╰ 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.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ macklin celebrini x athlete!fem!reader. olympic selection, media availability, accidental nickname, mild chaos. wrote this at an unreasonable hour thinking about the olympics. sorry in advance. eng is not my first language!
in which an olympic dream is announced, a nickname slips on live television, and the internet never lets her forget it.
my main masterlist! ❀
The room smells faintly like coffee.
It’s the kind of media room that always looks bigger on TV than it feels in real life. The backdrop behind you is perfectly aligned: your country’s flag, the Olympic rings, the year 2026 printed neatly. You sit centered at the table, hands folded, posture perfect —the posture you’ve been trained into since you were a kid with a dream that felt too big for your body.
Your name flashes on the screen beneath you.
Selected Athlete – Winter Olympic Games 2026.
The words still don’t feel like they belong to you.
“Three, two… we’re live!”
You inhale slowly and lift your head, your smile settling into place with the ease of someone who’s done this a thousand times: press conferences, post-game interviews and more. Luckily, this is familiar territory.
Camera shutters click immediately.
“First of all, congratulations!,” a reporter says from the front row, her voice warm but sharp. “Can you tell us how you found out? What was the call like when your coach told you the news?”
Your shoulders relax.
“It was… unreal,” you say honestly, eyes bright. “I remember seeing his name on my phone and thinking, why is he calling me this early?” A small laugh slips out. “I honestly thought something was wrong. And then he told me, and I just... I froze. I don’t think I answered him for at least like, thirty seconds.”
Laughter spreads across the room.
“I’ve dreamed about the Olympics since I was little,” you continue. “But hearing it said out loud, knowing it’s real… it’s overwhelming in the best way.”
“Are you proud of yourself?” another journalist asks, leaning forward. “This has been a long journey for you.”
You pause, not because you don’t know the answer, but because the question hits deeper than expected.
“Yes,” you say finally, voice steady. “I am. I think as athletes, we’re always chasing the next goal, the next improvement. But today… yeah. I’m very proud.”
Pens scribble faster.
“And your family?” another voice asks. “How did they take the news?”
Your smile softens instantly, like someone flipped a switch.
“My mom cried,” you say without hesitation. “Full-on tears.” The room chuckles. “Um, my dad tried to stay composed, but he didn’t last very long and my siblings... They just started to jump all over. My family has sacrificed so much for me: the early mornings, long drives, missed holidays. This moment belongs to them just as much as it does to me.”
Everything flows smoothly after that.
Questions about preparation. About pressure. About expectations. You answer them calmly, thoughtfully, your voice steady, your expression open. You feel grounded. Confident.
This is your moment, and you’re handling it perfectly.
Then it happens.
A voice from the back of the room —unfamiliar, a little too eager.
“Have you seen that Macklin Celebrini has also been selected to represent Canada at the Winter Olympics?” the reporter asks. “What are your thoughts on that?”
You blink once.
Ah.
That.
Of course that question was coming.
You’ve seen the headlines. The tweets. The TikToks zooming in on details that were never meant to be clues —a hoodie here, a comment there, you attending to his game, Will Smith posting like he doesn’t understand the concept of subtlety. Your teammates haven’t been much better.
The internet, as usual, has decided it knows everything.
You laugh lightly, shaking your head a little.
“Yes! Mackie—”
The word leaves your mouth so naturally, so casually, that you don’t even realize what you’ve done until the silence crashes down around you.
Mackie.
On live television.
Your stomach drops and your brain short-circuits.
Your smile turns into a fine line.
Oh no. Oh no, no, no.
You feel heat rush to your face, your ears burning as the realisation sinks in. Somewhere to your left, your agent makes a sound that can only be described as pure panic.
You blink, once. Twice. Force yourself to breathe.
“Macklin,” you correct quickly, voice a little too crisp now, “has been selected, and I think it’s amazing to see how much trust is being placed in younger athletes these days. It really shows how the sport is evolving and—”
It doesn’t matter.
You know it doesn’t.
Because the room isn’t listening anymore.
You hear murmurs, see eyebrows lift, catch the way a few reporters exchange looks. Somewhere, someone is already typing DID YOU HEAR THAT???
Another journalist jumps in immediately, barely containing their excitement.
“Do you call him Mackie… personally?”
Your agent physically twitches.
You stare at the reporter, your brain desperately searching for a safe, diplomatic answer —something smooth, something boring.
Nothing comes.
Before you can say anything, or make it worse, your agent stands.
“Alright people, that’s all we have time for today,” he says quickly, laughing in a way that is absolutely not convincing. “Thank you all. She won’t be taking any more questions.”
The room erupts in overlapping voices as you’re guided away from the table. You keep smiling, because apparently that’s your coping mechanism now, waving politely as flashes go off like fireworks.
The door closes behind you.
The second you’re out of sight, you groan and drop your head back against the wall.
“I said Mackie,” you whisper.
