╰ Synopsis You’ve always called Macklin cute, thinking it’s sweet and harmless, but it drives him crazy because he thinks you don’t want him in the way he wants you.
tags/contains Macklin Celebrini x fem!bsf!reader. Fluff, slight angst, friends to lovers, mutual pining, kind of slow burn, shy Macklin, count how many time the word cute is mentioned, use of y/n, 1.9k words, requested.
➺ from Sera, to you📨. The pic I’m talking about in the fic is the one from Olympics because genuinely that’s the cutest picture I’ve ever seen, so yes in this fic they make up during the Olympics.
masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!
If there was one thing in the world that Macklin hated, it was the way you always called him cute.
Well, hate was a strong word.
Macklin didn’t absolutely hate it when you called him cute. There were times it felt nice, like when you’d scroll through old baby photos his mom had texted you, and you’d coo, “Look at baby Mack, so cute!” He’d duck his head, cheeks burning, but the shyness came with warmth because it was harmless.
Back then, he was still figuring out how to fill out his frame, still the kid everyone babied a little. But now it kind of felt annoying.
He was 19, standing 6’0, carrying 190 pounds of solid muscle that came from endless hours in the weight room and on the ice. He’d bulked up noticeably since his rookie year; broader shoulders, thicker legs, the kind of build that let him drive the net without getting shoved off.
In the 25-26 season, he was already at 29 goals and 54 assists, a Sharks team that finally looked like it had a future because of him. Alternate captain some nights.
He wasn’t a puppy anymore. He was a man who could bench his own bodyweight, who absorbed hits from guys twice his age and still finished checks. He wanted you to see that, and to treat him like the big guy he actually was.
But instead, you kept saying cute.
And the worst part? You said it about everything small and sweet. A puppy trotting by on the sidewalk during your daily walks together? “Aww, so cute!” A kid in a tiny Sharks hat waving at him after a game? “Look how cute that little guy is!” It wasn’t jealousy exactly, he wasn’t competing with dogs or toddlers but it lumped him in with them.
Another worst thing was that you weren’t even dating. If you had been boyfriend, girlfriend, something with labels and night kisses and mornings tangled in sheets; maybe the “cute” thing wouldn’t have landed like a slap every time.
Maybe he could’ve laughed it off, tugged you closer by the waist, murmured something cocky like, “Yeah? Wait ’til you see what else I can do that’s cute,” before proving exactly how not-cute he could be. In that version of things, “cute” would’ve been foreplay, a tease, a private joke between two people who already knew the heat underneath.
But you weren’t dating. You were just you and him: best friends, the girl who’d been there since forever. The one he could show up to unannounced, bruised and moody, and you’d still open the door without hesitation. The one he thought about way too much when the lights were off and the condo was quiet.
Macklin didn’t remember exactly when the feelings had started. Maybe they’d been there all along. Maybe they’d crept in slow when you laughed too hard at his dumb jokes, every time you patched him up after a fight. Either way, he’d been too stupid to name it until it was too loud to ignore.
In your perspective, it was totally harmless. Calling Macklin cute had always felt like the most natural thing in the world, the same as breathing. You never once thought it could hurt him. You’d noticed the way he sometimes turned his face away when the word slipped out, cheeks going pink, jaw tightening just a bit.
But you’d chalked it up to shyness. Macklin was shy in the sweetest ways, when you complimented his new haircut, when you hugged him too long after games, when you caught him staring at you across the room like he’d forgotten how words worked. That flush, that quick duck of his head made your chest ache in the best way. You loved seeing him like that.
You really did think he was cute. Not in a diminutive way, not like you were patting him on the head and calling it a day. Cute in the way his whole face lit up when he scored and he’d do that little fist pump shrug combo like he was surprised he’d done it again. Cute in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, cute in the way he’d sprawl on your couch looking exhausted and impossibly beautiful all at once.
Anytime a new picture of him popped up, you’d stop scrolling and zoom in. His smile, all teeth and triumph, cheeks flushed from adrenaline. Every single one made you melt a little more. There wasn’t a person on the planet who could unravel you like he did. Not with grand gestures, just by being Macklin, by existing in the same space as you, close enough to touch, far enough that you ached with it.
To no one’s surprise, you traveled to Italy with Macklin for the Olympics. He’d known Italy was one of the countries you’d always wanted to visit since high school.
When he made the Team Canada roster, he didn’t hesitate. “Come with us,” he’d said casually. “My family’s going. You can crash in the hotel, I want you there.” His parents had loved the idea; his mom had already booked your room before you could protest.
Tonight was one of those casual evenings. Canada had practice earlier for tomorrow’s quarterfinal; his family had retreated to their rooms after dinner. It was around 7pm, the city lights twinkling outside your window.
You and Macklin were side by side on your hotel bed, backs against the headboard, legs stretched out. He was in gray sweats, scrolling aimlessly on his phone. You had yours open to Pinterest, hunting for new nail inspo for when you got home.
The feed loaded slowly on hotel wifi. Then a photo popped up on your home page: Macklin during warmups, red jersey hugging his shoulders, helmet tilted just so, stick gripped tight. The angle caught the focused set of his jaw, the faint flush on his cheeks from the cold rink, eyes sharp under the visor but with that tiny smile tugging at his mouth.
You gasped out loud. Macklin’s head snapped toward you. “What? Show me.”
“Oh my gosh,” you breathed, already zooming in. “This is the cutest pic I’ve ever seen.”
He leaned over, expecting maybe a photo of kittens or one of those viral baby animal reels you sent him constantly. “Lemme see-”
You turned the screen toward him fully. His eyes landed on the photo of himself, in full Olympic gear, looking every bit the focused sniper who’d been tearing up the tournament. He stared at the screen, then immediately looked back down at his own phone, jaw clenching.
You didn’t notice anything at first. “Mack, that’s such an adorable face expression. Look at your little smile. Like you’re plotting to score the next one.”
He didn’t respond right away, he kept scrolling, thumb moving too fast. “No, it’s not. It’s just another random picture they took of me..”
You nudged his shoulder lightly. “Nooo, it’s my new favorite picture. I’m putting it on one of my home screen widgets.”
“Y/n.” His voice came out low, he didn’t snap; he’d never snap at you but he was annoyed. “Can you just stop?”
You blinked, lowering the phone. “Stop what?”
“Calling it cute. Calling me cute.” He set his phone face down on the bed, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not adorable. It’s just me doing my job.”
“But it is adorable,” you insisted, softer now, confused. “The way your cheeks are pink from the cold, that tiny grin, you look happy. I love it.”
He exhaled sharply through his nose, shoulders tense. “That’s the problem. You love the happy, focused puppy version. Not..” He gestured vaguely at himself. “Not anything else.”
“Mack,” you started gently, “I didn’t mean-”
“I know you didn’t.” He cut you off. “But it’s every time like I’m still the kid you met years ago.” He finally looked at you. “I’m not and I don’t want to be that to you.”
Macklin didn’t know what he expected when he said that out loud but he’d carried the words around for so long, that saying them now felt inevitable. He wanted you and maybe this hotel room in Milan, was finally the right time.
You stared at him, eyes wide. “Okay.”
He exhaled, shoulders dropping. You paused, shifting so your knee brushed his. “Then what do you want to be?”
Macklin shrugged, gaze dropping to the space between you. He couldn’t look at you right now. “I don’t know.”
“Tell me, Mack.” Your voice was gentle, coaxing. You reached out, fingers brushing along his jaw lightly.
He shook his head once, catching your wrist in his hand to pull it away before the touch unraveled him completely. His thumb brushed the inside of your wrist. “This is gonna sound stupid, but.. I just want you to think I’m good looking. Not just cute.” He swallowed. “It makes me think you don’t want me the way I want you. And yeah, maybe I’m being an idiot right now, confessing like this in the middle of the freaking Olympics, but-”
“Mack!”
He stopped rambling, eyes snapping up to yours. “Do you really think I don’t find you attractive?”
