Thoughts On Carlos Fic About Him Getting A PR Manager…

are these tennis kids good or the top 10 players shit

Carlos not being a bozo challenge (impossible)

NOVIO? || CA

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+18, MINORS DNI

summary: during an argument with carlos you let your feelings speak for you.

pairing: carlos alcaraz x fem!reader

warnings: smut smut smut smut, fingering, dirty talking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), p in v, jealous carlos (not toxic), lots of spanish, use of y/n (literally once).

a/n: first ever carlos smut for my tennis girls out there, i hope you enjoy it 💐

feedback is always appreciated!

MASTERLIST

do not copy/repost/translate my work anywhere.

"why are you so upset, carlos?", you ran your hands through your hair to take it out of your face, exasperation taking over you.

"oh, i don't know", he looked up pretending to think, "maybe the fact that you were so smiley and touchy with ben in front of the cameras"

"we were not being touchy", you sighed, "we were just talking and we didn't know we were being recorded"

for context: you bumped into ben shelton in the hallway right before he stepped into court to play against carlos. you've known ben for years and you haven't seen him in a while, so you had a small conversation. the thing is, you weren’t aware of the cameras around you, recording your every move and projecting them on the giant screen at the central court.

and there was carlos, his eyes locked on the screen, watching everything unfold right before him. he felt stupid, to say the least. every single person in that stadium saw you chatting happily with his opponent instead of being in his box, as you should be.

"pues parecía que estabais coqueteando" [well, it looked like you were flirting], he said and headed into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

you could hear the shower running as you sat on the edge of the bed and let yourself fall back on the mattress. you knew carlos enough to know that he always used the shower as a way to cope with his stress, so you didn't interrupt him.

minutes later, carlos came out of the shower. a white towel wrapped around his waist and a few droplets of water sliding down his abs. fucking tease.

"can you just admit that you are jealous once and for all so we can go to dinner in peace?", you said and stood up again, resting your hands on your waist, waiting for his response.

"claro" [of course] he turned around to pick up a hoodie and sweatpants from his suitcase, his back facing you, "cuando admitas que le permitiste coquetear contigo" [when you admit that you allowed him to flirt with you]. of course. silly you, thinking he would let it go so easily.

"¿qué querías que hiciera, carlos?" [what did you want me to do, carlos?], you rolled your eyes, clearly annoyed. this conversation was going nowhere, and to be honest, you were getting tired of it.

"i couldn't just tell him to back off because my boyfriend would be jealous and-"

you stopped abruptly. shit. shit. shit. you should not have said that. carlos quickly looked at you, a smirk appearing in his face.

"novio? no sabía que era tu novio, cariño" [boyfriend? i didn't know i was your boyfriend, baby], he walked closer and closer with each word. "do you have feelings for me?"

and he wasn't, you were just friends. friends that started kissing occasionally, and then the kissing led to touching and then the touching led to fucking. did you have feelings for him? obviously. were you planning on telling him and risking what you had if he didn't feel the same way? fuck no.

his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer to him, his toned chest against yours. "responde, y/n. do you have feelings for me?" [answer, y/n]

his breath fanned over your neck and you could feel his fingers slowly sliding underneath your shirt, making contact with your skin. you gulped and nodded, accepeting your faith. "si carlos, pero entiendo si tú no-" [yes carlos, but i understand if you don't-]

you were interrupted by his lips before you could finish the sentence. this kiss was different to the ones you shared before, it was softer, sweeter, but still passionate and sexy. his hands moved from your waist to your ass and yours flew to the back of his head.

carlos broke the kiss a few minutes later and looked into your eyes. "te mostraré lo que siento por ti justo ahora" [i'll show you how i feel for you right now] you his lips brushed your ear, making you shiver.

