Summary: Azriel performs his new song not knowing that his inspiration is standing in the front row.
Warnings: Angst (sorry not sorry), the word porn like once, Azriel being delulu, slight Elain slander.
a/n: wow I have been gone for so long, i'm so sorry!! I just had to share this so it would stop haunting me <3
p.s highly suggest listening to Figure you out by VIOLA !!
masterlist
The rain was beating down on your windshield as you pulled into the cramped parking spot, you held your phone to your ear and slipped out of the car, ducking your head to avoid water getting into your eyes as you run for the awning on the side of the bar.
“Hey babe.” Your friends joyous voice is almost drowned out by the loud music in the background, some indie band playing.
“I’m here but you have my ticket.” You huff, glancing around the corner and grimacing at the long line of girls waiting to be let in. “And there’s a massive line to get in Fey.”
“Relax, the bouncer’s a friend. Gave him your ticket, you don’t have to que up!” You roll your eyes at a group of girls who pass you, whispering about the lead singer.
“I think it’s very convenient that you wouldn’t tell me what band we’re seeing.” You already know who will be up that stage, who all these girls were lining up in the rain to see.
“They miss you Y/n, I miss you.” She mumbles, you can hear the pout on her face that makes you swallow tightly in guilt. You didn’t mean to isolate yourself from your friends, they always supported you. But he was in their group, and even after 2 years you still can’t see his face or hear his voice, without breaking more of your ruined heart.
“I’ve been busy with work, and Dec.” You cringe at the name of your current boyfriend. The phone is snatched out of Feyre’s hand with an outraged ‘hey!’
“You mean mister 1 minute wonder who loves rubbing your left flap?” Mor’s laughter rings through the phone, a sound you didn’t realise how much you missed. You scowl at the laughs that follow the question.
“Remind me to never drink with you again.”
“Well, do I need to come out there and get you myself? I won’t be happy babe, I spent an hour on my hair.” She retorts, you can already hear her walking away from the group. Your eyes widen and you quickly turn the corner, walking up to the entrance.
“No no! Just meet me at the door yeah?” You rush out, not wanting the lecture that will follow her hair being ruined. She hums and hangs up right as you reach the bouncer, a familiar face.
“Never thought I’d see your pretty face around here again sweetheart.” Despite the anxiety rushing through you and the never-ending rain, you smile widely.
“I’ve got to give you some entertainment don’t I Luci?” You grin, leaning forward to hug the red head. He chuckles and kisses your cheek, leaning back to unhook the red rope blocking the entrance.
“Give em’ hell Sweetheart.” He winks, you roll your eyes and walk in, shaking the rain off before someone is barreling into you. You smile into her blond hair and wrap your arms around her waist, hugging her just as tightly as she is holding you.
“I’m putting a tracker in your phone next time you disappear on me like that again.” She mumbles into your shoulder. You grin and pull back to look at her, taking in her warm brown eyes. Mor has always been the shining star in your life, her friendship carrying a gentle but strong comfort through your soul.
“Maybe I’ll let you.” You tease, hooking your arm through hers as she turns to lead you to the others. You wince at the jabs she throws at a few girls trying to get through the crowd, the closer to the stage you get, the more clothing seems to disappear from the crowd around you.
“You’d think this was a porn convention.” Mor snickers. You try to hide your laugh in your shoulder when a few of the girls turn to shoot her a dirty look. She doesn’t acknowledge them, just continues to drag you to the front barrier of the stage where Feyre is waving like a madwoman. You can’t stop the wide grin as it grows on your face, rushing forward to wrap yourself in Feyre’s arms.
Your words to each other are lost in the crowd’s applause as the bar’s announcer jumps up onto the stage, taking place before the mic with a few squeals from the crowd. You settle under Feyre’s arm as you both turn to face the stage.
“Well ladies it’s nice to see you all! I won’t beat around the bush as I know you’re all waiting for tonight’s main event!” More screams from the crowd of girls at your back, pushing and shoving each other to try and get closer to the stage. “The next set is by far my favorite, and after travelling all over they’re finally back to remember their roots.” You feel your stomach clench in anxiety, the room around you buzzing in excitement. You hadn’t seen him in 2 years, hadn’t seen his arrogant smirk or messy black curls that always fell into his eyes, hadn’t felt his soft but rough fingers tracing up and down your soft skin in the twilight hours.
“Please welcome to the stage, The bat boys!” The crowd squealed as they came onto stage, drowning out your anxious gasps. Rhysand was always first on stage, smirking and blowing kisses into the crowd like the preening Madonna he was. Cassian was next, his hair dripping down to his shoulders as he twirled his drumsticks around his fingers with a boyish grin before settling behind the drums with a few winks.
You felt your mouth dry as Azriel stepped onto stage.
The girls around you screamed even louder, but you couldn’t hear them over the buzzing in your head. His Hazel eyes scanned the crowd with what you knew to be nerves, his shy but confident smirk as familiar as your own reflection in the mirror.
You always forgot just how beautiful he was, the perfect lines of his face that you used to trace in the morning sun surrounded by soft silk sheets. The soft and messy black curls that draped over his eyes, the crinkles by his beautiful eyes that highlighted his wide grin.
How could you forget, for even a second, how much you loved him?
“Hello Darlings.” Rhys purred into the mic, shooting a wink towards Feyre who was blowing him a kiss from beside you. The crowd screamed again, you missed your friends. You missed sitting in Rhys apartment with pizza boxes scattered around you as the group watched Cass serenading Nesta with half his clothes off. You missed the movies night, the nights spent together tossing lyric ideas around for their next song.
You missed the life you had 2 years ago, before he broke your heart.
Your eyes flicked to Azriel again as he started strumming the tune to the first song on their set. The relaxed grin on his face as the crowd started humming along the tune, the one he hummed to you for months as you laid next to him. You watched his eyes focus on his hands, though you were sure he could perform in his sleep. Your heart was cracking as you watched him play, the song a familiar comfort in the back of your mind.
How many times had you been the one screaming the lyrics at the top of your lungs? How many times had you been in this exact position but with a wide grin on your face? Now your lips were pressed together to stop the painful sob forming at the back of your throat. Now your eyes that used to gleam with joy, love and happiness, were misted with years of pain.
You felt Mor’s hand slip into yours from your left, a silent comfort to your mess of emotions. She didn’t offer you a soft smile or careful words, didn’t even turn to look at you, just continued singing along with the crowd. You swallowed the tears, the heartbreak and the longing, and pulled her closer into your side as the song came to an end.
The crowd was deafening as Rhys smirked at them, his white teeth gleaming in the red spotlight above him.
“What a warm up!” He chuckled into the mic, running his hand through his hair as he turned to say something to Azriel behind him. Azriel slung his guitar behind him, shaking his hands out as he stepped up to Rhys side.
“Now for something different. You’ll be the first audience to hear this song, something special for someone special.” Rhys grinned before stepping back to Azriel’s spot, picking up his own guitar. You felt your heart fly up to your throat as he stepped up to the mic, his voice floating over the crowd.
I heard he got you a penthouse
On the westside when will he learn
That you're afraid of heights?
I heard he got you a new Benz
With the white wheels, when will he learn
That you like to tandem bike?
And I hate that
Azriel’s voice rang through the bar, the lyrics shooting straight to your heart. His smile flashing behind your eyes, his laughter ringing through your mind.
I could love you with my eyes closed
Kiss you with a blindfold
Figure you out
I might hold you with my hands tied
Show you I'm the right guy
To figure you out na-na-na, na, na
You felt your eyes water, stronger this time. Memories flashing through your mind, soft words pressed into your skin in the early hours of the morning. Kisses interrupted by smiles so wide that you thought your skin would split.
I heard he got you some new friends
With some big dreams, when will he learn
That you already got your own?
Oh, I heard he got you the front row
At the rap show, when will he learn
That you like The Rolling Stones?
How could you ever get over this type of love? How could you walk away from him again after he broke your heart a second time?
And I've been thinking
Of all the little things
That you've been missing
When will you learn?
Mor squeezed your hand tighter as she watched the tears roll down your cheeks, guilt pulling her brows down into a frown.
I could love you with my eyes closed
Kiss you with a blindfold
Figure you out (figure you out) (yeah)
I might hold you with my hands tied
Show you I'm the right guy
To figure you out na-na-na, na, na
The crowd around you was swaying with the melody, oblivious to the way your heart was being broken by the very angel before them on the stage. To the lyrics of a broken heart that used to belong to you, that used to beat in your body. To a heart that was singing a melody of stolen love.
How dare he?
I could treat you so much better
I've known you forever, figured you out
Ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh
I could love you with my eyes closed
Kiss you with a blindfold
Figure you out (figure you out) (yeah)
I might hold you with my hands tied
Show you I'm the right guy
To figure you out na-na-na, na, na
The girls around you screamed again as the song came to a close, cheering for the guitarist that had finally shown his secretive emotions. You tugged your hands out of your friends embrace as you turned away from the stage with a sob.
“I can’t do this.” You pushed and shoved through the crowd, ignoring the calls of your name from your friends. You couldn’t stop. You couldn’t face this again. You couldn’t watch him stand up there and sing like he hadn’t ripped your heart out.
The rain was still pouring when you finally made it out of the bar, making you tuck your arms around yourself to hold yourself together. How were you supposed to shove this away? How does one forget the love of their life?
You stilled as you heard his deep voice call your name. The rain was plastering your hair to your head, running down your face masking the tears that wouldn’t stop.