He shrugged again. “I don’t know. You never say it like that.”
You let out a soft laugh. “Just because I haven’t exactly said the words doesn’t mean I don’t think it.” You moved closer, turning so you were facing each other fully on the bed. You lifted your free hand, fingers gentle under his chin, tilting his face up until he had no choice but to meet your eyes. “If anything, you’re the most handsome guy I’ve ever seen.”
The compliment landed softly, his cheeks flushed deeper, pink creeping up from his neck but this time it wasn’t embarrassment.
You smiled and started to lean in.
He met you halfway and your mouths brushed together. He deepened the kiss as his hand found the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair; yours slid to his shoulder, gripping the soft fabric of his long sleeve. You sucked lightly on his bottom lip, and he made a quiet sound in the back of his throat that sent heat curling through you both.
When you pulled back, both of you were smiling, stupid and breathless and a little dazed.
Macklin’s voice came out rough. “That.. that was nice to hear from you.” He swallowed, thumb brushing your cheek. “I think the same about you.”
You laughed softly, the sound muffled against his skin as you pressed another quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Took you long enough to say it.”
“Me?” He huffed, but there was no bite in it. “You’re the one who kept calling me something like it was a personality trait.”
“Maybe it is,” you teased, fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “But handsome fits better.”
Macklin leaned back against the headboard, pulling you with him so your shoulders pressed together. You both settled in, he took your right hand in his, lacing your fingers without thinking, thumb tracing slow circles over your knuckles.
You reached for your phone with your free hand, still open to that photo of him, “You know,” you said, tilting the screen toward him again, “I really might make this my Instagram profile picture.”
He huffed a laugh, glancing at it, then at you. “Yeah, sure. Maybe once we make it official to the public.”
You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh?” You say as you leaned your head on his shoulder.
mack going to practice or like a development camp where he needs to bring a lunch and the team teases him cause reader always packs him the best homemade healthy snacks
macklin shows up to practice with a navy lunch kit dangling from one hand, looking like a camp counsellor who missed the memo that professional athletes just hit the smoothie bar. the locker room door barely swings shut before someone whistles.
“ooh, homemade again?” william grins, jutting his chin toward the lunch kit. “girlfriend pack another five-course meal?” mack’s cheeks blotch immediately, rosiness blooming right down to his throat, but he can’t stop smiling as he slides onto the bench and unzips the bag.
“leave him alone,” tyler calls from across the room, lacing his skates. “he’s the only one eating real food.” he nods toward the spread macklin starts laying out on his lap: two containers of veggie pasta salad with grilled chicken, a perfect little stack of quinoa crackers, carrot sticks wrapped in parchment, and a mason jar of lemon-turmeric juice with a handwritten note taped to it that reads drink me first <3.
“bro,” colin groans, “she even gave you instructions?”
mack shrugs, unabashedly proud. “she says it helps with inflammation.” he unscrews the jar obediently and downs half in one go, grimacing at the bitter tang while the team hoots. “look at him, hydrated and disciplined,” william cackles. “meanwhile i’m over here with a gas station sandwich.”
after drills, while everyone else slumps in the stands inhaling protein bars, mack plops down with his cooler and pops the lid off the thermos the pasta is in. steam rises, carrying fragrant basil, garlic, roasted peppers—the works.
“dude, that smells like a restaurant,” tyler says, leaning over for a closer sniff. “she make that this morning?”
mack nods, twirling noodles on his fork, eyes dreamy. “woke up early to finish the dressing. said she didn’t want me crashing halfway through scrimmage.”
colin snorts. “she got you on a meal plan like you’re five.”
“nah,” mack protests, cheeks hot but grin unwavering, “i just get hungry. besides, she likes cooking, and i… like eating.” as if to prove it, he demolishes half the container in a minute flat, moaning softly at the flavour. the mocking dies down because, frankly, everyone’s jealous.
coach wanders by and raises an eyebrow at the spread. “gonna share with the class?” he asks dryly. mack clutches the bag closer. “she packed it for me,” he says with adorable stubbornness, then adds, “but she made extra granola bars if anyone wants.” the offer sparks immediate interest, and soon the guys are passing around perfectly wrapped oat bars studded with dark chocolate and dried cherries. even coach takes one.
“tell her these are better than our nutritionist’s,” he mutters, biting in. mack beams, phone already in hand to snap a photo of the empty wrappers. a text follows: they love you. thank you for making sure i don’t die.
by the time scrimmage ends, mack’s back in the locker room polishing off the last of the roasted chickpeas, licking seasoning from his fingers while the rest of the squad glares good-naturedly over their bland arena food.
“you know we’re gonna start charging you snack tax,” william warns. “at least let us put in orders.”
mack just laughs, stuffing the lunch kit back into his bag, pride radiating off him. “i’ll ask her,” he promises, utterly content knowing he’s heading home to the woman who keeps him fuelled and spoiled, and yes, he’ll gush about the teasing because he secretly loves it.
summary - it’s Macklin’s 20th birthday and you said you couldn’t make it to Vancouver. Or could you?
pairings - macklin celebrini x crosby!reader
warnings - established relationship, the celebrini siblings terrorizing each other, tooth rotting fluff, make out session, smut, protected p-in-v, oral (f receiving), use of lube, oral fixation, a couple of switches, porn with some plot, and other things I surely missed.
wc - 5.7k
requested - no!
a/n - happy late birthday macklin! This is the first time I’ve written smut in like a year so don’t judge me if it’s bad lol.
crosby!reader masterlist
“I miss you.”
“I miss you too, baby. I really wish I could be there.” You hold your phone between your ear and shoulder as you hastily pack your suitcase.
“You’re busy, it's understandable. I play a winter sport, and you play a summer one.” You hear Macklin shift around on the other side of the phone. “It’s just we haven’t seen each other since my season ended and you left California.”
“I know, Mack, I’ll try to get up to Vancouver before Wimbledon. I just have this one last training session in New York, then I’m all yours.” You have to stop yourself from smiling because the trip to New York is a lie. Your mom is going to drop you off at the airport, and you have your passport ready to get to Vancouver.
“Okay, I’m excited to see you again. It’s been a month.” He sighs. “That’s too long.”
“I agree, but you’ll get me for a few days. Then I’ll be back in July, and you have me until August.”
“That’s like over a month away, baby.”
“It’s going to go faster than you think it will.” You zip your suitcase closed.
“Time to go, honey!” Your mom yells from downstairs.
“I gotta go, Mack. I’ll call you when I get to New York.” You grab your passports, the small gift you got him for his birthday, and put it into your backpack. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too.” You hang up the call and roll your suitcase out of your room.
“Got everything?” Your mom asks and grabs her car keys, “Both passports?”
“Got both,” You show off the two blue booklets.
“Perfect time to go. I’ll meet you in London with your tournament gear, but find a court when you can. We don't want you to lose strength this next week.” You grab your smaller tennis bag from the floor and put it on your suitcase.
“I will, Mack’s sister plays, so maybe I’ll be able to convince her to play with me.”
“Sounds good, but remember to have fun too.” You pack your stuff into the car to head to the airport. “But don’t drink too much and wear protection.”
“Mom!” You look at her wide-eyed.
“What? I was 19 when I got pregnant with you. I know what’s going on.” She chuckles and starts the car.
“Well, I know that.”
“Just be safe, please, I’m your mom, I’ll always worry about you.” She pats your hand and pulls out of the garage.
“I’ll be safe. Promise.” You smile and settle back into your seat.
“Good, I don’t want to have to fly up there. I know your dad will.” You agree with her statement.
“He would.” You laugh and pull out your phone to send a text to Mack’s mom.
Mack’s whole family knows you're coming for his birthday, a joint surprise you’d been planning for the last few weeks while you were in Paris for the French Open. A quick trip for his birthday before you had to leave for London, and he trained his ass off for the upcoming season. He was sure to be surprised if no one spoiled said surprise.
You look out the window, giddy with anticipation.
