Are These Tennis Kids Good Or The Top 10 Players Shit

WIDE AWAKE || CA

summary: Carlos Alcaraz survived a gruelling five-setter to win his second Roland Garros title, he should be exhausted, but suddenly he has more energy and a few ideas on how to celebrate.

warning: smut, diabolical smut, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

a/n: He won. From two sets down. Three championship points saved. I've never been so in love. So a gift to everyone...Carlos x Roland Garros smut

Your hands were shaking. The heat in Paris had quickly faded with the afternoon, instead making way for a gruelling chill which left everyone around you to put on layers and pull out blankets.

But you were sweating. Every nerve ending over your body was alight, and every serve, rally and drop shot had you catching your breath.

Carlos was losing. The first set had been slow, but it was a decisive win from Jannik. The second, Carlos clawed back. No doubt the state that he'd never won from two sets down racing through his mind.

But it wasn't enough. After a painful tie-break, Jannik took the second set and Carlos was looking at a long and hard fight to taking back to back Roland Garros titles.

You were sat behind Juan Carlos, next to his parents. This was only your second slam, sat in Carlos' box, but it was your first final. Carlos glanced over between points, a quiet 'vamos' leaving his lips with each point won and soft murmurs to himself when he conceded.

You tried to conceal the diabolical nerves on your face throughout the match, putting on a beaming smile every time you caught your boyfriend's eye.

Then he won a set. The dream was alive again, and you watched as the energy shifted in the box. Juan Carlos sat up and alongside his parents you stood and cheered when hit the winner in the third set. But it was far from over.

Three championship points. Jannik had three championship points standing between him and a first Roland Garros title. But Carlos wasn't ready to give up.

Your chest was tight, the silence in the arena was suffocating. You were scared even to breath.

One championship point saved.

A sigh of relief, and cheers from the crowd.

A second championship point saved.

Waves of Carlos' name flooded the air, a soft grin making its way onto your face.

A third championship point saved.

He lived. The entire audience erupted, and you couldn't help but join them. On your feet, clapping for your boyfriend as if it would push him to the end of the match.

He looked up and grinned, his smile sending flutters to your stomach. He could do it, He nodded with his arm up and you both knew, this was his game now.

It wasn't easy from there, far from it. Dragging the final set to a tie-break.

A mini break. Carlos' mum grabbed your hand, her gaze a silent support as you both held your breath.

Carlos moved across the court like it was subconscious, like it would be more unnatural for him to stand still than hitting shots other players could only dream of.

9-2

You whispered prayers to gods you didn't believe in as Carlos dove on the court, reaching the ball like it was oxygen.

10-2. The crowd erupted and Carlos fell to the floor. Five and a half hours. Doing what the Spaniard had never done before, coming from two sets down to win his fifth grand slam title.

You jumped to your feet, immediately wrapped in the arms of his parents and brothers, jumping up and down as if it was you who had won the title.

You turned back to the court, Carlos eyes gleaming at his box, the smile on his face so large it looked like it might tear his cheeks.

Your hands covered your mouth, laughing with disbelief at the match you'd just watch, and only as your hands grazed your cheeks did you notice you'd been crying.

Tears were streaming down your face, blurring the sight of your boyfriend disappearing into the tunnel to come see his family. To come see you.

The second he emerged, Juan Carlos had him in his arms, your boyfriend folding into his coach as they jumped, both men unable to hide just how much this meant to them.

Carlos fell from JC's arms and turned to his family and team, each member being wrapped in a hug. Then his gaze set on you.

Your tears were still falling when his arms fell around your waist, lifting you into his arms. Your hands cupped his face, pressing your forehead to his. "You did it. My god, you really did it."

He captured your lips in a suffocating kiss, his arms lowering you to the ground to find purchase on your neck. True to Carlos, his tongue slipped against yours, deepening the kiss and pulling a groan from both you and the Spaniard.

The crowed yelled around you, and you pulled away reluctantly from Carlos, a smile still stuck on your face. Just as you went to pull away from the Spaniard, he seized your lips for one final kiss. "Te amo" [I love you]

Carlos lasted half a millisecond once he stepped away from you before he was swarmed by his friends and family, all taking their turn in ruffling his hair and wrapping him in their arms.

You watched as he went back to the court, gazed with nothing but unadulterated love as you watched his hold the trophy.

Time blurred as Carlos was dragged from interview to interview, the smile on his face undeniable. Carlos' family and team joined Carlos on court for photos, the hugs still being shared and tears in his mums eyes.

You hung back, letting them soak in the moment, taking photos you know Carlos would enjoy seeing later.

When the photos were finally over, the Spaniard bounded over to you, his hands planting themselves on either side of your face as he pulled your lips to his.

You couldn't help but giggle at your boyfriend, his lips leaving yours as he peppered kisses aggressively all over your face.

"Carlos!" You laughed, pushing away the Spaniard's puckered lips, his face immediately switched to an overly dramatic frown,

"No puedes ser malo conmigo, gané." [You can't be mean to me, I won]

"This is not mean, we have plenty of time to celebrate," Your hand slipped into his hair at the back of the neck, pressing a light kiss to his cheek, "later...in our hotel room."

