#general cassian

[surielstea]

Blade Bound

Based on a request!

Pairing: Cassian x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: Cassian walks his wife home, and then some.

Warnings: Pregnancy | Slightest bit of angst

3k words.

The glow of the forge warmed my cheeks as I flicked my mask up, wiping at the thin sheen of sweat on my brow. My eyes scanned the steel daggers in front of me, the heat of the fire still making the blades gleam red-hot. The rhythmic hum of hammers meeting steel and the hiss of blades meeting water filled the air—a sound I'd grown to love. This was my sanctuary, my space.

I was so focused on the metal that I nearly missed the soft creak of the workshop door. Nearly.

My head lifted, the sound cutting through the symphony of my work. My lips curled into a grin as I saw the tall figure step into the dim light of my forge, wings peaking over his broad shoulders. "You didn't tell me you were coming, Cass," I called out, my voice teasing but warm.

Cassian stood there, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he shoved his hands into his pockets. His hazel eyes glinted in the firelight, and the sight made my stomach do the slightest flip. "Hey, love," he said, his voice low and rich, his grin deepening as he took in what I was working on.

I turned my attention back to the sword in my hand, its unfinished hilt still warm against my gloves. "You come to give me a hand?" I asked hopefully, plunging the glowing blade into the barrel of cool water. Steam rose in a furious hiss, curling around us like a phantom.

"You know I'm terrible at making the weapons, much better at wielding them." He grumbled, approaching the countertop and drumming his fingers along it.

"Correction," I said as I removed the blade from the water. "You're terrible at the fine details. But you're great at the grunt work."

Cassian huffed, but I could see the corners of his mouth twitching upward as he tried not to smile. "You married me for my muscles, didn't you?"

"Partially," I admitted, sliding the unsharpened sword back into its mold. "Why are you here then? I thought you had a meeting with Rhys." I pulled my mask fully off and ran a hand through my hair, shaking out the strands that clung to my skin.

"He called it early," he said, stepping past the counter, his large frame seeming to take up all the available space in the room. He leaned casually against the workbench, his arms crossed, but there was something about the way his gaze lingered on me that made the air between us feel charged. "Besides, I didn't come here for weapons tonight."

I quirked an eyebrow at him, already knowing where this was going. "Oh?" I leaned back against the anvil, folding my arms across my chest to mirror him. "And here I thought you couldn't resist testing out my new blades."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, and it sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. "Don't get me wrong—your work is as flawless as ever," he said, his gaze flicking briefly to the daggers on the bench before returning to me. "But I came here to walk you home."

His words hung in the air, soft yet firm, and I found myself momentarily caught in the intensity of his stare. "Home?" I asked, tilting my head. "Cassian, I'm fine. Just a few more hours and I'll—"

"You've been at this all day," he interrupted, his tone gentle but insistent as he pushed off the bench and stepped closer. He reached out, his rough, calloused hand brushing a stray streak of soot from my cheek. "Take a break. It's getting late."

I huffed a laugh, though my cheeks flushed at the tenderness of his touch. "The weapons won't forge themselves, you know."

"They'll still be here tomorrow," he said, his fingers lingering near my face before he dropped his hand back to his side. His voice softened as he added, "You won't do anyone any good if you work yourself to exhaustion."

There was no arguing with Cassian when he used that tone—the one that was equal parts concerned and endearing. He knew I could hold my own, but he also knew exactly when to step in and remind me to take care of myself.

I sighed, the tension in my shoulders easing under his steady gaze. "Alright, General," I said with mock seriousness, pulling off my apron and hanging it on the peg beside me. "What do you propose we do instead?"

His grin turned roguish, his hazel eyes lighting up with mischief. "I told you I want to walk you home, maybe take the long way just to stare at the stars a little longer. You've been cooped up in here all day—I think some fresh air would do you good."

"A walk?" I teased, though I couldn't help the smile tugging at my lips. "You're practically courting me."

His laugh was deep and infectious, rolling through my workshop like a melody meant only for me. "We've been married for centuries," he shot back, his expression softening as he looked at me, his grin a mixture of teasing and devotion. "So trust me when I tell you—you're worth courting."

The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard, freezing me in place for a beat too long. Cassian, with all his swagger and bravado, stood in the middle of my cluttered workshop, looking at me as though I were the only thing holding his world together.

I cleared my throat, shaking off the warmth unfurling in my chest. "Alright, you win," I relented, grabbing a rag to wipe my hands clean, but the skin remained stained with charcoal and soot. My voice came out steady, even if my heart wasn't. "Let me grab my coat."

I turned toward the rack, but before I could untie my apron, I felt the familiar warmth of his hand at my waist. He loosened the knot with an ease born of centuries together, slipping the apron over my head with careful precision. His touch lingered, just long enough for the air to thrum between us.

"Take your time," he murmured dryly, his voice a low rumble.

When I glanced back at him, he was watching me with that quiet intensity he so rarely let show—like the chaos of the world had stilled, leaving just us in the glow of it. For all his fire and fury, Cassian had this way of grounding me, of reminding me of the steady flame that burned beneath the warrior exterior.

I leaned in, brushing my lips against his in a soft kiss.

His grin was as wicked as it was endearing. "Save that for tonight," he said, pulling back just enough to tease.

I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at my lips. Rising onto my toes, I pecked him again. "Fine, fine," I huffed, waving him off as I grabbed my coat from the hook, swapping it with my apron.

Reaching for a small glass case on the workbench, I handed it to him. "These are for Az," I said. "He requested them—something about restocking the nursery." I arched a brow, skepticism dripping from my tone. "Can you tell me why Azriel needs daggers in our child's room?"

Cassian's grin turned sheepish as he shrugged. "He likes to be prepared."

"Prepared for what? A rogue teddy bear attack?"

"Hey, I don't question his methods. I have yet to find one around the house, and it seems to keep him happy so I let him."

I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Cass, we're going to have a child. Daggers hidden anywhere in the house isn't exactly baby-proof."

"I'll talk to him," he promised, holding his free hand up in surrender.

I sighed. "I suppose if I haven't found any yet, he's hiding them well. Just make sure he keeps them out of reach, okay?"

"Of course, love. No need to worry."

I gave him a long look, trying to decide if he was genuinely serious or just placating me. Probably a bit of both.

"Alright," I muttered, sliding my arms into my coat. "Let's get out of here before I start overthinking the entire safety protocol of our house."

Cassian chuckled, tucking the case of daggers under his arm. As we stepped out into the crisp night air, he slung his other arm around my shoulders, tugging me close. The world felt lighter with him beside me, the stars above brighter somehow.

The walk back to our house was comfortable, Cassian's hand never leaving the small of my back as we made our way through the city. It was late, far past sundown but Velaris was alive as always, the streets bustling with fae chatting, laughing, and living as though it wasn't nearing midnight.

When we reached the house, Cassian held the door open for me, his teasing grin softening into something quieter. "I'll drop these off with Az. You head up—unless you want to supervise the handoff?"

I snorted, shrugging off my coat. "I trust you to make sure he doesn't immediately shove one under the crib mattress."

"Funny. That's the first place he'd hide one."

"Cassian!"

He laughed, planting a kiss on my forehead before disappearing down the hall. I climbed the stairs, my steps slowing as I passed the nursery. The room was still a work in progress the walls half painted and the dresser dissembled, but the crib stood at the center, its dark wood gleaming in the moonlight.

I stepped inside, running a hand along the curved edge. The weight of everything settled on me in that moment—the good and the terrifying. A child. Our child. I could already feel my heart making room for them, expanding in ways I hadn't thought possible.

The sound of footsteps drew my attention. Cassian appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. "You're worried," he said softly.

I nodded. "It's, a lot. Everything's going to change."

He stepped inside, closing the distance between us in a few strides. His hands found my waist, grounding me in that effortless way of his. "You're not in this alone, you know. We're a team. And if anyone dares to mess with our family, well—" His grin turned wicked. "We've got Az's nursery daggers for that."

I laughed despite myself, leaning into his chest. "We're going to be fine, aren't we?"

"Better than fine," he promised, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. "I promise."

And in his arms, I believed him.

Cassian's arms tightened around me, his warmth sinking into my skin as I breathed him in. For all his teasing and chaos, he always had this way of making me feel steady—of reminding me I wasn't just a blacksmith pounding out weapons in a forge, but someone who mattered to him, to our court, and now to the tiny life growing within me.

After a long moment, I sighed and stepped back, my hand lingering on his chest. "Speaking of Az's daggers, you'd think the Spymaster would have a little more patience," I muttered. "I'm running out of ways to make his blades sharper, lighter, or deadlier. At this point, I'm half-convinced he's just trying to keep me busy." I drone, thinking of the recent orders he's been making for no real reason.

Cassian chuckled, his hand drifting to rest on my belly, a gesture so absentminded and natural it made my heart clench. "Azriel keeps you busy because he's secretly terrified you'll run out of projects and get bored. And we all know what happens when you get bored."

"Oh?" I cocked a brow, crossing my arms over my chest. "And what exactly happens, General?"

"You invent something," he said solemnly, though the sparkle in his hazel eyes betrayed him. "Something new. Something terrifying. Something that usually involves explosions or blades that even Rhys has to veto before you can patent them and start selling to Lord Devlon."

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips. "I've only had two experiments blow up in my face this year."

"Three," he corrected, a teasing grin spreading across his face. "Don't think I've forgotten about that flaming sword incident last spring."

"That wasn't an explosion!" I shot back, pointing a finger at his chest. "It was a controlled combustion—completely intentional, I might add. You're the one who decided to put it down on a wood surface."

He laughed, the sound rumbling through the quiet nursery. "It only burned down a countertop before we got the fire out. No harm, no foul."

I gave him a playful shove, but the warmth in my chest wouldn't go away. For as much as I loved the forge—the smell of molten steel, the rhythm of hammer against anvil, the satisfaction of shaping something raw into something powerful—moments like this reminded me why I'd taken the risk of opening my workshop in Velaris in the first place.

"Do you ever regret it?" I asked after a minute, my voice softer now.

Cassian tilted his head, his expression shifting to one of curiosity. "Regret what?"

"Falling for someone like me," I said, gesturing vaguely toward the soot still staining my hands, despite my earlier attempt to clean them. "Someone who spends most of her days covered in ash and sweat, hammering out weapons instead of wearing gowns and sipping wine like a proper lady."

He stared at me for a long moment, his golden eyes unreadable. Then he reached out, taking my hands in his. His thumbs brushed over the calluses on my palms, the rough patches I'd earned from years at the forge.

"I've never regretted a damn thing about you," he said, his voice low and fierce. "Not the ash, not the sweat, not the fact that you could probably forge a better sword than all the Illyrian smiths combined. And definitely not the fact that you're about to be the best mother in Prythian."

My throat tightened, and I blinked quickly, trying to keep my emotions in check. "You're just saying that because you like getting the first pick of my weapons," I muttered, my voice breaking on the last word.

Cassian grinned, pulling me closer. "True." He smirks. "I love well-crafted steel. But I love you more."

I leaned my forehead against his chest, letting his steady heartbeat calm the storm inside me. After a moment, I pulled back, brushing a stray lock of hair out of my face.

"Well, in that case," I said, my tone lightening, "I suppose I could work on a few more of those experimental blades for you. Maybe even something you'd actually be able to wield without slicing off your own hand."