"and you better be loud, girlfriend, ben's room is next door"

you didn't even have time to process what he said, his scent and his lips blurring your judgement. your hands where everywhere, and so where your clothes. your underwear being the only garment covering your bodies.

he softly pushed you to the bed, laying on top of you. "no tienes idea de cuánto tiempo he estado esperando este momento" [you have no idea how long i've been waiting for this moment], he whispered in your ear as his hand travelled down your figure and into your thong. two of his long fingers entered you without a warning, a loud whimper escaping your mouth. "joder, estás tan mojada para mi" [fuck, you are so wet for me]

"carlos", you moaned as your nails digged into his shoulders. his smirk grew wider, it wasn't the first time he heard you moaning his name, but it was the first time since you confessed your feelings to him and that made it different, special.

"carlos, please", you begged as his thumb traced circles in your clit. you could feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh and it was all too much. but you weren't going to let the pleasure overtake you, you needed to get him to admit that he was jealous.

"please what amor?", he asked confidently.

"please..", you were out of breath, "admit that you were jealous". his eyes snapped up to look at you, a small smile creeping up your face.

his movement stopped and he stood up. you got worried for a second, did you kill the mood with your little joke?

but then he smirked again, all your worries flying out of your mind.

carlos took off his boxers. his member sprung up hitting his abs, his tip shining with pre cum. "quieres saber la verdad?" [do you want to know the truth], you nodded eagerly, both for him to speak and for him to come back on top of you.

"si..." [yes], he simply said while repositioning on top of you. his tip teased your entrance and you bit your lip, desperate for more. "estaba celoso de verte con él, ¿contenta?. pero ya no importa, porque ahora todos sabrán que eres mía. incluido él" [i was jealous to see you with him, happy? but it doesn't matter anymore, because now everyone will know you are mine. including him]

he thrusted into you slowly, letting you adjust to his size for a few seconds, before moving again. "now do me a favor, amor, let him know who you belong to. let him hear how good i make you feel"

he did not have to tell you twice. you couldn't hold your moans and whimpers even if you wanted to, everything he did felt so good it was almost impossible to control yourself. your back arched towards him, your breasts colliding with his chest as he held you tight.

"oh fuck, carlos, you are going to make me cum", you said, rather loudly. it wouldn't take long for him to cum either, you knew his body like the back of your hand at this point. his panting, his moaning and the intensity of hia thrusts gave it away.

"fuck, fuck, fuck", you were almost screaming. would you be embarrassed later? probably, but you couldn't care any less right now. his tip was brushing against the most sensitive spot inside you, and you couldn't resist it anymore.

"do it, cum for me baby", he thrusted harder a few more times and then it happened. a wave of pleasure washed over you, making you clench around him tightly, his name falling from your lips again and again.

"joder amor, me vuelves loco" [fuck love, you make me crazy]

those were his last words before he hit his orgasm, spilling completely inside of you and falling slowly on top of you.

carlos pulled out once both of your breathings went back to normal, and rested beside you. his bright eyes looked into yours for a second, then he leaned down and kissed you softly again.

"así que, ¿novio y novia?" [so, boyfriend and girlfriend?], he asked for confirmation.

"si, novio y novia suena bien" [yes, boyfriend and girlfriend sounds good], you answered, smiling sweetly.

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THE DEAL || CA

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part 1 of ??

summary: Carlos hated having a PR manager especially one who was his age. Convincing her to leave was the best plan he'd ever had, but what happens when he realises he doesn't want her to go when it's too?

pairing: carlos alcaraz x fem!reader

warnings: enemies to lovers, kind of asshole Carlos

a/n: this is going to be a series, I’m excited about it!! Let me know what you guys think and if you want to be on the taglist!

MASTERLIST

Being Carlos Alcaraz's PR manager was not for the weak. The job description seemed like it would be a breeze and when your boss had suggested switching F1 drivers for tennis players you really believed you’d be getting the quieter deal.

You’d occasionally watched tennis and it seemed the biggest issue you’d face was a broken racquet.

Carlos should’ve been even easier, he didn’t have a girlfriend and never seemed to be pictured with any women so the most frustrating part of the job was gone.

But Carlos didn’t want a PR manager. He certainly didn’t want a PR manager that was his age telling him what to do and how to act.

The first time you met you thought you’d caught him on a bad day not recognising the cold brown eyes stare watching you.