•••
When you get to Vancouver, you hastily get ready to meet Mack and his family for his birthday dinner. You throw on a nice top and jeans, after a hot shower and fresh makeup, before you Uber to the restaurant.
Mack’s mom, Robyn, kept you updated on their location just so you didn’t show up to the restaurant before they did. She’d texted you the go-ahead, and you arrived at the restaurant just moments later.
“Hello, Miss.” The hostess greets you.
“I’m with the Celebrini party.” You respond, and she nods in understanding, leading you in the direction of the more private area.
“Just through that archway.”
“Thank you so much.” You smile and walk through to the semi-private room.
Mack, his parents, and three siblings are all conversing amongst themselves, none aware of your presence.
“Is there room for one more?” You ask, and the family looks up at you.
Mack does a double-take before bolting out of his seat and over to you. “You’re here? You’re actually here?”
You give him a tight hug, and Mack practically wraps himself around you. You laugh as you both almost topple over.
“Surprise.” You practically hold all of his body weight on you. “Happy Birthday, Mack.”
“I love you so much.”
“I love you too.” Your bodies sway back and forth as you hold him tightly.
“What about New York?” He pulls his head back.
“The plan was to come here the whole time.”
“That’s a sneaky plan.” He kisses your cheek.
“Yeah, but you’re hard to surprise.” You shrug and nod to the table, “Let’s sit.”
“What about London?” Mack pulls out your chair, and you sit down next to him.
“I’m leaving from here. You have me for the next few days.” You smile at him.
“Not more?”
“I’ll be back in July, and then the US Open isn’t until September.” You scoot your chair in before turning to his family. “Sorry, it’s rude of me not to greet you guys. It’s nice to see you all again.”
“It’s no problem, Y/N, we’re happy you’re here.” Robyn shakes her head, her smile is the same one you see on Mack all the time.
“Thank you for having me.”
“Mack has been moping around, so thank you for putting us out of that misery.” Aiden teases, and Rick gives his eldest a pointed look.
“Can you play tennis with me?” Charlie blurts out excitedly.
“Let’s not bombard Y/N.” Robyn tries to get a hold of the situation.
“It’s okay. I was hoping I could convince you to be my hitting partner anyway.” You wink, and Charlie looks triumphant.
“Why do you look like that?” RJ speaks up, confused at the look on Macklin’s face. A soft smile, with hazy eyes focused solely on you. It could only be described as a look of pure love.
“I’m being made fun of on my birthday.” Mack scrubs a hand down his face, but he hasn’t stopped grinning. “This is crazy, you’re all supposed to be nice to me.”
“Birthdays protect no one from familial teasing.” You pat his thigh. You feel him tense underneath your hand, but make nothing of it as you pull away.
“Guess not.” Mack catches your hand before it settles back in your lap. Pulling it so it’s entwined with his on top of his thigh.
“Y/N, how are your studies going?” Rick asks, and you take a sip of your water.
You clear your throat before speaking, “They’re going really well! I'm learning a lot, but I’m happy with what I chose to major in.”
“Remind me what that is again?”
“Sports Medicine. I’m thinking of possibly using it to get my PhD in Biomechanics later on down the road.” Rick nods, impressed, and you do a celebration on the inside.
“How do you balance that with the WTA tours and challengers?” He questions.
“Meticulously,” You laugh, “but really, my advisor is helping a lot. I’m currently in like five online courses right now to transfer credits just to make sure I can graduate on time, early even.”
“You have a solid plan.”
“I can’t take all the credit. My mom is also helping me navigate this.” You feel Mack’s thumb run over your knuckles, but you aren’t sure if the motion is supposed to be comforting you or him.
“Well, she’s doing a very great job.” Robyn chimes in.
“I’d say so too.” You agree.
Mack is talking with his siblings, their increasing noise level as you speak with his parents gives you an inkling that they’re arguing about something. All of a sudden, Charlie is fully leaning over Mack and pushing him against the back of his chair.
“Y/N, you have to tell me what the Australian and French Open were like.” She says excitedly as Mack tries to push her off of him.
“Get off of me.”
“I’m trying to ask Y/N a question.” She looks at her older brother, eyes narrowing.
“You could do it while sitting in your chair.” He grumbles, and she rolls her eyes, but relents, sitting in her chair properly.
“Better?” Charlie asks snarkily.
“Much.” Mack matches her bratty tone.
“Okay, please tell me everything about the Opens. Like everything.”
You turn to face Charlie more, knees bumping with Mack’s thigh. You make no move to adjust your position, keeping the point of contact. You watch Mack’s face flush, but don’t comment on it.
“They were crazy, like an adrenaline high that I couldn’t come off of. Like, after I got out of the Australian Open, I was genuinely bouncing off the walls. My nervous system was so out of whack that I couldn’t come down from this self-induced high. I crashed when I got back to California, and I was sick for a week.”
“Really?” She tilted her head.
“Really. Like once my body was finally aware that I wasn’t in the tournament anymore, my immune system shut down with it.” You laugh, “But it was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I didn’t do the greatest at the Australian Open, but honestly, just being there was surreal.”
“I bet. But the French Open.” Charlie does a jaw drop motion, “I watched every match. The upsets were crazy.”
“I know,” You nod, “Being there and watching it happen in real time is something else.”
“For sure! You made it really far this time, too!”
“I know! I was proud of myself for making it to the quarterfinals. Like my second Grand Slam tournament.” You grin, and Mack squeezes your hand.
“We’ve been following along with Charlie and Mack. For your first professional season, you’re doing really well.” Robyn places a soft hand on your forearm.
“Thank you, it means a lot.” A warmth fills your chest from the kind words.
“No need to thank us.” She shakes her head.
“I know, but I still will because it really does mean a lot to me.”
“I’ll let go this time.” Robyn pats your arm before placing her hand back in her lap, and you laugh with her.
“Okay.” You grin.
•••
The rest of Mack’s birthday dinner goes really well. You talk with his entire family, and you feel closer to the Celebrini’s. You and Charlie already have plans to hit the courts every day while you’re in Vancouver. You’ve given Rick your Mom’s contact info so they can converse on college plans for the rest of the Celebrini kids. RJ is still confused and unsure of what emotions his older brother is experiencing. Aiden wants to take you and Mack bar hopping, but Mack promptly shuts it down because he wants to spend the rest of his birthday with you only.
“Happy birthday, honey. Be safe tonight.” Robyn gives Mack a hug.
“I will.”
“Be aware of your surroundings, and Uber back to Y/N’s hotel.” Rick pats him on the back.
“I will, Dad.” Mack nods, taking your hand.
“Drink something for me.” Aiden smacks his shoulder, and Mack just rolls his eyes.
“Alright, time to go,” Rick says, and the rest of the Celebrinis walk in the opposite direction from you two.
You both start walking down the pavement, Mack’s hand finds yours, easily pulling you closer into his side. He slows to a stop on the street, and you stop with him.
“Everything okay, baby?” You ask as Mack wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you to his chest.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.” You take his face into your hands.
Mack leans down and captures your mouth with his. Your mouths move against each other, heat and friction buzzing underneath your skin. His tongue prods at your bottom lip, but you pull away. Mack lets out a whine, his mouth forming a pout.
“Baby…”
“Do you want to go to the bar? Or do you just want to go back to my hotel?” You ask, hands sliding down his neck.
“I need you.” He whispers against your mouth before kissing you hungrily. You know the answer to your own question.
“Let me order an Uber.” You mumble back and reach for your phone.
Mack's hand creeps up underneath your top, splayed on the skin of your stomach. He’s pulled you flush against his body, holding you as you tap through your phone ordering a car.
“Can it get here faster?”
“It’ll be here in five.” You quirk an eyebrow at him, the impatience humming through his body.
“Too long.” He groans and lets his head fall to the crook of your neck.
“You’ll survive. I also have to give you your present. It’s in my hotel room.” You hum and watch the little car on your screen get closer.