"You'd patch me up." He says confidently.

I rolled my eyes, but the smile tugging at my lips refused to fade. "Come on," I said, taking his hand. "It's late, and if we don't get some sleep, you'll end up snoring in the training room tomorrow."

We left the nursery behind, the soft glow of starlight spilling through the hallways of the house. The quiet was soothing, the faint hum of magic in the walls a reminder of the safety we'd built here. Cassian's thumb traced absentminded circles over the back of my hand as we walked, his touch grounding me in a way that words never could.

When we reached our bedroom, I let go of his hand to start unbuttoning my coat. Cassian, ever the helpful mate, came up behind me and slid the coat off my shoulders, brushing his lips against the nape of my neck as he did.

"Careful," I warned, though my voice lacked any real bite. "You keep that up, and neither of us will be getting any sleep tonight."

His chuckle was low and rough, sending a pleasant shiver down my spine. "Noted," he murmured, hanging my coat on the nearby rack.

I crossed to the dresser, pulling out one of his old, oversized shirts to sleep in. As I tugged it over my head, I caught Cassian watching me from where he stood by the bed, his hazel eyes dark and unreadable.

"What?" I asked, tugging the hem of the shirt into place.

"Nothing," he said, though the softness in his voice told me otherwise. "Just, you're beautiful."

My cheeks warmed, but I rolled my eyes, trying to deflect the compliment. "You're just trying to butter me up so I'll make you another sword tomorrow."

"Maybe," he admitted with a grin. "But it doesn't make it any less true."

I shook my head, pulling back the covers on the bed and climbing in. Cassian followed, sliding in beside me with a contented sigh. He stretched an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

I rested my head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling me into a sense of peace I hadn't felt all day. His fingers traced lazy patterns along my arm, and for a while, we lay there in comfortable silence, the weight of the day melting away.

"Do you ever think about the future?" I asked quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Every day," he replied, his tone just as soft.

"What do you see?"

He was quiet for a moment, as though he were choosing his words carefully. "I see us," he said finally. "You, me, and the little one. Maybe a couple more, if you're feeling ambitious."

I laughed softly, the sound muffled against his chest. "Ambitious is one word for it."

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "Whatever the future holds, I know one thing for sure."

"What's that?"

His arms tightened around me, his voice filled with unshakable certainty. "I'll love you and fight for you—always."

I closed my eyes, letting his words wrap around me like a warm blanket. "Always," I echoed, my voice heavy with sleep.

Cassian shifted, pulling the covers up around us before settling back down. His warmth and the steady rise and fall of his chest were the last things I felt as I drifted off, safe in the knowledge that no matter what tomorrow brought, we'd face it together.

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[lady-of-tearshed]

Lost in translation

Cassian x Reader

Cassian Week 2024

Day 4: Lover

@cassianappreciationweek

A/N: Honestly, I think that Cassian, as a lover, is a big fan of physical touch. Massages, hugs, holding hands, cuddling, having sex… That’s exactly how I imagine this male’s love language. So I thought: What would happen if our Lord of Bloodshed's mate had a completely different love language? And here's how this little fic got written. Enjoy! 💕

Summary: Cassian is worried he's being too clingy since you don't seem to show him your love with physical touches... But maybe the two of you just got lost in translation.

Warnings: Mention of nudity, but nothing explicit. Miscommunication angst. Happy ending.

Word count: 1,236k words

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

And they lived happily ever after… The end.

You snap the book close in your hands and groan. You slide the back of the book onto the nightstand, right beside your empty mug of tea, and stretch your arms above your head. You sigh at the feeling of your numb muscles stretching out after a long time stuck in the same position. You look up at the clock to check how long exactly you’ve been reading, and the realization hits you full force.

Seven whole hours. Mother above… More like “Mother’s tits”, as your mate would so graciously say.

Speaking of him, you haven’t heard much of him in a while, which was weird, since he would always be tucked at your side at any given time of the day. He would usually burrow his face in the middle of your breasts, and start kissing them sneakily once he has enough of waiting for you to finish reading. He would become insufferable if you have the misfortune to read a relatively steamy part of your book and become all hot and bothered. Cassian would always manage to make you even more flustered or aroused when this happens. 

But the General hasn't shown up for seven whole hours. Tendrils of guilt swirls around your stomach, squeezing it uncomfortably as you come to the realization that you have failed to notice Cassian’s absence until just now. You softly tug on the golden bond that shone permanently in your chest, connecting your soul with the male of your every desire, but you receive no response, as if he had blocked you out. 

You slide your cold feets into your slippers, and pick up the mug on the nightstand, bringing it with you on your quest to find the General. The house of the wind is silent, save from the fire soothingly dancing in the hearth. Your eyes scan the living room, then the kitchen… No sign of Cassian. You walk toward the sink, washing your mug and placing it down into the drying rack, all while thinking where your mate can possibly be at this time of the night. 

Your eyes move to the front door, and you notice that there still was a thin layer of snow melting under the sole of his boots. He must’ve been training until late, which means…

Just as you start to make a connection of where your mate is most likely to be, the sound of water running from the bathroom confirms your theory. You tiptoe to the bathroom, trying to be sneaky, but Cassian’s gaze is already set on you when you walk in the bathroom. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He says, turning his back to you.

The water is pouring down on him, soaking his hair, droplets of water sliding down the waves of his hair, following the uneven black lines tattooed on his shoulders, sliding all the way down his back, finishing their course by caressing his muscled ass… “I wasn’t sleeping.” You admit, starting to undress, not minding at all that your mate can smell the shift in your scent. 

Cassian shoulder’s tense slightly as you walk closer to the foggy glass door, naked. You raise a brow, halting your hand on the doorknob of the shower, about to question him but he’s quicker to speak. “Y/N, don’t come in here just because you pity me.” All hints of arousal leave your body at his words, your brain blurry from trying to understand where Cassian's insecurity comes from.  

“Alright, then,” You say, stepping inside the shower, standing right behind the General's massive shoulders, hands on your hips. “Mind telling me where such thoughts come from?” Your finger taps on the back of his head slightly, insisting that he turns around to face you, to face what’s on his mind and open up to you. 

Cassian’s shoulders drop, his wings so low that they brush the shower tiles on the floor. “Cassie… My love…” You stroke the spot in between his wings in a comforting manner, and you feel his wards crumble, his emotions pouring through the bond. 

Self-loathing, pain, loneliness… 

His feelings make your own heart sting, and your face crumbles at how much pain your mate seems to suffer from. You lift his wing, and carefully slip underneath it to sneak between the wall and his face. He turns his face away from you, facing the wall. You can’t tell if it’s tears, or water that’s rolling down his cheeks. “I need you to be honest with me,” He sighs, as if trying to gather the strength to speak his next words. “Do you…” His eyebrows knit, and your eyes glance to his fists, clenching, unclenching. He was nervous. “Do you find me annoying?”

“No, Cass-”

“Too clingy maybe?”

You frown, and wrap your fingers around his wrist. “No… My love-”

“Then why is it everytime I touch you, you…” His eyes snap to yours, and you hold your breath at how bloodshot they look. From crying. “You…” His voice softens, and he has to bite his lip to keep it from trembling. “Do you like it when I touch you?” He asks in a whisper, his head tilting to the side. Pain was written all over his face.

“Oh, Cassian…” You smile sadly, opening your arms to offer him a hug. He swings you into his arms, both of you now standing under the warm water. He buries his face in the crook of your neck. “I love it when you touch me. What made you think otherwise?” You comfort him, kissing the side of his head lovingly. 

“It almost looks like you avoid touching me. I just… I don't know. It made me wonder if perhaps I was the one being too touchy.” He confesses, still hiding his face in the safety of your neck. 

“Hey… look at me.” You move back to cup his cheek, forcing his eyes to meet yours. “If I didn't like you touching me, I would've told you so. I promise,” You kiss the tip of his nose. “Now, if I made you feel like I was avoiding touching you, I'm sorry. It's just…” You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “I'm just… I just like to express my love differently, I guess. Like, I usually express my love with little acts of services, or words of affirmation…” 

Cassian nods slowly, and scratches the back of his head, chuckling too. “Oh…” 

There's a moment of silence where the both of you just stand naked in the shower, your hands caressing Cassian’s cheeks, the stubbles scratching your digits softly. 

Cassian’s hands wrap delicately around your wrists, and he brings one of them to his lips, pampering the soft skin of it with kisses. “I'm so sorry I didn't notice all of this… I was too focused on my own love language. And since you weren't so… Gods, I'm such an idiot…”

“You're not an idiot,” You reassure him. “You're allowed to be worried about things, Cass. I'm happy we talked about it.” 

His lips leave your wrist, and hover over your mouth, softly brushing against yours. He tucks a strand of wet hair behind your ear, and whispers against your lips. “Yeah… I'm glad we talked about it too…” Then he kisses you, his lips feeling so light against yours. So was his heart, now that you've communicated.

Acotar Taglist: @lilah-asteria @mybestfriendmademe

Cassian Taglist: @ladybookstan @acotar-lover

[courtofcravings]

Everyone Knew (1)

Cassian x Reader

After realizing you're hopelessly in love with your best friend, a night out at the bar takes an unexpected turn when unresolved feelings become the topic of the night.

Mutual pinning, Slight angst, Fluff Warnings: Drinking, border line nswf (but only make out) Completed Series - Read part 2 here

“You could, perhaps, try talking to him…” Feyre suggested, lifting her glass to her lips, “I mean, how long do you think you can avoid him?” She added, with a pointed look

“Would forever be too long?” you muttered, staring into your nearly empty drink. Tonight was supposed to be a break—a brief escape from your endless pining. Somehow, though, it had turned into an interrogation.

“You’re acting pathetic,” Nesta grumbled from beside her sister. “Just talk to him. He is only a man.”

“I tried,” you whined, throwing a pleading glance at the girls. You really had tried—more than once. The problem was that every time Cassian’s eyes lingered on yours for too long, your brain short-circuited, leaving you speechless and rulling any possibility of confessing: utterly impossible.

“Tried,” Nesta repeated mockingly, a smirk curling her lips. “If you call drooling over him and bolting out of every room he’s in trying, then sure.”

“She gets flustered,” Feyre said, reaching across the table to pinch your warming cheeks. “It’s not her fault.”

“Exactly!” you mumbled, swatting Feyre’s hands away. “Every time I look at him, words just… don’t form… into complete thoughts.” You groaned, slumping back. You weren’t exactly the drooling mess Nesta made you out to be—at least, you hoped not—but lately, you’d definitely been frazzled.

A poorly muffled laugh broke from the man sitting on Nesta’s other side—silent for so long, you’d almost forgotten he was there.

“I hardly see how you find this so amusing, Azriel,” You scolded, shooting him a sharp look.

Azriel’s eyes flicked to yours for a brief second before darting back to the other girls. “I’ve never seen her acting so… odd,” he said, shaking his head. “And neither has he.”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” you grumbled, crossing your arms. “I am not acting weird.”

“Besides becoming a moping mess?” Nesta quipped, her lips curling into a sly smirk.

“He knows you’re avoiding him,” Azriel said flatly. “And that’s… odd behavior. You two are normally inseparable.”

“You told him I was avoiding him?” you accused, your heart beating a little faster.

