#cassian fluff

after your post about the bat boys and ur tummy, I would love to see anyone of them following up on that, but most specifically cassian who holds ur stomach while going down on you!!

thanks bb!! 🫶

the aforementioned blurb: poly!batboys love your stomach

this post is 18+, minors dni.

So everyone is flabbergasted when he a taste of everything he eats to reader. Thats how they figured out he liked her way before he even did

You're too polite to ask, but Cassian sees you looking. You'd delicately lifted two thin slices of meat onto your plate amongst a valley of greens and potatoes, but Cassian had snatched eight pieces without remorse and was now gnawing through number seven. There's an especially juicy piece laying against the side of his plate closest to yours, and Cass can practically smell the way your mouth is watering, regretting your choice to withhold.

Azriel sees it too. He's halfway through commanding a shadow to smuggle a piece of meat off of his own plate and onto yours to avoid the bloodbath that will ensue if you so much as breathe in the direction of Cassian's plate - really, the man is centuries old and still resource guards - when Cassian swallows with a gulp and knocks his plate away from him.

"Stuffed." He grins, teeth glinting in the light of the dining room as he winks at Mor. Her face had contorted in some sort of confused grimace, not only because Cassian had nearly knocked over her wine glass by shoving his plate into it but because he'd left food on it.

"Anyone want the rest? You want it?" He doesn't give anyone else a chance to reply before direction the question towards you, and while you're blinking bewilderedly, trying to figure out whether he's gone mad or not, he lifts it onto your plate anyways, "Here, take it."

There's meat on your plate now, and Azriel's shadows drop his own piece back down with something of a disgruntled huff.

"Oh. Thank you," You stammer, stabbing at it with your fork and knife like Cassian might take it back if you're not fast enough- a valid concern, honestly. You're wolfing it down as gracefully as possible, but Cassian doesn't move an inch towards you to take it back. Instead he settles back in his chair, sighing aggressively and glancing sideways at the wine.

"Got anything harder, Rhys?"

Cassian knows where the liquor is stored. He's just vying for something out of Rhys's personal stash, begging like a dog beneath the table, and Rhys's brows rise as he takes in Cassian's calm beside your satisfied chewing. He's constantly fighting Cass off from stealing the good stuff, but apparently tonight is a night of firsts all around.

"Actually, yes," Rhys stands, and Azriel watches curiously as he heads for his personal reserve, "Wait here."

Cassian turns to you in his wake, peering down at you as you finish the slice of meat, "Good, hm?"

You nod, cheeks bulging, and wipe the corner of your mouth with your napkin to rid it of sticky red juice.

"You've got a good appetite," Cassian observes, and Azriel instantly understands. It's attractive to him, Azriel realizes, Cassian's hot and bothered by the way you could house a steak faster than him, or at least put up a good fight. His brother's always been wild, brutish- he thinks Cassian's ideal relationship may be tearing into a piece of meat together like two rabid animals after a hunt. Rhys's footsteps click back up the staircase he'd descended and interrupt Azriel's brief vision of you and Cassian living in the woods together, stripping game and tearing into each other afterwards.

"We'll have this," Rhys passes the bottle directly to Cassian, an aged liquor that's surely older than everyone in the room combined, and the House politely provides glasses that appear next to the dinner plates.

Rhys settles back into his seat as Cassian gets to work on the bottle, using his teeth to crack it open in a characteristically aggressive sort of way. It's disgusting, but you seem both mortified and intrigued where you're sitting beside him.

"Here, honey." Cassian tips the amber liquid into your glass first, and Azriel and Rhys meet eyes from across the table, "Tell me when."

You hum, "Oh- that's good," and Cassian pours for two more seconds before filling his own glass.

He takes the same amount for himself, and only then relinquishes the bottle to the rest of the table.

It horribly backfires when it turns out nyx was learning about family relationships dynamics/feelings and he is convinced they are married, and when they refute the argument, he starts stating reasons that he thinks why they are.