“You didn’t have to get me anything. You’re here on my birthday, that's enough for me.”
“That is very sweet of you, but it won’t make my gift go away.” You wrap your arm around his torso, giving his side a mischievous squeeze.
“Fine.” Mack kisses your neck softly before pulling his head back up.
The Uber pulls up next to the curb, and Mack pulls open the door for you. You step inside, and he follows suit, sliding into the seat next to you. His hand finds your thigh as the car pulls into the street, fingers caressing the seam on the inner thigh of your jeans. You haven’t been in each other's presence since April. So you two have also been on a two-month stint of unwilling celibacy. His hand tries to creep higher, but you politely grab it and place it on your lap. You send him a sharp look and jerk your head in the direction of the driver.
You could already see the headlines: “Uber Driver Tells All: NHL Star, Macklin Celebrini and Girlfriend Caught Getting Handsy in the Backseat.” You would be relegated to the title of girlfriend or Sidney Crosby’s daughter, depending on which news source is writing the article. So it was best to stay respectful in public.
The driver pulls up to your hotel, and you give a quick thanks before letting Macklin lead you out of the back seat.
“Do you even know where you’re going?” You chuckle as he drags you into the hotel.
“No, but you’ll tell me.” He says matter-of-factly.
“This way.” You take the reins and walk towards the elevator.
You look over at Mack, his pupils blown wide. He looks intoxicated, but it can’t be the case. Neither of you has had a lick of alcohol all night. The moment the elevator doors slide closed, Mack’s mouth is attacking yours.
“You are really impatient.” You mutter between kisses.
“It’s been two months, baby, cut me some slack here. Can’t I miss my girlfriend?”
“You can miss me.” You smile and peck his mouth again, “Missing me is very much appreciated.”
“Did you miss me?” Mack raises a brow, noticing the lack of verbal reciprocation on the feeling.
“So much.”
“Good.” Mack presses one last kiss to your cheek as the bell of the elevator rings.
You lead Mack down the hallway and unlock the door to your room. You toe off your shoes and start removing your jewelry. Earrings and rings first, before the bracelets and necklaces, save for the bracelet Mack got for your birthday and the necklace with your birthstone that you never take off.
Mack sits down on the hotel bed, watching you put the accessories into your travel case, fingers tapping on his thigh incessantly.
“Do you want your present now or later?” You ask, looking over your shoulder.
“Later. Can you please just come over here? I'm dying, baby.” Mack whines, and you move to the bed.
“Dying? Should I call the doctors?” You ask, swinging your leg over his lap, hands braced on his shoulders. Mack’s hands grip your waist as you settle into his hold.
“No, just need you.”
“So I’m the remedy?” You run your fingers through his hair, and the feeling of his cock starting to press against the zipper of his pants has you smirking.
“And the problem.” He jokes, and you roll your eyes.
“I can tell.” You tease and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “What does the birthday boy want?”
“You.”
“Well, I know that, but anything specific? What do you need?” His eyes nearly roll back into his head every time your nails scrape against his scalp.
“Nothing specific, just want to be with you.” He says sweetly, and you give him a real kiss this time.
Warmth seeps into your bones as your hands move from Mack’s hair, down his neck and chest, before reaching the hem of his shirt.
“Can I take it off?” You mutter against his mouth, and he nods.
You work the shirt over his head, discarding it behind you somewhere, all the while still kissing him. Mack’s tongue prods at the seam of your mouth, and you let him inside. He moves the hair away from your neck and presses wet kisses on the skin. You cradle his head in your hands as he continues his assault. Mack sucks a particularly harsh hickey right below your ear, causing you to gasp. The sensation is replaced by his tongue darting out to soothe the bruise. His hips buck into yours, pressing the seam of your jeans right into your clit, and shudders of building pleasure roll through your body. Your underwear is growing damp by the minute.
“You’re disgusting.” You chide, feeling Mack smile against your neck.
“And yet you’ve never told me to stop.” He grins up at you before taking your weight from his lap and flipping you to lie flat on the bed.
“I can like it and still think you’re gross.” You widen your legs and let Mack settle between them.
You pull off your shirt and throw it to where you’d put Mack’s. The black lace bra you had on underneath has him groaning and shifting to hover over top of you.
“You’re so beautiful.”
“You’re not so bad yourself.” You tease, and Mack takes offense.
“That’s all you have to say about me?” He gasps and pinches your side.
“Don’t worry, I think you're beautiful, too, pretty boy.” You cup his cheek as Mack’s hand moves up and down your jean-covered outer thigh.
“I was really worried there for a second.” He leans down and kisses your mouth one last time before making his way down your body.
His lips trail down your neck and collarbone, mouthing at the skin of your sternum before moving to the swells of your breasts. Mack finds the waistband of your jeans, sitting back on his haunches to undo the fly. You help him shimmy them off of you, and he takes off his own pants as well, the hard line of his dick evident behind his tented briefs. The pile of clothes on the floor continues to accumulate.
“Need any help with that?” You tease, sitting up on your forearms.
“Maybe later.”
“No birthday blowjob?” Your gaze follows him as he moves back up your body to be face-to-face.
“Tempting, but I want to taste you first.” Mack grins as your hand runs through his hair, fingertips trailing lightly over his face.
“All of the options in the world, and he wants to be the giver on his birthday.” Your thumb brushes over his bottom lip, and he bites at the tip of it.
“What I like the look of you all fucked out.” He settles between your legs, hands rubbing up and down your thighs.
“Jesus.” You groan, throwing your head back against the pillows.
“My name is Mack, baby.” You roll your eyes hard.
“You’re ridiculous like that was actually the worst joke ever.”
“It wasn’t that bad.” He leans forward to rest his face on your stomach, pressing soft kisses to your navel.
“Really?” You look at him, facial expression, asking him if he’s joking.
“Fine, it was bad.” His fingers hook underneath the sides of your underwear and pull them off completely. You’re wet, like really wet, folds glistening in the dim lamplight. If Mack could get harder than he already is, his dick would be blue. “Fuck me.”
“Trying to, but we just keep on talking.” Mack pulls you towards the edge of the bed, kneeling between your legs.
“Well, I like talking with you,” He says, kissing the inside of your knee.
“I like talking too, but like I’m pretty much naked right now, and I’d really like you to eat me out.”
“I can’t say no to that.” Mack bites your sensitive inner thigh, causing you to jolt.
“Mack, please.” You plead, the heat flooding your body is filling you with anticipation.
His lips press the tiniest kiss to your clit, providing nothing to give you the high you’ve been chasing for months. Yes, the phone sex had been plentiful, but the toys and your fingers just weren’t cutting it anymore. You need Mack to give you everything you’d been waiting for.
“Mack…” Your fingers fist the sheets as he sends you a teasing smirk.
“Yeah, baby?” He rests his cheek against your thigh, stopping any progression towards your much-wanted orgasm.
“Please. I don’t want to beg for a third time.” Your voice is raspy as you look down at your boyfriend.
“Since you asked so nicely.” He hooks a leg over his shoulder and fully dives in.
He licks a long stripe through your folds, collecting your slick on his tongue. You let out a long moan as your hand tangles in his hair. You feel Mack smile against your pussy, before finding your clit and giving it a light suck.
“Oh fuck!” You tug at his hair, and Mack whines into your skin.
“Sorry, did I hurt you?”
“No,” Mack peers at you breathlessly, talking in between kisses and licks, “keep going.”
“You too.” You can feel your orgasm building as his tongue circles your already sensitive bundle of nerves. “Fucking hell.”
Macklin is properly making out with your pussy, tongue everywhere, your clit throbbing in his mouth. The coil of pleasure is reaching its breaking point as he throws the other one of your legs over his shoulder for more leverage. His hands brace against your hips, holding them down as his tongue fucks into your entrance.
“Oh fuck, oh my god.” You throw an arm over your eyes, “I’m so close, baby.”
“Cum, please cum for me.”