Your agent turns to you slowly.
“You said Mackie.”
“I have never said that on camera. Ever.”
“They’re already clipping it,” your agent says flatly.
As if on cue, your phone starts vibrating violently in your pocket.
Once. Twice. Again.
You pull it out, already knowing who it’s from.
macklin:
you call me mackie on live tv now?
You let out a weak laugh, sliding down slightly until your shoulder hits the wall.
“This is going to haunt me forever,” you mutter.
Your phone buzzes again.
macklin:
for the record… I kinda like public now.
You close your eyes, smiling despite yourself.
Olympic athlete.
National embarrassment.
And apparently, very bad at keeping secrets.
Prompt: your job keeps you busy, running back and forth in the ER taking care of whoever comes in. but when you get hurt on the job one day, all you want is your boyfriend
Warnings: mention of stitches, assault from patient, bruising, choking, blood
A/N: as always let me know how you like this one!
requested!
part two, part three
Working in the ER was unpredictable, you had to be ready at a moments notice for anything. You’ve seen a lot, but something that you’re never truly prepared for is when somebody just snaps.
Like now for example.
It started out routine, a cut on a cheek that needed stitches. The man seemed upset when you started, which you’re used to. After all who’s happy to have stitches? But it started to turn when you realized he wasn’t upset at the situation, he was upset with you.
Okay, you could handle this. You were trained to deescalate situations like this.
However, it got too out of hand, too fast.
One minute you pulled away from the man’s face gently, not wanting to startle him. The next moment, he lunges himself at you. His fists flying up to meet your face, then grabbing onto your throat and taking you to the ground. Things smashed to the ground in the process, catching the attention of doctors and nurses walking by. The closed curtain flew open and his hands were ripped from your throat.
You gulp down air, tears springing from your eyes and your vision slightly blurry around the edges. You could see nurses checking you out, establishing the next course of action. And as a nurse yourself, you knew what they were going to do.
Your coworkers help you up, continually talking to you. Telling you that you’re okay, and that they are going to put you in a room and go from there.
You were in a daze as they help you into a private room. One of the on call doctors you know coming in to see the damage.
Swallowing was killer, and you knew without seeing your reflection that your throat was bruised. You could hear it in your voice when answering questions too.
“Can you tell me exactly what happened?” The doctor asks, and you don’t even realize when a cop came in the room. But he was there, with a pen and paper as you nod to him. Very slowly you explain that you were gently pulling away, sensing the rising tension before the man attacked you. You told him about the few punches he got in on your face, before he started to choke you.
“Okay, I’ve got everything I need for now.” The cop says, putting the notebook and pen into one of his pockets. “I will reach out early tomorrow and we will go from there. Does that sound good?” He asks, and you nod, not wanting to use your voice anymore than you have to.
With reassurances and an apology, the officer leaves the room. Resting your head back on the pillow you close your eyes. You don’t want to cry, but the tension in your body is demanding a release, so crying it is.
Your coworker clocks it immediately, and she sits by your side, refusing to leave until you’ve calmed down a bit. Working together for a few years has made you guys close, so it’s no surprise when she launches into a big story about her new boyfriend, and the crazy things she’s doing in her life. You try not to laugh as she tells her stories, everytime you do causes you to wince slightly.
As the doctor comes back in, he checks on you before saying, “we called your emergency contact while we were cleaning you up. I’m not allowing you to go home by yourself.”
“You called Mack?”
“Yes. He is on his way here, he is very worried. We tried explaining you’ll be alright-“
“Oh trust me. You don’t know Mack.” You say, knowing he probably had a heart attack receiving that call.
—
Practice was done for the day, and Mack was ready to be at home with you in his arms. The day lined up perfectly that you’d be done with work just when he was getting home. So he already planned to have everything set up when you arrived. Couch set up for some movies, snacks in the kitchen, fresh clothes laid out on the bed, one of his sharks sweatshirts and your favorite pair of comfy shorts, a fresh towel on the bathroom counter for after your shower.
Will had been teasing him all practice.
Things like, “You’re whipped.” and “I think as your best friend I should receive these services too.”
“In your dreams.” Mack responds, shoving his best friend on the ice.
—
His phone rang in his hand as the water from his shower dripped down the side of his cheek. The room was buzzing, some guys answering whatever silly question the media people had today, some texting, some taking off equipment.
Will had asked Mack a question, but he didn’t respond. Looking at the number on his phone. He didn’t have it saved, but under the number it said the name of the hospital you worked at.
That’s weird, he thought. But he answered right away, worry taking hold in his gut.
“Hello?” He speaks up as he swipes to answer the call.
“Hi, is this Macklin Celebrini?” The woman asks.
“Yes it is.”
“We are calling you as you are Y/N Y/L/N’s emergency contact.” As soon as she uttered those words Mack froze, eyes widening, breathing picking up.