You’d prepared for your job, watching interviews and clips of Carlos before you started and the arms crossed man that soon in front of you was not the ball of sunshine from the videos you’d seen.

You had to admit you’d been looking forward to the job at first, a funny, charismatic, attractive tennis player should’ve been fun. You’d seen the way Carlos treated him like family and you were expecting the same attitude.

But quickly things turned. You’d watch training frequently, observing from the sidelines picking up the terms and technical parts of his game for notes and interviews.

Carlos would be laughing with Juan Carlos or his brother or one of the other members of his team when his eyes would meet yours.

In a second his eyes would go from lighting up to narrowing in on you, his laugh disappearing and posture going rigid.

At first, it was manageable, your job could mostly be done from a distance and you could deal with hardened stares.

You thought it would be temporary, that once he realised you were here to stay you’d finally get to meet the Carlos everyone else did.

But it seemed with every interaction his facade grew. A team dinner after Turin you just so happened to be on the furthest end of the table, and while Carlos took the time to talk to his entire team you found yourself left out of the conversation.

Juan Carlos spent months reassuring you that Carlos would get over it but the winter break was ending and with a new season on the horizon you didn’t know how much more you could take.

You were starting to get exhausted by Carlos constantly making your life more difficult.

You were missing deadlines because he wouldn’t give you answers to questions, doing damage control when he posted near nudes on the internet and made sure reporters didn’t piss him off with dumb questions.

Every week that went by you slowly lost the confident attitude the team had got used to seeing, quietly sat in the corner working away rather that trying to involved.

Juan Carlos had noticed the shift in demeanour but he feared there wasn’t much he could do. It was between you and Carlos to figure out.

...

It was the weekend before the Australian Open when you were ready to snap.

The time difference was rough, with your eyelids feeling heavy but sleep escaping you. You sat surrounded by work that you needed to done, while your room called your name.

The day had already been too long, landing in Australia at seemingly the crack of dawn when you realised your bags hadn’t made it to Australia with you.

You’d spent three hours arguing with airport staff when you decided to give up and hope they found their way to the hotel.

You went straight to watching Carlos train, taking media photos and organising some content for the day. That in itself was excruciating as everything you asked him to do took ten times longer than it should’ve.

But now you were sat in your hotel, tired and drained and desperately needing a change of clothes.

You were trying to organise Carlos' media plan for the first week of the tournament, but trying to get him to respond to any of your messages was infuriating.

You needed his answers to the pre-planned questions so you could check them over and give him some nice talking points about off-season but every time you checked your messages you were met with 'delivered'.

It wasn't late, but the jetlag was beginning to hit you which was feeding into your anger. Every second that Carlos ignored your messages was a second you were missing sleep.

Just as you were ready to give up assuming he’d gone to sleep, you received a notification that he’d posted on his Instagram story. That was your last straw.

You audibly groaned, slamming your laptop shut and storming out of your room with it under your arm. You marched yourself to the elevator angrily tapping your foot as the elevator seemed to move at the slowest pace ever.

The ding echoed in your brain, and as you stepped out you were hit with a new wave of anger. You heard his dumb laugh echoing through the walls. This dumb, annoying, stupid tennis player was laughing while you had been begging for him to respond to a simple message.

You stormed down the hall, your chest angrily pounding. You were at the end of your tether. You were so tired of dealing with this man baby.

It had been months of being ignored, ostracised and treated like you had some kind of contagious disease and you were over it.

You stood before his door and knocked repeatedly. You heard him call out that he was coming and you prepared yourself to greet him.

The door swung open, a cheesy grin on his face as he turned see who was at the door. The second he clocked you it faded and was replaced with a nonchalant stare.

He opened his mouth no doubt to ask why you were here but you pushed past him into the hotel room. Juan Carlos and a few other members of the team were in the room and immediately as they saw you they went silent.

"if you wouldn't mind. Alcaraz and I need to get some work done and clearly, he can't handle any distractions." A few of the guys snickered and they didn’t waste any time standing up and heading for the door.