“Y/n please wait!” He called, his boots thudding through the water on the ground. You whipped around to face him as his hand caught your elbow, anger and heartbreak swirling through your eyes.
“How dare you.” You snarled at him, not caring about the sad look in his eyes. What reason did he have to be upset? He was panting, the rain plastering his stubborn curls to his forehead as he leant forward to wrap a heavy jacket around your shoulders.
“You’ll get a cold.” He mumbled, adjusting the jacket so the hood was covering your already soaked hair. You blinked at him stunned, the anger swirling through you demanding you to shrug the jacket off your shoulders. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t remove the scent of his cologne from invading your senses, a smell that had faded from your pillow years ago.
“What do you want Azriel?” You watched him wring his hands in front of him nervously, picking at the skin around his nails before he opened his mouth.
“I missed you baby and I-”
“You missed me?” You barked out a laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “You cheated on me. You don’t get to miss me and then trick me into attending your stupid gig.” He shook his head and stepped closer, ducking his head to meet your eyes. You took a step back with a frown on your face.
“I regretted it the second it happened.” He mumbled, cringing when he thought back to that night two years ago. The night he had stupidly kissed Elain Archeron. He didn’t miss the way you flinched back and looked down to the ground, as if recollecting yourself.
“You only regret that you were caught.” You said to the ground, not looking up at him. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing the heartbreak in your eyes, of seeing how fresh it still was.
“No-”
“Don’t lie to me!” You yelled, whipping your head up to him with a glare Azriel felt twist the organ beating in his chest violently.
“You told me I was the love of your life, your soulmate.” You didn’t bother try to hide the agony bleeding into your eyes. “And then you went and spewed the same bullshit into her ear.” You turned away from him again to try and compose yourself. You squeezed your eyes shut to try and erase the image you had seen that night. Of Azriel pressing Elain up against the wall with the same passion he shared with you just hours before, of him kissing her soft lips as if they were his oasis.
Of him kissing her the same way he kissed you.
“You are!” He sobbed, stepping closer. “You are the love of my life! You’re both my favourite dream and my worst nightmare, haunting me every second of every day.” He panted, trying desperately to get you to turn and face him again. He had been deprived of your beautiful eyes for two years and he wanted, no needed, to see their beautiful colour again.
“Is that the same thing you tell Elain?” You mumbled out. He flinched back at how small you sounded. You had always been the centre of the room, laughing and glowing by his side.
What had he done? How could he fix this?
“I’m not with Elain.” He said, clearing the knot from the back of his throat as you turned back around to face him. Your eyes were red from crying, but Azriel couldn’t look away. You were still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, a true goddess amongst mortals.
“I don’t care anymore Azriel. I just want you to leave me alone.” He tried to reach for your face but you took several steps back, shaking your head as more tears trailed down your cheeks. His hands shook as he reached for you, his own tears rolling down his cheeks.
“Wait Y/n, please.”
“No more. Please just let me go.”
He wasn’t sure if it was the way your voice wobbled or if it was the roaring agony in your eyes that made his brother step in. Probably both.
“Enough Az. C’mon bunny, I’ll walk you to your car.” Rhys wrapped a warm arm around your shoulders, a familiar brotherly comfort. You shot one last look at Azriel over your shoulder as Rhys started leading you to your car, your heart squeezing in your chest at the pain in his beautiful eyes.
“Goodbye Azriel.” You said softly, offering him a wobbly smile before turning into his brother as you walked away.
He watched you walk away with a heavy heart, knowing that he had lost the love of his life forever.
Beautiful and amazing @thehighladywrites posted this INCREDIBLE idea and I had to try it. I've never written a modern!acotar AU, a college!acotar AU or nerdy-tattooed!Azriel. I haven't written bimbo!reader, and since English is not my first language, I don't know if I have done it right. I enjoyed this sooooo much, let me know if you want more or have some requests!
Extra points for whoever gets the crescent city saga reference!
Plot: nerd-tattooed!Azriel gets a tattoo with your name and it leads to smutty time.
Warnings: porn and porn and Azriel being freaky and porn with just an inch of plot. This is dirty.
The door of the apartment closed behind your back and you were met with an empty living room. You usually didn’t come in unannounced, because Azriel’s shared apartment always had some type of surprise. But your boyfriend had asked you to do so, and to use the spare key he had given you a while ago.
Azriel had been studying for his finals for weeks, and had finally finished them. Instead of going out to celebrate like you had, he had stayed in with his friends. You hadn’t seen each other too much, apart from the long hours in the library where he tried to help you with your exams – and you didn’t count those hours, since you did nothing more than stare at him.
The apartment, as expected, was trashed. There were beer bottles in the ground, suspicious stains in the carpet and a very naked Cassian sleeping in the couch. You had just barely gotten out of your hangover, and Azriel’s roommate was about to start his.
Through all the chaos, you were certain none of it belonged to Azriel. He liked to party, sure, but not hard and long as you. He preferred to stay quiet and observe, with a drink that lasted him the whole night. You were trying to remember if the heel that poked through the back of the couch was from your friend when you heard him coming.
“This way, princess”
His deep, morning voice made you turn around and stumble to his presence. Like a serpent caught in a sweet melody, you were always pulled towards him. Azriel was wearing a grey t-shirt and black shorts, that fit him like a globe. Dark glasses and disheveled hair. And lots of tattoos that you had traced previously with your fingers and tongue.
“Hey, handsome” you greeted him, not hiding your bright smile. “Got your text this morning. What were you doing up so early?”
“Hit the gym before breakfast. Not all of us are hangover”
“Tell that to the other half of the campus or your roommates. Rhysand spent the night with Feyre in the rooftop”
Your roommate hadn’t appeared last night, and you had found a very cryptic text that morning that led you to the rooftop – where both her and Rhysand were fast asleep with the bottle still uncorked.
As soon as you were within reach, Azriel pulled you closer by your waist and smashed his lips against yours. He tasted like coffee and mint, and erased any trace of drunkenness from last night. You tangled your manicured fingers between his locks, shamefully scratching the nape of his neck with your long nails.
They differed from Azriel’s bitten ones. Your short dress from his baggy clothes, and your dyed hair from his untamed ones. While you liked to shine in the public, to dress up and party, Azriel preferred to be quiet, thrift clothes and study. To the campus, you were the bimbo, and he was the nerd.
But you were his bimbo and he was your nerd.
“How was the party?” Azriel asked between kisses, his lips not staying for too long on yours.
“Good. Missed you” you almost whined when he pulled back too soon, and he chuckled.
“Missed you too. Did you have fun?”
You hummed as his hands lowered until they cupped the edge of your ass. The dress was short enough he could pull it up until anyone could see your panties, but neither of you cared. He had to lean down to do so, and you took advantage to deepen the kiss.
On the outside, Azriel might have looked like the shy, nerdy student, but he was freaky. You had been surprised when a hook-up with your assigned tutor turned out in the best night of your life, and there was nothing that could unhook you from him.
His hands were big enough to squeeze most of your ass, kneading it just like you loved it. Roughly, you were pushed into his body. Azriel was always semi-hard when you came to view, and you always took care of choosing the shortest and most provocative dress in his presence.
Few things were better than a good night out and a good morning fucking.
“I’ve got a surprise for you. Can I take you to my room?”
“You don’t have to ask”
But he did, breaking away your heated kiss. Azriel pushed the bridge of his glasses up and gave you a crooked smile, offering you his hand. You gladly took it and let him guide you to his room. The farthest, the darkest, but also the neatest. Azriel spent a good part of his time in there, and you loved it. He had incorporated you slowly in it, from the spare clothes in his closet for you to the stupid crafts you did together when you were bored.
“And what did you do last night? Started studying for the next semester?” you teased him, and he gave you a sideway look.
“I could, but I was busy with Mor”
“What were you doing with Mor?”
Your frown was instant, as the jealousy that rose to your chest. Morrighan was his friend, and you respected that, but you knew he had liked her in the past. That the woman was gorgeous, brilliant and smart in ways you didn’t complement Azriel. You liked her enough to be kind and maybe envious, but the notice of her with Azriel left you with a sour taste in the mouth.
Azriel chuckled at the edge of your tone and didn’t answer. If anyone had reasons to be jealous, was him, yet he never was. You had quite the reputation in college, and dressed to impress. More than once, you had been walking with Azriel and received not so subtle glances. You had even gotten the barista’s number when you asked for his order. And through all of that, Azriel had just shrugged and told you he trusted you.
So, for his sake, you tried to do the same.
During the longest seconds in your life, you were quiet. You sat on his bed and crossed your arms across your chest. Azriel closed the door behind him, just as you heard the first groan from his roommate, and turned around so he could face you.
The height difference, the size difference, warmed you in every place of your body. Azriel loved the gym just as he loved his books, and there was not a part of his body that he didn’t work. You liked the difference, liked his big form and how it towered over you even standing. As you sat in silence, you bit the inside of your cheek to control yourself.
“We went to the tattoo parlor, since she knows the owner. I wanted something done” he watched your frown with diversion, and continued when you said nothing. “So, you can be jealous of her, who has a girlfriend now, but I’m supposed to be fine with guys drooling over you last night?”
“I didn’t look at them”
“I didn’t look at her” he answered back, and took off his tee.
The sleeveless piece of cloth didn’t hide much, but you still lost your breath when it hit the ground. His muscled, tattooed chest came to view, and that was enough to make you get up. It wasn’t Mor’s lips that had left marks two nights ago on his left shoulder, or who had bitten his pierced nipple until he had come into his pants in the library’s bathroom.