“No,” Azriel replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Skipping practice for the third time this week clued him in. He didn’t stop complaining about it during sparring today.”

“Wait… he’s upset with me?” you asked, a knot forming in your chest.

The last few weeks had been overwhelming. Realizing just how deeply you loved your best friend had been consuming. He had been consuming. The mere thought of stepping into a ring with him, his large, strong hands on you, made your pulse race.

“I never said he was upset with you,” Azriel corrected, arching a brow.

“But he’s complaining about me?”

“Not about—” Azriel sighed, his tone edging toward exasperation. “Would you just talk to him?” His frustration showed in the slight crease of his brows, his patience clearly wearing thin.

“And say what?” you muttered, more to yourself than anyone else. Just having a fraction of his attention made you flustered—having all of it? You were sure you’d melt on the spot.

“Literally, anything.” Nesta answered.

With a scoff, you laced your fingers together dramatically, resting your chin on them. “Oh, my dearest friend,” you began, your voice dripping with mock sincerity. “I hate to ruin our valuable friendship, but our friends think it is vital that I inform you of how completely, utterly head over heels I am for you.”

You paused just long enough to grab the glass Feyre had left in front of you, tossing back its contents in a single gulp. The alcohol burned its way down your throat, making you wince. But as you set the glass down, all traces of mockery vanished, your tone softening to something achingly earnest.

“Every morning, I wake up sad because you aren’t beside me, and I fall asleep just as bitter. Truly, though, that's the least of my problems…” Your voice faltered for just a moment before you pressed on. “Because I haven’t the faintest idea how to act around you anymore. And I miss my best friend.”

“Yes, say it exactly like that,” Feyre said, her soft smile full of encouragement.

“That was… actually very romantic,” Nesta added, her usual sharpness tempered by genuine surprise.

“As if I could ever say that—Oh!” you groaned, digging your hands through your hair in pure frustration. “Did I tell you what he said yesterday? About how excited he was to pin me under him?” Your voice cracked, and the words spilled out in a hurried, breathless rush.

You knew Cassian had meant it in the context of sparring, but the unintended suggestion had completely scrambled your thoughts. “How am I supposed to train with him now?” you muttered, shaking your head and pressing your palms to your temples. “The thought of me under him, or worse, me on top of him… Cauldron.”

Azriel, caught off guard, sputtered into his drink, his usually stoic composure vanished as he coughed and gasped for air. Feyre, her face flushed with suppressed laughter, pressed a fist to her mouth in an attempt to control herself. Nesta didn’t bother to hide her wide grin.

“This is not helping.” You groaned, burying your face in your hands.

“Neither is skipping training,” Nesta quipped.

“This is all your fault!” you snapped, spinning to point an accusing finger at the trio. “You three just had to point out that I loved him. You couldn’t leave it alone—you all just had to be right!” You were ready to argue further, but their expressions gave you pause. Instead of guilt or concern, they were all smiling at something behind you.

“Gonna be honest, Y/n…” A chill crept into your stomach as you heard a very amused familiar voice.. “Didn’t think that line would work.”

You froze, the air rushing from your lungs as you turned around. “Cass!” The unintelligible squeak that followed was a sound you were certain had never left your lips before. Your voice climbed a pitch higher, your heart hammering so fast you feared it might escape your chest entirely and throw itself at the man standing before you. “Cass��Cassian! You’re, uh, here. Why? Uh… why are you”—you swallowed hard, your throat painfully dry—“here?”

Behind you, the chorus of girlish giggles from your so-called friends did nothing to steady the waver in your voice. Cassian’s arms crossed loosely over his large chest, his posture casual, but his eyes anything but. They raked over you with an intensity that left you rooted to the spot. “I heard you went drinking without me.”

“Is that… what you heard?” you stammered, your voice faltering as you struggled to keep your composure. “What else—what else did y-you hear?” You couldn’t tear your gaze from his hazel eyes, the intensity making your heart race.

“Enough to piece together why you’ve been—well, avoiding me.”

“Have I?” you asked, feigning confusion as you awkwardly scratched at the back of your neck. Cassian’s lips twitched, his amusement rising alongside the arch of one dark brow.

“I’ll get us a round,” you blurted out, inching toward the edge of the booth. The plan to escape was short-lived, though, as Cassian’s arm shot out, blocking your path. Two shot glasses clinked against the table as he set them down with a smug grin.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Cassian chuckled to himself as he squeezed into the booth, his broad frame leaving you no choice but to shuffle further back. “We should talk.”

“A talk? You and I?” you asked, your voice high-pitched with forced casualness as you plastered on a tight smile. “It’s a girl’s night—we can talk later… or never. Never works for me.”

Cassian’s grin grew. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if struggling to decide what to say first. His eyes flicked to Azriel, who sat stiffly at the far end of the booth, before returning to you. “Girl’s night, huh?” Cassian drawled. “But Az is sitting right there.”

“No, I’m not,” came the shadowsinger’s low, muttered reply.

You barely had time to blink before the sound of Azriel getting up filled the booth. Disappearing into the crowd without so much as a backward glance, leaving you alone with Cassian. Feyre and Nesta, you realized belatedly, had also vanished at some point. Traitors.

“Coward!” you yelled after Azriel, your frustration swallowed by the chatter in the bar.

“Says the kettle to the pot,” Cassian quipped, his smirk turning devilish as he reached for the bottle Azriel had left behind, taking a long swig. He set it down, leaning back as his gaze pinned you in place. “I’ve never seen you act so… flustered before. It’s cute.”

“I—” The word barely escaped your lips, snagging on the lump forming in your throat. Cute. He called you cute. Like you were some kind of child.

Mortified, you buried your face in your hands, as if that would somehow block out the world—and him. Heat flooded your cheeks, and his presence, so close, so warm, only made it worse. “Can you just pretend you didn’t hear any of that?”

“Y/N, would you just—”

“Please—pretty please?” you cut him off with a groan, your voice tinged with desperation. You just needed him to let it go, to move on, to give you even a moment of reprieve.

But the sound of your plea died in your throat as two large, warm hands gently wrapped around your wrists, pulling them away from your face with surprising tenderness. His touch sent a wave of buzzing exhilaration coursing through you.

His breath fanned against your ear, and you flinched at just how close he was. Too close. There was no hiding the heat crawling up your neck and settling in your cheeks.

“W-What?” you stammered, completely losing track of whatever he had just said. Your eyes flicked to his lips, watching as he caught his bottom lip between his teeth, a faint smile tugging at the corners.

“Why would I do that?” he repeated, his voice low and deliberate.

“Because… because it’s easier,” you admitted softly, the words tumbling out before you could catch them.

Cassian’s brows drew together, a flicker of confusion shadowing his expression. “Is it?” he murmured, leaning in ever so slightly. His teasing smile returned, softer but no less disarming. “Because it looks like you’re struggling quite a bit.”

“Cauldron, Cass… please.” Your voice wavered, breaking under the strain of your emotions. “I—I can’t. Don’t tease me about this. I can’t…”

The raw and fragile plea hung in the air. Your wrists went limp in his grasp, as if surrendering would somehow make it easier. Maybe if you stayed quiet, he’d let it drop—let you go so you could disappear into the safety of your blankets at home and pretend this moment had never happened.

Instead, he loosened one hand, his fingers brushing against your face as he gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His knuckles lingered, grazing your cheek with a tenderness that sent shivers down your spine. You told yourself not to, begged, but you leaned into his touch anyway.

“This is why you’ve been acting so…” His knuckles trailed downward, leaving a scorching path to your neck. The sensation was maddening, each inch sending waves of heat and goosebumps alike coursing through your skin. “…so distant?”

You swallowed hard, words trapped under the weight of his steady gaze. His fingers brushed lightly over your throat, as his hazel eyes searched yours, waiting.

“Yes.” The word was barely a breath

“I thought I did something to piss you off.” His hand slid from your wrist, trailing slowly up the bare skin of your arm. Every brush of his fingers left a trail of fire in their wake. “I hounded Az about it for weeks,” he continued, voice low and laced with something unspoken. His touch traveled over your shoulder and down your back, finally settling on your waist—where it fit like it belonged.

“You did?” The question barely made it past your lips, as soft and fragile as your resolve under his gaze.

“Needed to know why things changed.” His grip on your waist tightened slightly, warm and possessive, his thumb pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. “I hated the distance you put between us.”

“Cass—”

“Promise me, Y/N.” His voice dropped, low and intimate, the weight of his words sinking deep into the charged space between you. “Tell me you won’t ever do that again.” His hazel eyes bore into yours, sharp yet devastatingly tender. “Alright, Cassian.” You whispered it, though it felt more like a surrender than a promise.

He used his hold on your waist to draw you closer, your bodies nearly flush. His face hovered just inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Promise me you’ll talk to me when something’s bothering you,” he murmured, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your waist that sent shivers rippling through you.

“I promise.” The words came out on an exhale, barely audible over the pounding of your heart. The air between you felt heavier, thick with tension.

“You even went drinking without me,” he added, the playful pout on his lips disarming in contrast to the intensity of the moment.

You couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped you, your heart warming despite the charged atmosphere. “Cauldron, Cass, really?”

His grin softened, but his eyes never left yours. “I missed my best friend, too.”

You sat up straighter, planting your palms on his chest to create just enough distance to breathe. “I—I still don’t know how I’m supposed to act around you anymore… how to go back.” Frustration bubbled up, and you groaned, scrubbing your hands over your face without a care for the smudge of your makeup. “I need a drink.”

“Go back…” he echoed under his breath. His hand slid away from your waist as he reached for a shot, the absence of his touch a sudden, jarring loss. “I thought I’d get you drunk enough tonight to spill what the fuck was on your mind.” “I’m surprised you didn’t know.” You grimaced, taking the chilled glass from him and pressing it to your flushed face. The coolness was a welcome relief against the heat simmering beneath your skin. “Everyone knew. Literally. Everyone.”

Cassian’s wings twitched, tension rippling through him. “Yeah, I’ll be having some words with them later,” he muttered darkly, the sharp edge to his voice offset by the warmth in his eyes. He downed his shot, the sharp scent of liquor mingling in the air between you, intoxicating in its own way.

“I begged them not to tell,” you admitted, dazed as you watched his tongue dart out to catch the last drop of alcohol from his lips. Your breath hitched. Those lips—the way his tongue moved—flashed through your mind. The memories of sleepless nights, haunted by dreams of him, surged hotly. Your pulse faltered, and a tight, burning heat spread through your chest.

Your face flushed even deeper, the heat not just from embarrassment, but from the way Cassian’s gaze locked with yours, that knowing grin spreading across his lips like he could read your thoughts. You reached for the shot, desperate to regain some composure.

“Hey!” A sudden pinch to your waist jolted you, causing the alcohol to spill across your neck. You winced "Why’d you do that?" You reached for the spill, but his hand shot out to firmly grasp your wrist.

"Sorry, Y/n," he murmured, his voice low and laced with intent. “I wanted another taste.” His gaze fell to the liquor on your skin, and his body leaned closer, his presence nearly overwhelming. “Let me clean that for you.”

“Cassian, what are–” Your words caught in your throat, and you didn’t have the chance to finish as his warm tongue followed the path of the spilled drink, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. The surprise melted into a soft whine as his mouth moved to your neck, sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin there. He paused, pressing a chaste kiss to your fluttering pulse point.