“Mack, buddy. You good?” Will asks, grabbing the attention of some of the other players and some of the sharks management team.
Mack couldn’t tear his gaze away from the floor as he tried to comprehend what the woman was telling him. The entire room was quiet now, every set of eyes trained on him.
“Mack-“ Tyler says, standing up and heading in the younger’s direction.
“I’m sorry.” Mack says into the phone. “Can you repeat that?”
“Yes of course. There was an incident involving Y/N and a patient today. She is doing alright, however she did sustain injuries-“
“What injuries?” Mack asks immediately, and he swears his heart is about to explode out of his chest. Faces of the fellow Sharks players went wide with shock. Will shot up, staring at Mack waiting for him to explain. Mumblings broke out across stalls as they heard what Mack said.
“Oh my god.” Mack says into his phone as the woman explains the heavy bruising of your throat from being choked. Choked. Somebody wrapped their hands around your throat. And bruising on your face from receiving a few punches.
“Is she okay?” Will asks Mack. But he didn’t respond, still listening and trying to take in everything the woman was saying. His palms were sweating, his hands shaking as he holds the phone up to his ear.
“We won’t release her without someone being there with her-“
“I’m on my way.” Mack says, cutting her off. “Please tell her I’m on my way. Is she alone? Somebody should be with her right now, I don’t want her to be alone.”
“Yes, one of her fellow coworkers is with her. And we have the on call doctor popping in and checking on her.”
His heart is beating so fast, and he hangs up his phone before grappling at his clean clothes. His upper body was still wet from the shower, but drying off was so far down on his list of priorities.
“Macklin what’s going on?” Will asks, his best friend’s voice cracking with worry.
“She got-“ Mack starts, eyes watering slightly. “Someone attacked her, they-“ he takes another gulp of air. He can’t panic about it. Because he wasn’t the one sitting in a hospital bed right now. He wasn’t the one assaulted by some man. He needed to get to you, needed to be there for you. Fuck all his emotions, you came first, you always came first to Macklin. “Someone hit her, choked her. I have to go-“
“Alright, alright. You need to breathe a second before you go anywhere.” Tyler says, dad mode activating like it always does when it comes to Mack or Will.
The entire team was livid, worry for you traveling around. Everyone loved you, you were pure sunshine to everyone you talked to.
And Mack, well Mack was convinced you hung the stars. He’d get chirped by how in love he was with you, but truthfully you also had the entire team wrapped around your finger too.
“No, I need to go.” Mack says back to Ty, slipping his shoes on.
Ty looked behind Mack, catching eyes with Will, who gave Ty a nod of understanding.
Will, in equal pace of Mack, slips on his shoes, shoving things randomly away before grabbing his keys.
“I’ll take you.” Will speaks up, and even though Mack wasn’t trying to ignore his best friend, he didn’t respond. Only ran out, moving as fast as he could so he could get to you.
The car ride was silent, Mack’s leg shaking the entire time. He makes little comments about switching lanes so Will could pass people, and complaining at red lights.
“She’s okay.” Will speaks, breaking the tense silence. He looks over to Mack, understanding the silence that continues. Macklin gets like this sometimes, when something happens his mouth goes silent, but from the look in his eyes you can tell his mind isn’t quiet. His mind in fact is screaming at him to get to the hospital. And if Will hits one more red light Mack might actually jump out of this car and run.
—
Time creeps by slower than ever. You’re almost positive that God is playing some rude trick on you.
Mack is on his way. Mack is on his way. You’re okay. Mack is coming. Mack is coming for you.
You repeat the same jumble of words over and over again, even as your coworkers filter in and out, hanging out with you in shifts.
The sharp pain that laced your cheek from the initial punch settled into a dull throb, and you’re sure it’s bruised most of your face. It was your throat that was the worst, and would be the most annoying thing to heal. But you knew the steps, you’ve helped people in the past, you’ve just never had to do it yourself.
As your left on your own, you crash. The adrenaline from the day leaving, making you groggy and stiff. You hadn’t realized how tense you’d been even now, but the soreness spread from your neck to your shoulders.
Mack’s coming. You’re okay.
You bit your lip, tears threatening to slip over your bottom lids when the door opens. And there he is.
A faint flush covers his cheeks and his neck, his eyes blown wide in worry and panic. As soon as you locked your eyes with his the tears fell, and you reached your arms out to him.
Will watches the tears drip from your cheeks and the way Macklin launches himself at you. He tried his best not to make a face when he took you in. The deep purple covering your cheek and creeping up to your eye making it puffy. But it was the alarming purple handprints on your neck that made Will want to gag. He’s been hurt plenty of times in hockey, so has Mack. Both of them sporting angry bruises that hurt just by breathing. He cannot imagine however, the pain you feel now.
“Oh my god.” Mack says, rushing to you and pulling you into his embrace. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Of course not but are you in pain? I can grab someone, I can do anything you want. I love you so much, I’m so sorry Y/N.”