You press your heels into his back, grinding into his face as best as you can in a prone position. Every time his nose bumps your clit, another wave of ecstasy brings you closer to the edge.
“Fuckfuckfuckfuck.” You heave, chest rising rapidly.
Mack knows you’re close. The way you’re roughly gripping his hair and the incoherent string of expletives falling from your mouth are a telltale sign of your impending orgasm.
“Cum for me, baby.” He manages to speak before burying his face back into your folds. Mack gives one last harsh suck on your clit, and it’s over for you.
You just let go as a wash of euphoria rips through your body. Heat spreads from the center of your body to the tips of your fingers. Mack presses a few featherlight kisses to your inner thigh, being wary to not overstimulate your body.
“I don’t think I’ve come that hard in a long time.” You grin lazily, beckoning Mack to come to you.
“Yeah, are you okay?” He crawls up onto the bed, hovering over you as you push up on your forearms. Mack cranes his neck down to press his mouth to yours. You smile into the kiss, wrapping an arm around his neck, slowly guiding his back to the bed.
“I’m good.”
“Ready for more already?” Mack asks, hands settling on your waist.
“I bounce back quickly.” You reach your hands behind your back to unhook your bra, but you stop. “Wait, condoms.”
“In my wallet.” Mack points to his pants on the floor.
“That is so douchey of you.” You move off of him and grab his pants from the floor. You pull his wallet from the back pocket, sure enough, there is a strip of condoms where cash should be. “Like genuinely a frat boy move.”
“I just like to be prepared.” He leans against the pillows, watching you rip off one of the condoms. You find a small tube of lube you packed in your suitcase and walk to the bed.
You throw the package at him, and he catches it with ease. You unhook your bra and leave it on the floor. Mack looks you up and down, acting like he hasn’t ever seen you fully naked.
“Perv.” You straddle his lap again, his cock pressing against your ass.
“I’m just appreciating the view.” He looks up at you, hands rubbing up and down your sides.
“That’s so corny.”
“What? You look good.” Mack kisses your collarbone, fingers brushing underneath your breasts.
“Why, thank you.” You run your hands over his shoulders.
He nips at your skin, gaze roaming all over your naked body. Mack is beginning to look desperate as his hips buck up for friction. You let out a breathless sigh, the stimulation has heat pooling in your stomach.
“Baby?” He asks, pulling his head away from your neck.
“Yeah?” You respond, eyes heavy with lust.
“I want you to ride me.”
You nod and grab the condom from the bed, sliding off his lap, “Take off your briefs.”
Mack obeys quickly and pulls off his underwear quickly. His cock slaps against his stomach, red and flushed with pre-come collecting at the tip. You take the condom wrapper between your teeth and tear it open.
“Fuck that’s hot.” Mack settles back against the pillows, watching you pull out the condom.
“Anything turns you on, bro.” You joke.
“Please don’t call me bro right now.” He looks at you pointedly, but is quickly cut off by the feeling of you rolling the condom down his length.
“Sorry, baby.” You straddle him again, but stay up on your knees.
“I need to be inside you.” He groans hands cupping your hips.
“Okay.”
You look down and take hold of his dick, pour a generous amount of lube into your hand. Mack’s head lolls to the side as you pump it a few times, spreading the lube over the condom. You line it up with your entrance before sliding down the length of him. Your walls flutter around him to adjust to his size. Once he’s fully seated inside you, you both take a pause. Mack sits up, arms wrapped around your body, keeping you in place.
“Fuck I missed this.” He buries his head into your shoulder.
“Me too.” You kiss the side of his head, “I’m gonna start moving.”
You slowly rise off of him, before sinking down again, using his shoulders as leverage. Mack’s palms make a slow glide to your hips, eyes never leaving your own. You watch every twitch and movement in his face as you roll your hips slowly creating that much-needed friction. His hands cup your breasts, squeezing the flesh, stimulating your sensitive nipples.
“Not just sex, I missed you, Y/N. Like every day, I missed you.” He brushes a strand of hair from your face.
“I missed you so much, too.” You press your cheek against his.
Everything is so soft and gentle, just two people being united in the most intimate way. Mack peppers kisses on your face, trying to muffle his moans against your skin.
“Mack, baby, I want to hear you, don’t be shy with me.” Your pace starts to increase, the head of his cock bumping against your G-spot.
“Fuck baby, move faster, please.” Mack groans out loud as your walls clench around him. You grind down trying to increase the friction on your clit.
You watch Mack bite his lower lip, trying again to muffle his moans. Your hand creeps to his mouth, thumb pressing at his lips.
“Open.” You breathe out and watch him open his mouth willingly.
You press two fingers into his mouth, and he moans around your digits. You grin at the sound, pace increasing as the heat in your stomach starts to spread through your body, every nerve ending on fire. His tongue dances around your fingers, occupying his mouth as you continue to ride on his cock.
“Fuck I’m gonna cum, baby.” He slurs around your fingers, saliva collecting at the corners of his mouth.
“Already?” You remove your fingers from his mouth.
“Don’t tease me.” He whines and fucks his hips into you, trying to chase his climax. Yours is building quickly, too, but you can tell Mack is about to come.
“I need more.” You sigh and snake your hand down your body, fingers finding your clit.
“Lemme help.” Mack replaces your hand with his own, fingers circling your bundle of nerves.
“Fuck that feels good.” You roll your hips faster, finding a pace that makes your orgasm start to build.
“Baby, can I cum please?” He asks, mouthing at your breasts.
“Yeah, go ahead.” You nod and throw your arms over his shoulders.
Mack guides your hips up and down his length, increasing your pace to bring him to his climax. The coil in your stomach tightens again, your orgasm approaching quickly.
“Fuck I’m right there.” He rubs your clit faster, trying to bring you right to the edge with him.
“So close.” You mutter and kiss him, moving chest to chest as you ride him. “You can cum, baby.”
“Not without you.”
Mack moves his hand from between the two of you and cradles the back of your head. Your mouths move against each other as you both tip over the edge. Mack cums first, and you follow suit moments later. You know he’ll pout, but at this point, you don’t care.
You slump forward, fully sweaty and spent, legs cramping from the position and spasming from the orgasm. Mack has his face buried in the side of your neck, mouth pressing light kisses on the skin.
“Let’s not go that long without sex again.” He jokes, and you just let out a chuckle.
“Yeah, it might have to be another month, though.”
“Not unless I come visit you in London.” Mack offers, looking up at you with his sparkly green eyes.
“What about training?” You ask, lifting your hips, slowly sliding off of him. There’s a slight emotional emptiness that comes with the sensation of being actually empty.
Mack pauses before answering, “There’s gotta be rinks in England.”
“True.” You watch him push off the bed as best as he can, rolling off the condom and discarding it in the trash. He picks up his briefs from the floor before disappearing into the bathroom. “Would you really come through?”
“Would I actually come? Baby…you think that lowly of me?” He re-emerges with a wet towel to clean you up and his briefs back on.
“No, but I know you’re busy.”
“Not too busy for you, your first Wimbledon is a big fucking deal, and I already feel bad enough that I missed the Australian and French Opens. I’ll be there.” Mack picks up his shirt from the floor and hands it to you.
“Okay,” You smile, warmth flooding your chest, you just love him so much.
“Can I?” He touches your knee softly, and you nod, parting your legs again.
Mack cleans you up, making sure to be careful with your sensitive skin. You pull his shirt over your head when he’s done wiping between your legs.
“Oh! Your birthday present. Gimme a second.”
“Take your time.” Mack settles back onto the bed.
You push onto shaky legs and walk to the bathroom, making sure to pee so you don’t get a UTI. You exit the bathroom and grab a clean pair of underwear, sliding them on before reaching for the small box containing Macklin’s gift.
“You really didn’t have to get me anything.” Mack sighs and takes the box from your hand as you crawl into bed beside him.
“I know, but I love you, and I give gifts to people I love, so you’ll just have to deal with it.”
“I guess I will,” He undoes the ribbon and pulls off the top of the box. “What did you get me?”