“I’m surprised you didn’t know,” he murmured, his words a quiet echo of your own. But you barely registered them, lost in the heat of his touch. A soft chuckle rumbled from him as your fingers instinctively tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

“Everyone knew,” he breathed, his lips brushing your collarbone before returning to the crook of your neck, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. A breathy moan escaped you as his hands lifted you further onto him. “Literally everyone,” he whispered, teasingly repeating your words.

You could barely process what he was saying, not with his lips tracing your skin and his strong hands gripping you like he couldn’t get enough. Your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging gently, drawing a low groan from him that vibrated against your throat.

“How am I supposed to focus on what you’re saying,” you gasped, the words tumbling out between uneven breaths, “when you’re touching me like that… making sounds like…” You swallowed hard as his hand moved to rest lightly against your throat, the pressure intoxicating. “That?”

Cassian’s eyes darkened with amusement as he pulled back slightly, just enough to create a small space between his lips and your skin. A knowing, cocky smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“You want me to stop?” he asked, his voice rich with teasing, each word a challenge.

“No—Maybe.” Your thoughts tangled into knots, the weight of his closeness stealing any coherent response. The idea of kissing him—of what it would mean after—tugged at you. Your lips quivered under the weight of unspoken words, and Cassian’s eyes dropped to them, his thumb brushing against the bottom one in a slow, deliberate motion.

“Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d see you this flustered over me,” he breathed, his voice a velvety murmur. “So cute… It’s everything.”

The words hit like a bucket of cold water. The amusement in his expression, the teasing—it felt like a joke to him, just something to feed his ego. Something inside you snapped, and you pulled away, raw frustration and embarrassment bubbling up to the surface. “Stop saying things like that,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you pushed against his chest, breaking free from his arms. His grip slackened just enough for you to pull away completely.

“Y/n, wait—” Cassian’s voice was strained, a thread of alarm creeping into his tone.

“No!” you shot back, your voice trembling with emotion. “Stop. It’s not cute. I’m not some… some game for you to amuse yourself with for the night, Cassian.”

“What?” He looked stunned, his brows furrowing in confusion as he reached for you again. “That’s not what—hold on!”

“I need air,” you muttered, your voice cracking. His hands reached out, desperate to stop you, but you slipped out of the booth before he could catch hold of you.

You didn’t look back as he called your name, his voice rising above the music and chatter. Instead, you moved quickly, weaving through the bodies on the dance floor. Your calculated escape took you through the densest part of the crowd, where his large frame wouldn’t be able to follow as quickly.

[thehighladywrites]

corrupted cops.

pairing: police officer cassian x drug dealer reader

summary: you get caught red handed by cassian and try to do whatever it takes to skip out on jail

warnings: 18+, tiny plot like minimal, smut, backshots, seduction, solicitation, illegal activities, drugs mentioned, car sex, riding, cuffs being used wrongly😉

amara’s note: if u see any mistakes or errors no you didn’t and i blame english

next episode! — tba😉

series masterlist

"10, 20, 30 – are you kidding me? Pay for real or get out of my face," you demand, your hand outstretched, impatience and annoyance evident on your face.

This fool thinks he can score a whole bag for just $30. Not only is your supply top-tier and unmatched, but you also deal in real quality weed. You’re drugs are in demand and are selling quickly on many street corners, earning you hefty profits.

"Can't I pay some other time?" The typical rich, snotty guy with the douchebag hairstyle looks at you as if this is a negotiation, like he can convince you to lower your price for a rich trust fund baby like him. No fucking way.

"Listen dipshit, I'll make you pay double if I have to repeat myself. Then I'll ban you," you warn, narrowing your eyes at him as you slowly retract your arm.

The guy panics, sighs, then pulls out a $100 bill.

"See? You can be good!" you quip, snatching the bill out of his hands.

He mutters something before leaving, driving off in his stupidly loud supercar.

You were so overcharging him but you didn’t care. “Fucking loser.”

You turned around, pulling the massive stack you earned tonight out of your pocket, smiling as you think of what new things to buy for your luxury apartment. You count the money before looking up and freezing.

A man is standing there, dressed in the full nine yards in a police uniform, hands folded over his chest as he looks down at you with furrowed brows.

“Mind telling me what you were doing?”

His gruff voice entrances you for a moment.

It’s in that moment you realize that it’s the voice of the guy from your old class. The loud, popular guy had turned into a police officer. It didn’t shock you, honestly. Cassian was always about honesty and integrity, all about giving back to the community and whatnot.

Then you remember you’re holding a massive stack of money, weed is in your pocket, and he most likely saw you selling. So you smile at him before running.

You bolt, the sound of his heavy footsteps driving you forward.

Panic starts to set in, but you push it down, focusing on your escape. You bite your lip, urging yourself to keep going despite the danger looming around you.

“I’m SO fucked,” you think, looking around for an escape route.

In the dimly lit alley, you spot a door and rush towards it, relief flooding through you. Finally, you think, a way out from this mess. Your hands shake as you fumble with the lock, but no matter how hard you try, the door remains stubbornly shut, making you almost sob in frustration.

Frantic, you search for another escape route, your heart pounding in your chest.

"An alley? How cliche," he remarks, approaching you with a wry grin. The dim light of the alley lamp highlights his handsome face. You didn’t have time to admire him before, since you were running and all, but damn, he looked absolutely delicious.

Dark features, nice hair, a straight nose, and a stubbled jaw. He was wearing a tight short-sleeved officer shirt that hugged his built arms insanely. He had really grown into a fine man compared to the young boy he used to be. You looked him up and down, really taking in his height as he got closer and closer.

"You know there’s no way out of this, so put your hands infront of you and let’s make this easy, yeah? Don’t do anything stupid. Again," he says, his voice firm but with a hint of exasperation.

“Fine.”

You chewed the inside of your mouth, trying to think of a way out of this as he put the cuffs on you, leading you back to his car. Maybe some sweet words and feminine tears would solve it, you thought, hoping for a chance to talk your way out of trouble.

You had never gotten caught before, it was extremely humiliating and you would not stand for it.

—

"What’s your name, officer?" you ask, your voice tinted with slight seduction, testing if he remembers you. You don’t care what you have to do; you will get out of this.

"You know who I am. Badge number 031210," he answers, eyes on the road, hands gripping the steering wheel.

“Okay, Cassian. I think there has been a huge mistake. You don’t really wanna arrest me,” you say, rolling your eyes playfully, the cuffs jingling as you motion with your hands.

“Yeah? Why do I really not want to arrest you?”

“Because I’m a good person, I really am. So I happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Come on, we can overlook this, just let me go.” you plead, trying to appeal to his sense of leniency from the backseat of his cop car.

He chuckles, lookinh back at you through the mirror. “Can’t do that. Maybe don’t deal drugs next time.”

He sighs looking at you with sympathy that makes your skin crawl. It made you feel ashamed that his old classmate was a lowlife drug dealer.

“What happened, Y/N? I remember how smart you were. Surely, you could have become something big,” he questioned.

You looked away not being able to handle the emotions in his eye. “Things happened Cassian. I’m not explaining them to you,” you try crossing your arms then remember the cuffs and settle for putting them in your lap.

Cassians gaze hardens slightly. “Okay then. I guess you’ll have to explain it all down at the precinct.”

Okay, so you’re screwed, right? Wrong. There’s always a plan cooking in your little head.

You take your cuffed hands in front of you and drag down the zipper of your hoodie, looking down innocently. “Cassian, could you turn on the AC? It’s a little hot in here. And you don’t mind me taking off my hoodie, right?”

Cassian grips the wheel, the leather creaking slightly. “I don’t mind.”

As you slip off your hoodie, you catch his gaze lingering on your exposed skin, a flicker of something in his eyes. The air between you thickens with tension, the heat rising in the confined space of the car.

Thankfully, there’s no barrier between you, so there’s nothing stopping you from getting closer to him.

“Cass, I’m having trouble taking it off, could you help me?” you ask, having shuffled very close to him, talking lowly into his ear. You're directly behind him, knowing the effect your voice had on the man.

You took advandtage of the fact that you were in a red light and got closer, whispering and pleading for him to help you get comfortable. Cassian’s eyes fluttered slight at the way your voice and breath were hitting his ear.

You scanned his body, his composure, cassian was tense, there was no doubt about it––he was more than turned on. “That’s cute.”

That snapped him out of his trance. He straightened up a little. “Do you want me to arrest you for solicitation too?” he mutters, driving to the station.

You start to beg some more, knowing that he’s at his limit. There’s no way he’s gonna be able to keep up the good cop act for long.

You start to place light kisses on his cheek, traveling all the way to his neck. He lets out a groan and tucks his lips between his teeth, struggling to maintain his composure.

“Come play with me, officer. I’ll let you do whatever you want to me,” you add, licking a stripe up his neck. That’s all it takes for him to speed into a abandoned alley and park haphazardly.

The adrenaline makes your heart beat faster and faster, a sick rush going through you.

There was a moment of silence when he pulled you out of the car, his grip firm on your upper arm. You found yourself sitting at the edge of the seat, your feet between his legs, the proximity making your pulse race.

“When will you learn that this isn’t a joke,” he exclaims with irritation.

You tilt your head slightly, looking up at him through dolled lashes, doe-eyed and innocent.

“Maybe I need you to teach me, officer.”

The corner of his lips rise as he squats down infront of you, putting one hand on your thigh.

“Think some dick’s gon’ set you straight, huh?”

You erupt in goosebumps, loving the way his warm hands roamed your body.

“mm’yeah. think that’s exactly what i need.”

“Yeah? Alright then, step out of the vehicle,” he orders, not having an ounce of shame as he oogles your ass on your way out.

He pulls out the keys much to your surprise. But he only releases you so you can take off your hoodie, if anything it makes you more confused when he makes you put your hands behind your back instead of infront of you.

“I need sumthin’ to hold on to, don’t I?” he announces casually, like he isn’t talking about fucking someone he just arrested.

He walks you over to the hood of his car where he bends you over, thankful for the short sundress you were wearing underneath that hoodie.

Cassian puts his leg between yours, kicking your feet apart. He pushes your front against the hood of his car, the cold metall cooling your warm skin down.

“If you behave, i’ll let you go, understand?” he asks.

You almost scoff. Of course you’ll behave, it’s your-get-out-of-jail card. But you don’t say that. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

Cassians hold tightens slightly before he tells you how good of a girl you are as he pulls your panties down to your ankles. His hands move to his heavy belt, the belt thudding on the floor as he clips it off.

His hand lands on your ass with a smack, causing you to inhale sharply while showing him your wet, throbbing cunt. You smile secretly as his cock stretches you until he’s fully inside before jerking himself back out. His fucking rough and hard as his nails dig into the soft skin of your hips.

“Look at that, could just slide right in,” he chuckles lowly.

Your sounds of pleasure slipped from your lips as you tugged the metal cuffs around your wrists that were pinning your hands behind your back.

The way his dick was hitting deep, so deliciously hitting that good spot made your eyes roll back. Who knew a cop could fuck this good?

“—feels too fucking good, Cassian,” you moaned out, body covered in goosebumps.

he was giving you long strokes, pushing all the way in and then sliding all the way out leaving only a bit of his tip in every time

“yeah? some dick settin’ you straight,” he lets out when you squeeze around him, dangerously close to creaming on his cock.