You pulled away to catch the glint of something cheeky in Carlos eyes, He shook his head with a smirk on his face.

"You'll be the death of me, Mi amor." His arm slinked around your waist, the heat from the match radiating from the six-foot tennis player.

But the club was calling and Carlos Alcaraz was ready to party.

...

Getting Carlos out of the hotel room and keeping his hands off you was near impossible, his lips meeting your neck, trailing down your shoulder as you put in your earrings.

"Carlos, everyone is waiting for you. We have all night." He groaned into your shoulder, his hips firm against yours, tempting you to fall back into his grasp.

"And if I want to spend all night right here?" His hand slipped between your thighs, the skirt you'd opted for doing nothing to stop his attempt to convince you to spend the foreseeable future in bed.

His fingers moved softly over your underwear, your head fell back against Carlos chest as a soft groan falling from your lips. Just as you were finding your self-control slipping, pushing your hips back against the Spaniard, a knock came at the door.

"Carlitos, Vamos!" [Carlitos, let's go] The familiar tone of Carlos' coach coming from the other side of the door. Carlos groaned, his hand falling from your thighs and finding your arm.

"Joder." [Fuck.] He pressed a kiss to your neck, a silent promise to continue what he started, "en nuestro camino!" [On our way!]

He pulled away from you, a shiver flooding through you at the loss of his body heat. He slipped on his trainers, and you slipped on your kitten heels.

Carlos slipped his hand in with yours, pressing his lips to your forehead and pulling him with you out of the hotel door.

...

The restaurant was packed, the private room filled to the brim with Carlos' friends and family for the second year in a row. The atmosphere was buzzing, and you knew from the moment stepping into the room, it was going to be a long night.

The champagne flowed and music blasted through the speakers as the room had shifted from a celebration room to a makeshift club. Carlos' laugh flooded the room, somehow cutting through the rest of the noise.

You'd be enjoying the music, swaying with some of your friends who had joined you on the trip when you felt heavy hands on your hips, Carlos pulling your hips against his as he moved your hips against his.

You looked back, your eyes catching his, the alcohol fuelled haze left a lopsided grin on the Spaniard's face as his arms slipped under your shirt, his warm hands sliding across your stomach.

You turned in his arms, smiling as the Spaniard immediately pulled you into a messy kiss. Your hands fell to his neck as his hands found purchase on your ass, deepening the kiss as you threaded your fingers through his hair and pulled.

For the first time that day, it felt like it was just the two of you, despite being in a packed room. His lips trailed from your cheeks to your ear, each kiss setting your skin alight.

His teeth grazed the spot below your ear, which had you tightening your grip around his hair and a soft groan falling from your lips.

Carlos tightened his grip, pulling you closer into his body, and whispered in your ear, "Nadie se daría cuenta si desapareciéramos." [No one would notice if we disappeared]

You let your head fall onto Carlos' shoulder, pressing a kiss to his neck. "This is your celebration, I think they'd miss you."

Carlos grinned, the type of smile that had your stomach fluttering and your thighs clenching out of instinct. His hands, pressed against your skin, travelled up your torso, his thumb brushing the lace edge of the bra you'd slipped on.

"Quiero probar esa teoría," [I want to test that theory] He grabbed you in a bruising kiss, whispering in your ear, "Nos vemos en cinco minutos." [See you in five minutes]

His hand tapped your ass as he pulled away, disappearing into the crowd in what you could only assume was the direction of the bathroom.

Your heart was pounding, the feeling of his hands on your skin burning into you. It wouldn't be the first time Carlos and you had disappeared into a bathroom for a few moments of peace. But it would be the first time next to a room of people celebrating him.

However, you couldnt find it in yourself to stop yourself from moving in the direction of the bathroom, waving off your friends and focusing your mind on the image of Carlos on his knees looking up at you with those big brown eyes.

Not even four minutes later you pushed open the bathroom door, the sight of Carlos leaning up against the sink bringing a grin to your face.

You twisted the lock, and immediately as the click sounded Carlos made a move towards you. His hands reached for your face immediately, kissing you like a man starved.

Your hands slid around his neck and that was all the Spaniard needed, he pulled away, his lips trailing down your neck, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin drawing a whine from you.

His hands slid down yours body finding purchase on your ass and lifting you onto the counter. He wasted no time pushing your skirt up your thighs exposing you lacy underwear that had Carlos swearing under his breath.

"Joder," [fuck] his hands slip up yours thighs, lips meeting the soft skin previous covered by the skirt. He brought his lips back to yours the desperate kiss sending shivers down your spine.

Carlos' hand slipped between your thighs, tracing his fingers softly over your core. "Please Charlie." You whined, his touch bringing out a new kind of desperation.

"What do you want, mi amor?" Your head fell back against the mirror as carlos moved your underwear to the side running his finger through your folds.

"Your hands, please Carlos." As if your words were confirmation his fingers dove into you, curling at the perfect angle.

Your arms shot out bracing themselves on the Spaniards shoulders, gripping his shirt as his fingers moved at a pace which had you back arched and your vision blurring.