“Just look in the box.” You rest your cheek against his shoulder, watching him pull the piece of paper from the box.
“It’s paper.” He teases, holding the folded sheet.
“Read it.” You pinch his arm.
His eyes scan over the contents of the paper, “What the fuck, Y/N.”
“Surprise! We’re going to Hawaii.”
“You’re crazy.” Mack kisses your mouth and pulls away with a smile.
“Maybe, but we’ll be there for a week just the two of us. It’s obviously after Wimbledon ends, so you’ll be okay to take a week away from the rink, right?”
“If they have a gym, then yes.”
“Is that even a question?” You raise an eyebrow.
“I’m kidding, yeah, I’ll gladly take a week away with you. Thank you, Y/N, this is an amazing gift.” He pulls you into his side.
“You’re welcome, Mack.” You grin. “So how would you rate this birthday?”
“10/10, best birthday ever.” He answers.
“Such high praise.”
“What can I say, my girlfriend surprises me by flying here before Wimbledon after not seeing each other for two months, then we have mind-blowing sex.” You shove his shoulder lightly, “Then she gets me a trip to Hawaii, a week for just the two of us. Overall, a really great day.”
“I guess you could say that.” You get under the covers of the bed as Mack sets his gift on the nightstand.
“Yeah, it’s been a good day.” Mack kisses your hairline as he crawls under the sheets with you.
“I’m glad,” You mutter, eyes starting to droop with sleep, “Happy Birthday, Mack, I love you.”
“I love you too, thank you for a good day.” He wraps his arms around you, head resting on your chest, and you throw a leg over his hip.
“No problem.” You smile sleepily, the warmth of being tangled in his embrace lulling you to sleep. “Goodnight, birthday boy.”
“Goodnight, baby.” You reach over to the side table and turn off the lamp, enveloping you both in the darkness of the night.
a/n - this is lowkey freakier than I thought it would be. How do you write smut without cringing? I had to take breaks when writing this.
Note: Had to put something out in honor of Mack’s birthday obviously
You’ve been outside for almost an hour now, stretched out in one of the lounge chairs beside your pool. A splash comes from the water. Then another. Then an unnecessarily dramatic sigh. You don’t even look up.
“You’re bored already?” You ask.
“I’ve done twelve laps.”
“Nice. Do some more.” You snort.
A few seconds later you hear the water sloshing around, then wet footsteps, then silence as a shadow blocks the sun from reaching you.
You frown, sitting up just in time to see him standing beside your chair, an evil grin across his face.
“Mack, no.”
“Oh yes.”
And before you can react, he runs both hands through his soaking wet hair, and starts shaking off like a dog. Water droplets fly everywhere.
“MACKLIN!” You shriek.
He doubles over, laughing.
“Sorry.” He mutters out between cackling.
“No you’re not!”
“You’re right. I’m really not.”
You grab the nearest pool noodle and smack his leg. Macklin yelps dramatically, collapsing on the pool deck.
“You’re assaulting me!”
“You deserve it.”
He gasps, clutching his chest with horrible acting. He’s still laughing though as he gets back to his feet.
“Come swim with me.” He pleads.
“I’m tanning.”
“Come onnnn. You know you want to.”
“I really don’t. The waters’ not even warm enough yet.” You reason.
Mack grabs your wrist gently, tugging slightly. “C’mon. Please?” He flashes the most obnoxiously charming smile, the one he knows will work on you. You sigh, letting him pull you to your feet.
A few minutes later you’re floating in the water while Macklin swims around.
“You’re gonna sleep good tonight.” You joke, turning your head slightly to follow him.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re gonna wear yourself out.”
“Impossible.”
You laugh, watching as Mack dives under the water. You lose sight of him for a moment and then you feel hands wrap around your ankles and tug. Not enough to pull you under, but you still hold your breath as you try to kick free.
A second later. Macklin resurfaces, laughing so hard he can barely tread water.
“Oh my god, your face!”
You splash a wave of water at him. “I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
“I’m going inside.”
“No.”
Before you can make good on your threat, he wraps you in his arms and pulls you into his chest. Water drips from his hair onto your shoulders as he laughs.
“You love me.” He says, tone sweet.
“Debatable.”
Mack hums at that. Then he dunks himself underwater, dragging you down with him. You come back up sputtering.
“MACKLIN!”
He's practically choking on laughter now.
“You started it!”
“I didn’t start shit!”
“You splashed me!”
“You’re trying to drown me!”
You stare at him and he stares right back. Then you're both laughing.
Eventually the two of you climb out of the pool and collapse onto the lounge chairs side by side. The cushions are warm from baking in the afternoon sun, and you can feel the water evaporating from your skin immediately.
For a while neither of you say much, the only sounds are the occasional rustle of leaves and the gentle slosh of pool water against the edge.
You turn your head toward Macklin. His eyes are closed, face tilted toward the sun. The freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose are darker than they were this morning, standing out against skin that's already starting to turn pink despite the amount of sunscreen you'd forced him to wear.
You smile to yourself, carefully reaching over to ghost your fingertip across the bridge of his nose. His face scrunches up instantly.
“Hey. Why are you touching my face?”
“Because you're cute.”
One green eye cracks open, squinting at you, and you laugh.
“You excited for next season?” You ask after a moment.
“I am.” He says, a small smile crossing his face. He’s always so humble about the way he mentions hockey. “I just want to be better than last year.”
You raise an eyebrow at that. “Ah, yes. You need to break all the records you just set, right?”
He shakes his head laughing slightly, and you can still see the blush creep across his face even through the sunburn.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
“I just feel like there’s always things to improve on.”
You nod thoughtfully. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing okay.”
He turns to look at you. “Only okay?”
“I wouldn’t push it.”
He laughs again.
Eventually a comfortable silence settles between you two. He reaches over blindly and bumping your hand with his, then lacing his fingers with yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
The afternoon stretches on, your pool sparkling in the backyard, summer settling lazily over everything. Just you, Macklin, and an entire summer still waiting ahead of you.
yourusername: this week's book recommendation is Heaven by Mieko Kawakami! This is a beautifully heartbreaking fiction that follows the story of a young Japanese boy who is bullied horrifically, who receives a letter from a girl who is also being bullied, all from his perspective. The friendship that follows is so disgustingly well written, I felt like I knew the characters personally, inside & out at the end of the book. 9.3/10.
liked by fan93, fan9, friend7, cattoffoli, yoursister and 11,193 others
COMMENTS...
fan91: Listening to your review before I start it, my library has it in stock, so I knew it was destiny!!!!
yourusername: the book wanted you to read it!
cattoffoli: Interesting read! Your international book picks are always very well thought out. Excited for next week.
yourusername: !!! Your praise always means the world!!! Just ask and i'd give you a list of recommendations personally!
fan9: My niche podcaster I love u
liked by yourusername
fan1: You are the smartest person on earth maybe
yourusername: Haha only in literature & history! I know fuck all about math
yoursister: Banger can I borrow ur copy
yourusername: yes but don't dog ear my book
random93: Why TF is cat toffoli in the comments???
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yourusername: posted 9 hours ago
♫: Bigmouth Strikes Again - The Smiths
yourusername: this week's recommendation isn't a surprise, because we all know how much I adore Kafka. The book of the week is The Trial by Franz Kafka! The cruelty of the totalitarian state run by a faceless bureaucracy is Josef K's biggest enemy as he finds himself under suspicion, then under arrest and (hence the title) in trial for a crime he is being accused of without any context as to what the crime was. It was an easy pickup for me, since I already love Kafka's work, but i read it after (one of last months book recommendations) The Idiot by Dostoyevsky. No notes, should be required reading. 10/10
liked by cattoffoli, fan924, fan21, friend9, yoursister, _willsmith2 and 15,930 others
COMMENTS...