How will that affect those two idiots who think they are in unrequited love with each other lol

You're swiping your tongue over your index finger to try and rid it of the sticky ice cream dripping down the side of your cone when Nyx pipes up from beside you, his little legs swinging beneath the bench you're seated at, "Auntie Y/N, are you and Uncle Cass married?"

Cassian blows milkshake out of his nose. It's a rather unflattering sight, one that you'd have liked to gawp and laugh at under different circumstances. But you're spluttering plenty yourself, and you wordlessly hand Cassian a napkin from the pile he'd grabbed for you so that he can sponge cookies and cream out of the inside of his nose.

"No, Nyxie." Your mouth suddenly feels dry, devoid of any strawberry sweetness as you abandon the hope of cleaning your cone, instead letting it ooze into your hand, "What- why would you think that?"

"Well in class," He starts, the word carrying a five year old's pride of being a big kid, one that goes to school, "We learned about families. And how people get married when they love each other. And I know you and Uncle Cass love each other, so-"

"Holy shit," Cassian grunts under his breath, half of his pain from the milkshake in his sinuses and the other half from the awkward conversation, "No, kid- I- we do love each other," He cringes at the phrase, looking like he's licking its bitter remnants off of his teeth as he mulls over his next words, "But- but I love your mom too, and- and I'm not married to her, am I?"

"No," Nyx considers this, but he brightens, "But my teacher said it's a special kind of love that makes people get married! And you two love each other the special way."

"Do we?" You ask before you can stop yourself, some selfish, delusional part of you perhaps desperate for even the false hope a starry-eyed child can provide, "Why do you think it's special?"

"Lotsa reasons." Nyx notices his own ice cream slowly creeping over the edge of his cone, eagerly setting about slurping it from the sides and cutting himself off in the meantime. You take the rare, momentary silence to shoot Cassian a wide-eyed glance over the boy's head, his own stare already fixed on your face.

You spend a lot of your time wishing there was a mating bond between you and Cassian, but now more than ever as you feel the need for silent communication. How are you going to get out of this? And more importantly, why hasn't Cassian begun laughing yet? This is right up his alley, a naive comment that suggests he's getting lucky with a woman, albeit more tame than his usual remarks. It's unnerving

"You got her napkins," Nyx resumes speaking, pointing accusingly at Cassian, and you both hang wordlessly in your spots, arms stiff and frozen, brains suspended in fog, "And yours is in a cup so you don't need any, but me and Auntie do 'cause it's messy. But you didn't make her get some, you got them for her, and that means you love her in the special way 'cause you're always doing stuff for her so she doesn't have to. Like earlier when her shoe came untied-" You'd been chasing Nyx around the playground, playfully batting at his heels through the bars of the jungle gym as he tried evading you. You'd stepped on your own foot, then dragged one lace out of its bow, "-you made her stop running and you got up to tie it for her. Mommy says," He recites with a sigh, "that running's not safe when your shoes aren't tied, 'cause you could trip. And Daddy always makes sure Mommy's safe, and he likes to tie her shoes 'cause he kisses her knee while he's doing it."

Cassian is blushing.

You're not sure you've ever seen Cassian blush- not from emotions, at least. He's beet-red after a few too many glasses of wine, but you're not sure you've ever seen him this pink while sober. It spreads a tendril of affection through your chest that blooms like a blossom as it winds across your heart, then jabs thorns into the beating muscle as Nyx begins prattling again.

"And!" He nearly shouts the word, "You're always together! You came to get me from school together, and you left together last night from dinner 'cause Uncle Cass walked you home, and you came to dinner together too, 'cause Uncle Cass walked you to our house, and he always walks you everywhere 'cause Daddy says he doesn't want you to walk alone 'cause it's not safe so," He lands at his conclusion with a heaving chest, his little lungs aching from the mouthful he'd just hurled at you both, "You're married, right?"

"No." Cassian murmurs, his voice soft and wounded, "No, Nyx, we're really not married. That's all..."

"Very sweet," You force your own voice to work, "But we're not- married."