It was you who had caused the tent in his pant, that caused his eyes to darken when you stepped closer. You placed your hand over his right thigh, the muscles tightening underneath. His boner hit your stomach and you pushed yourself against it, opening your mouth to apologize, or maybe to suck the life out of him.
“Don’t you want to know what I got?” he asked, sounding on edge.
“I don’t understand half of your tattoos. Whatever you got is hot and perfect, just like you”
“Look down, princess” Azriel groaned when your nail touched his dick.
“On my knees?”
You were ready to do so, or let him bend you over the table. He could do with your body as he pleased, but you were caught off guard when you noticed the reddish, new ink wrapped in invisible paper. It looked delicate against the rest of his tattoos, new and beautiful. Right between his hips, where the dark trail of dark hair had just been removed, was a new tattoo.
In his v-line, that you licked and adored and stared at so much. With the nickname he had gifted you since he met you and the stupid, childless heart you drew on every notebook of his.
Princess ♡
Your breath came out shaky as you traced the letters with your finger. If it wasn’t for the make-up, you had so carefully put on that morning with a killing headache, you would have burst into tears. His own hand covered yours and helped you trace the missing letters, and the heart.
It should have been distracting to look at it while his dick demanded your attention inches lower, but you couldn’t look away. Not when you felt a hard clench on your heart that left you lightheaded.
“Do you like it?” it was a whisper in the dark room, a spark of doubt that made you look up.
How could you not like it, not like anything about such a perfect man? You nodded enthusiastically, your other hand searching blindly for his.
“Why did you get that?”
“Because I love you, and I want to carry you with me always” Azriel’s eyes were kind, and soft, and loving – and they were making you dizzy with desire.
“Did it hurt too much?” you asked, looking down again at the tattoo. You, who had smooth and unmarked skin, couldn’t phantom the pain of a nursing needle to draw blood. “It must have”
“Worth every second. Lay in bed, princess. I need to be between your legs”
He didn’t let you take the initiative and threw you on his bed with a quick move. Azriel towered over you for a second before kneeling between your already open, wide legs, and leaving his glasses on the. He smirked with no doubts as he pulled the hem of your dress over your panties. His fingers were rough, pressing hard enough to leave red marks on its way.
You only bit your lower lip when he rose your dress to your waist and sneaked his hand beneath, the edge of his fingers pressing over your breasts.
With the idea of that outcome, you hadn’t bothered with a bra, and his eyes darkened even more at the discovery. You watched his throat work around the new information as he rose his body higher, now covering your breasts with his hands. He squeezed them, keeping them trapped in his palms as he lowered where you needed him.
“I’m gonna erase all those looks from last night” he promised, hands retreating following your curved. “Whose got you this wet, hm?”
“Azzie, don’t be mean”
Azriel was in your hands the moment his nickname fell from your lips, and at your mercy when you used that whiney, flirty tone. He didn’t even bother taking off your panties – he tore them off. Like a sheet of paper, like a piece of cake. You moaned his name, and it came out like a yelp when he dug in without reservations.
His tongue was feral as he licked a long stripe between your entrance to your clit. He pressed it against your clit and actually trapped it between his teeth for a moment. The barrier between pain and pleasure was hard to tell when he snuck his hands under your ass and lifted you a few inches for him to devour.
“Love this so much” you spoke with a content smile, as he massaged your ass in silent appreciation. “Love you”
One of your hands reached to his hair, pushing his face closer to your center. He agreed and pushed one finger inside you. Your mind emptied when he began pumping it in and out, curling it just in the right spot before pulling out and replacing it with his tongue.
Cassian pounded on the wall and yelled at you to be quiet, and Azriel pounded back harder as a fuck you response. You didn’t have it in you to care about him as Azriel pulled you closer by the ass, your legs laying boneless against his wide back.
His nose brushed your clit, up and down, and you weren’t sure he could breathe from how passionate and hard he was eating you out. You called his name wordlessly, your mouth emitting only broken noises.
“So good for me, princess. My beautiful princess” his voice was guttural, so primal it made you lock his head between your legs. “Give me one, come on. Give me the first one so I can wreck you from behind”
“That sounds clinically dangerous!”
Azriel growled against your clit and parted your folds with his chin. He ran his lips through all of them, and by the time he pushed his finger back in, you were cumming on his face and screaming so loud his name you could have woken up the rest of the campus. He caressed your lower regions as you came down from your high, accompanying your orgasm with lazy, long stripes through your folds.
When Azriel came back up, his chin and mouth bright from your juices and his hair sticking in every direction, you were already ready for round two. He didn’t need to be told, and he rose leaving a trail of bites up your body.
He briefly stopped to leave two twin marks between your breasts, so round and perfect and purple you were squirming under him again.
“Azzie” it had been the only word you were capable of saying, and your mind cleared down for a second
“Was that good? Worthy princess treatment after a night out?” Azriel asked, leaving wet kisses on your neck.
“Perfect”
You hugged his back as he pulled himself above you, and your nails left angry, red marks across his lower waist. You pulled the band of his sport shorts and underwear down, and squeezed his hard ass just like he had been doing to yours. His dick sprung free with little effort, and he rubbed himself against your side as you caught your breath.
It wasn’t a one-time thing with Azriel, and you heard Cassian muttering about calling 911 before turning on the music. It took Azriel at least three of your orgasm to be content, and he could cum another three before he let you go. He always stopped, for your sake, when your legs couldn’t hold you up anymore and you had tears ruining your perfect make-up.
Few things turned him more on than being the cause of that ruined make-up.
Before he could empty your mind again, you quickly brought up the only coherent thought that kept pounding your head.
“I want your name too. On me”
“A tattoo?” he raised a brow.
Azriel didn’t stop rubbing himself slowly but tightly against your thigh. His hand was over your sore cunt, in a possessive manor he only showed inside the bedroom. At your petition, he pressed his finger tighter.
“Here. Between my breasts, with your name” you quickly explained. “I want Azzie between my breasts, so each time someone looks at me, he knows these are yours”
“You are mine”
None of your relationships had lasted as long or had been as deep. You were the type of girl who would have his ex-name tattooed, but truth was you were wary of tattoos, and Azriel knew that. He had tried to get you into a simple one, something he could draw for you and hold your hand through it.
His body was a map of ink and drawings, some of them goofy and some of them deep. He liked your innocent, smooth skin, but he found himself breathing harder at the thought of his name on your chest. Thinking of how many kisses, how many marks he would leave there every given moment.
Azriel recalled not a month ago pulling down your cleavage between classes to kiss your nipples sore, the hand he always sneaked to unclasp your bra and touch you beneath the lace. His name, the nickname that brought him to his knees, decorating that skin.
“Are you sure?” he didn’t want to get his hopes up, not when he was ready to tattoo you himself right then and there. With Cassian playing loud classical music in the next room.
“And a crown drawn by you on the top” you rose a teasing eyebrow at his lack of movement, given the discussion for finished. “Are you going to wreck me from behind or do I have to ask Cassian for help?”
Azriel broke into a loud laugh before smacking your cunt loudly, then manhandling you around. With his left arm holding you by your waist, he pressed himself against your back. His dick brushed all the right spots between your bodies, but your hands were trapped under you and you couldn’t touch him.
Complaining would only make him take out those beautiful handcuffs you knew he owned so you only bit your lip and whined like the good girl you were for him.
“I’m gonna tattoo my name between your breasts, if that’s what you want” he whispered against your ear, his other hand appearing around your throat. “I love you so much, princess. So fucking much”
Azriel squeezed your throat at the same time he entered you with a rough, only thrust. It avoided the moan that died in your chest, that had you rolling back your eyes in pleasure. It didn’t stop Azriel from moaning your name out loud, loud enough for Cassian to turn up the stupid music.
The headboard banged against the wall and his glasses fell to the ground, as he left you no room to breathe, to recover. Maybe he had managed to shut you down, but he was doing nothing about his own sounds. You were vaguely aware of Cassian slamming the door of the apartment after screaming some profanities, but you didn’t acknowledge him.
Not when Azriel seemed to be trying to tattoo his name deep into your body and soul.
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A/N: I just— Azriel in a suit and tie? Getting all hot and bothered because he recognises reader from her late-night streams that he spends his evenings watching? How am I supposed to resist that?
Also, apologies to anyone named Kieth :)
Warnings: slight work-place harassment
-Part 2-
——————————————————————————————————————————————
“Really?”
Helion gives you a smile, “I told you: anything. I can’t imagine why you would want to, but—”
You’ve already launched yourself at him, arms wrapping securely over his wonderfully muscled shoulders, dark skin contrasting gloriously with the crisp white polo he’s wearing that stretches over his chest. The top few buttons are undone in the summer heat, giving a simultaneously tantalising and teasing view. Enough to have your mouth watering, enough to pique your interest, but not enough to reveal anything else. An appetising suggestion.
“Thank-you!” You squeeze him tight and his laugh reverberates through your breasts, nipples peaking in response to the deliciously deep sound. His large hands span your waist, squeezing back and his breath tickles your neck. You press a smacking kiss to his cheekbone, sliding down his body until your flats land on the terrace—warmed by the sun.
“I’m not sure you’ll be thanking me by the end of the month, Luscious,” he chuckles, using your stage name, releasing you as you step away again, still smiling broadly. “I think you’ll be bored to tears by the end of your first day there.”