“I just want to go home Mackie.” You whisper, your voice so croaky and broken. You pull back so Mack can look at you, and you watch his face change and he takes in your injuries up close. You notice Will in the background, looking to the ground as if trying to give you guys a moment, but his skin was as white as a sheet.
“Does it hurt to speak? Just nod, or shake your head.” Mack questions, and his voice became so loving and protective, it was strange to hear that side of him instead of the goofy voice you’re used to.
You nod, tears dripping down your cheeks. You point at some paperwork on the table across from the bed. And Will hands it to Mack, who has one of your hands gripped in his own.
Mack reads the paperwork as you look to his best friend, one of your best friends as well, and Will only looks at you in sorrow. You shrug at him, as if silently saying ‘it’s part of the job. I’ll be fine.’
The door to the room opens, and all three of your gazes snap to it as the on call doctor comes in.
Mack immediately starts asking questions, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand as he listens to the doctor who tells your boyfriend and his best friend everything that happened today and how to proceed moving forward.
You close your eyes, tired of reliving the events for what seems like the thousandth time today, and you must have fallen asleep, because you open your eyes to Mack saying you name.
“Let’s go home.” He says, your purse thrown over his shoulder, and your favorite travel coffee mug in one hand. He holds his other hand out to you as you sit up, grabbing it as you stand up for the first time in a few hours. “Does anything hurt? I can ask for a wheelchair if you don’t want to walk. I could carry you but I figured you wouldn’t want the damsel in distress thing in front of your coworkers.”
“I’m okay.” You manage to say, but you didn’t miss the wince in either of their faces as you speak.
“We definitely need to get you a whiteboard or something.” Mack says cracking the first joke since he’d come in the hospital room. You laugh, which was a huge mistake but you couldn’t help it. Mack had the ability to make you laugh no matter what, but the laugh soon turned into a nasty sounding cough, and your head pounded at the strain. You stumble a bit, hand flying to your throat as you cough. Mack lunges, grabbing your waist and pulling you back into a standing position. Will moved on instinct as well when he saw you start to go down, but when Mack had caught you Will silently reached for your purse and mug, giving Macklin the ability to hold you without anything in his way.
“The doctor said your head might hurt, once we get home I can run and pick up the prescription for you. I’m not sure if you were sleeping when he got to that point or not, but I asked for everything to be printed out for you anyways. I figured the nurse in you wanted to know everything about your own recovery.”
You nod, not saying anything as the coughing fit ended, and just smiled at your boyfriend. It warmed you to know that he knew you well enough to know what you would want. You don’t have to ask him for things, he just does them.
As Will holds the door open for you both, you walk towards the employee exit of the ER. Your coworkers all stopping and wishing you the best and saying they will see you next week. You have been dying for a little vacation, but this was not the kind of vacation you had in mind.
Will speaks to the pair of you, telling you to wait here while he pulls the car up, and Mack sits you down on the bench outside.
“Come here.” He motions to his side. And you look at him in question. “Please. I just want to hold you for a second.”
You shift into his side and he tucks you in tight, putting both of his arms around you as he kisses the top of your head.
“I was so worried, god when I got that call.” He starts, and you pull your head back so you could look at him.
“I-“
“Don’t you dare talk, and don’t you dare apologize.” He says.
You look sheepishly at him, because of course he knew you were going to apologize for scaring him, when you both know you have nothing to apologize for. You didn’t ask for this to happen, but it did.
“I’m just happy you can be home, and I can take care of you for a little bit. I can make some grilled cheese, I finally figured out the perfect timing for it. And we can watch whatever you want, I can even read to you if you want.”
You smile as he rambles, trying his best to provide whatever comfort he can. You smile at him, wishing you could speak because you’d thank him for everything he is doing, and honestly everything he is. But instead, you kiss him, lightly of course, cutting him off.
Mack’s phone buzzes before he can respond, then buzzes again. And again. You both furrow your brows and look at his phone which was lighting up like grand central station at this point. He opens the masses of missed messages, to realize it is the Shark’s groupchat. You say Will started texting saying,
Will:
She’s okay, we’re here now.
Ty:
What did the doctor say? Have you talked to anyone yet?
Reaves:
Who was the person that did this? I can totally go for a little man hunt
Eky:
Tell her she’s badass. And I will gladly join a manhunt
Ty:
Cat said you guys can come to ours tonight. I doubt she’ll feel up for a bunch of people, but just in case she feels the need for company
Will:
I’ll talk to them when I get them both in the car, I’m sure the last thing Mack is thinking about is this groupchat
Graf:
This does seem way more toned down than normal…. Mack’s presence is missed
Will:
Be careful what you wish for
Misa:
Collin, don’t jinx anything
You feel your eyes tear well up in your eyes at the kindness, protectiveness and worry the team has for you. When you started dating Macklin you knew this team was a family to him. And it didn’t take long for it to be your family as well.