"Are you gonna get married?" The boy asks, his midnight black brows furrowed in something close to distaste, "Mommy said you should."

Curse Feyre and her meddling child, you're never drinking around her again if she's going to tell Nyx what you let slip about your little crush. The two of you are, admittedly, very close. But you're stuck behind that stupid wall of friendship, and there's nothing you can do to tunnel through it without risking injury if it collapses. You're not willing to lose Cassian, even if you can't ever really have him.

You open your mouth to say no again, and you hear Cassian's voice mingling with yours at the same time, "Maybe."

Your neck aches in the aftermath of snapping it up to stare at him bewilderedly. His head rears back, like you're the confusing one, "Well we could-"

"Your Mommy hasn't exactly had the clearest judgement regarding marriage in the past," You grit through clenched teeth, cutting Cassian off before his regained sense of humor can confuse Nyx, "We're all very lucky she ended up with your Daddy. No, Nyx, we are not going to get married."

As sweet as Nyx is, he is five years old, and he takes after his father which means he's got a sassy streak going for him. You've clearly activated it by telling him he's wrong several times, and his little chocolate-stained mouth twists into a frown, his voice just plain rude, "Well my Daddy said it too, even. And Uncle Az, and Auntie Nesta and Auntie Elain and Auntie Mor and even everyone thinks that, so you're the one that's wrong, actually."

"Don't talk to your Auntie like that," Cassian barks, and Nyx's eyes dim where they'd been full of petulant fire. He turns a wary glance towards his intimidating uncle and Cassian remembers himself, dragging a deep sigh into his lungs and taking the wrapper of Nyx's ice cream cone from the boy's sticky hands, "Go play on the playground, Nyx. We'll leave when Auntie's done with her ice cream."

All memories of your prior conversation gone, Nyx whips his head to you, his eyes wide with panic, "Eat slow! Don't eat fast," He scrambles off the bench, little wings flapping and nearly lifting him off the ground in his desperation to speed to the jungle gym, "Just- don't make us leave!"

There's silence left in his wake, and you intend to break it. You turn back to Cassian, who's shuffling the napkins in his hands nervously, "Maybe?"

"What?" He asks, like he doesn't know.

"He asked if we'd ever get married and you said maybe?"

"Yeah! I don't know, maybe!" Cassian's eyes are wide, like he can't comprehend your focus on it, "Maybe one day you'll realize you need someone to reach the top shelf for you and we'll seal the deal."

You force a laugh from your lunge, feeling anything but cheerful at his humor- constant, nothing but jokes from the one man you want to take you seriously, to look at you genuinely, to love you instead of laugh about you. You eat the rest of your ice cream with vengeance, but Cassian doesn't call Nyx to leave, instead, watching you earnestly.

"Right. And it'll be the same day you decide to settle for my annoying habit of never putting the dishes away rather than sleeping alone."

There is, admittedly, a lot of bitterness in your voice. You'd spoken before muscling down the longing constantly simmering beneath your surface, the way your chest aches anytime Cassian laughs at the idea you two could grow closer than friends whenever it's brought into conversation. He's not dumb, even if he thinks himself to be, and his brows furrow at your tone.

"Hey," He murmurs, his voice low and gentle, "Don't talk about Nyx's Auntie like that."

"Cassian-"

"Don't," He repeats, taking your hands in his. You instantly shy away from the heart-to-heart headed your way, trying to yank your fingers back but he holds them steady in his large hands, running a napkin wet with the condensation from his cup over the sticky residue on your palms.

"You think I'd have to settle for you?" He asks, carefully cleaning your hands as you bite your tongue, trying not to run screaming from the way his eyes are boring into yours, "Sweetheart, you're a catch."

"Don't do this to me, Cassian." You whisper, the loudest volume you can manage, "Don't- don't get all poetic and then walk away. Don't say shit you don't mean."

"I won't," He says firmly, "Who says I was gonna walk away?"

"You walk away every night." You say carefully, your heart on the line.