_willsmith2: Would you recommend this book as a starting point for Kafka's work? Or would The Metamorphosis be an easier read for someone who is just starting to get into his books?
yourusername: Amazing question!!! I'd say The Trial is a very easy starting point, but starting with The Metamorphosis would definitely not hurt, just because of it's length as well. Better to get familiar with his style.
fan364: Hey so WILL SMITH HOCKEY is in ur comments???
yourusername: I don't know anything about hockey!!!! sorry!!!! im unfortunately a football fan :,)
yoursister: Mom's favorite book!!!
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fan5: OMG my favorite book I never thought you'd talk about it iloveuiloveuiloveu
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yourusername: posted 3 hours ago
♫: Champagne Supernova - Oasis
yourusername: Recommendation this week isn't a novel!!! I know!!! the horror!!!! My book of the week is Monsters by Claire Dederer! This book dissects the discomfort & awkwardness of loving what bad people do professionally &/ or create. My favorite example would be Quinn Hughes! (can you tell I'm getting into hockey, thanks @cattoffoli !!!) This book was a good read, very thought provoking! It will help you think more about your moral values as you consume media of any kind. 9.1/10
liked by cattoffoli, fan9274, mackcelebrini, _willsmith2, tofff73, fan29, friend8 and 21,910 others
COMMENTS...
fan930: Why is the entire roster of the San Jose sharks in this woman's likes LMAOOO
liked by yourusername
_willsmith2: Picked up my copy this morning. 🫡
yourusername: My man! Happy reading!
mackcelebrini: We feel very uncreative, we all started a bookclub but instead of seeking out books on our own, we all read your recommendations.
yourusername: AWWW this is so sweet! 🤍 i hope they live up to standard
fan5: Insane qh43 diss in caption....
yoursister: Good book, although, I'd say the best example is like.. idk, Morrisey?
yourusername: #andnowiknowhowjoanofarcfelt
fan938: have you read every book ever
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yourusername: posted 7 hours ago
♫: Friday I'm in Love - The Cure
yourusername: Due to you all spamming my comments asking for it, i sat down with @mackcelebrini and talked books! This week's book recommendation, due to being Mack's favorite, is The Great Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald! Not to be overly approving of someone else's recommendation.... but this was one of my favorite books I read in highschool! The symbolism in this book comes with every page you turn, along with a look into the more controversial side of the rolling 20's. F Scott Fitzgerald was widely criticized for this work, but it is now his most well known book. 8.8/10
TAGGED: @mackcelebrini
liked by cattoffoli, mackcelebrini, _willsmith2, tofff73, friend7, fan92 and 50,927 others
COMMENTS...
_willsmith2: Straight lying, his favorite book is green eggs and ham by Dr Seuss. It's all he can read.
yourusername: He is three minutes old, be kind to him, world ❤️
liked by mackcelebrini, _willsmith2 and others
mackcelebrini: Thank you for having me! I felt like I got smarter talking to you!
yourusername: You might have !! 📚 You did so well, come back anytime!
cattoffoli: Waiting for my invite!
yourusername: Trust me, you're next!
fan93: Defo flerting
fan1: This is so cute I'm all for it, but did this mf just ask you who Sylvia Plath is???
yourusername: I'll put him on, trust me !
friend9: I'm going to start a rumor
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yourusername: posted 2 hours ago
♫: Puppy Love - Paul Anka
yourusername: a soft launch & a book recommendation! call me a woman of many talents! this week's recommendation is Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert! It's an astonishingly accurate depiction of a woman falling out of love. We follow the story of Emma Bovary as she steps out of wedlock due to boredom and delusion, but it is slowly revealed that her actions had devastating consequences. 9.4/10
liked by mackelebrini, cattoffoli, yoursister, _willsmith2, fan43 and 42,909 others
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yourusername: posted 11 hours ago
♫: Jonny - Faye Webster
yourusername: Hard launch i suppose! My first time, let me know how I did!! (get it, because you can't comment heheheh) The week's book recommendation is Beautiful Boy by David Sheff! This has to be one of my favorite books that had movie adaptations of it. It's heartbreaking, it's hopeful, it's soul crushing, it's descriptive in ways you need it to be, even if it's hard to swallow. It shows the perspective of how someone with an addict in their life is affected by their addiction, even without ever touching the drug. 10/10.
TAGGED: @mackcelebrini
liked by cattoffoli, mackcelebrini, _willsmith2, yoursister, friend7 and 67,739 others
COMMENTS...
mackcelebrini: Great book so far, almost done with your copy 🫡
yourusername: !!! give me a personal review later ;)
cattoffoli: Never once missing a recommendation, even if you get into a relationship! You're consistent as hell!!!
yourusername: A man will never top books on my list of priorities
tofff73: This book made me cry, wouldn't recommend.
yourusername: Wasn't it just so well written!! ugh crying throwing up screaming
_willsmith2: No more than one line about Mack, nonchalant god 🙏
yourusername: He holds more space in my heart than he does in my captions!
yoursister: Cutest 🤍
friend7: I was third wheeling their first date if anyone was wondering
newborn dad mack loving skin to skin with his baby! doing various tasks around the house with a scrunched up baby clinging to his chest
Skin - Macklin Celebrini
Pairing: Dad!Macklin Celebrini x Fem!Reader
Fluff blurb below the cut
You are significantly more exhausted than you ever thought possible. But by god, you were going to use all the strength you could muster to keep your eyes open. The couch cushions squished around you, swallowing you deeper, and your head lulled to the side. the scene unfolding in the kitchen was the epitome of affection.
Mack stood in the kitchen, back rotated slightly in your direction. Planes of muscles visible due to his lack of shirt. Sweatpants slung low. But that wasn't what held your attention. The small six-day-old baby pressed tight to his chest. That was where your eyes locked.
The past two days have been nothing but high pitched screaming, winks of sleep, aches, spit-up, and mack carrying your daughter around like she was an extension of himself.
"Mack baby," you spoke yesterday, laying in bed. "you're falling asleep, I'll take her, you can go take a shower."
He shook his head, blood hair falling in front of his closed eyes strong arms cradling the baby to his arm skin.
"Baby, come on, she'll be here when you get back."
Now, upon mack's insistence, you were sat on the couch, reruns of your favourite show playing while he fixed you both some tea. The bassinet sat, unused, next to the couch. Macklin was quickly learning how to navigate everyday tasks one-handed.
Two white mugs came to rest on the coffee table as the cushions to your right sunk.
"Can I hold her?"
As much as mack was attached, he quickly nodded, gently resting her in your outstretched arms.
"She's perfect." he mumbled, green eyes trained on her and your chest.
can you write about macklin needing to be picked up from the club and just being clingy and missing reader🙏🫶
MC71.||macklin celebrini.
fluff.
malkin getting picked up from the club.
My phone rang loudly on the nightstand next to me as I lay in Macklin’s room back in Vancouver. Mack, his brother, and a few of their friends had decided to head out to a club, but I had stayed behind with Charlie, opting for a quiet night of girly things instead.
I picked up the call, my voice soft and laced with sleep. “Hi, baby.”
There was a frantic shuffling sound on the other end, followed by Macklin’s voice, which sounded uncharacteristically thick. “Baby... b-baby,” he stuttered. I sat up straight, instantly alert, waiting for him to get his thoughts in order. “I need you to come get me,” he giggled, the slur in his speech making it clear he had had far too much to drink.
“Okay bubs,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm and reassuring. “You just stay right there, and I’ll come get you.” I didn’t hang up the phone; I wanted to keep the line open, just in case. As I scrambled to get dressed and grab my keys, I could hear him in the background, rambling about absolute nonsense to his friends. I listened intently, making sure he sounded safe while I navigated the late-night streets.
Once I pulled into the parking lot, I spotted him immediately. He was lying flat on the pavement, his phone resting on his chest, still muttering away to himself. I finally hung up the phone and walked over, kneeling beside him. “Hey, Mackie. Let’s go home,” I said, offering a soft, patient smile as I reached for his hand.