You had to agree— his dick definitely made you act right. You almost started thinking about giving up dealing, maybe settle down and live a happy life. THAT is how good he was fucking you.

Cassian pulled out completely causing you to almost scream in frustration. Just a few more pumps and you would have been deliciously weak in the knees.

“No, no, no— put it back in, please,” you begged with low lidded eyes, god, you could almost cry.

“I’m just taking you into the car. Don’t worry, i’ll be so deep in your guts, you’ll never have to worry about me pulling out,” he whispers into your ear before gently biting your lobe.

—

Tears rolled down your face as you cried relentlessly out of pleasure. The windows had fogged up, droplets dripping down.

you whimpered, burying your head deeper into the car seat. he showed you no mercy, jackhammering into you as he shoved your face down, holding you down by your neck.

your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he dragged along your walls, ramming into your g-spot. some drool seeped out of the side of your mouth as his fingers dug into your hips.

“You still with me?” he asks, gently grabbing your neck to see if you’re alive. Cassian speeds up again when you barely manage to nod.

your mind became hazy and eyelids heavy, pathetic whimpers and gasps falling from your lips as you felt yourself slipping away.

“Officer, m’gon cum— can i, please?” You brokenly let out. Not only did you take backshots; he also made you ride, ate you out and had you gagging on his dick. You were exhausted and spent.

“You promise to be good? Hm?”

“Yeah, i promise,” you whine with tears im your eyes, toes curling as you tip over the edge.

“Then you can cum, pretty face.”

a low, guttural sound escapes his throat as he finishes, flooding into your pussy and stuffing you full with his cum before pulling out and smirking as it oozes out of you.

you collapse in the backseat, sweaty skin sticking to the dark leather. cassian runs a hand through his hair before putting his pants back on. a cocky smirk graces his lips at the sight of your fucked out, tired body.

“You’re a fucking terrible cop. Fucking someone you’ve arrested is grounds for termination, you know,” you rasp out quietly after a moment of peaceful quiet, smiling when his smirk lessens as he rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. You just better not let me run into you again. I’ll arrest your ass for real, understand?" he warns, his eyes boring into yours.

"I understand. And I’m sure you will, officer," you nod at him with a smile before gathering your belongings and getting ready to leave.

You kiss him one last time, a filthy, tongue-filled, teasing kiss before you open the door, leaving behind a flustered cop.

Of course, you would sell again. And you would do it especially in his patrol route.

Both him and the dick is far too interesting.

🏷️: @vbbaby-girl @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @azriels-shadowsinger @slut4acotar @clarencetonkin @cherryjain17 @stonerpersona @nobodyb183 @amara-moonlight @cadiawrites @aelinwya @justasillylittlegoofyguy @acourtoflostandwanderingstars @surielstea @cauldronboilmetakemetovelaris @glittervame @juniperberriesaries @bruhhvv @dlveenhassab @marigold-morelli @claireswritingcorner @redbleedingrose @readychilledwine @honeybeefae @danikamariewrites @blipy-blopy @sarawritestories

[sarawritestories]

Serenity Found

Cassian X Fem Reader

Summary: A quiet night in, causes the General of the Night Court to Reveal his true feelings to you.

Content Warning: None

Word count: 592

A/N: I'm sorry I keep promising things and not delivering. I'm juggling a lot and writing has been put to the back burner so much so I cried about it today. So here is a cute fluffy drabble for you. If you see any mistakes...no you didn't.

Dividers by the beautiful @tsunami-of-tears

ACOTAR MASTERLIST Taglist Request

The warmth from the flames in the library fought against the winter chill that had blanketed Velaris. Tucked into a blanket, your head finding purchase in the lap of your best friend, The General of the Night Court’s Armies. His fingers were idly gliding through your hair as he read his novel. Looking up at him for a moment; you were entranced by Cassian’s rugged beauty.

Illuminated by the fire crackling in the hearth, his face had a golden glow, his hair up in a bun, a few stray pieces framing his face that now held stubble after going days without shaving. His wings were relaxed against the couch. You fought the urge to press your thumb against the crease between his eyebrows as his Hazel irises focused on his book.  Unable to resist the urge much longer you reached up to do just that when his free hand gripped your wrist. “Knock it off.” His tone was light, and a smile appeared causing your heart to flutter. He resembled one of the old gods that Rhys’ mom would tell you about, handsome, kind and exudes raw power off his body. All those attributes describe your best friend of centuries. You were the moment he smiled at you and remained his when he had rescued you from the cruel fate of servitude. If only he realized he had your heart in the palm of his hands.

He remained unaware and you were left with a void in your heart the size of an Illyrian warrior.

The Mother was a cruel vixen.

“Sweetheart?” You blinked and noticed his smile had disappeared, replaced with a look of concern. “Where did you go?”

You smiled, “No where, I just missed you,” You turned back to your own book.

His hand grazed your arm, the soft scrap of his callouses against your skin, causing a shiver to race down your spine. “I promise to not be away for so long. I missed our reading nights. Being near you brings me such…”

“Serenity?” You glanced back to see him give a curt nod. Heat crept to your face at his admission, “Me too.”

Cassian’ lightly pulled your arm so you were facing him once more, “I have a confession to make.”

“Okay?” I rose from my spot to give him my full attention.

“Can I show you?” My head tilted, “Its better if I show you.”

You weren’t sure if your heart was beating, “Of course, Cassian. I trust you.”

Cassian’s Hazel’s eyes held your gaze with an intensity that wasn’t there a moment previously. “Good.” He cupped your face, and, in a moment, his lips were on yours. Quickly grip his waist in your hands he pulled you close. Pulling away before you could deepen the kiss, Cassian wraps a muscled arm around your waist and places his forehead to yours. “I couldn’t keep it in any longer.”

“Cassian.” You whispered your chest warming as the gold thread tethered your soul to his. You pushed him slightly as if you could see the thing tethering you two together. “You’re my-

You looked up to find the General’s face morph from shock to pure happiness, “Mate. You’re mine.”

No longer fighting your urge you slid into his lap and peppered his stubbled face with kisses. “Yours. I’ve always been yours.”

And as the night went on you two sat in the library, in each other’s arms fast asleep. As two lonely souls morphed into one. Calmness falling between them as sleep consumed them.

Finding Serenity at last.

General Tag: @milswrites @lady-of-tearshed @tsunami-of-tears @readychilledwine @ceoofyearning

@velariscalling @daycourtofficial @prythianpages @writingcroissant @itsswritten

@illyrianbitch @acotarxreader @pit-and-the-pen @nocasdatsgay @labyrinth-of-stories-and-stars

@ninthcircleofprythian @thelov3lybookworm @riddlesb1tch @lilah-asteria

@kylaisra @nickishadow139 @aelincaddel @nighttimemoonlover @demirunner

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[jennastokesart]

🦇 Bat Boys Sneak Peek 🦇

I’m gonna be completely honest and tell y’all…the way I was BARKING at my OWN DRAWINGS of Azriel and Cassian. My friends told me I need to be spayed 😭😭😭

Also got the most magnificent friend makeover yet on Azriel���.. let’s just say he is feeling a bit more blue than usual.

I cannot wait for y’all to see them in their full glory. 👀🤭 See you later ~

[redbleedingrose]

As a chubby girl who has always had a PHAT ass…. Can you imagine the first time Cassian sees his big booty boo thing in like fighting leathers 👀

I have said this once, and I will say it a million times: Cassian is an ASS male.

The first thing that drew you to him was your beautiful siren eyes. The way they looked him up and down, beckoning him to you at Rita's on the fateful night you met had him hooked.

But your body, luscious and full and soft and curvy, is what reeled him in. The way that slinky candy apple red dress hugged your body while you danced was enough to have him nearly c*mming in his leather pants.

You spent the entire night, body pressed against the mountain of a male he is, dancing and grinding against the poor general. He was nearly drooling as he followed you out of the bar back towards your apartment, hands stuck to your swaying hips and eyes fixed on your ass.

He wasn't expecting to get back to your apartment only to have you close the door on him, playfully calling through the door to return tomorrow when he was sober so he could take you on a proper date. But mother above, did he go back to the House of Wind, spending the rest of the night fisting his throbbing cock while thinking of you and your enchanting body.

The next morning, he showed up at your door, flowers in hand and committed to spending the rest of his life wooing you, making you feel adored and loved, and treating you like a princess.

The first time the general sees you in fighting leathers is just any other day in your mind. Cassian has been insistent you start to train, he is your protector and would never let anything happen to you, but he will die on the hill that you need to be able to protect yourself should anything happen to him. even tho he already has told Az that you would become his responsibility in that scenario.

He has had these leathers specially designed for you with magic embedded in the bindings. The magic is protective of you, conforms to your shape and prevents even the strongest of steel from penetrating. It also helps with temperature regulation, setting you up for protection against the worst of climates. It even carries some minor healing powers, strengthening your body and muscles throughout battle instead of exhausting yourself. The magic is there to help you survive the worst of fates.

But it also conforms to your shape. And shows off every single curve you have. And hugs your thick ass that Cass loves to spank and your plush thighs he loves to bite and squeeze and fuck.

So, not much training happens the first time the General of the Night Court sees you in fighting leathers. The male is too busy taking them off of you and fucking you, face down ass up, right on the training grounds.

That's okay though, there is always tomorrow isn't there? ;)

Masterlist

Please like, comment, and reblog! I love hearing your thoughts and it always motivates me like nothing else to write <3

[whatisamettafor]

*sings* Who’s gonna see a butt today?

It’s you.

[dimalry]

I was thinking recently about your acotar concept/remake, and all the cool elements you’re adding to build up the world-building and it got me curious. will the Archeron sisters’ dynamic between each other stay relatively the same?

And on the flip side, what is the dynamic between our main 3 brothers now that Rhysand is more morally-grey? Does that make Cassian and Azriel morally-grey, and in what way specifically?

Relatively yes, their dynamic is stays pretty much the same.

I’d like to delve deeper into the Archeron sisters' lore, particularly how their family dynamics shaped them. The root of their strained relationship lies in their parents: their mother’s favoritism and abuse, as well as their father’s favoritism towards Elain and his overall cowardice, left quite some scars on their daughters. I want to explore their relationship that doesn’t include the constant interference from the Inner Circle or anyone else. Others may have opinions, but I won’t let them take it upon themselves to solve the sisters’ issues. Pleased to say, I’ve found a way to get Nesta to the House of Wind without force or intervention from the Inner Circle—especially since, in my story, they couldn’t care less about anyone outside their circle and have no interest in helping Nesta (Except Cassian, but he… isn’t capable of even thinking about her around that time)

Here‘s how it goes:

Nesta, raised to believe Mother Archeron stands always right, ignores Feyre as she’s convinced that their mother‘s neglect of her was for some reason justified, and later resents her little sister for taking their father‘s role in their cottage years. Elain, protected by their father from their mother’s cruelty (while Nesta was not), was never used to fending for herself. She seeks refuge in the next person who can care solely for her (which turns into coddling her). Nesta’s years of resentment and Elain’s sudden shift when they became poor affected Feyre a lot, making her believe she was the problem in their family and had to „make up“ for it.