“Nonsense. I’ve always wanted to see how normal people live their lives,” you counter, grinning confidently. “Besides, how did you manage? It’s not like I have a particularly outstanding CV or anything…” You squint your eyes at him, “what strings did you pull to get me this job?”
Helion smiles, gesturing to continue the walk through his garden. “A good friend from my university days owed me a favour for something in the past,” he explains, eyes twinkling. “One of his directors has a habit of overworking himself—he thinks a personal assistant might do the trick. You’ll be there to give them an extension on finding a suitable fill for the role.”
Your nose crinkles a little, “so…what’ll I be doing? And what sort of job is it? Tell me I’m going to get one of those fancy chairs. You know, all big and executive? That have wheels on the bottom and spin around?” You ask excitedly. You gasp, “will I get a desk, too?” Helion laughs again, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “You’ll be filled in on the details when you get there. As far as I know, it’ll be fairly straight forward: photocopying, emailing, getting coffees—general admin tasks.”
Sounds fun—interesting.
“You probably won’t sit in on any meetings, since he runs a pretty prestigious law firm, but hopefully it won’t be too much of a bore.” He winks over his shoulder and you grin broadly. “How big is the building? Is it far from me?”
“Yes, it’s a skyscraper. And about a twenty minute drive—if you avoid rush hour,” he replies, moving toward the fountain. You could whoop with joy, but manage to restrain yourself. “Thanks again, Helion,” you say, still bursting with happiness—you’re going to get to work a real, normal job!
Your boss just grins over his shoulder, eyes gleaming, “don’t thank me yet.”
You don’t really consider his warning, instead launching more questions his way: What will you wear? How long is the work day? Will you get a decent lunch break?
————
Monday morning, you’re up and ready.
You’d selected your clothes the day before, having gone on a mini shopping spree to get in some appropriate attire for a law firm—which was both and arduous and fun task. A law firm…how grown-up!
The week before, you’d poured over the short and concise email you’d been forwarded from Helion, informing you about dress codes, break times, and when you’re expected to be there, accompanied with parking directions. You’d smiled to yourself that night, before stripping off your clothes, hopping in your shower, then switching on the webcam as you settled in your spare bedroom.
Helion hadn’t been lying when he’d told you the building was a skyscraper, complete with large windows and—most impressively—solar panels covering the elevated roof. The sun is out, making you second guess your cardigan, but hopefully there will be AC inside to counteract the heat. Checking your phone for the email, you step inside the building.
Five minutes later, you’re knocking on a looming door that leads to a room overlooking the entire city—he’s on the top floor. When there’s no answer, you peer at your phone, rereading the email. You’re definitely where you’re supposed to be—maybe a little early, but that’s never a bad thing. You perk up when you hear your name, footsteps drawing closer as you turn to greet whoever it is.
You conceal your shock perfectly—he’s so young! He can’t be older than his early-thirties—and so handsome, too! What a pleasant surprise. Your red-painted lips split into a carefully crafted smile, designed to be both alluring and demure, extending your hand before you, “I am expected, aren’t I?”
The man stops before you, eyes flicking to your hand as he grasps it firmly, gaze piercing into you. The shake is firm and assertive, more of a yank on your arm than the polite gesture you had expected. “You were supposed to wait at reception to be escorted to my office,” he says in a stern, but not unkind, voice. “I was expecting to find you there, but it seems you like to take initiative.”
Your smile morphs to a grin, “that I do.”
His lip twitches, but he gestures to his door, walking inside as he moves for his desk, muttering something under his breath: handful, indeed. You shut the door behind yourself, the slightly clouded floor to ceiling windows that separate his office from the hallway registering dimly in the back of your mind.
“You must be Rhys, then. The friend Helion mentioned,” you probe, taking the seat in front of his large desk. The chair is wonderfully comfy, making you want to purr. Somehow, you don’t feel he would appreciate the reaction. “Rhysand, yes. But you will not be addressing me so,” he replies smoothly, opening his suitcase and pulling out his laptop. “How much has Helion told you about your work experience?” He asks without looking up, preoccupied with commencing what is probably his daily routine of work.
“He said something about working as a temporary P.A. to one of your workaholic directors,” you drawl. There’s that lip twitch again. Not too bad, then. First impressions seem to be going okay. “He also mentioned not getting any ideas concerning bringing my prior work experience to your firm,” you say smoothly, offering a polite smile, watching for his reaction.
He doesn’t remove his attention from the laptop, deft fingers already flying over the keys, features a mask of vague amusement as he gives a brief nod. Right, a power play, then. He wants to make it clear that you’re working for him—one step out of line and you’re done. At least, that seems to be the rough message he’s sending.
“Say, did Helion mention anything about that?” You ask, feeling him out a little. “About what?” He asks, absently. Definitely a line in the sand. Helion must have mentioned your attitude. Fine, then. You can play pretty-personal-assistant. You can be a good little corporate slave. That’s your talent, after all: switching your personas to keep people at your feet.
“About my main job. In entertainment?” You ask, the smile turning demure, while keeping your tone polite. “I know his own line of work, yes. And no.” He looks up from his laptop, eyes turning cold and stern, “you are not to indulge in any sort of work that does not relate directly to tasks you have been given by my Director.”
Your smile widens a little, “understood, Mr. Rhysand Sir.”
————
Helion hasn’t prepared you enough.
Why hadn’t he mentioned the man you’d be working for has looks to put your male counterparts to shame? With a face like that, you’re mildly surprised your underwear stays on and doesn’t drop to your ankles. That a puddle of wetness doesn’t seep into the chair you’re currently seated on.
You stand to greet him, holding out your hand, hoping he’ll be a little gentler than Rhys was. But as soon as his eyes settle on you—red lips, pretty pearl earrings, sweet little pencil skirt—nothing. Not even a blink, or a double-take. Not even a roll of his throat. And it seems his eyes have already flicked back to the CEO by the time you’ve realised he is blatantly refusing to shake your hand. Your teeth grind as you bring your arm back to yourself. For a brief moment you wonder if it’s distain for your occupation—but Rhys had made it very clear he’s the only one who knows about your situation, so it can’t be that.
Of course you get stuck with the pissy, entitled Director who probably thinks women still belong solely in the kitchen and are only good for popping out babies one after another. You feel bad for his wife—if he has one. You should have given some thought regarding to the type of men you’ll be dealing within this discipline. Probably grew up with topiary surrounding his father’s estate, with an obscenely long gated driveway to flaunt it. His own house probably came with underfloor heating and bedrooms that are purely decorative. Probably says scone instead of scon.
“This is my Director, Azriel. Azriel, this young lady will be helping relieve your obscene workload,” Rhys introduces, a plain smile on his handsome face that somehow isn’t as interesting now that this classically-carved, marvellously-muscled, entitled ass has entered your world. “This is her?” He asks, keeping his attention off you. Not showing so much as an ounce of respect. He’s getting on your nerves and you’ve known him less than a minute.
Rhys nods his head once, a swift, concise movement, “correct. You will show her around the firm, demonstrate how to use the necessary equipment, and make sure she is working to the overall exceptional degree that is expected within my company.” Internally, you’re trying to keep yourself together—remarkably tricky. Working to not just a satisfying, but an exceptional degree? With this stick in the mud? All too suddenly, Helion’s warnings are making sense.
Azriel barely nods, “understood.”
He turns for the door, a silent dismissal passing between them, not once looking at you as he makes for the exit. It takes less than a second for you to realise he’s expecting you to follow behind him, like an obedient dog, but you manage to make a graceful exit, muttering a relatively polite, thank-you for your time to Rhys before you’re striding to match Azriel’s brisk pace. You’re not sure he’s even doing it intentionally, with those long legs of his—finely muscled, just like the rest of him. Dickhead.
————
The first place he takes you to is his own office, stopping by to drop off his satchel and turn his laptop on, preparing for the long day ahead. Then he’s escorting you out, striding down the hallway, directing you to a new location. It’s all rather terrifying—the speed and precision with which he conducts himself. Brutal efficiency lacing every movement.
You pick up your own pace to match his, having to kick up to a slightly faster walk than usual to keep up with him. He shows you to your temporary office—across the hall from his own—along with how to use the photocopying feature on the chunky block of machinery at the side of the lounge, as well as how to scan documents in. He shows you once how to do everything, then lets you try your hand at it. Unsurprisingly, you stumble the first two times, either forgetting to select an A4 sized piece of paper, or forgetting to make sure the documents are scanned in with colour.
Despite his previously sour attitude, he’s patient with your learning, not snapping at you when you get something wrong. Not encouraging you, either. You can’t tell where you stand, and as a socialite, it unnerves you—you can’t get a read on him. But you can’t let him intimidate you. He seems like the type to go for blood if he detects it.
“We’ll move on to filing,” he says, once you successfully scan, and photocopy a Grant of Probate, and driving licence. “Any questions?” You get the vague impression it’s not a sincere offer, but maybe you’re making unjust inferences based on the assumptions of his character. Maybe that’s also why you ask the first thing that pops into your mind. “Do you think you could slow your pace a little?” You give him a shy smile, aiming for humour as an ice-breaker, “I’m surprised my heels haven’t fallen off with how fast you’re going.”
His features don’t shift. Not even a twitch of the lips, like with Rhys. He only nods curtly, then sets off at a slightly less demanding pace than before, heading to his office. On the way, you pass by a young man who seems to be a similar age to you—perhaps a little younger— with light brown skin, eyes the colour of matcha tea, and lashes you would die for. He gives you a polite, albeit shy, smile as he passes, which you return.