You grab the phone out of Mack’s hand, typing in a separate chat so you could communicate with Mack instead of talking. You hand the phone back to him, waiting to see what he says.
“You sure you’re up for going over there? Nobody will be upset if you just want to be at home.” Mack says, watching your expression as Will pulls up to where you are both still perched together on the bench.
You grab the phone again and type ‘please. I want to be around my family’ It took every ounce of self restraint for Mack not to grab your face and kiss you deeply.
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.
when the couple behind your table starts fighting.
will smith, macklin celebrini, connor bedard, fraser minten x reader
will smith
oh he is absolutely trained by his older sister. it's shocking how he's noticed before you. while his intuition when something... juicy and gossip-worthy is about to happen is uncanny, the way he still can't control his expression is painfully obvious.
he's mid-bite of the steak he cut up when his eyes dart behind you. he's immediately dialed in, eyes hilariously wide and focused. you glance over your shoulder to find what he's looking at. their table is tilted in such a way that you get a full scope of the scene.
the guy sits with both hands on the table, talking like he’s trying to carry the entire conversation on his own. across from him, the girl looks anywhere but at him, her responses short and barely there.
you think nothing of it at first, opting to focus on the food in front of you but the way will's eyes dart over your shoulder (more often that you'd like) makes you all the more curious about the scene behind you.
their food arrives, and whatever conversation he was trying to keep afloat dissolves. they eat in silence. every now and then, he looks up at her, offering small, hopeful smiles she doesn’t return.
finally, you turn to will and he's genuinely locked in, sitting slightly forward just to get a tiny bit of the couple's conversation. "will, are they fighting?" your voice is barely loud enough to hear over the restaurant's ambiance.
he looks at you like he's been waiting for you to say that. "oh my god you noticed too?" you let out a little laugh, "hard not to when you're dialed in on them like that. let's maybe not be too obvious, babe!" your foot nudges his under the table. he let's out his own laugh.
"no but i've been looking over there and that girl's been waiting on that table since we've sat down" he says through gritted teeth, eyes wide and shocked at the situation, your face mirrors his instantly and your hand goes up to cover your mouth. "fuck, seriously? what an ass. who even does that?"
"right?!" will's voice slips out loud enough that the table beside you looks at him, he offers them a short apology and clears his throat. "right?" he tries again, voice appropriately low this time.
you both fall into a quieter kind of watching after that, less obvious but no less invested. the girl finally sets her fork down, says something you can’t quite catch. and suddenly, she stands, grabs her bag, and walks out without looking back.
you and will exchange a look at the exact same time. “good for her,” you murmur.
“good for her,” he echoes, a little too satisfied, before catching himself and ducking his head with a grin. your foot nudges his again under the table, and this time he nudges back.
macklin celebrini
you notice it before he does. the mood of the table beside you is dark and brooding, distracting you from the shared pizookie you and mack have. you angle your head to hear the conversation between the couple. a lot of quiet back and forths.
he notices your inattentiveness when he doesn't hear you say anything about one of his teammates slipping on the ice in practice earlier. then he notices you're barely eating any of the dessert, your spoon just pushing it around more than anything.
his brows knit as he watches you, following the tilt of your head. clearly, he's bothered that your attention isn't on him. "what is it?" his spoon clinks yours to grab your attention.
you don't answer him just yet, eyes flicking to the table beside you.
“what?” he whispers, leaning in. “what’s going on?” your tongue clicks, head shaking slightly, like you’re trying not to get caught. “mack,” you murmur, barely moving your lips, trying not to get frustrated at his cluelessness “just— just listen.”
he frowns, clearly unsatisfied with that answer. “listen to what?”
your eyes roll behind your closed eyes, they open just to flick toward the table again “shh—” he exhales quietly through his nose, frustrated himself. but he listens. really listens this time.
mack's brows shoot up and he lets out a sound of realization, a little too loud for your liking. "mack—" you hiss and hit his spoon this time. you cough, a bit too fake but it's enough that the couple beside you doesn't notice that both of you are now leaning in on their argument.
he mutters a small apology as his lips press together and his eyes are wide—fully invested. the girl’s voice comes through a little clearer now that both of you are silent as a mouse.
the girl is undoubtedly irritated and all the more frustrated at the man in front of her. she says something about him never taking her seriously, about how every time she brings something up, he brushes it off like it’s a joke. the guy says something in response, low and defensive, and she immediately cuts him off.
the pizookie between you goes mostly untouched now, your spoons moving absentmindedly, more habit than hunger. every now and then, one of you takes a bite, but it’s not for the dessert anymore—it’s something to do while you listen, like buttered popcorn at a movie.
mack leans in closer, voice barely above a whisper. “he’s deflecting,” he says, way too serious about it.
you stifle a laugh. “i know, the audacity of this guy” you let out a scoff.
you both fall quiet again, listening like it’s the most important thing in the world.
a few minutes passes.
and then another.
you glance at your phone briefly, eyes widening just a little. “oh my god,” you whisper. “we’ve been here way longer than we planned.” your realization only deepens when the vanilla ice cream on top has now melted into a puddle of white.
your own boyfriend doesn’t even look at you, eyes still fixed past your shoulder. “in a minute,” he murmurs.
you stare at him in disbelief.