Since Nesta and Feyre never had a real relationship, it’s going to be awkward when Nesta starts showing affection: Feyre’s confused like “Uh… what is this?” and Nesta goes: „Oh thank god you’re alri- Wait a damn minute.” (And vice versa.) Same with Elain’s polite apology—Feyre forgives but secretly resents her for always getting a pass. Imagine it like this: “I want to help the refugees. They’ve suffered enough.” Feyre: “That’s rich.” Elain: “What was that?” Feyre: “Nothing.” In turn Elain resents Feyre for never being honest to her. Nesta, after years of coddling Elain, is stunned and angry when Elain „leaves“ her in her worst moments, leading to little fights similarly to the ones in ACOSF.

Basically, they hold a lot of resentment toward each other and are too proud to even acknowledge it, let alone communicate. Their perceptions of one another are shaped mainly by how their parents treated them individually. After Feyre develops an attitude from her time in the Spring Court, you should expect plenty of sharp words, reluctant care, constant bickering, and a whole lot of snark as they're forced to work together. It’s going to be emotional and fun 🤭.

As for your question about the bat boys:

The guys are the opposite. They didn’t let their parents' influence define their relationship, instead they found solace in each other. They aren’t really good at communicating, but when times get tough, they try to be there for each other.

With everything Cassian and Azriel endured as children, the closest to a guardian next to Rhys’s mother was his father (which was hell). Cassian was seen as a worthless orphan, barely acknowledged by the former High Lord, yet he became the most empathetic and compassionate in the inner circle. He’d hesitate to kill innocents directly, even if necessary. Ignorant at times when his family is rightfully criticized or insulted (Illyrians spitting on Rhys for abandoning them to Amarantha), but not truly morally gray. Meanwhile the little Shadowsinger, rare and powerful as they are, was expected to be a perfect weapon and therefor bore the brunt of the High Lord’s anger. Both of them are forever grateful to Rhys and his mother, but for Azriel that gratitude extends to Rhys himself. Azriel feels like he owes him his life for everything Rhys has done for him (like shielding him from his father’s tantrums) and so whatever Rhys commands, he does. No objections, no hesitation. A spy caught doing his job? Tortured until he talks, then slowly killed (even if it’s eating up his soul). He holds Rhys in the highest regard, while Cassian, though equally loyal, simply treasures the family he was given.

Neither of them care about the rest of the world and why should they? They all look down on them (rightfully so lol) and whatever happens outside of the Night Court is none of their business. As long as their court stands strong, they’re fine with this devious asshole chasing power and dooming others, at times even support it… that is until Rhys goes too far by choosing power over family, the one thing that Cassian and Azriel treasure the most in the world. That’s when a rift in their relationship happens.

I tried my best to answer your questions. There’s just soooo much to say, but I didn’t want this post to be too long.. It makes me so happy that people are already thinking about my acotar story 🥰

[lyssasdrafts]

— FORMULA ONE RACER CASSIAN

cassian x reader smau, modern au, established relationship, azrides cameo because we love afterglow azriel (f1 cassian and motorcycle azriel are the best duo 👀👀)

[elucienscourt]

I just know that deep down both Cassian and Rhys are rooting for Lucien to have his endgame with Elain. My guys knows what it’s like to be pining and waiting for their Archeron mates to even acknowledge the mating bond between them and the pain that goes along with it 😂

[nikethestatue]

Cassian

Art: tangerine.Eileen

[lady-of-tearshed]

My rugged Illyrian male

Cassian x Reader

Cassian week 2024

@cassianappreciationweek

Day 2: Hair

Summary: Cassian is about to meet your parents for the first time, and he is skeptical that they'll appreciate his rugged Illyrian's features as much as you do...

Warnings: Mention of a razor blade.

Word count: 627 words

“Cass! Are you ready to leave?”

You shout out from downstairs, looking all over your shared house for your favorite red sparkly heels. You were to attend an important ball thrown by your parents, some important Lords from the Spring Court, with Cassian. Your parents hadn't met Cassian yet, well, not as your boyfriend. And you could sense how nervous the male was in making a great first impression.

“Yeah! Uh… One moment, my love.” He stutters from the bathroom on the second floor.

You halt at his suspicious tone, immediately giving up your frantic heel research, instead sneaking upstairs.

You peek your head through the half opened bathroom door, and your eyes widen in horror at the sight of the razor blade in Cassian’s hand.

And at his beautiful beard now half removed from his face, scattered all over the counter.

“Cassie! What-”

He instantly drops the blade, putting his fists on his hips. “What part of “one moment” do you not understand?” He scowls.

You were now standing right in front of him, your hand tracing the newly shaved part of Cassian’s right cheek. “Why would you do that?” You whisper, already knowing you'll miss his beautiful, sexy beard.

Cassian’s arms fall from his hips, and his shoulders slump. “I… I wanted to not look like a…” He paused, “I didn't want to look too rugged.”

He didn't want to look like a rugged Illyrian bastard, was what he didn't say. Your eyes narrowed. “Cass, Illyrians are rugged. And hairy,” You hold his hand, your eyes dead serious. “That's part of the things I like about you.”

“But what if they don't like that about me? What if they think I'm not good enough for you?” He hisses through clenched teeth, running his free hand through his long, unbound hair.

Your eyes soften, and you take a step back with how distressed Cassian sounded about meeting your parents, your hand still firmly holding onto his. “They don't have a say about who I decide to love. I chose you, Cassian. And I'd do it a thousand times again, despite everything anyone has to say.”

Cassian stays silent, but nods. You sigh, and pull him towards the edge of the bathtub. “Sit here,” You mumble, ordering him around. Cassian does what you ask of him, but raises a questioning brow. “Well, we can't just let you have a half-shaved beard. I'll finish the job. It'll help me… grief.”

It might sound quite dramatic, but you would truly be missing your Illyrian’s beautiful thick beard.

Once you're done, you rinse the shaving blade clean, and wet a towel to wipe away any mousse or facial hair remaining on Cassian's defined jaw. He stands up to stare at his reflection into the mirror, all while tying up his hair, the only step left before being completely ready to meet your parents.

“I'm banning any kind of blade from approaching your face.”

Your dramatic complaints make Cassian snorts. “I'm going to let it grow back in peace… Don't worry, love.”

You playfully slap his butt cheek before cowering away, fleeing to the front door before he smacks yours back.

You both slip into your shoes, and before you leave the house you both share, you kiss his cheek, and lean your lips to his ear. “I love you just as you are, my rugged, sexy Illyrian,” You yelp as a brightly smiling Cassian scoops you into his arms, wings spread, ready for take-off. “I love you with a beard the most, though.”

He rolls his eyes and laughs, before taking off to the sky, ready to fight any battles, even if it was just meeting your parents, if you were by his side, loving him for who he is.

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria

[courtofcravings]

Everyone Knew (2)

Cassian x Reader

After realizing you're hopelessly in love with your best friend, a night out at the bar takes an unexpected turn when unresolved feelings become the topic of the night.

Mutual pinning, Slight angst, Fluff Warnings: Drinking, border line nswf (but only make out) Completed Series - Read part 1 here

The cold night air hit your face as soon as you stepped outside, biting at your skin, but you didn’t care. You slid down against the brick wall, your legs giving way as you collapsed onto the ground. Tears pricked at the back of your eyes, but you forced them down. The burn of his lips still lingered on your skin, refusing to fade, even in the frosty night air.

“Y/N? I thought it was you walking outside. Where’s Cass?” Rhysand’s voice cut through the air above you. You hadn’t even realized the highlord was here tonight. A wave of mortification hit you, and you wondered if he’d noticed what you’d just been up to with his commander.

“Didn’t think there was a chance he was peeling off you,” he added, his tone teasing but laced with curiosity.  That answers that, you thought bitterly.

“He’s inside,” you murmured, your voice shaky. “I’m just… getting some air.” You tried to sound unaffected, but the words wavered.

You hoped Rhysand hadn’t noticed, but the sound of footsteps and rustling clothes told you he was lowering himself beside you.

“Rhys, I’m not in the right mind for a conversation,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re upset. I get it,” Rhysand replied, his voice gentle, yet filled with an understanding you hadn’t expected. “I mean, I don’t. Not from your perspective.” he added.

“Please, do take a seat.” You sarcastically mumbled.

“Feyre was pissed too. Rightfully so, after I kept it from her,” Rhysand said, leaning back against the wall. A small, reminiscent smile tugged at his lips, as though recalling an old memory. “It was terrifying. Days—literal days—of her refusing to even acknowledge my existence.”

You blinked, brows knitting in confusion as you tried to process his words. What was he talking about?

“She forgave me in the end.” Rhysand shrugged, brushing a hand casually through his dark hair. “It helped that she was already in love with me. Harder to stay mad at someone when you’re halfway gone for them.”

“Feyre…?” you echoed slowly, trying to piece together what he was saying. “Wait wha—”

“We all knew, for a while now. I hope you aren’t too mad at us. We did tell him he had to tell you everything—I mean he saw the reaction Feyre had firsthand. He really has no one to blame but himself, considering how many years he knew and kept it from—”

“Years—Rhys, what are you talking about?” You cut him off, your voice sharp and laced with unease. The words hung in the air, your heart hammering as you waited—hoped—for him to start making sense.

Rhysand blinked, his expression shifting as realization dawned. Slowly, his hand flew to his mouth, eyes widening. “Have you… have you not talked to Cassian yet?”

Before you could respond, the door beside Rhys flew open with a sudden burst, slamming against the wall.

“Y/n!?” Cassian’s voice rang out, rough and hurried. He stumbled out of the building, his eyes scanning frantically—searching—until they landed on you.

“Rhys, scram. Now.”

The High Lord didn’t need to be told twice. With a muttered grumble about manners and bastard brothers, Rhys was on his feet and disappearing through the door, leaving the two of you alone. Under any other circumstances, you might have laughed. But there was no humor to be found—not with the sheer anger burning in Cassian’s eyes.

“I’d like to be alone,” you stated, darting your eyes away from him.

“You promised,” Cassian shot back, his tone rough but pleading. “You promised you’d stop running from me.” His wings flared out behind him, broad and imposing, casting a shadow over you as he moved closer.

“That’s not what I promised,” you countered, your words shaky but defiant.

“Then tell me what’s bothering you. Tell me what made you—” He paused, his voice faltering like the words had caught in his throat. And suddenly, the anger was gone, replaced by something far more raw.

Cassian sank to his knees in front of you, his towering form shrinking as he looked up, the vulnerability in his gaze hitting you harder than any words could. His hands hovered uncertainly, like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare.

“You promised,” he whispered this time, softer, like he wasn’t sure you’d keep your word. And it made your heart ache, because this—this—was Cassian laid bare, desperate and unguarded in a way you’d never seen before. 

Throwing your head back against the wall, a heavy sigh escaped your lips. “I couldn’t go any further, Cass.”

“Why?” he pushed softly, hesitating before placing both hands on your bare knees. His warmth seeped through your skin, though the gesture was cautious—like he feared you might pull away. “Cauldron, you’re freezing,” he grumbled, his thumbs rubbing slow circles against your legs as though trying to coax the cold away. “Azriel and Nesta stopped me inside. Didn’t realize how long they’d kept me.”

“I’m fine. Really.” The words felt hollow, unconvincing even to you. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to swat his hands away—not when your body, traitorous as ever, still craved his touch.

