fae’s world

Regretfully, you pulled away from Seraphina. You were in bed, still in the dress you wore for your night out with your friends. From what Theo could tell, most of your makeup had been washed off, save for the bold red lipstick smudged on your mouth. You grinned, still lightly flushed from the alcohol. "The best." You absentmindedly scratched Seraphina's chin, who was starting to look much more content settled on your lap. "How was work?"

Theo sat at the edge of the bed, tugging at his shoelaces. "Alright. Long." He pulled off a shoe. "At least it's over."

"Aw. How long has it been since I've given you a kiss?"

Theo bit back a smile as he pulled his other shoe off. "Well, it's been a while, b - and you're talking to the cat. Of course you're talking to the cat. Why did I think you weren't talking to the cat?"

"Hm?" You looked up cluelessly from the fresh kiss you had just placed on a mildly squirmy Seraphina. Despite himself, Theo's irritation softened at the sight.

"Nothing." He leaned in for a kiss again, but you were too busy holding Seraphina up to notice, placing chaste kisses all over her face. Theo rolled his eyes and stood, changing out of his work clothes. By the time he returned, you were already half-asleep, eyes lidded as you dozed. He tapped your face. You stirred briefly, sluggishly batting his hand away.

"Don't you want to change into something more comfortable?"

You made a disgruntled sound of disagreement. "I've never been more c..." you trailed off. "Tired," you finally mumbled, rolling over to bury yourself deeper into your pillow. Theo lifted the covers to join you, only to find Seraphina happily curled up on his side of the bed, like she had no intention of budging.

"Seraphina," he started, trying his best to be nice.

She gave no indication of having heard him.

"That's my spot."

She blinked her pretty, sapphire blue eyes up at him unhelpfully.

Theo sighed, annoyed, moving to pick her up. Seraphina immediately dug her claws into the bed, glaring daggers at him.

"Oh, come on, Seraphina. I'm exhausted. Can't we do this tomorrow?"

She looked the other way, refusing to relent.

"This is my house. I don't see your name on the lease." Theo leaned in, doubling down. "I'm the one who buys your treats. Are you sure you want to cross me?"

"Quit it," you mumbled sleepily. "Both of you."

Immediately, Seraphina walked down the bed to curl up at your feet, as if she had been perfectly agreeable the entire evening. Theo scowled at her.

"Go to sleep," he told you, part annoyed and part embarrassed over having been caught arguing with a cat, and losing.

"I'm trying."

Theo got into bed, muttering under his breath as he turned out the light. He closed his eyes, feeling himself unwind to the sound of your slowed, even breathing. He was just about to drop off as well when you rolled over to face him, your voice cutting through the dark, whispered and saddened.

“will that be everything?” the student behind the counter at the campus cafeteria asks you. your fingers are contortioned as you try and hold onto your mango and passion fruit smoothie and apple while you reach into your bag to grab your food card with your free hand. 

“yeah, thanks,” you swipe your card through the machine, sending a polite smile in the way of the cashier before you head out of the door and in the direction of the tennis courts. art was playing a match in around forty minutes so you thought a slow walk through campus would be nice, seeing as though it wasn’t something you had gotten to do recently with all the studying you had to do. 

however, even though you were enjoying every second that your skin was soaking up the sun, you couldn’t help but feel the nerves creep in for art’s match. it wasn’t often that he lost. now that you think about it, your mind could only recall once, in the entire time that you had known him, in which he had fallen to defeat. but still, the nerves were always going to be there, especially when you cared about him as much as you did. 

arriving at the bleachers, you made sure to try and find the best seat possible so you could have the best view of your boyfriend while you watched him play. you were quick to grab your baseball cap from your bag as soon as you sat down, kind of regretting the fact that you hadn’t brought your sunglasses with you, but your hat would have to do. 

a gentle murmur of voices fills the air while you wait for the match to start, taking occasional sips of your smoothie that’s nowhere near as cold as it was when you bought it. with about twenty-five minutes to go before the scheduled start of the match, you hear your phone beep from when it’s resting somewhere at the bottom of your bag. 

so after rummaging through layers upon layers of junk, your hand finally brushes against your phone. turning on your phone, the first thing you see is the message notification from art. your already nervous tummy does a flip, hoping that whatever he wants isn’t too serious. 

art: hey can u come 2 the locker room pls

your heart starts to beat faster. what could he possibly want right before he’s about to come out a play? your mind immediately goes to all the negative things it could be, thoughts lingering on the possibility of an injury. 

y/n: omw

“hey,” you turn to the girl sitting next to you, gently tapping her bare shoulder. “could you maybe watch my bag for a few minutes, i’ve got to go do something?”

“yeah, of course,” she smiles, pulling the bag closer to her to better “protect” it. 

you give her a thankful look before you rush down the bleachers and towards the sports building as fast as you can without breaking out into a full sprint. entering the building, you’re breathing heavily, eyes scanning the corridor for the sign to the male locker room. 

once you find it, without thinking, you barge in, thankful that the only person in there is art and not a whole bunch of naked men. 

“hey,” you hurry over to where art is sitting, tennis gear on, his bag on the bench beside him. “what’s wrong? are you injured or something?” you crouch down in front of him, clutching onto his hand while you try to steady yourself. 

art shakes his head, blue eyes locking with yours. “i’m not injured.”

you let out a breath of relief, smiling up at him. “thank god, you really had me worried there for a second,” you stand up from your crouched position with a hand on your heart signifying how glad you are he’s okay. art’s eyes follow yours until he’s looking up at you. you bring your hand up to his face, softly cupping his cheek, thumb brushing over his soft skin. “then, if you’re not injured, what’s up?”

art shrugs, the corner of his mouth going up at the same time as his shoulder. “i just wanted- had to see you.”

art’s hands come up to rest on your waist, pinky fingers pushing their way into your tennis skirt until they grace the skin of your hips. art’s eyes raked over your whole body from head to toe. you had dressed for the occasion, your white tennis skirt, one that art had picked out for you, was paired with a cardinal red, stanford tennis tank top, along with your white tennis shoes. 