"You want me to stay?" He asks holding you now-clean hands in his and squeezing, and braving a glance at his face reveals more of that rosy pink on his cheeks, and if you didn't know him better, something like vulnerability shining through his eyes, nothing like you've ever seen from the Lord of Bloodshed.

You can't bring yourself to say yes, but saying no would be a lie. You choose silence, and Cassian exhales until his chest puffs.

"The maybe was entirely dependent on you." He drops his gaze, admiring the way your hands look clasped together, "I'd marry you right here, right now if you'd let me."

"Don't," You gasp, the words tossing salt at your wounded heart, "Cassian, do not say things you don't mean. That's- it's cruel."

"I'm not." He insists, squeezing your hands firmer, but not painfully so, "Listen to me. Hear me when I say this: I'll stay if you ask me to. I'm not going to force myself past your doorway, and scoop you up and rip your clothes off and be gone by morning. Not with you- if it's with you, I'm staying. But you have to ask. I have to know you want- me, the way- the way I want you, too."

Your head is swimming. Cassian wants you- wants to stay with you, wants to marry you, and you wonder if you're clinically dumber than a kindergartener if Nyx pieced it together and not you- damn Cassian and his kind heart, he's so caring towards his family that you'd mistaken love for friendship.

"Ask me," He breathes, but he won't repeat it when you meet his gaze, in case you take it as coercion.

You take a deep breath and squeeze Cassian's hands back, "Walk me home tonight. Then I'll ask you."

Cassian's grin nearly parts the clouds hanging over Velaris, sunshine oozing from his pores like he's from Day, "You know I was already going to do that."

★ indicates smut / 𖤓 indicates fluff / ♡ indicates angst

Please do not repost my work or feed it into AI, you do not have my permission for that!! Blurb requests are open, feel free to send ideas and concepts in!

You have the sense that everyone is being very, very indulgent with you and your sisters at the moment. Feyre has settled in nicely- but Rhysand and his friends love her, she's a part of their family and that's why they let her get away with so much. The rest of you? You're all watched closely like baby deer at risk of breaking your spindly legs at any moment, coddled in case your reactions to being told no at such a turbulent point in your lives are to dive headfirst into vices like Nesta's beginning to, or to spasm with a cosmic vision like Elain.

You're doing just fine, though you delight in taking advantage of everyone's rush to please you.

You don't have any magic as far as you know- nor do you have a burning desire to frequent any of the Night Court's pleasure houses. You'll leave all of that to your sisters, instead preferring to mill about the city, eyes wide and starry as you take in the new world you've been granted access to.

Cassian has called it mooning. He's insistent that you're far too easy to please, and you'll admit that your delight in seeing something as routine for the fae as Velaris's rainbow definitely marked you as a naive outsider, but you don't care. You can't stop yourself from marveling at your new surroundings, and Cassian can't stop himself from teasing you about it.

It's why his gaze locks on you the second you trot down the staircase into the main foyer of the River House, your dress a pale shade of sage green that hangs around your calves and swishes beautifully when you twirl. There's a matching ribbon in your hair and you feel on top of the world as you practically skip towards the door, Cassian's gaze following you and dipping down your back as you peer out the windows.

"You look fit for a picnic," Cassian drawls, his grin gleaming in the faelight, "One in a children's storybook where your companions are birds that help you braid your hair and squirrels that offer you their acorns."

Your dress flares in one of those delicious spirals as you spin to face him, its impact barely missing the back of Azriel's chair that you're planted behind, "Good. I met a mouse yesterday in the forest that promised me some baked brie and I intend to hold him to it."

Cassian snorts, Mor's pretty pink lips turn up in a sweet smile that pairs well with her melodic giggle, and the shadowsinger in front of you almost cracks a grin. You can see the urge in the barest twitch of his lips, and that's what matters. They're all lounging about- you assume Rhysand has stolen you sister away for the day, and that Nesta and Elain are off doing the very things the Inner Circle is afraid they're doing. The four of you now share the ornate lounges of the sitting room, and you eye the way Cassian is squeezing his hair in a hand towel.

