dropshotking
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He’s so hungry it hurts. Carlos’ voice is worsening it. Jannik can nearly taste his words, how warm and alive he is, and his stomach clenches with a sharp pain, forcing an audible whine.
“If I was there,” level, brave, “what would you do?”
Jannik presses the balled-up shirt into the hollow of his gut. He’s shaking with how empty he is. Words tumbling in a desperate slurry, punched out of him: “I would eat all of you.”
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Jannik's out of the French Open. The heat stung. The bloodlust killed.Bookmarked by dropshotking
03 Jun 2026
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The moment the ball hits the court, fitting perfectly inside the lines, Jannik freezes.
He sees him fall to the ground on the other side of the net. He buries his face in his hands, smiling blindingly. When he gets up, there is clay all over his kit, clinging to his back and legs.
There’s clay all over Jannik’s hands too. He feels sick when he glances at his palms. Disbelief mixes with resentment in his stomach and Jannik thinks he’s going to throw up.
Yet, he somehow drags himself to Alcaraz, congratulating him robotically. He can’t stand to look at him, the triumph on his face making Jannik feel angry. Furious, even. He grips Alcaraz’s hand tighter than he probably should, his knuckles whitening. The other man doesn’t wince, though. He only smirks at Jannik, victorious. “Great match”, Alcaraz says to him perfectly politely. But there is a malicious glint in his eyes, Jannik swears he sees it.
Series
- Part 1 of (to become) one of the greats
Bookmarked by dropshotking
02 Jun 2026
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Jannik’s eyes fixate on the golden cross pendant on Carlos’s chest.
He groans, hips stuttering. “Dio, sei—”
What? What am I?
“Sei un demone. Sei— tentazione. Mi rovini…”
“¿Sí? Tú también—”, he exhales between Jannik’s lips. “Tú también me arruinas.”
Jannik tugs on the chain around his neck to bring him closer and kisses his lips hard. Carlos groans into his mouth, feeling the metal dig into his nape.
Series
- Part 3 of (to become) one of the greats
Bookmarked by dropshotking
02 Jun 2026
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So many nights he has lain in bed, hand stroking his cock, and thought of Carlos Alcaraz. So many times he has come biting his lip, just so he wouldn’t gasp out his name.
Jannik takes off his sweats. He closes his eyes and caresses his bare thighs. He doesn’t have to put much effort into imagining the hands that are touching him belong to Carlos. Jannik’s palms are just as calloused from holding racquets, just as strong.
Series
- Part 1 of clay in your hair
Bookmarked by dropshotking
16 May 2026
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“Baby.”
Carlos smiled. It was not often that Jannik called him that, only when he felt especially horny.
Or wanted something.
“Carlos, baby.”
No answer came from him, his mouth too busy kissing the freckles on his boyfriend’s neck as he pulled at the hem of the shirt he was still annoyingly wearing. Besides, Jannik didn't need to ask, the answer would be yes regardless of the question.
Yes Janni, you can fuck me. Yes, you can fill me up.
Can we switch tomorrow, though? I miss being inside—.
“Baby, can I eat your ass?”Bookmarked by dropshotking
16 May 2026