“i like your outfit,” he smirked up at you, eyes soft as he looked at you. 

“i picked it out, especially for you,” you say softly. 

“i can see,” his hands sank further beneath your waistband round to your ass where he gently kneaded your mound. “my little fangirl.”

art’s hands stopped playing with your ass, instead moving up to push the fabric of your tank top up, revealing the bare skin of your lower belly. 

“come closer,” art beckoned, giving you no chance to actually move closer to him before he pulled you to him instead. “you look so beautiful, baby,” he whispered. you could feel his breath against your skin, which sent goosebumps all over your body. 

art leans in closer to you, lips making contact with the skin of your stomach. he leaves a fluttering of kisses there, licking a stripe up the centre, tongue momentarily inserting itself into your belly button. 

“art,” you whisper, hands still on his cheeks, reaching up slowly so you could gently grasp his hair. “what did, what did you need me for?”

your breathing was just as heavy as it was when you had run your way over to the sports building, only this time no vigorous exercise was involved. 

“i told you,” he presses more kisses to your tummy. “i had to see you.” 

“but why?” you shiver when he licks another strip of your skin. “you’re playing a match in about twenty minutes.”

“remember what i told you?” he says, one of his hands moving up to grab the side of your neck, pulling you down until your face is mere centimetres away from his. “you’re my lucky charm.” 

his lips practically smash into yours giving you no room to take in a breath. your mouths move against each other, in sync, as they usually do. his tongue battles yours as if they’re having their own game of tennis, like the one art will be playing any minute. pulling away from the kiss, art grips your bottom lip between his teeth, letting it go so it bounces back into position. 

“you taste so good,” art breathes out, licking his lips desperately as if to find as many remnants of the flavour as he can. “what is that?”

your chest heaves as you stare down at him. “mango and passion fruit. from my smoothie.”

art nods. “well it tastes amazing. let me try it again,” and with that, he brings your lips to his once more. this time the kiss is slower as if he’s trying to savour the flavour, sucking your tongue into his mouth until he can no longer taste the fruity drink. 

“i can’t believe how good it tastes,” his pupils are dilated as far as they can go when you next look into his eyes. “but you know what tastes better?”

“what?” 

“this.” he drops onto the floor, back resting against the bench as he leans his head back on the wood behind him, looking up at you through hooded eyes. “sit on my face, pretty girl.”

your eyes widen when the words leave his mouth. “art, we can’t do this. what about your match?”

“they can’t start without me, baby. anyway, this won’t take long, i promise,” he grabs your hand pulling you as close to him as you can get before you are forced into kneeling on the bench, your heat hovering just over art’s face. “that’s it, baby.”

art’s hands reach up, bunching your skirt around your front. “hold that,” he says abruptly, letting go of the fabric when you have a firm grip on it, hands now moving in between your legs where he pulls your panties to the side. 

running two fingers through your folds, collecting your juices as he goes. “already so wet for me,” he lets out a laugh, the feeling of his breath against your most sensitive area causes your body to jolt forward, hand, that isn’t holding your skirt, grips art’s tennis bag in hopes to find more stability. 

you look down, watching as art brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking your arousal off them. art’s eyes roll to the back of his head at the taste of you against his tongue. “fuck,” he groans. “nothing tastes as good as you, baby.”

art grabs your hips firmly bringing you down to properly sit on his face. the moment his lips come in contact with your pussy you let out a moan, your grip on your skirt tightening, as you squeeze your eyes shut. “fuck, art,” you whimper, rolling your hips once trying to find that friction you so desperately want. 

art laps up your juices, tongue moving rapidly through your folds and against your clit. his actions make you squirm against him, his nose bumping against your clit several times during your movements. “that’s it, baby, ride my face,” art says, pulling away for no more than three seconds before going back to eating you like you were his last meal on death row. 

the combination of movements in your grinding against his face and his tongue moving against you drives you insane. whimper after whimper falls from your lips, back arching and head falling back when he sucks on your clit, taking the small bud and rolling it in between in teeth. your hands come up to grip your breasts, and your skirt drops, covering art’s face, as you knead your braless boobs, sensitive nipples brushing against your palms. 

art’s hands grip your ass, assisting in your movements against his face. “baby, you’re the best thing i’ve ever tasted.”

“baby,” you breathe out, checking the watch on your wrist. “you really, uhm, should get going, your match is in te-,” you shut your eyes, head leaning forward, the pressure in your lower stomach starting to build. “ten minutes. fuck, i’m close.”

you feel art nod between your legs, nose bumping your clit one last time. in one swift movement, art grabs you, pulling you down off of the bench until you're straddling his lap on the floor. the skin, when you look at him, around his mouth is glistening a little from your juices. 

“baby,” you whine, dragging out the word. “i was so close,” you rest your forehead against his, eyes staring deeply into each other’s. 

“i know,” he kisses you, allowing you to taste yourself against him. “but i’ve got a match to play, remember? and i’ll need you ready when we celebrate my win.” 

he winks at you, picking you up from the floor as he stands to gather his bag. you watch, becoming alarmingly aware of the way your thighs have stuck together when he wipes your slick from his face with his sweatband. 

art holds up his hand, showcasing the sweatband in front of you. “i get to take a part of you with me now.”