“Who was that?” You ask nosily once the young man has passed.
“That was Gabrielle. He’s doing an apprenticeship under Kieth. You might run into the two of them over your time here; Gabrielle will have similar tasks as you.” Azriel explains in his monotonous voice—strangely pleasant. You wonder what it would sound like first thing in the morning. You smile mischievously to yourself as you imagine getting him into your bed. All the ways you could blow his mind. You have a hard time imagining he’s particularly fun in the sheets, with his stick-in-the-mud attitude and stick-in-the-mud character.
“And what about Kieth? Is he also a Director? Like you, Azriel?” His eyes flick briefly to you—light brown—before cutting ahead. “Correct.”
You resist the urge to lick your lips. You already know you’re going to fuck him—it’s just a matter of figuring out what kind of woman he wants. You’re going to break him down, until he’s begging for more. No matter Rhys probably won’t want you sleeping with one of his directors behind his back, but he’s not going to find out.
Azriel won’t even know what hit him until his knees are buckling.
You eye the way his suit seems be perfectly tailored to every round muscle, every bone and fibre of his body. Wrapped to perfection, like a sweet, little Christmas present for you to rip into.
————
As soon as you’re home, you’re stepping into the shower, needing to release the tension from your shoulders.
He’d worked you within an inch of your life.
At first, you’d made his coffee too hot, then it was too sweet, and the third time he seemed to have given up, grunting after the first sip—though it was finished by lunch. Then, he’d had you scan a two-hundred page document to him, which had taken you an hour and five minutes of monotonous lowering the machines lid, allowing the blinding white light to slide beneath the glass, changing the page, lining up the corners, then repeating the whole process. It was a task in itself to not drift off and forget if you’d already scanned in a page. Not to mention the additional half an hour spent waiting for the damn file to send.
That hadn’t even been the worst of it. The entire afternoon had been spent filing: finding papers that needed to be strung into the same file, ordering them chronologically—which sometimes meant removing months worth of documents just to slide one stupid printed email to the back of a Correspondence File.
The upside of the afternoon? It had presented you with many opportunities to bend over a cabinet, leaning on a file draw while you sorted through the papers to find the date you were searching for. You’d switch it around sometimes, too, leaning so you were facing him, flashing him a peak down your shirt every now and then.
The downside of the afternoon? His eyes had never left his computer. It was like you didn’t even exist. What sort of man doesn’t take advantage of fate when a pretty lady is offering a plentiful view of her backside? What sort of man doesn’t take advantage of you when you offer him a chance? It’s insulting…but you suppose it’s only been one day. Maybe he’s shy—you’ll have to step up your game.
Maybe you can spill some coffee between his legs. Or wear one of your more sheer tops with a dark bra. Or un-pop a few buttons on your shirt when he works you too hard. Really, he has no right to be so focused on his work when you’re in the same room as him, in your pretty little heels, and pretty little cardi, and pretty little skirt.
Maybe he doesn’t want pretty and little, though. Maybe you should try to be a little more “executive”, like him.
You fall asleep pretty promptly that night, schemes for how to ruffle Azriel’s feathers playing through your devious, sex-addled brain.
You still have a whole month to get him addicted to you. Shouldn’t be too difficult.
————
When you get in the next morning—a whole half an hour before you’re required—you head straight to your office. Only to see Azriel already sat at his desk, deft fingers flying over the keys, looking as stern as yesterday. Why is he in at 7:30 in the morning? From the look of it, he’s been there for a while already.
His dark eyes flick over the lid of his sleek laptop, catching you watching. Without so much as a word of greeting, he returns his attention to his computer, “you aren’t due for another half an hour.” Even if it isn’t a direct invitation, you step into his office, moving to be a few steps from his large desk. “I was planning on secretly sneaking in a couple of practice runs for coffee this morning, but it seems you’ve caught me,” you reply, gently.
Nonsense. You’re supposed to be mirroring him today. People like others who operate in similar styles to them, so you’ll act like a calmer counterpart—more feminine. Softer at the edges. So you straighten a little, standing with elegant poise, raising your chin ever so slightly. “You don’t need thirty minutes to make a good cup of coffee,” he says, eyes remaining on the screen of his computer. “Come back in half an hour when the work day commences.”
“No filing you want me to do? Get me warmed up for the work day?” You ask casually, as if remarking on the weather. His brow dips almost imperceptibly, “come back at Eight.”
“Just eager to help with your workload, Azriel.” You nearly smack yourself as the habitual lilt honeys your tongue. Executive. Not flirtatious. You clear your throat, trying again. “Eight it is, then. I’ll be here on the dot.”
You close the door behind you, heading across the hallway to your office, settling down into your chair—that has wheels. If everything else is miserable, at least you can roll across the floor with ease. You tap your desk restlessly, before logging onto the computer. As soon as you lay eyes on the digital scans from yesterday in your emails, you spin to the side and pull out your phone. Time for an update, anyway.
Undoing enough buttons to easily reveal your tits, hiking up your skirt, you snap a pretty picture, uploading it with a few taps of your fingers. The light is catching on your shiny red lips, making them appear plump, and Luscious. The image loads quickly, followed by a short caption. Getting a little handsy at work. Think I should fuck my boss? xxx
Deciding to be productive, you set yourself straight, and make for your door. You’d passed a coffee house on the way in, and just because you can’t make the bitter liquid in a way to satisfy him, doesn’t mean somebody else can’t be called in. Surely a barista will be a suitable improvement.
————
When you return, you decant the coffee into a nondescript white mug, careful not to burn yourself while handling the hot liquid. Maybe you undo an extra button, too, so he’ll have a little treat when you lean down to place the mug on his desk.
It’s eight on the dot when you knock on his door before before entering. Your plans are fucked sideways when you spot another man stood in his office. Legs in the usual man-spread, a little wider than shoulder width apart, with his hands in his pockets. Someone who’s used to feeling at ease in most spaces, who’s confident in his ability to own and dominate any room he’s in. He reeks of entitlement.
However, you’re pleasantly surprised when he turns at the sound of the door opening, eyes running appreciatively up and down your body, resting for an inappropriate moment on your chest—the undone button. He’s blandly handsome, with a hard jaw and slightly wavy brown hair that’s pushed back from his face. A slight shadow of stubble is already darkening his chin, not enough to look raggedy—more rugged masculinity. It suits him.
“And who’s this little lady?” The man asks, interest sparking in his chocolatey brown eyes. You smile, extending the hand that’s not holding his coffee, “I’m his Personal Assistant—”
“Secretary.” Your attention flicks to Azriel, but he’s eyeing the man before you, sternly. “She’s filling the role of my secretary, until a permanent replacement is found.” You fight the urge to furrow your brow, instead returning your attention to the man before you, who’s still regarding you with male interest.
“There you go then,” you smile, red lips parting enough to lift into a small grin, “I’m his secretary.” His large hand grips yours roughly—demandingly—as he shakes it. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Secretary,” he replies, mouth lifting into a charming grin. “I’m another Director here.” His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper as he leans in, breath smelling faintly of mint, “the better one, that is.” He winks then stands straighter, and you release a soft laugh. “I don’t suppose you have a role open for a secretary, do you?” You tease back, noting the way his eyes flicker with approval.
“If one ever opens up, you’ll be the first one I contact. Personally,” the man drawls, eyes again dipping to your chest, and you can practically see the fantasies in his gaze. Maybe you’re wasting your time on Azriel.
But then the man turns away from you, “how come you’re treated to a Personal Assistant? Where’s my pretty lady to get me coffee in the morning?” You smile dutifully at the flattery, but Azriel looks mildly pissed off. “She’s my secretary, and she does a lot more than get me coffee in the morning,” he says sharply.
You take the chance to walk round to Azriel’s side of the desk, leaning over slightly as you place the coffee beside him. You intentionally angle your body away from the man, showing the discreet view to Azriel, but his eyes aren’t on you. You don’t really have the time to be frustrated with his lack of attention. “I’m sure she does.”
Woah. That has to be some sort of HR violation.
“Kieth.” Azriel barks, breaking you out of your stare. Thunderclouds have gathered in his eyes, and you can’t help the way your spine straightens. “She’s on work experience. That is not appropriate.” The man—Keith—isn’t deterred, instead flashing you a panty-dropping grin, “not even making him pay?”
You take a step back from Azriel, leaving an appropriate distance between your bodies as you turn to face Kieth. A feline smile slices your lips, eyes flicking to Azriel, making a show of looking him up and down, then back to Kieth. “With a pretty face like that? Never.”
You know Kieth gets the message—how you’ve stood yourself at his side, the opposing end of the desk that serves as a metaphorical wall. You’re aligning yourself with Azriel, and you can practically see Kieth marking the invisible leash you’ve silently suggested is connecting you to him.
If Kieth wants you, he’s going to have to go through Azriel.
———
Despite the seemingly clear alliance formed earlier that day, all traces of camaraderie had dissipated the moment Kieth removed himself from Azriel’s office. It seemed apparent that it was something about the opposing Director that got his panties in a twist, and you needed to investigate.
That being said, even after the team-up, nothing changed between the two of you. He was just as quiet as usual—almost sullen—not even sparing you a glance. You can’t figure out what’s not clicking for him. He has a woman all to himself for most hours of the working day, yet that’s all he seems to be doing: working.
What’s wrong with him?
The only time he’d paid you an ounce of attention was this morning, and since then—nothing.