You heard Juan Carlos wish the Spaniard luck as he walked past. Laughing as he patted him on the back. The door closed and Carlos scoffed as you situated yourself on his sofa.

"¿Qué carajo?" (What the fuck?) The Spaniard's tone made you laugh, a dry, fed-up kind of laugh.

"What the fuck indeed. Sit down, shut up and only talk when I tell you to." He looked at you utterly bewildered.

"You know you're supposed to work for me? not the other way around." God you wanted to kill him. You stood up angrily turning to face him with fire in your eyes.

"Funnily enough, that is what I'm trying to do. That is what I have been trying to do for months but for some reason you want to make that as hard as humanly possible for me. Frankly, I'm fed up so sit the fuck down. please."

"No." He stood his ground and crossed his arms as you really considered attacking him.

"I'm sorry what?"

"I don't want to." He turned to head to the small kitchenette, turning on the coffee machine that sent an infuriating buzz throughout the room.

“I don’t want to be stood here, but because you can’t answer a simple text, I am. So please let me do my goddamn job for once.” He scoffed, and leaning against the counter,

“Maybe I didn’t answer your text because I don’t want to answer the questions, ever thought about that?” His stupid grin made you want to throttle him.

"Well Carlos Alcaraz, the almighty. Unfortunately for you I need those answers so how do I get you to sit there and answer these dumb questions." your sarcasm permeated the room.

He paused for a moment, a slight hesitation as he reached for the mug on the side. He turned slowly to face you, a look of pure genius on his face.

"Quit." He moved around the counter calmly, standing in front of you. You hadn’t been this close to the Spaniard since the day you met him.

The invisible 3 feet rule seemingly being implemented by him after the first day.

"What?" Your confusion clearly entertained him as he smiled an evil, sort of confronting smile.

"I'll do what you want for the entire tournament. But at the end of it, you quit." You paused, the tension from the last few months piling up on your shoulders. Did he really hate you that much?

You weren't a quitter, you believed in working hard and figuring out issues. But Carlos had been treating you like an outcast for months and if it meant never having to deal with him again you were seriously considering it.

"One question?" Carlos raised his eyebrow and he zoned in on your focused demeanor.

"seguir." (go on.)

"Why do you hate me so much?" His calm demeanour faltered slightly, something flashing through his gaze that you couldn't quite decipher before it was quickly replaced with indifference.

He grabbed the mug, and moved to the sofa, lazily sitting down. His arm rested along the back and he glanced up at you.

"I don't need a PR manager and I'm sick of you treating me like a child when you're my age." The answer nipped at the back of your brain. You rarely treated him like less that he deserved and if you did it was only ever in retaliation.

"Maybe if you acted your age I wouldn't have to." He scoffed, shaking his head in annoyance.

"It's clear you don't want to be here either, just take the deal." You dropped yourself onto the sofa. Your laptop sat beside you and you let your head fall into your hands. You were defeated.

"I wanted to be here." You didn’t look up but if you had you would’ve seen Carlos’ gaze soften, a pang of guilt hitting him before it was quickly shoved away.

You thought back to your previous job. Travelling the world with F1 drivers had been difficult but those guys had become your friends, you loved your job and you had fun. You wanted this to be like that but it was clear that wasn’t going to happen.

Maybe it was time for you to find something else.

“Fine you win.” You let your hands fall to your sides, your gaze lifting and meeting the brown eyes that made your life a misery.

"I'll quit at the end of the tournament, but you have to give full energy to everything and I need a pair of pyjamas, my luggage got lost.” His eyes lit up with some sort of amusement. At your troubles or you’d you were sure but you needed a solution and he offered one.

Carlos smirked, the first time he'd even remotely smiled in your direction. He moved himself within touching distance of you, reaching out his hand for you to shake.

You interlocked your hand with his, his eyes baring down on you.

"Deal."

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taglist: @champagnecoastca

I’m losing my mind

Did he….hear me?

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?

5 heart attacks, 20 swear words, and 50 pleads later. CARLOS WINS!!! thank god for that.

Straight sets please Carlos 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Carlos I’m going to cry please