he focused on how deep he could thrust inside you.

The room was filled with the sound of your moans and the sound of him moving in and out of you, Carlos groaning about how good you felt around him as he picked up his pace.

He moved your legs so they rested on his shoulders and the angle change was earth-shattering, your moans turned to incoherent screams, and his thumb found your clit which had your mind going foggy.

"Fuck Carlos, I'm so close." You cried out, begging that he would actually let you tumble off the cliff you were so nearing the edge of.

"Correte para mi" (cum for me). His words pushed you over the edge, seeing stars as your vision went white and you screamed the Spaniard's name while you came around him.

He fucked you through your high and as you clenched around him his thrusts began to falter and he came inside you groaning. His head fell to the crook of his neck, your legs falling from his shoulders and his arms held up his body.

"Fuck." he grunted into your neck. You took deep breaths as your hand snuck into his hair nails scraping along the bottom of his scalp.

After a moment he pulled out of you and lay beside you. His hand reached your face, thumb caressing your cheek gently. He brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes as he gazed lovingly at you.

"Espero no haber sido demasiado duro." (I hope I wasn't too harsh.) His angry tone from earlier was gone and replaced with the gentle voice you loved so much.

"If I knew you'd fuck me like that I would've sat in Jack's box months ago." Carlos groaned and you laughed, enjoying the moment of peace and laughing at the Spaniard's jealously.

"Jack me va a matar" (Jack is going to kill me) the Spaniard chuckled, leaning across the bed to pick up his phone. He returned to his spot next to you, one hand caressing your hip while the other showed you his phone.

Jack: Bro come on? Could you two be any louder?

Carlos let out a hearty laugh and you covered your face with embarrassment. Jack was a good friend of you both and knowing that he had heard everything that had just happened was not something you wanted to think about.

Carlos moved your hands out of your face, holding your cheek and pulling you in to kiss you. His gentle kiss was the opposite of his early mood but he smiled as he pulled away.

"Eres mia" (You're mine), you pecked his lips softly, looking into the brown eyes you loved so much.

"Yours."

Okay ate ✋🏻🙂‍↕️

Breaking point 𐙚

Carlos Alcaraz x Reader

nsfw [18+] warnings! oral (f receiving), dirty talk

summary, the sun isn’t the only thing burning on the court. After a frustrating practice session, you hit your breaking point, the pain, pressure, and expectations all threatening to undo you. But Carlos is right there, steady and unshakable, reminding you what it means to let someone in, and what it feels like when someone really wants you, both on and off the court.

The sun is ruthless on the practice courts, baking the green turf to a near shine, making the sweat cling to your skin. You toss the ball into the air, twist, and send your serve spiralling—

Right into the net.

Again.

“Fuck!” you curse, the racquet cracking against the ground louder than you intended. Your shoulder aches, the pain dull at first, but angry now after an hour of pushing too hard. The brace beneath your shirt is too tight. Your patience is gone.

From across the net, Carlos watches you silently. You can feel his eyes like heat on the back of your neck, calm and steady, as if he’s waiting for you to implode. Maybe you are.

“Let’s take five,” he says gently, grabbing a towel and walking to the bench.

“I don’t want five,” you snap, grabbing another ball. “I need to get this right. I'm not gonna be the dead weight on court just because my fucking shoulder doesn't—”

The next serve is even worse, the pain flashing white-hot this time, sharp enough that your knees buckle slightly. You breathe in through your nose, trying to will the sting away.

“Hey.” His voice is closer now. Too close.

You didn’t hear him walk over, but Carlos is standing just behind you, towel slung around his neck, shirt dark with sweat. “You’re pushing it.”

“Don’t do that,” you mutter.

“Do what?”

“Treat me like I’m fragile.”

“You’re not fragile.” He sounds too calm. Too understanding. “You’re pissed off. And hurting. I get it.”

“No, you don’t,” you spit, turning around too fast, shoulder flaring again. You regret it instantly, biting back tears. “You’re Carlos fucking Alcaraz. Golden boy. You don't get injured. You don't lose your rhythm. You don't get benched and watch everything you've built fall apart.” You let out a groan, fingers pulling at your hair tie. “I’m not letting you down after you’ve risked a lot just to do this for me.”

His brows pinch just slightly, dark eyes scanning your face, your shaking hands. He steps forward carefully. “You think that’s why I’m here? You think I’m doing you a favour?”