You flop into bed, tired and frustrated. It’s proving more difficult than anticipated. It’s not like you haven’t had men who’ve taken a while to warm up to you before, but this is unreasonable. He seems completely uninterested. Utterly unbelievable.
The only logical conclusion you can come to is that it must be intentional. Any normal person would make eye contact with someone entering their space, or at least look up. And you’ve been in his office when other people have come in—Gabrielle popped in to ask after a particular file that Kieth had been after—and he’d functioned reasonably then.
It’s iron will that’s walling him off from you. And how are you supposed to break through a self-imposed barrier?
Easy.
You ware him down until the walls turn to dust, then you sweep in, and dominate. Crush down and obliterate.
I'm going to need an acotar college football au where Rhys is the quarterback, cass is tight end (kelce energy), and azriel is the kicker. Anytime az gets tackled, Cass and Rhys clear the benches because what the hell, you don't tackle the kicker. But Cass might call Rhys a baby every time he's sacked and waves at the ref for a flag.
Amren is the physical therapy trainer on the sidelines who yells at them when they twist their ankles and shit. Mor is the school's radio commentator - most excited for them and most critical.
Feyre doesn't really like football, she's just here to support her bf. Nesta gets way too into it, screams at the coach from, has more than once picked fights with fans of the other team. Elain is a cheerleader but she'd rather focus on cheer competitions than games.
Lucien writes for the student newspaper, doesn't like football but is the only sports writer on the staff so he has to go to all the games. Usually sits with feyre and helps her keep Nesta out of fights.
Eris is on the soccer team, always annoyed at the attention football gets when soccer technically has a better record.
A/N: I’m an asleep-by-eight-wake-up-at-six kinda person, but am currently writing this at 2:26am because my dog needed to go outside (this is the second time)
Summary: modern reader gets woken up by her dog who has a poorly stomach. Trying to avoid waking her boyfriend of four years, she sneaks out the back door onto the terrace, clad in one of Rhys’ shirts and some slippers. She notes the time on her phone, takes some dog treats to call him if he takes too long, and heads out into their back garden.
“Did I wake you?” You whisper, soaking in his warmth as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling your back gently against his front. “Not at all,” he replies, pressing a sleepy kiss to your night-mussed hair. He pauses for a moment, then, “maybe a little.”
You laugh softly—how he can be in such a pleasant mood when you’ve just woken him up in the liminal hours of night you can’t understand. You turn in his arms, hand sliding over the hot nape of his neck as you push onto your tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek.
Ithan had probably eaten something a little off in one of the fields today, hence the needing-the-bathroom situation in the middle of the night. Still, better he goes outside than on your bedroom floor—which you’ve managed to avoid happening so far. Touch wood.
“I’m not complaining, but what was that for?” He murmurs, squeezing you slightly, allowing you to greedily take in his heat. “I love you,” you murmur back, fingers threading through his soft, thick locks of hair, going against their grain. Rhys makes a rough but affectionate sound in the back of his throat, resting his forehead against your own. “I love you, too,” he whispers onto your mouth.
You smile onto his lips, both your arms sliding over his powerful shoulders. Without really thinking, you press your lips against his—softened and heated with sleep. Another one of those pleasing sounds drags from his throat, and he kisses back lightly. Then deeper.
When you pull away, he dips forward, nipping at your lower lip gently. “What was that for?” You laugh quietly, keeping within his heat. “I love you,” he whispers back, smiling cheekily, the buttery light spilling from the open door warming his handsome features. “You might have a slight case of morning breath, though,” he teases. You gasp at him, then huff out a puff of air in his direction.
He makes a faked choking sound and you both descend in to quiet laughter. “How charming you are,” he mutters over your mouth, smiling onto your lips. “So long suffering,” you shoot back, but try to at least turn your head a little, in case he was serious about your breath smelling bad. He grunts softly in agreement, before grasping your jaw lightly and pressing another kiss onto you.
This one’s deeper: slower, but more intense. Your arms tighten around him, fingers wandering through his hair as his hand grazes the pathway of your spine. You arch into him.
A slight breeze blows, and you shiver, tucking yourself further into his warmth. “The sky is beautiful tonight,” Rhys says quietly. You pull away a little, peering up into the darkened heavens.
Beautiful isn’t the right word. Not for something so integral in nature—it doesn’t even begin to cover it. It’s simply what it is. Then again, if you had to assign a word to the clear night sky, how the sparkling pin-pricks of light gather in spots to map out constellations, how there isn’t a cloud to be seen and instead it’s just endlessly stretching whorls of starlight blending into distant galaxies—beautiful would have to do.
“It’s…” you fumble for words, but thought trails off as you take in the starry night. Rhys nods, understanding as he gazes with you, “it is.” Such a rare sight. One that you’ll treasure in the silvery pools of your memory.
“Maybe we should go camping,” you whisper, half joking. “Then we could wake up in the night, and have some snacks under the stars.”
“We could do other things under the stars, too.”
You smack him lightly on the shoulder.
The bastard laughs.
“Okay, I promise not to taint your chaste ideas with my filthy thoughts,” he chuckles, both arms wrapping around your waist. You hum softly in response, hoping to sound displeased. He can definitely feel you smiling into his chest, though.
You both fall silent again, and your eyes droop, weighed with fatigue. In the back of your mind, you consider telling him to go back to bed—Ithan will probably take a while. He likes sniffing things. But the thought falls away as he pulls you a little tighter, and starts swaying.
It’s not obvious, nor pronounced, but a calming left-to-right. Lulling you deeper into that dreary state, beckoning you with soft, warm hands. A quiet sigh slips from your lips, and you nose at the shirt he’s wearing—smelling so delicious.
You nearly jump out of your skin when a wet snout brushes the dip of your knee, startling in his arms. Rhys lets out an obnoxious laugh that spills into a genuine one when you shoot him a scathing glare. “That’s what you get for almost nodding off on me,” he chuckles, bumping his nose against your own. “Prick,” you mutter, but press a kiss to his chest.
“Alright,” you sigh, stepping out of his warmth, “inside, hound.” Rhysand moves to guide you into the house, but you turn to your dog, “you too, Ithan. Inside.” From beside you, Rhys lets out a snort, shoving you lightly as you pass the threshold of your home, closing and locking the door once you’re both in, eager to return to the warm comforts of your bed.
All three of you settle quietly, and you bask in the soft warmth of your bedsheets, the coolness of your pillow, and the male body that lies beside you as he tucks you into his chest. Presses a kiss to your forehead. And flicks off the light.
A/N: I’ve been listening to the song Red Flags on repeat and it made me think modern!Amarantha would totally be a true crime girlie and would watch horror to relax :)
Also, I can’t explain it, but I hate the word dildo so much. Like, it just sounds weird :’/
Warnings: sex pill/sex pollen vibes, cross-contamination (do not do this, pls), mean domme!Amarantha, face-riding, sex toys.
To this day, you have no idea why she’d taken an interest in you.
It’s not even that you feel dissatisfied with your features—she’s simply devastatingly beautiful. Armed with a dazzling smile and provokingly intellectual mind, you fell fast. And hard. She’s so smart, it never ceases to amaze you. You still don’t fully know her university course, but you’ve gathered it’s something to do with biology—or chemistry…what’s the difference again?
She’s incredibly well-spoken, clearly having grown up with a thorough education, often dancing rotations around you whenever you engage in conversation, then also often having to slow down, using words more familiar to you. She’s never impatient with your lack of knowledge over your own vocabulary. Honestly, she seems to enjoy explaining things to you—getting this glint in her eye whenever you ask her to explain yet another word.
Either way, you’d worked up the nerve to ask her, half expecting to have been strung along for an ego boost, or some light amusement. Yet, when you’d voiced your request, hands trembling behind your back, she’d accepted!
You could have vomited with relief, but thankfully managed to keep your stomach in check before her cultivated beauty. You would now get to hear her introduce you as her girlfriend—her girlfriend. You nearly burst with blind adoration for her the first time she voiced the title, a wild warmth heating your cheeks as you shook her coursemates’ hands.
But that had been a few months ago—seven, to be precise—and things were going astonishingly well. A few arguments here and there, but that was to be expected, and they seemed to be sorted out with remarkable ease. Often ending in both of you leaving for a few hours, returning to apologise, then you being shoved into her bed—sometimes yours, but usually hers.
Now you’re ringing her doorbell, requesting entrance to her accommodation. It was another one of her date nights, which meant you would inevitably end up cowering beneath a blanket as she watched one of her gratuitously bloody horror films with rapt attention. Sometimes she was a little scary—but maybe it was a little attractive. Very attractive.
She pulls you in for a kiss, and instantly you’re melting into her body, the carnations forgotten as her lips slant over yours, and you moan softly. She pulls away, eyes glinting as she thumbs away a slight smudge of her lipstick that’s been stamped on your lower lip.
It takes a moment for you to emerge from your dazed state, raising the bouquet for her to take. “I thought it might be time for new ones,” you smile at her, a small shudder traveling down your spine as her eyes settle on yours, nails scraping over your knuckles. “How do you do this every time?” She asks over her shoulder as she swishes down the hallway to give the flowers some water. “You always seem to know when the last ones have begun to wilt.”
You laugh absently, gaze narrowing on her ass as she walks away from you, oblivious to your wandering mind. Can she blame you though? In a pretty red dress like that, the hem barely reaching her mid thighs, the sleeves going off the shoulder to display the elegant sweep of her neck, a glittering necklace designed to appear as crystallised blood drops hugging her throat. “Maybe I just have a sixth sense for it,” you joke, removing your shoes as you follow after her to the open-plan floor.