“i need to see how this ends.”
connor bedard
you've barely handed back the menu to the waiter before your ears perk at the sound of quiet screaming laced with frustration and disbelief. you look to your left to see a couple at the next table, the woman throwing her hands up in exasperation while the man fumbles to say something.
connor, with nothing else to do, follows your gaze. he understands immediately and he lets out a breath. he hums, dismissive. “couple fight. happens.”
a breath comes through your nose and you shake your head as you try and make sense of the situation, your hand even comes up so you can rest your chin there. "what the hell could they be fighting about," you mutter, more to yourself than anything.
connor reaches for his water as he leans back on his chair, "probably something stupid." but then the girl's voice is an octave higher and says something about him not having any more time for her, with practices early in the mornings until late at night, and his gear is all over their place.
your own boyfriend perks up, because even if the girl never explicitly said anything about hockey, it's undeniable that the guy across your table is an athlete.
“…no way,” he mutters, almost to himself. your eyebrows raise as you glance at him, already knowing.
his posture changes instantly—no more leaning back, no more letting whatever conversation was happening next to you go in one ear and out the other. he sets his glass down slowly, eyes widening slightly as he looks at you, properly this time.
“hey,” he says quickly, leaning forward, voice low but urgent. “i would never do that to you.”
you blink at him, a little lost on what he’s trying to say. “what?”
“i wouldn’t–” he cuts himself off and breathes out heavily, like he's trying to calm himself down. “like... early practices—sure i can't control that—but I wouldn’t just… leave my stuff out everywhere and also ignore you. that’s—no.” he shakes his head, almost offended at the idea. “that’s bad.. really bad.”
you laugh at his internal panic. “oh my god connor,” you whisper, half amused, “no one said you would.”
he puts his hands up in mock surrender, “i’m just saying,” he continues anyway, “i wouldn’t do that.”
before you could provide any more assurance, the guy on the other table speaks up, his expression is annoyed more than anything and says that she should have seen it coming and that she knew what she was signing up for.
"what the fuck?" there's an incredulous look to connor's face and his head shakes in disbelief, you can't help but mirror his own disbelief with a hand over your open mouth.
the next few minutes pass with him barely touching his food. his fork only moves to push the vegetables around his plate.
“…he’s deflecting,” he whispers suddenly, leaning forward just a little.
you blink at him but nod in agreement “he is.”
"which means he's guilty." he adds, finally putting some food in his mouth, like he's sure of what he's saying.
"of what exactly?"
"of being wrong? of being an absolute trash of a boyfriend and man—if he even is one."
you turn back to him, eyebrows raised. “oh so you know them now?”
“i can tell,” he insists, leaning in a little more as his shoulders shrug, voice dropping like he’s breaking down post-game footage. “look at her, she’s not even surprised. she’s just… done.”
right on cue, theres an abrupt screeching noise from the table beside you, the girl's chair moves as she stands up.
you watch as his entire posture changes, sitting up straighter now, completely dialed in. his fork is abandoned on the plate as his hands come together, preparing for the worst.
“wait–wait, this is where it gets good,” he murmurs, eyes narrowing. and you stare at him in pure amusement "you're acting like this is a live game or something."
"because it is." he shoots back quietly, not even bothering to look at you. "incredibly high stakes here."
a string of profanities leaves her mouth as she reaches for her glass and throws the contents of it over her now ex-boyfriend.
"oh my god.." you and connor say at the same time, eyes darting back and forth between the two of them
the entire table—and restaurant goes still. the guy looks completely stunned, water dripping from his hair and collar, while she stands there—chest rising and falling, hands shaking just slightly as her hand forms as fist.
connor slowly leans back in his chair, both hands coming up to rest on his head like he just witnessed the craziest play of his life.
“no way,” he breathes out, half in disbelief, half in awe.
“that was absolute cinema.”
fraser minten
you're halfway through putting a forkful of pasta in your mouth when you notice it. the uncomfortable kind of silence and the intimidating aura radiating from the table behind fraser.
you notice the way the guy’s fork scrapes a little too loudly against his plate. the way the girl hasn’t touched her drink. then suddenly, a sharp exhale and a serious, irritated look comes from her.
your eyes widen as you lean in closer, trying to make sense of the situation.
“…not what i'm trying to say,” the guy mutters.
“then what are you trying to say?” she shoots back, harsh yet quiet.
across from you, your boyfriend is focused on his food. he's getting his last chew of his chicken when he notices your line of sight falls behind him.