"Thought about this since the second I won. How good you'd look falling apart on my fingers, tongue and cock."

You moaned, the words the spaniard uttered going straight to your core. His forehead rested against yours, messingly kissing your boyfriend as his thumb moved lazy circles on your clit.

Every thrust of his fingers pushed you closer to the edge. Carlos added another finger diving deeper with each thrust and capturing your lips between each movement.

The stretch was perfect but nothing compared to how Carlos felt. He sped up his movement over your clit, your moans rising with each brush as you teetered towards the edge.

"Please Carlos, I'm so close." Your begging met with Carlos' fingers curling and hitting the perfect spot.

Carlos attacked your neck with kisses, no doubt leaving marks across them which would result in a turtleneck in the coming days. But he groaned into your ear, "You're going to cum on my fingers like a good girl and then im going to fuck you in this mirror."

His words pushed you over the edge, his name falling from you lips like a prayer as your legs shook around his waist and your vision went white.

Carlos continued moving his fingers through your high, letting your head fall to his chest as sighs racked through your chest as you came down.

But there was no time to recover has Carlos lifted you off the counter, spinning you round to face the wall of mirrors over the sinks.

Carlos stood behind you his hands immediately getting to work on moving your skirt futher out of the way and getting his trousers out of the way.

He kissed your back, "Eres hermosa," [You're beautiful] You turned your head to catch Carlos' lips the angle awkward but worth it. You pushed your hips against Carlos begging for the Spaniard to do something.

"Carlos please, don't tease me." The Spaniard laughed behind you, Lining himself up against you. You whined, and Carlos took the words to heart, pushing into you with one swift thrust.

His forhead fell to your back as you moaned at the feeling of him deep inside you. Carlos allowed you to adjust for a moment before he began moving at a blistering pace.

"Oh fuck, Carlos please." Your begging only incentivised the Spaniard, his hand making harsh contact with your ass, a yelp drawn from you.

"Dios, te sientes tan bien. Podría morir feliz enterrado dentro de ti así." [God, you feel so good. I could die happy buried inside you like this.] Each word egged you on, your stomach pushing against the counter.

The Spaniards hand gropped at your chest, every touch adding to the overwhleming stimulation throughout your body.

Carlos ploughed desperately into you like his life depended on it. Your moans reaching a volume which threatened to draw attention to you.

"Need you to be quiet, mi amor. We don't want JC interupting us." The thought of Carlos' coach catching you like this, bent over a counter being detroy by his star player ignited something in you.

Carlos' hand fell around your mouth, the only way to lower your volume as every thrust seemed to hit deeper inside you.

Carlos' other hand slipped over your stomach tracing tight circles on your clit which had you quickly seeing stars.

"Carlos, shit, fuck, I'm so close." Carlos took your words as a challenge, speed up his thrusts.

"Joder, me too," His hand left your mouth and lifting your chin and gaze to the two of you in the mirror, "I want to see you when you cum."

His words sent a rush to your core, the band that was already so tight, tightening even further.

You watched carlos' brown eyes, His hair tousled and his grunts going straight to your core.

He moved his fingers over your clit faster and you grasped the Spaniard's arm, a warning through your helpless moans that you couldn't hold on much longer.

"Cum for me." His voice was desperate and rugged, and with it you fell over the edge, your second orgasm racking through your body, you hands falling to the counter you body following suit.

You felt Carlos stutter behind you his thrusts faltering as he finished inside you, his hands finding your hips to steady himself as he groaned against your shoulder.

You stayed just like that for a moment, fucked out and in each other's company. Carlos refused to pull away instead grabbing your face to connect your lips. "You're better than any trophy."

He pulled out from you both whining at the loss of contact. He fixed his appearance and fixed your skirt, spinning you back round to face him.

His hands slipped into your now messy hair, a smile beaming on his face.

He may have won Roland Garros but he also won something far more important.

————————————————————————

masterlist

Masterlist <3

Writing about tennis players mostly :)

Carlos Alcaraz

Not your girlfriend: pt.1, pt.2 angst, fluff

Winning Feeling: smut, fluff

Green Monster: smut

The Deal: pt.1, pt.2, pt.3 fluff, angst, smut (eventually)

Always There: fluff, slight angst

Wide Awake: smut, fluff

Jannik Sinner

Tough times: angst, fluff

Any suggestions go ahead :)

Need this performance in the finals please 🫡

baby goat 🐐

Straight sets please Carlos 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

carlos alcaraz indoor hard court son or iga swiatek grass court daughter

watching 3 hours of tense tennis just for your favorite to lose has to be one of the most frustrating and infuriating experiences for a sports fan

Guys the urge to write a soppy Jannik fic after this ban is so strong…

I’ve started writing this carlos x pr manager fic and it has become enemies to lovers and I’m thinking it might also become a series……thoughts?

How are you holding up after IW CUZ FOR THE LIFE OF ME I CANNOT

I truly believed we were so back, his form through most of IW was soooo good.

The draper game was actually embarrassing. That first set had me actually in shock. Like Carlos I love you but WHAT WAS THAT!!

But everyone has off days I want to believe that this is all this was. that’s MY bozo you know 😞 so we’ll get them next time?