“Tell me why you ran, Y/n.” Cassian urged again, heavy with concern.

“Why?” you echoed. Your thoughts swirled in chaotic loops. Cassian’s hands tightened, just slightly, his grip grounding yet gentle, anchoring you in place without holding you captive.

“You might be interested in a fun night, Cass, but I don’t think I can ever go back if we—” Your voice faltered, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “Cauldron, I’m already going to be thinking about your lips on me for days, and we haven’t even kissed. How am I supposed to go back to just being your friend? This is your problem. You never think–”

“And you never shut up,” he interrupted.

“Excuse me?” you shot back, your head jerking up to glare at him.

“It’s like your mind never stops,” he said softly, his gaze unwavering as he leaned closer. “Always racing with thoughts, but it never occurred to you that I might not want to go back, either?”

His words paralysed you. The air between you stilled, thick with tension. The usual playfulness in his eyes was replaced by something else—something raw.

“Don’t tease me,” you whispered. You pulled your knees closer to your chest, trying to create some distance between you, a barrier you desperately needed.

His hands fell from your knees to his sides as he stood, frustration radiating from him. “Y/n,” he whined, dragging his hands over his face. “What kind of person do you take me for? Some disrespectful ass? Is that how you’ve seen me all these years?”

“Of course not!” you snapped, your confusion rising to meet his anger. “I never said that–”

“But clearly you think it,” he shot back, his voice rising as his hands flew up in exasperation.

“Clearly, I think the world of you!” You stood abruptly, stomping your foot against the ground in sheer frustration. “You hear that I—I love you, and somehow you twist that into me thinking negatively of you? This is exactly what I mean! You don’t—”

“And you still aren’t listening to me!” Cassian roared, the shout taking you by surprise, leaving you stunned into silence. Cassian had never shouted at you, not like this. “It’s like you’re being purposefully naive!” he bit out, his hands raking through his hair, gripping so hard you thought he might tear at it.

“Naive!?” you snapped, disbelief coloring your voice.

“Yes, naive!” Cassian’s voice was sharp as he stepped closer. “You get so caught up in your own damned worries, and normally—I think it’s cute watching you overthink the smallest things. But Cauldron above, this?” He shook his head, his voice hoarse with emotion. “This is hurtful.”

The words hit you like a slap, but Cassian wasn’t finished. He took another step forward, closing the space between you to mere breaths. “I’ve been in love with you for so long now, I can hardly remember a time when I wasn’t.”

“What?” Your breath caught in your chest, your heart lurching violently.

But Cassian didn’t seem to hear you, too lost in the storm of his own emotions. “I’ve tried everything. Flowers, gifts, flirting…” He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

Your mind reeled. The gifts—books perfectly suited to your tastes, plants he’d brought you decorated your room with, weapons he’d selected with such care for you to use in battle.

All things you’d thought were gestures of friendship, acts of platonic love. The flirting you had brushed off as lighthearted banter, that he never truly meant in any way that mattered.

“Cass—I didn’t realize th—” you stammered, but he wasn’t listening, his frustration boiling over.

“I don’t want to go back!” His voice thundered, the rawness of his words hitting you like a tidal wave. “I don’t want to pretend I didn’t hear you say the exact words I’ve been feeling for years. I don’t want to pretend I don’t love you—fuck, Y/n!”

He slammed his hand into the wall beside your head. Not to scare you—you knew that instinctively. It was as if he needed the wall to keep himself upright, as if the weight of his confession was too much to bear. 

“You’re my mate—” His voice dropped to a soft whisper, the crack in it breaking something inside you. “I–I don’t want to pretend we’re just friends anymore.”

Your eyes widened. The words he’d spoken repeating in a loop in your head: You’re my mate.

“And if you want to reject me. I would endure that for you.” Cassian took a shaky breath, his voice now quieter, but no less intense. “But stop acting for one damn minute like there’s a version of me that could ever not love you. That could ever go back to waiting for you to love me as I do you.”

“Cassian,” you whispered, barely able to form the question. “Mates?”

Everything clicked. It wasn’t just the deep love you’d always felt for him, but the connection. The bond, the pull, the certainty that surged inside you when he spoke. Everything he’d said, everything you’d felt, suddenly made sense. “You’re my mate.”

Cassian cursed under his breath, pacing away for a moment, clearly trying to regain his composure. “I wasn’t supposed to—damn it,” he mumbled, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “Wasn’t supposed to tell you like this.”

You blinked, your mind still spinning through memories and conversations. “Earlier, you mocked me… about everyone knowing.” you said, barely above a whisper, yet stern.

Cassian’s eyes softened, his gaze shifting to something vulnerable. “Everyone knew,” he confirmed, his voice almost childlike, as though he was bracing himself for a reprimand. He winced, “Except you.”

The words Rhysand had said to you earlier echoed in your mind: We all knew, for a while now. 

“Rhysand said you’ve known for years,” you continued, your emotions swirling in conflicting directions—anger, confusion, and something else you couldn’t quite name. “Years, Cassian?”

He flinched, eyes flashing with something dark. “He told you?” he sneered, the edge of his voice sharp.

“Well, you obviously weren’t going to,” you shot back, your tone sharper than you intended. “He didn’t actually tell me—he thought you already had. I didn’t understand the meaning of his words until now.”

“I was hoping you’d feel it,” he admitted, his voice soft, almost defeated. “Something, at least. For me.”

In that moment, the truth settled over you—You weren’t angry with Cassian. You couldn’t be, not when the feelings you had tried so hard to deny were so much the same as his. Not when you realized just how deeply he had always felt for you, how much of himself he had given, even if it wasn’t always clear to you. 

His words, his actions—all of it now made sense, the gifts, the teasing, the way he had always been there for you. The pieces clicked into place, revealing a truth that you had been blind to, unwilling to see.

“You coward,” you teased, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. But Cassian didn’t seem to notice the lightness in your tone. His eyes remained shut, refusing to meet yours, his posture stiff with tension, as if he was still waiting for further reprimand from you.

You shifted closer, your fingers brushing gently against the solid muscle of his chest. You felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm, and the sensation sent a thrill racing through you. The bond between you two seemed to hum quietly beneath your skin, a quiet pulse.

“A bit of a hypocrite?” he muttered, his voice rough as he took your hand in his, rubbing it gently like he couldn’t quite control his touch.

You tilted your head, catching his eye for a moment. “Oh? Says the one who made me promise not to keep things like this from him?”

He sighed, the weight of his exhaustion settling into his shoulders, his wings drooping behind him as though the very air had become too heavy to bear. His voice, when it came, was softer than you expected, soaked in regret. “I couldn’t bear you avoiding me.” The ache in his tone twisted something deep inside you. 

You reached out, your fingers brushing gently against his chin, guiding his face toward you with a tenderness that belied the ache in your chest. He hesitated, but after a long beat, his eyes fluttered open—hazel depths flooded with longing, and the intensity of his gaze made your heart stutter in your chest.

Your breath caught in your throat. “Cass…”

“I don’t want to go back, Y/n.” He leaned into your touch, his presence overwhelming, the space between you shrinking until his breath brushed against your lips. His eyes held yours, unflinching, as though they were a silent promise. “I meant what I said,” 

“Every touch, every look, every word tonight… None of it was a joke to me. I’ve wanted this—you—for so long.” His voice dropped to a near whisper. “So if you think I’ll pretend I didn’t hear…” He paused, his lips curving into a small but dangerous smile. “You don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

Warmth flooded your cheeks, the coldness of the night melting away. The closeness of his face, the way his presence filled every corner of the space between you, made the air feel electric. Your skin seemed to remember the feeling of his mouth on your neck, the heat of his touch. How there was no barrier left. 

“You didn’t try everything,” you whispered, your voice low, teasing as your hands trailed over his chest, savoring the feel of his body beneath your fingertips, a shiver of excitement coursing through you at the contact.

“W–What?” His voice cracked, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the reaction, savoring the way he struggled to form words. His hands slid around your waist, fingers slipping under the hem of your cropped shirt, tracing slow, teasing circles against your skin.

“The gifts, the flirting…” you murmured, almost breathless as your hands slid up to his shoulders. You pulled him closer, enough to feel the heat of his body press against yours. “If you were too much of a coward to tell me—”

“Would you stop calling me—” Cassian’s words faltered when you leaned in, lips brushing over the sensitive crook of his neck, just beneath his jaw. You felt the shudder that ran through his body as you trailed a warm kiss across the skin, his hands tightening around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His breath hitched as his chest rose and fell with a deeper rhythm.

You kissed your way slowly across his neck, feeling the rapid beat of his pulse beneath your lips. As your lips neared his, you could feel him tilt his head, instinctively trying to meet you. But just before your mouths collided, you pulled away, lips hovering just over his. “You could’ve tried showing me,” you whispered, voice low and teasing, your breath warm against his.

A mischievous grin tugged at the corner of Cassian’s lips, his eyes darting between yours and your lips, flickering with hunger. He licked his lips, and the question slipped out of him, coated in desire. “And how would I have gone about that?”

“You could’ve pulled me against you,” you said, your tone slow, deliberate, laced with a challenge that dared him to follow through.

Cassian’s hands moved from your waist, gliding down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly with a strength that made your breath catch. Your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he pinned you against the wall.

“And then?” he murmured, his voice thick with anticipation, his lips only an inch away from yours, the heat of his breath mingling with yours.

“And then,” you whispered, your lips grazing over his as you leaned in just enough to tease. “You could’ve done this.” Without waiting another second, you closed the gap, pressing your mouth to his with a force that took his breath away. 

The kiss was desperate, hungry, a collision of heat and need. Teeth clashed, tongues tangled as you both dove deeper into the kiss, the world outside vanishing as you lost yourselves in the raw intensity. You both fought for more, each movement desperate, as if nothing could ever feel close enough.

“I vaguely remember trying something like this,” he murmured between heated kisses.

You let out a soft giggle, pulling back just enough to catch your breath, your lungs racing as your forehead rested against his cheek. “I thought you were trying not to waste the perfectly good shot you spilled on me?” you teased.

Cassian nipped at your lips in response, before his teeth swiftly moved to grazing over the delicate skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “I think I missed some,” he muttered, his breath hot against your skin. His lips sucked and nibbled at the spot like he had before, and the teasing motion made you laugh softly, but that quickly turned into a low moan.

“Cassian...” You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging gently to shift his head away, trying to catch your breath. He groaned in protest, hardly pulling back.

You slid down from his legs, standing tall and proud before him.

“You’re killing me here, Y/n,” he said with swollen lips, his eyes glazed with need. The sight of him like this made your heart race faster. Your hands slid from his hair to cup his face, gently holding him as you stared into his eyes.

“I love you, Cassian,” you said softly, your smile wide and genuine, the words flowing naturally. You wanted him to hear it, in this moment, without heat of an arguement. “So fucking much.”

Cassian closed his eyes for a moment, his breath shaky as he leaned into your touch. “Tell me again,” he whispered, his leg shifting between yours, pinning himself against you.

“I love you, Cassian. My mate,” you whispered, the words carrying more weight than ever, like you were sealing a promise in the air between you.

His lips crashed back onto yours, the kiss deepening as he tugged you even closer. In between the kisses, he pulled away just long enough to demand, “Again.”