"what?" he says a little too loudly as he looks directly at the couple's table.
your feet moves quickly to kick at his shin. "don't make it too obvious!" you say through gritted teeth.
you both overcompensate by looking down at your food and picking at it. thankfully, the couple is too absorbed in their own fight that they paid no mind to both of you.
both of you remain quiet after that, with fraser taking quick glances behind him sometimes craning his head to hear their fight better.
gradually, you see his expression shift from confusion to a slight irritation.
"i have to go." he says with the kind of urgency that's almost worrying.
you don't get a single word in when he's already pushing his chair back as he makes a beeline towards the bathroom, which is coincidentally right past their table.
you watch him go, narrowing your eyes slightly as he just so happens to slow down near them, head tilting the slightest bit.
“unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath.
he's gone longer than necessary.
when he finally comes back, he doesn’t even try to act normal, sliding into his seat with a look that says everything.
you don’t even bother easing into it "what did you hear?” you lean in close, grabbing his sleeve.
"no—genuinely you cannot make this shit up babe," your boyfriend laughs to himself, knowing what he's about to say is absurd.
“he turned his phone off during his game without telling her beforehand,” he explains. “i think she was checking in because she didn’t know where he was or if something went wrong. totally reasonable, right?”
you nod along.
“and then, he got annoyed at the messages instead of... i don't know—understanding why she was sending them?!” fraser's voice heightens and the tension in his body is visible as he continues.
“so now he’s saying stuff like she’s the problem for not ‘knowing he’d be busy.’” the last part he air quotes with all the sarcasm in his body, eyes rolling.
you scoff at the audacity of the man, eyes flickering to him. "yeah he seems like the type," your head shakes in disappointment.
"hmm," your boyfriend hums in agreement. "you don't get to disappear on someone like that and then get mad when they react and get worried." he shrugs like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and it is. but it apparently is not for the man in the table next to yours.
suddenly, you start to make sense of the situation, and how silly it is (at least from your perspective)
because how can fraser know all this?
you barely know the couple. you've caught maybe half a dozen of cut-off conversations at most. and yet he manages to get a full narrative before the clock's even had the chance to change the hour.
you eyes narrow a him just a little and he notices, he shifts in his seat like he's the one in trouble now.
"how do you know all this frase?"
he shrugs and looks down, seeming guilty. "i listened when i went to the bathroom."
"right..." you trail off, waiting for him to say anything else. he doesn't.
"you barely passed by their table though?" your head tilts, catching his eyes for a moment.
"i may have... stayed back to listen to the servers gossip." he confesses, muttering the last part like he's admitting to a crime.
you stare at him, deadpan. "fraser,,, babe."
"what?" he replies quickly as he straightens a little and finally makes eye contact with you. "it wasn't my fault they were loud enough for me to hear!'
you shake your head, a laugh slipping out despite yourself. “you’re unbelievable.”
he shrugs, completely unbothered now and he smiles at himself. "this is peak citizen journalism, babe."
notes: i HAD to get this out today. also.. got suddenly invited to a summit/seminar thing WHEN HALF MY STUFF IS AT HOME SO IM DOING WITH WHAT I HAVE IN MY DORM. which means i wrote this on my ipad and phone. no one gets to judge me if its buns 🥹✌️
a/n; someone go kiss away his tears rn omfg. and this is for anon!
wc; 1.3k
Disappointment hangs around Macklin's head, he's been nearly silent all afternoon, a stubborn frown tugging at his features as he mopes around your hotel room. You were surprised when even the suggestion of a shower together couldn't perk him up. Instead, he showered alone in silence while you paced outside the door, worrying for him.
You know you have to do something. Macklin needs to take his mind off things, only he's too stubborn to do it himself. He likes to dwell on things, to let them ruminate and bounce around in his head until the only thing he hears is a reverberating cacophony of the negatives, the should'ves and could'ves, what ifs, and criticisms, and he'll never say it out loud, won't talk about it to you or anyone else.
Your goal for the evening is to get Macklin to turn his brain off, and turn his voice up. You want him as loud as possible, to hear him all hoarse and needy as he chants your name. It’s not hard to get him noisy for you, the simple act of kissing him can get his dick hard and have him whining against your lips. So you hatch a plan.
After his shower, your boyfriend walks out with a towel around his hips, dragging another one over his head. You watch him curiously, not unlike a cat observing it's prey just before pouncing. His towel drops, you stare shamelessly at his ass, smiling when he turns his head to look back at you. "Gonna give me a show?" you coo.
He doesn't say anything.
Macklin tugs grey boxers from his suitcase along with an old black team Canada tee, something that looked like it belonged to his father. He tugs them both on, looking tired as he shuffles over to the little loveseat in front of the TV.
"You think there's anything good on?" he asks, and it feels like the first time you've heard his voice. He's already hoarse, mumbling his words as he looks around for the remote.