"Did you just shower?" You ask, and though you haven't addressed him by name, his attention is on you immediately. Perhaps you'd never lost it, and he cocks his head to the side, his grin still firmly in place.

"I did. Disappointed you missed the show?"

You register his innuendo but don't feel the need to rise to the bait. Instead you reach for a glass of fruit juice that had simply appeared on the table near your left hand, ducking it beneath the curve of Azriel's wing and sipping on it lightly.

"I've just never seen you with wet hair is all. You've always got it in that little..." You trail off, one hand forming a fist at the back of your head as you flood your mouth with another sip of juice.

Cassian smirks so hard that he nearly gives himself a dimple.

"It's good for combat." He nods, already beginning to gather his hair into its typical topknot, "It keeps it out of my way."

"Have you ever braided it before?" You ask, and he blows out a sharp breath around the rubber band clasped in his teeth.

"Uhn-uh," Is his muffled reply, and when he takes the ponytail from between his teeth to wrap it tightly around his hair, he continues, "Too much work. And it'd probably detract from my fear factor."

"I could do it," You hum quietly, and Azriel's wings twitch, his attention now on you as he turns to watch you ask, "Can I? Can I braid it for you?"

Morrigan and Azriel share a wide-eyed look that you ignore in favor of flashing your best doe eyes in Cassian's direction.

Cassian's breath stutters, his shoulders deflating in a permanent exhale. His voice is raspy as he stammers, "Um," and you watch the war be waged in his head between indulge and deny.

Indulge, you beg internally, shouting the thoughts to the heavens, or the Mother, or whoever can hear the things Rhys tells you fae can project. You're hazy on the details, but you know he and Feyre can read minds. Apparently you're able to hear the thoughts of your mate, through that special bond that's supposed to feel like sunlight dappled straight onto your soul, but Rhysand and Feyre both have daemati powers, which is different and confusing and slightly terrifying. But no matter. Indulge, you plead again, flinging the words out for any listeners to hear, Indulge, indulge, indulge! Indulge because you're afraid I might freak out like my sisters. I'll do it. I'll throw a temper tantrum in the city square. I'll charge an entire bakery's worth of goods to Rhysand's name, I'll pitch myself off the stairs of the House of Wind. All ten thousand of them. Indulge!

Cassian blinks bewilderedly, his eyes wide and his wings stiffening, "Okay. Sure- yeah, you can- you can braid my hair."

You miss the way Mor and Azriel share another glance, this one distinctly more stunned than their previous trepidation. You rush to perch yourself on the back of the couch, folding your legs around Cassian's broad form and tucking the skirt of your dress into the space between them to protect your modesty as you begin tangling your fingers into his wet locks.

Smoothing them is a task, then parting them, then crossing them over one another until your fingers are slippery, dewy and smelling of Cassian's conditioner. It's a nice musky scent, and you can't say you're upset that it'll linger throughout your day. You hum through every step, your melody flowing straight into Cassian's reddening ears, not that you notice their flushing hue.

Azriel and Morrigan do, which is why they stare unabashedly at the way you tuck a stray piece back into place over the apex of his ear.

He shudders at the scrape of your nails against the sensitive skin just behind his earlobe, and you let out a giggle that interrupts the tune you're humming, "Sorry. Almost done."

Cassian wordlessly passes you the elastic when you tap his shoulder, ready to fasten off the braid.

You've done it so that it's anchored securely to his head, weaved with smaller sections of hair at first that grow larger all the way down until the tail where it hangs just above his spine. It'll serve him well in combat, if he decides to initiate any more sparring sessions than he already has.

"Okay, now I'm done." You tug gently on the end of the braid, clamoring off of the back of the couch with the same clumsy enthusiasm as you'd mounted it with, "Lemme see!"

You take his face into your hands the second you're on stable footing, and you tilt it this way and that to admire the way his hair looks braided behind his head. It's a new look on him, and you grin giddily at how it suits him.

"It's cute!" You insist, "It looks nice on you, Cassian."