“I love—” you tried, but he was relentless, kissing you harder, his lips never straying far as he muttered again over and over. You laughed softly, surrendering to the moment, and said it one more time.

“I love you too, Y/n.”

He pulled away just enough to smile, a soft, adoring expression on his face. “My beautiful mate,” he murmured, his voice filled with nothing but affection as he stared at you, his eyes alight with something deeper than desire—something eternal.

With a grin, Cassian picked you up effortlessly, your arms instinctively wrapping around his broad shoulders as he lifted you without a second thought.

“Hey!” you protested, though your heart raced with excitement, the rush of adrenaline making your pulse quicken.

“I’d like to continue this... without clothes,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “Preferably in a bed,” He said before he nipped playfully at your ear before pressing a lingering, slow kiss to the pulse point on your neck. The warmth of his lips sent a shiver down your spine. “Unless you want to go back inside for your girls night?”

You opened your mouth to argue, to bring up the people waiting back inside, but the words were caught in your throat as Cassian’s wings suddenly flared out, strong and powerful, lifting both of you into the air.

“I’m tired of them knowing everything,” he muttered.

Your arms tightened around his neck as you let out a breathless laugh, feeling the cool night air rush around you. Higher and higher, the ground falling away as Cassian swept you off into the night.

[thehighladywrites]

𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘉𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵

☀︎ — pairing: cassian x fem reader

☀︎ — summary: cassian finds out you can squirt...

☀︎ — warnings: nsfw, 18+, pussy eating, smut, cassian being yummy, reader damn near passing out

☀︎ — amara's note: shoutout to the anon that sent in this ask → link!! Because they're right, I haven't seen any Cassian making reader squirt fics, so l made one 😈😈😈

Cassian discovers you can squirt and never goes back. He is over the moon and tries making you squirt all the time. He remebers the first time it happened. You had been fucking for hours, his cock pumping into you, a white, milky ring decorating the base of his cock. Cassian made you cum over and over again, making you extremly sensitive.

“Cas— I can’t, t’s too sensitive—”

“Just gimme one more, sweet girl.”

His warm hands gently cradled each of your thighs, his arms wrapping around them with a firm grip. Despite your struggle to think straight and pull yourself together, he held you steady with warmth and tenderness.

The second his tounge licked a stripe to your clit, tears started flowing. It was all too much and not enough at the same time.

Cassian sucked on your clit, teeth light grazing the bud, making you yelp.

He pushed in two fingers and pumped in and out at a mind emptying pace. There was nothing in your head but pleasure, fullness and warmth. You felt yourself dripping on the expensive sheets below and you felt yourself go insane when he curled them.

In this moment, everything felt surreal. His snug black compression shirt, from morning training, hugged his muscular frame, while his hair, tousled from your earlier pulling, was loosely gathered in a half-bun. His hazel green eyes, usually warm and inviting, now darkened with a deep hunger, matching the intensity of his massive, proud wings splayed behind him.

Cassian was without a doubt the best male who had ever bedded you. He was well aware of the effect he had on you. As your eyes met his, you were greeted by a smug smirk.

Before you could say something to wipe that little smirk on his face, your head was thrown back as you felt his wet tongue lick a stripe right along your clit, making you reach out to grip his soft hair.

This time, everything felt different. It was overwhelming, an intense pressure unlike anything you'd experienced before.

Tongue coming up to your clit again, he begins to lick it, suck on it, teasing that sensitive bud more with each arch of your back, feeding into his ego.

Cassian fucking loved the effect he had on you. He loved that you became a mess around him, loved how you completely stopped arguing with him with just a lick to your clit or a pinch to your nipples.

“You feelin’ good, sweets?” he smiled again, knowingly asking despite having the answer.

You didn’t care if you fed into his ego. He was making you feel good and you’d let him know. Anyone who ate pussy this good deserved to brag.

“Mm — yeah, feels so fuckin’ good.”

You felt the vibration of his chuckle on your pussy, making you whine even more. You were dangerously close to finishing all over his face.

“M’gonna cum, cassie — oh, fuckkk.”

An intense feeling of euphoria washed over you as you tightened around his fingers and finally came. You were letting out high-pitched moans and arched your back while throwing your head back.

That same feeling of being overwhelmed returned and you felt yourself gush all over his fingers, messily squirting on his lower face, chest, fingers and bed.

He looked up at you.

And you looked down at him.

Silence enveloped the room, embarrassment settling over you.

“I'm so sorry, Cassian. I-” you stammered, breaking the silence as you were on the verge of tears.

“Again,” he replied, almost simultaneously, catching you off guard. His eyes are wide and his breathing heavy.

“Mother’s tits. Never knew you were a squirter.”

His face was dripping as he leaned down and placed a kiss on your soaked pussy.

“Wanna see you do it again, think you can do that for me, pretty girl? Hm?”

With reassurance and confidence, hooded eyes and a throbbing pussy, you nodded.

Your man would take care of you.

🏷️ @justasillylittlegoofyguy @cupidojenphrodite @amygdtjhddzvb @callmeblaire @redbleedingrose @acourtofwhatthefuck @thelov3lybookworm @clairebear08 @jeannineee @rowaelinsdaughter

[marshmellowrio]

Flight of the Night | Chapter 5

A/N: Enjoy the last part of this scene.

Word count: 1.3K

“What’s your story, then?” Cassian says with a jerk of his chin in Feyre’s direction.

She straightens. “I was born to a wealthy merchant family, with two older sisters and parents who only cared about their money and social standing. My mother died when I was eight; my father lost his fortune years later. He sold everything to pay off his debts, moved us into a hovel, and didn’t bother to find work while he let us slowly starve for years. I was fourteen when the last of the money ran out, along with the food. He wouldn’t work—couldn’t, because the debtors came and shattered his leg in front of us. So I went into the forest and taught myself to hunt. And I kept us all alive, if not near starvation at times, for five years. Until…everything happened.”

I sit back in my seat, letting the words sink in. She was so young, younger than I was while enduring a vaguely similar situation. Teaching herself to survive. A new-found respect for this young fae finds its way into my mind, she already had my respect after what I heard from Rhys, but this…she has earned our respect twice-over.

“You taught yourself to hunt. What about to fight?” Cassian breaks the silence as he braces his hands on the table. “Lucky for you, you’ve just found yourself a teacher.”

A small smile graces my lips. Cassian might be a born leader, but he’s such a passionate teacher as well. He’d do good teaching more than the odd apprentice once in a few hundred years.

“You don’t think it sends a bad message if people see me learning to fight—using weapons?” I almost scoff at Feyre’s words. Damn the Spring Court and their old ways of thinking. No female should be denied the chance to learn how to use her body to defend herself or others.

Mor’s voice is venomous enough to make me look at her. “Let me tell you two things. As someone who has perhaps been in your shoes before.” She continues as Feyre takes in the atmosphere in the room. “One, you have left the Spring Court. If that does not send a message, for good or bad, then your training will not, either. Two,” a flat hand is placed on the table, “I once lived in a place where the opinion of others mattered. It suffocated me, nearly broke me. So you’ll understand me, Feyre, when I say that I know what you feel, and I know what they tried to do to you, and that with enough courage, you can say to hell with a reputation.” Feyre’s eyes lift to mine as I nod at her. She needs to understand that no one will judge here, we all have our pasts, and we will all heal. “You do what you love, what you need.”

I see her consider, the way her eyes move away from Mor’s to stare at the table. Gears turning in that pretty little head of hers. She lifts her gaze to Cassian’s, “I’ll think about it.”

“Let me know if you need some help, oh mighty warrior.” I wink at Cassian, but it is Azriel that responds.

“No novice wants your help in combat, Lyss, you are brutal.” I pout at the statement, even more so as Cassian nods in agreement.

My hand raises to my heart, and a grin starts cracking through my innocent facade. “You wound me, Az.”

Feyre suddenly states to Rhys, “I accept your offer—to work with you. To earn my keep. And help with Hybern in whatever way I can.”

I raise my eyebrows in surprise, where did this come from?

“Good,” he merely replies. “Because we start tomorrow.”

I raise my eyebrows, while Feyre sputters. “Where? And what?”

Rhys interlaces his fingers and I recognise the more formal stature, we’re talking business now. “Because the King of Hybern is indeed about to launch a war, and he wants to resurrect Jurian to do it.”

My gaze snaps to Azriel, seeing him observing a very still Amren. When? When has he figured this out?

“Bullshit,” Cassian spits. “There’s no way to do that.”

Mor groans, “Why would the king want to resurrect Jurian? He was so odious. All he liked to do was talk about himself.”

“That’s what I want to find out,” Rhysand says in return. “And how the king plans to do it.”

“Word will have reached him about Feyre’s Making. He knows it’s possible for the dead to be remade.” Amren contributes her thoughts.

“All seven High Lords would have to agree to that,” Mor counters. “There’s not a chance it happens.”

“If there’s one way, there is bound to be another way.” I say in response.

Mor continues after nodding at me, “All the slaughtering—the massacres at temples. You think it’s tied to this?”

“I know it’s tied to this. I didn’t want to tell you until I knew for certain. But Azriel confirmed that they’d raided the memorial in Sangravah three days ago. They’re looking for something—or found it.” Azriel nods in confirmation and shrugs at Mor when she looks at him.

“That—that’s why the ring and the finger bone vanished after Amarantha died. For this. But who…” Feyre breathes out. “They never caught the Attor, did they?” I shiver at the dread in her voice, another creature she had to face while still human. I can almost feel her pain.

“No. No, they didn’t.” Rhys says quietly, as if not to scare her off. He turns to Amren, “How does one take an eye and a finger bone and make it into a man again? And how do we stop it?”

Amren frowns. “You already know how to find the answer. Go to the Prison. Talk to the Bone Carver.”

I suck in a breath and I hear Cassian and Mor utter in unison. “Shit.”

“Perhaps you would be more effective, Amren.” Rhys says calmly, cornering a beast.

Amren only hisses back, “I will not set foot in the Prison, Rhysand, and you know it. So go yourself, or send one of these dogs to do it for you.” Cassian grins back, earning a snap of Amren teeth in return.

Azriel shakes his head at the two. “I’ll go with Lyssa. The Prison sentries know me—what I am. And he likes Lyssa’s gifts.” I clench my teeth as he avoids my gaze, he knows I don’t like being volunteered for something I don’t trust. And the Bone Carver it ranked quite high on that list.

“If anyone’s going to the Prison,” Rhys says before I can deny Azriel’s proposal, “it’s me. And Feyre.”

“What?” Mor demands, hitting her palms flat on the table, leaning her weight on them.

“He won’t talk to Rhys,” Amren says to us, “or to Azriel. Or to any of us. He might like the gifts Lyssa leaves him, but we’ve got nothing to offer him. An immortal with a mortal soul however…” She stares at Feyre. “The Bone Carver might be willing indeed to talk to her.”

All of our gazes turn to the young immortal in question, assessing her next move.

“Your choice, Feyre” Rhys says casually. And I believe him, if she says no, we’ll find another way. We will all try.

“How bad can it be?” Her response shows she has no idea what she’s up against in this immortal world.

“Bad,” Cassian only says.

A/N: Let me know what you thought in the comments! If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!

Taglist: @inloveallthetime @mybestfriendmademe @blackgirlmagicforever