You don’t answer. The lump in your throat is thick and ugly, and it’s all too much, the sun, the pain, the eyes on you, his eyes, kind and searching and infuriating.

“I just—” Your voice breaks. “I used to be good. I used to be great. And now I can’t even fucking serve.”

Carlos nods slowly. “Okay. Come here.”

You shake your head. “Carlos, I don’t—”

But his hands are on your waist before you can protest, firm but gentle as he guides you off the court. You resist at first, pushing his chest, but he doesn’t let go.

“Stop fighting me,” he murmurs. “Just let me take care of you.”

That’s when the tears come. Silent at first, then harder. You crumple against him, his chest warm and damp under your hands, arms wrapping around your back like he was built for this, for holding you up when everything else is falling apart.

He says nothing, just rubs slow circles into your spine as your frustration breaks open between you.

Minutes pass like that.

“Fuck,” you whisper into his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he replies, fingers in your hair now, brushing it back. “You’re allowed to break sometimes.”

You pull back to look at him, cheeks flushed and wet. His gaze drops to your lips, then your shoulder.

“You need to rest that,” he says.

You nod, but don’t move.

“You’re always so calm,” you say quietly. “How?”

“I’m not. I’m just good at hiding it.”

A beat.

Then another.

And then you say it, the thing that’s been there since the first time he agreed to partner with you. “Why did you say yes?”

His eyes flicker. “Because I wanted to.”

“You didn’t have to. You’re Carlos Alcaraz. You could’ve—”

“I wanted you,” he interrupts, voice lower now, rougher. “Not just as a partner.”

Your breath catches.

The heat between you shifts, subtle but unmistakable. His hand is still at your lower back. Your palm is flat against his chest. The sun is hot, but his eyes are hotter, burning into you like a match.

“Carlos—”

“You drive me crazy,” he says, almost like it’s a confession. “Even when you’re pissed off and yelling at yourself. Especially then.”

Your heart is hammering now. “This is a bad idea.”

“Probably,” he murmurs. “But I don’t care.”

And then he kisses you.

You taste salt on his lips, but the sound he makes, a low groan when your teeth graze his bottom lip, makes your knees weak. Carlos presses into you, all lean muscle and burning skin, his hand sliding up the back of your shirt to splay against your spine.

“God, I’ve wanted to do this for weeks,” he mutters into your mouth.

“You should’ve,” you whisper, tugging his shirt up and over his head in one rough pull.

Your palms roam his torso, golden, taut, slick with sweat, and he hisses when your nails scrape lightly over his abs. His hands are greedy now, cupping your ass through your shorts, pressing you flush against the hard line of his arousal.

The fence scrapes along your back, but you don’t care. Not with him kissing you like this, hungry, desperate, like he needs you to breathe.

“I want to taste you,” he says suddenly, voice wrecked. “Let me.”

You nod, too breathless to speak, and he sinks to his knees, worshipping you, his hands hooked in your waistband.

He peels your shorts and underwear down slowly, eyes flicking up to watch your reaction as he exposes you inch by inch. He presses a kiss to your hipbone, then your inner thigh, then lower still, until his mouth is hovering right where you need him.

And then his tongue is on you, warm, slow, deliberate. He starts with lazy licks, teasing your folds, before his mouth finds your clit and sucks gently, then harder, his hands keeping your thighs spread.

Your fingers knot into his hair. “Carlos…”

“Mmm?” he hums against you, eyes gleaming with something wicked.

“Don’t stop.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

His tongue is expert, unhurried but thorough, licking and sucking in all the right places until you’re gasping his name, your hands in his hair, body arching toward every touch.

He flattens his tongue, dragging it through your folds, then circles your clit with infuriating precision. One hand leaves your thigh to slide between your legs, and his fingers, long, talented, and confident, tease your entrance before slipping in.

You cry out, back arching, and he moans softly at the sound.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs, voice low and full of awe. “So fucking perfect.”

He crooks his fingers just right, stroking deep and slow while his mouth never relents. It’s too much, too good, too intense; your legs are trembling, and your body spirals toward the edge fast.

“Carlos—I’m gonna—”

“Come for me,” he says, voice dark and commanding, and then he sucks your clit just right and you shatter.

Your orgasm hits like a wave, crashing over you with enough force to make your vision blur. Your hips stutter against his mouth, and he keeps going through every last aftershock, kissing you gently now, soothing you down.

When he stands again, his lips are slick, eyes blown wide, chest heaving like he’s the one who just came.