Casually, you slide onto the sofa, instantly nestling into the plethora of pillows and blankets that smell of her shampoo—detergent. Fresh cotton and linen. “What have you selected to haunt me with tonight?” You ask, dread already coiling in the pit of your belly. The only upside is she usually lets you bury yourself into her through the duration of whatever horror she feels like, generally followed by a strange form of aftercare, consisting of her talking and explaining her work to you. Which is honestly quite fun: it takes your mind off the film and you get to learn more about her. A win-win, if you will.
“It’s one of my favourites,” she calls, returning to the section of the floor dedicated to the sitting room. “A masterpiece of art, in my opinion.” You offer a shaky smile, thankfully taking the glass of water she’d brought you, “what’s it about?”
“The premise?” She asks. You nod, assuming it’s the right word for whatever you’re asking. “German doctor sews three people anus to mouth.”
You cough into your drink, hurriedly setting it down as you wipe your mouth, turning to stare at her, “and it’s a horror film?” Her lips quirk, and heat washes down your spine, “you sound surprised.” You swallow, eyeing her nervously from the sofa, already fearing the movie—and it has’t even begun.
“So it’s not pornography?” You hedge. The description just sounded a bit…well, there are lots of people in the world. Her smirk turns wolfish, eyes glinting. “I suppose it depends who’s watching, doesn’t it?” You gulp, shifting beneath the blankets. It’ll only be a few hours, you hope. You can last a few hours for her, you’ve done it before.
“It sounds pretty graphic, Am…” You fret, peeking at her over the blanket. She rolls her eyes, mouth still set in that grin of hers that you know means she’s going to enjoy every second of your squirming. “That’s the point. Now settle down, and enjoy it.” Her sharp tone implies enough about what she’ll do to you afterward. And maybe it makes you desperate but you sigh, doing as she says. You miss that gleam in her eye as she watches you follow her orders without much regard for yourself. Promising indeed. How lucky she is to have found such a willing participant in her games. A lovely, little guinea pig.
————
You spend most of the film squirming back into the sofa, but she doesn’t snap at you once for disturbing her. Instead, you catch her eyes on you at multiple points, observing you quietly. If you had a sound mind, you would have found it unnerving. But you don’t, so you end the film with wetness coalescing between your thighs instead.
“What did you think?” She asks, smiling faintly at what must be your slightly pallid complexion. You swallow nervously, searching for a way to speak well of her chosen film, without lying. “The costume design was lovely. Special Effects too…woah. They really…did that, huh?” You give her a shaky smile, hoping that’ll end her questioning.
It seems satisfactory, because she leans forward, arms wrapping around your waist. You follow happily, crawling into her lap as her hands settle on your hips, bringing her mouth to your own as her lips slant over yours.
Heat gathers quickly between you, perhaps spurred on by your need to forget the content you just consumed by her will. Her teeth find place in your lower lip, and you whimper, hands moving from her shoulders to push at the neckline of her sinful dress.
She pulls back, keeping you still as you pursue her needfully. “Will you do something for me, pet?” She asks softly, her mouth just out of reach of your own. “Anything,” you sigh, gaze latching to hers. She holds a pill before you, and you nearly go cross-eyed to focus on it, “I want you to swallow this for me.”
You take it from her, plucking the small button shaped tablet for you to examine. Not that it does you much good. “What is it?” You ask curiously, shifting in her lap—reminding yourself of the ache between your thighs. “An experiment,” she answers. Your eyes flick to hers warily, “it’s something you developed?” She nods.
“And it’s gone through those preliterary rounds? Of testing and stuff?” She’d mentioned something like that once. Maybe it had been stationery rounds…? Did stationery have two meanings or three? And was it spelt with and E or and A? Amarantha would know.
She nods again, but smiles as if she knows you’re talking out of your ass. You hesitate, considering. If it’s been properly tested…maybe it’s okay then. Surely she wouldn’t give you something unless it’s guaranteed to be fine. Still…
“What does it do?” You ask, eyes raising to her keen set.
“I thought it could be a surprise,” she counters smoothly. A surprise… So it has to be good then. Kind of, at least? You bite your lip. If it would make her happy, then you guess…
“You don’t have to take it,” she sighs, sounding mildly disappointed as she reaches to take it from you. “No!” You exclaim, putting it on your tongue for it to dissolve before she has the chance to remove it. You want to make her pleased, and you trust her, so it’ll be fine.
She grins, eyes widening marginally with feminine pleasure at your unthinking obedience. “Good girl,” she murmurs, cupping your cheek, lust dancing in her gaze as she takes you in.
You have no idea what you’ve just done, and it sends a thrill down her spine. That you’d satisfy her request so mindlessly—yes, you’re perfect for her. With your eagerness to please her, she couldn’t have dreamed up a better partner for her experiments.
It shouldn’t take long to start working, especially since she knows you’re already anticipating being thrown into her bed—looking forward to it. She does so hope you’ll enjoy this as much as she will. Getting to see you all flushed and messy, panting and sweating as you writhe on her bed, pleading for the slightest brush of relief from her.
Oh yes, she’s going to enjoy tonight.
———
“Am…” you whimper into the darkness of her apartment. “Am, please.”
She cocks her head, watching you with barely concealed delight. It had acted quicker than she had thought, but that gives no complaints on her end. “What do you want, pet?”
You whimper louder, squirming on her bed, completely naked, save for the thigh-highs she’d clothed you in before starting. And the blood red rope binding your forearms together at your back. And also the rope shackling your calves to your thighs. All together, she’s gotten you lying on her bed in the dark, spine arched to make room for your arms and legs that have been tied beneath you.
She steps forward a pace, and you keep your thighs spread and still as she trails her fingers down over your abdomen. She traces some imaginary swirls over the sensitive skin, your muscles flexing beneath her nails. “Please touch me,” you beg, breathlessly, panting into the night. “Hmm? You want me to touch you?” You nod frantically, holding back from bucking your hips, raising to meet her finger tips.
“I don’t know about that, pet,” she hums, clearly amused by your desperation. You could sob from the ache that has you soaking her bed sheets, duvet long ago tossed to the floor. “Am…” you pant, head tossing to the side with the effort of keeping your body still as her fingers dance over your thighs. “Am, please…please.”
“Convince me,” she says, retracing her hand and you whimper, vision blurring as your hips buck. Maybe if you can get upright you can spread your legs enough to get some friction from her mattress. “Why should I give into you? I don’t want to encourage bad behaviour, pet.” Your eyes open as they locate her form, brows furrowing as sweat begins to push up through your skin.
“I know you didn’t enjoy the film. You hate horror,” she explains, folding her arms so that her tits are plumped up. You swallow, a fresh wave of arousal dripping from your heat. “Isn’t that right, pet?” You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as your head falls back into her pillow. But— “Yes, ma’am.”
You can practically envision the way she shivers at the title. She loves it when you use it without her having to ask, namely because it signifies you’ve already reached the point that you’ll do just about anything she asks. Complete submission.
“That’s right, and yet you pretended to like it, didn’t you?” She crawls on top of you, and you whimper when the clothing of her dress scrapes across your sensitive nipples. “Dirty, little liar, aren’t you?” Even in the darkness, you can tell her eyes are gleaming. She’s looking for a reason to punish you.
You shake your head, “no! I liked it, I swear!” She tilts her head to the side, smiling slightly, and you arch your back a little more, the soft weight of her breasts pushing onto you. “Yeah? You liked it?” She asks, leaning closer. You flush with need, wishing your arms weren’t constrained. “Yeah…a little scary, but good. I liked it, Am.”
Her eyes narrow as she looks down at you, weighing your answer. All too suddenly, she smiles, removing herself from your body and tears brim at your lashes. “Am, please!” You whine, hips bucking at the loss of contact. She shushes you, walking over to her TV. “You said you liked it,” she supplies, still smiling from the other end of the room. You nod, though she can’t see you. “Well, you’re in luck, pet,” she drawls, and the beginning of a film starts playing. “There’s a second one!”
You could cry, sob, scream. From pleasure, pain, and an absence of both.
“Oh, don’t pull that face, I’m done teasing you now,” she laughs, but it’s sinister, and you can’t help the feeling that she’s lying somehow. No way it’s over that easy. “Of course, you’re still going to have to work for me, pet.” Yup. There it is. But at least you know the catch now; hopefully it won’t trip you up.
She walks back over to the bed, and you bite your lip to suppress a moan as her eyes lick between your thighs, drinking in the sight of your glistening heat. You open your legs a little wider in response, inviting her to touch you in any way she wants. Her lips quirk, but she moves to her bedside drawer, pulling out a—
“I’ve cleaned it, of course. Cross-contamination, and all that.” She’s caught off guard by a kick of pleasure as you have the audacity to look mildly disappointed. Dumb, little thing. “You want me to use it first?” She asks, arousal clouding the edges of her vision. You’re so, so perfect.
You nod your head frantically and it’s enough to have her resolve fracturing. She sighs, resigned, as she sets the dildo on the bed, enjoying your attention as she pulls the tight, red dress over her head. Your mouth goes dry; your cunt goes hot as you take her in, devouring every inch of her perfection.
Her lips fashion themselves into a smirk as you take in her lacy red underthings: a matching set. “You know I like to prepare,” she drawls, prowling onto the bed. She settles at the foot of the mattress, so she has a lovely view of the hot mess between your thighs. “Open a little wider for me, would you?” She asks, grinning. You follow her order obediently, spreading yourself so she’ll be able to get to you, should she want. You hope she does.