"Thank you for braiding it," His voice hums against your fingertips that have pressed into his throat, unusually quiet and calm, "Do you want an escort down to the city today?"

"Hm?" You ask distractedly, still inspecting your handiwork, "Oh! Sure, you want to come with? I was going to get a pastry."

You tilt his head up again, staring down at him from where you're planted between his legs as he sits on the couch. He nods, the movement jostling your hands but not knocking them loose- no, you drop them when he stands, and you feel one of his own grab hold of yours before it can even hit your side.

"Let's go," He kicks aside one of Mor's slippers that's in the way, "Az, tell Rhys I'll be late to drinks tonight."

"If you have something to do-" You start, lifting Cassian's hand where it clings to yours and pressing your other over its back. He stops in his tracks, shaking his head and squeezing your hand.

"No, don't worry about it. We drink all the time. And besides," He begins moving again, ushering you towards the door of the House with determined steps, "If I let you go by yourself you might be seized with the sudden urge to buy the whole bakery on Rhys's credit."

Your steps falter, and your gaze snaps to Cassian's with narrowed scrutiny.

"What?" You ask, the words eerily reminiscent of your earlier, silent, mental threats.

Cassian shakes his head, his braid flying, his eyes kept firmly on the road in front of him as he practically drags you into town by your conjoined hands, "Nothing. Bakery, then bookstore?"

It's like he's read your mind.

series:

Tower of Dawn - Tangled AU

chapter one

blurbs:

cassian + size kink

cassian offers to train you

you fall asleep on cassian

cassian + face sitting

cassian helps when you're overwhelmed

you and azriel sabotage cassian

you feel like you owe cassian a favor

you and cassian move in together

cassian finds out you're pregnant

cassian bites

cassian accidentally hurts you during training

cassian + dirty talk

cassian + anal

poly!batboys:

poly!batboys love your stomach

"He seemed nice," Morrigan sips from her drink, a cocktail that's less sophisticated than she'd typically enjoy on one of the House of Wind's chaise lounges, but Rita's is Rita's, and she enjoys flirting with the female bartender.

"He was." You watch the man who'd just been flirting with you walk off, hoping you hadn't hurt his feelings too badly by rejecting him, "He just wasn't my type."

"He was handsome." Rhysand muses, "I feel like he was exactly your type, actually. I've seen you stare at people who look like his twin."

"There was nothing wrong with his face," You defend weakly, feeling guilt wriggling in your chest despite knowing you'd been kind to the man, "He- just- it wasn't working for me."

Morrigan shrugs, and Azriel is content to follow in her footsteps and let it go. But Cassian returns with more amber-colored shots, a full tray that you're not sure how he snuck away from the bar, and his wings flare outwards before settling back into a folded posture at his back as he watches the man retreat, "Y/N, did you just score?"

"I said no," You clear your throat, clutching your glass rigidly, "Can I have one?"

"You can have two," Cassian divvies up the shots, 2 per person, "If you tell us why you weren't interested."

You'll need the liquid courage to reveal your guilty pleasure.

You sigh, taking one from the tray and downing it, "He was too short."

There's a beat of silence from your friends, then Morrigan hums, and Rhysand smirks as he reaches for his own shot. Azriel is handed his two by Cassian, and he looks unphased by the revelation, but he always looks unphased, so you're nervous about what's going on in his head.

"-and I know that's really shallow," You launch into your defense, "But it just doesn't appeal to me, and I can't force it to, so I don't date short guys. He seemed really nice! There's nothing wrong with him, really. I just like looking up at a guy, is all, and- and I feel really bad but there's nothing I can do about what I like so I said no and I hope his feelings aren't hurt."

You're pouring the second shot of booze down your throat before anyone can start scolding you- you really, truly have nothing against shorter men, but they don't appeal to you the way a taller one does. You're so distracted drowning your misery in whiskey that you don't catch Cassian dumping the tray on a nearby table, nor do you notice that he's rounded behind you until he's already got his hand around your chin.