He allowed me to pull him up, swaying slightly before he managed to stumble toward the car. He shoved his phone into his pocket and buckled himself in, though he didn't let go of me for long. As soon as I pulled out of the parking lot and turned onto a side street, he reached over, grabbing my arm with a desperate grip. “I missed you,” he whined.
“I missed you too,” I replied, keeping my eyes on the road. “Did you have fun tonight?”
He nodded against my shoulder. “I had fun... a little bit.” He paused, his grip tightening as he leaned further into my space. “I miss you more.”
I couldn't help but smile; Mack was always a clingy boy, but when he was drunk, his need for affection was dialed up to an entirely different level. “Well, we’re almost home, Mack. I really can’t hold you properly right now—I need to focus on driving.”
I pulled up to a stop sign, and before I could even glance over, I felt him shifting. He unbuckled his seatbelt, his eyes bleary as he tried to climb over the center console to sit on my lap. “I want to be held now,” he insisted, his voice thick and demanding.
“No, no, no, Macklin! Stop, please!” I said, my voice sharp with alarm. I pulled over to the side of the road immediately, shifting the car into park. With a firm but gentle hand, I guided him back into his own seat. He resisted for a second, but I stood my ground, reaching over to pull the belt across his chest and click it firmly into place.
His lip immediately began to quiver, and his eyes welled up with tears. He looked so fragile, hurt by what he perceived as a rejection. “You don’t love me,” he whispered, staring down at his lap as he turned away from me.
My heart ached for him, but I knew I had to finish the drive safely. “Mack, look at me,” I said softly, waiting until he finally met my gaze. “I love you so much, but you were being dangerous, okay? We have to stay in our seats when we’re on the road. I need you to be safe.”
I leaned over and kissed his forehead, watching as his expression softened. “I’m sorry for being dangerous,” he sniffled, his voice small.
The rest of the drive was quiet. When we finally arrived at his parents' house, I helped him out of the car and walked him inside. We navigated the house in the dark, heading straight upstairs to his room.
“Let’s just shower in the morning, yeah, love?” I suggested, helping him peel off his damp, club-worn clothes and tucking him into the oversized duvet.
He didn't want to let me go. As soon as he crawled into bed, he laid directly on top of me, leaving absolutely no space between our bodies. He continued to babble on about his night, his voice gradually losing its strength until, finally, he drifted off into a deep, alcohol-induced slumber, leaving me to listen to the steady rhythm of his breathing in the quiet of the room.
hiiii could you please write something about protective macklin? like defending reader against a guy or something? I love your work!
what’s your why? ✶ m. celebrini
harassment? not from mack tho ofc, assumed underage drinking, but fluffy overall, i hope this was what you were looking for im not that proud of it but oh well, 1.1k words.
Going to the party was a mistake.
It was late, three hours past midnight; the sun would be up soon, but the night still felt alive. A stupid decision, really, dangerous even. Macklin was vulnerable, not in one of those “I-can’t-defend-myself” kinds of ways, but he was known, which meant he wasn’t truly safe. By extension, neither were you.
He’s pretty drunk already, with slurred speech and eyes glossed over, pupils dilated until that's all you could see. There's a flush on his face, brighter than it is usually; rosacea blooms pressed over his fuzzy cheeks. You’ve pressed many kisses to that red face, at least twenty times tonight. He grows redder with each peck and eventually stops trying to push you off. His hair sits askew, soft-brown waves hidden messily under a backwards baseball cap.
"Shit," you mutter, hands moving to stop the accidental pour of your drink. The solo cup had tipped over when you weren’t paying attention; a river of pungent red liquor spills down your shirt. By the time you scrambled to clean it up, the stain was already there. Macklin has his arm around your waist, but he’s too busy talking to someone else to notice the disaster you caused.
“Macklin, baby", you try, tugging at his sleeve. He leans over to brush his nose on the curve of your jaw, humming in a questioning tone. “I’ll be right back, okay? I got to clean this up.” You gesture to the mess on your shirt, and he gasps.
“Oh no, babe. You spilled your drink," he whines, and you laugh. He goes to kiss your cheek, the same way you've done to him multiple times this night, but he misses and just mouths at the space under your ear. The skin there grows wet as he laps at your neck; you buck him off after a few seconds and wait until he stabilises himself. “I’m just going to the bathroom; you wait here.”
He tries whining again, an attempt to get you to stay with him; he paws at your waist with slithery hands. You're gone before the manipulation works, though, because it would've worked, and then you would've spent the rest of the night with a stained shirt. As you weave through the dancing bodies of people, you try your best to remain unknown. It’s not like you're as famous as Macklin is; people don’t flock to you in the streets or cheer at the tops of their lungs whenever you do your job, but you can count on two hands the amount of times people have recognised your face.
Your socials nearly tripled in following the moment fans pieced together that you and Macklin were an item, with an array of comments and direct messages asking if the rumours were true. You never answered them and definitely blocked the ones that threatened you.
As you're two steps away from the bathroom, your shoulder bumps into another guy; he flinches when it happens, and you bear him a hushed apology, your focus trained on just getting the hell into the stall and recollecting yourself as much as you can. What you don’t notice is the way he stares at you, eyes trailing up and down your form as you hightail it out of the party.
The stain still remains on your shirt once you're done in the restroom, just a few shades lighter with the help of water and a Tide pen a girl lends to you once she notices the problem. The time spent in the bathroom was short, but you're sure Macklin is already growing desperate for your presence to be with him once more.
You bump into the same guy as you're making your way through the crowd again. Or, well, it honestly more felt like he slammed into you purposely; you have to brace yourself against the wall just to ensure you don’t end up on the sticky floor.
"Woah—sorry, that was my bad," he confesses, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Oh, that’s alright—sorry if you’ll excuse me—” The guy blocks your path by stepping in front of you. The movement makes you freeze; the look in his eye makes your heart plummet.
“Hey, aren’t you Macklin Celebrini’s girl?”
Others around you turn at the question; your heart beats wildly in your chest. Fuck. You've got to find a way out of this. He tilts his head, one-upping you again. His gaze felt strange on your body; it didn’t feel innocent at all. He wasn’t trying to figure out who you were. He knew exactly who you were; he was trying to see how far he could push it.
“Yeah, you are. He’s a pretty impressive guy. Olympian.” The guy states, taking a sip of his beer. You use that moment of distraction to try pushing past him once more, or at the very least scan around the room for your boyfriend to save you. You can’t see him; it’s too dark in the house, and he’s probably still outside.
“Why are you even with that guy? You know he’s only one drunk night away from finding someone else. Someone better. I could treat you better.”
Oh god. He’s one of those guys. The self-proclaimed “nice guy" thinks just because he knows certain stuff about women's history that means he’s entitled to your attention. You huff out a gust of air, annoyance growing more and more taut. But for a brief second, you think differently. What if he’s right? You hear the stories, the locker-room conversations and the Snapchat messages.
"Hey," a voice calls out, deep and intense. The guy in front of you turns, and from that you're able to see Macklin standing there, feet planted firmly on the ground like he’s not four drinks and one keg-stand attempt deep into intoxication. “Leave her alone. She's not interested.”
The guy backs off, surprisingly. His hands come up in mock surrender, muttering about whatever excuse he can come up with. You don’t care to pay attention; your eyes stay fixed onto Mack. He comes up to you the moment there's free space between you; his hands curl around your face.
“Are you okay? I came looking for you when you didn’t come back.”
“I’m okay,” you say into his chest, wrapping your arms around his midriff. “Thank you, baby.”
He envelops you the same way, hands sneaking around your neck until they sit in between your shoulder blades. You rock together to the beat of the music for a few minutes, breathing deep into each other's skin like you wish to mould into it. “We should get out of here. Go home.”
You're sure in the morning the press will have lit up; no doubt video footage was taken of the events. The hockey world turning sour at the mere spectacle of a boy defending the person he loves. They'll assume, theorise, lie and manipulate unsuspecting fans, but you know the truth behind all the cruel words. You know exactly what kind of person Macklin is, and that’s your why.