“That’s it. Good girl.” The praise settles in the pit of your tummy, adding to the already unbearable heat between your legs, bubbling away.
Your skin goes hot, then cold, as she places the toy beneath her, going up onto her knees. Her eyes lock on yours, mouth parting in a quiet breath as her fingers slip into her wet heat. The sounds are obscene for the start of what is bound to be a long night. Her digits locate her clit with innate ease, circling a few times before dipping down, experimenting with how wet she is.
It seems it’s satisfactory as she brings her hand back up the front of her body, trailing silvery lines of arousal over her skin as she cups her breast. “You’d better be enjoying the view, pet. This is especially for you,” she grins, flicking her fingers over her nipples as she lowers herself enough so the toy is nestled between her thighs. It’s barely past the tip, but you’re already so turned on by the sight of her being so sexual with you that your mind goes dizzy.
Amarantha laughs slightly, taking in your awed expression. “You always get that look when you see me. Like you’d do anything to have your mouth on me at all times.” You nod eagerly, whimpering at the statement. That idea sounds really, fucking appetising right now. She chuckles at your response, how enthusiastic you are about enjoying her.
A wicked light gleams in her eyes as she begins sinking down onto the toy and you watch as it fills her up. “Maybe I should look into finding ways to keep your warm, wet mouth attached to my pretty cunt? Would you like that, pet?” You don’t have it in you to be ashamed as you nod again, too high on arousal and the promise of pleasure to care about the indignity. “Yeah? Want to be my little centipede, hm?” You don’t care anymore, you just nod. Nod to everything she says in the hopes it’ll encourage her to move onto you faster and satisfy the ache between your thighs.
“That’s my girl. So desperate for me, aren’t you? Do anything I asked you to, wouldn’t you?” She drawls, finally settling on the bed, the toy beep inside her heat. She looks down, noting the same. When her eyes lock on yours, there’s something more animal in her gaze, something sharp and wicked. Honed and bladed. Her lips lift in a feline curve, “ready for me, pet?”
You put your teeth in your lip as you bite down a moan, waiting for her to move, nodding. She smiles, lifting off the dildo as she crawls up your body. One hand tangles in the hair at the back of your head, tugging you upright, guiding the tip to your mouth. “Go on,” she goads, still smiling, “have a taste.”
You don’t need to be told twice, eyes locking on hers lustfully as your tongue flicks out, latching your mouth over the head of the toy, tasting her on your tongue. You moan, brows curving upward as you silently plead for more. She smiles, pushing you back into the bed. “You want something better? Something more intense? More pleasurable?” She drawls. “Yes! Please, Am! Please, please!”
Amarantha laughs. “Open wide, pet.”
You don’t hesitate, tongue lolling out, awaiting her soft, wet heat to grace your mouth. Instead, she pushes the base of the dildo between your lips, teeth fitting into the divot between the small suction pad and the beginning of the toy comfortably. “I didn’t say who it would be more pleasurable for, love,” she grins, swinging her leg over your head, hand tangling in your hair so she can watch as she sinks down onto your mouth. “Besides, isn’t this so much better? You get to watch me fuck myself on top of you. You can watch as this pretty thing sinks deep into my pretty cunt. Isn’t that what you want?”
She grins, knowing you can’t reply. “Just think about it, pet. I’m already dripping over you. This toy’s going to be swallowed up before you even know what’s happening, and then it’ll be like what you’re used to. You get to have your pretty face between my legs, while I get myself off on your mouth.” She tightens around the toy as she hears your muffled whine. You’re panting deeply, body being ravaged by that lovely little pill you’d so mindlessly taken.
“And then, when it’s nice and wet, I’ll put it inside of you. Won’t you like that, pet? Having me so deep inside of you? Like I’m filling you up with my come? Imagine me coating your insides. Won’t that be lovely?” Your eyes practically roll back as she winds her hips over the dildo, settling low enough her wet heat presses down onto you, and you indulge.
It’s just like she said: she’s dripping, her arousal collecting every time she slides down on the cock, letting it trickle into your mouth, collecting on your tongue. “Yeah? Is that better, pet? Enjoying it more now?” She taunts, clit pressing onto your nose. You nod, if only because you know it’ll feel good for her.
Amarantha moans at the movement, thighs going weak as her full weight settles over you and you could swear you’re in heaven. Her heat encasing your senses, her fingers in your hair, knowing her muscles are going weak from pleasure—pleasure that you’re helping provide. “Such a good girl, aren’t you?” She whispers softly, eyes peeking open to look at you. “So good at getting me off, huh?” She laughs to herself. “My little centipede,” she coos.
God, you hope that name doesn’t stick.
Outside the bedroom, at least.
She nods to herself, “I think that’s enough, don’t you?” Then she’s raising onto her knees, leaving you feeling cold as she removes the dildo from your mouth. She turns on your face, so she’s looking down at your bound body. “Ready for me, pet? Ready to have me inside of you? Inside your pretty little cunt?” She asks, a honeyed lilt to her words. “Yes!” A plead and confirmation in one, feeling like you could sob as she presses the tip of the toy at your entrance. The idea of it being inside of you, so soon after having been used by her…the world spins a little.
“Stay with me,” she orders, tapping the head of the object on your clit. A startled moan spills from your lips, making her chuckle. “There you go, swallow it up.” She pushes the warm head inside of you, and you spread your thighs wide, raising your hips as much as you can. One of her hands wraps beneath your shin, helping to move them out from under you.
Tears slip from your lashes as she fills you up—at last. Arousal spills down your thighs as you mix together, deep inside your cunt. “Yes, yes, yes,” you breathe softly, over and over.
“Good girl, keep taking it. Take it all—yes, that’s right.” You could sob when it’s fully inside of you, touching those sensitive spots that make you tighten. “Ready, now? Ready for some fun?” She asks from above you, and you can hear how needy she is, having been the one to watch as she pushed the used dildo into your pussy.
“Yes, ma’am,” you whimper, barely more than a soft exhale onto her inner thigh. “Perfect,” she murmurs, just before settling down onto your mouth. You open on autopilot, tongue darting out to taste her because you need her flavour, need to feel her, need to have her in your stomach. You moan against her soft, wet heat, pushing your wet muscle against her entrance, flicking it over her clit.
You cry out when her fingers begin oscillating gently over your bundle of nerves, landing soft taps and careful strokes to stimulate you while pushing the toy in and out. “Stop pleasuring me, and you won’t get an orgasm, pet,” she breathes lowly, the threat coming out clear as day. “I can force you to give me as many highs as I want with you all wrapped up like this. You don’t need to do a thing,” she warns, grinding over your mouth. “All I need to do is take a seat on your face and strap a vibrator to myself and you’ll be drowning in my cum.”
You’re tempted to stop just so she will, but you need your own release—so badly. So you keep working, tongue flicking over her clit as she pays you the attention you’ve been dying for; craving throughout the night.
Amarantha curses lowly, “good girl, that’s it. Keep doing that and I’ll be coming on your tongue in no time. Just keep fucking going. Work that mouth of yours. Don’t you dare stop.” You wouldn’t dream of it—you want her to come as much as she does. Her oscillations tighten, adding pressure and you feel the toy bumping against those spots again. Your muscles seize in preparation, pushing your face deeper into her wet heat, wanting to have all of her on your mouth as you suckle her clit.
There’s no way your face is anything but drenched, but you find the thought appealing: having her scent, her slick on your skin as proof of her pleasure. Pleasure you’ve served her. It’s enough to have you tipping over the edge. By the feel of it, she’s going with you, grinding herself over your mouth as arousal drips off her, coating you entirely as she curses again and again. You allow her to move as she wants, riding your face, sticking your tongue out as it swipes over her clit until she’s calmed down.
She allows the toy to slip out of your sopping cunt, flopping on her mattress as she pulls off your face. She’s panting, lipstick a little faded, but looking as appetising as ever. You want her to do that again. Want to flip her on her back so you can go down on her, show her how much you love her.
“How’re you feeling, pet?” She pants, swinging off your mouth so she’s at your side. “Am…” you breathe, looking at her needfully, “please, untie me.”
She seems a little disappointed at that, “tapping out?” Her eyes eagerly track the rise and fall of your chest, skin gleaming with sweat. “No way in hell. But I need you on your back, Am,” you pant, looking at her with heat in your eyes that tells her exactly what you want to do.
It’s the quickest she’s ever obliged a request you’ve made in bed before, and she’s never been more proud of an experiment than tonight. It’s justified, to her—even if you’re the first trial run, and she’d lied to you, you’d still taken the pill without asking the right questions. And the outcome is fine. More than fine, even.
The pill is doing exactly what it’s supposed to, and now you’re working her to orgasm after orgasm thanks to her hard work in her lab. A fitting reward, having the power to turn you into her little sex slave whenever she wants. And all she needs to do is give you that faked look of disappointment; you’ll be coerced into anything.
everyone asking bout cbmthy and teeth and talons HUT IM HERE THIRSTIJG FOR THE ASSISTANT FIC LIKE CMON ISNT ANYONE WONDERING WHATS GKNNA HAPPEN IN THE NEXT CHAPTER????? CAUSE I DO!!!
This is so lovely, thank you so much 😭
I hadn’t planned on making His Personal Assistant a proper series? Or rather, I hadn’t anticipated anyone liking it enough to want a part 2?
Either way, I’ll try to squeeze in some time for writing a part 3 :)