You slide off the bed, pulling your hoodie over your head to reveal a tight, cropped tank top. Mack looks over at you, already distracted from his task, eyes a little wide at the sight of your cleavage, the softness of your stomach.
He's still awestruck when you slide into his lap, pressing your lips to his ear. "You played so good today," you murmur to him. "I'm proud of you baby. You know that, right?"
Macklin flushes, green eyes darting around, doing anything to avoid your praise. You know he loves it, but the poor thing can't handle the sweet words being said to his face, especially when it comes to his playing. "Could've done a lot more," he responds, voice already pitching up into a gentle whine.
You shush him, pressing your hips down against him. He's warm underneath you, cock already solid against your inner thigh. "Nuh-uh, none of that tonight," you scold, keeping your voice soft. "You played hard," you whisper, rolling your hips in a slow circle, leaning in to kiss him before continuing, "and you looked so handsome."
"Stop it," Mack groans, thighs trembling a little underneath you. "You're jus' saying that," he protests, but you shake your head.
"No 'm not," you murmur, smiling against his cheek. He is so handsome beneath you, hair sticking up in every direction, cheeks pink and blotchy, his tongue flicking out to wet already kiss-swollen lips.
Instead of telling him anything further, you let your body do the talking. Slow, steady rolls of your hips have Mack whimpering, his chest heaving under your palms. "Fuck, I-I'm gonna cum, baby I swear," he manages through gritted teeth, his head thrown back against the couch. He can't stand it, the warm weight of you in his lap, rubbing over his cock. "C'mon, lemme—"
You silence him with your lips, fingers pressing under his loose tee. Macklin's skin is hot, you're sure his chest and abs are flushed just as pink as his swollen lips right now. You ghost over his stomach, licking softly over his bottom lip and grinding your hips down just so.
Mack grabs you, big hands squeezing your hips a little too hard, thighs trembling while his cock twitches and spills into his boxers. You don't even give him time to think before you're sinking down to your knees. He starts to curse, "n-no, shit c'mon, not tonight," his eyes wide, fingers tangling in your hair and guiding you closer to his dick, contrary to his words. "Fuck, f-fuck, aah, baby you know what happens when you—"
You cut him off, reaching into his boxers and pulling out his messy cock, the tip flushed that same pretty pink as his cheeks, still leaking and already half hard again. You bring your tongue out to play with his tip and Macklin swears he sees stars, light dancing around the edges of his vision as his eyes roll back in his head. The soft warmth of your hand steadying the base of his cock can't compare to the slick, wet heat of your mouth, and he can't hold back from bucking deeper into it.
You take his signal, muffling a giggle and humming around thick length of him. It goes easily, you're practiced at this, addicted to the way Macklin sounds above you, the way his cheeks and chest get flushed, and his abs tense as he pants.
Waves of pleasure crest over his body, his back arching off the couch, fingers flying to find something to hold on to. One hand finds your hair and tugs, little whines spilling from his open mouth. You look up, grazing your hand up his abdomen before gripping onto his pec. His heart races just underneath the heated skin, fluttering wildly.
You relax, clutching at him and breathing through your nose as his tip nudges the back of your throat. "Hnngh, b-baby," he cries, thighs pressing tighter around you as he tries to hold himself back, staring at the ceiling. "Fuuuck, shit, sh-shi—" he breaks off into a high whine, words failing, cock throbbing under your tongue.
That's your only warning, then he's flooding your mouth. You swallow dutifully, licking up the drops that leak down to his base before taking his tip back between your lips. One hand reaches up to scratch at his happy trail, pressing his hips in place.
Macklin can't say a word, can't make any sounds other than small, choked out moans. When you glance up you see his cheeks stained with tears, his face red hot as he screws his eyes shut, chest shuddering with shallow breaths. He cries out one final time before he finally uses his strength, jerking your head away from his sensitive cock.
You smirk, panting too as you watch him, eyes wide and mesmerized by you. A string of saliva stretches from your messy mouth to the tip of his cock, and Mack thumbs over your bottom lip to wipe it away. Satisfaction washes over you when he licks his thumb, eyes glassy, you know that you've got his head so wonderfully empty, or is it full instead, with thoughts of you.
Macklin grabs you then, hauling you back up into his lap and burying his face in your neck. He sniffles, mumbling something you don't quite catch.
"What was that, baby?" you ask him, tilting his chin up to meet your gaze. You can't help but kiss him too, his pretty pink cheeks and watery green eyes too cute to ignore.
"You're too good to me," he says, louder this time. You open your mouth to protest, but his thumb finds it's way to your clit and a moan silences anything you were planning to say.
He doesn't say anything more, just smiles a little against your neck before surging upwards suddenly, his hands hooking under your thighs. You squeal and hold on tight, but Macklin gets the better of you, throwing your body down onto the plush hotel bed.
